Page 40
Story: Tempted By the Devil
Cheryl motions to me from the back of the room to begin. The stage lights remain bright while the lights in the rest of the banquet hall dim.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” I say into the microphone. “We thank you for attending the special Rise and Thrive charity dinner tonight. We have gathered to celebrate the charitable donation of… of…”
I freeze, my blood running cold at the name on the sheet of paper.
No.
No. No. NO!
An awkward silence develops as people in the crowd exchange looks and Cheryl’s eyes widen in horror.
No… it can’t be… NO!
I look back up at the audience and paste on a smile that’s more of a grimace. “Mr. Rafael Calderone.”
10
RAFAEL
“We… we weren’t expecting you.”
I glance at Adagio on my left and then at Maurizio on my right. My gaze returns to the nervous security guard, the mask I wear making the stare down even more unsettling. He’s supposed to be guarding the door to Milos Popovic’s office, yet here he is quaking on the spot like a pussy.
We’ve shown up to Club Euphoria—spelled U4EA on the neon sky blue sign—one of the hottest clubs in the city.
Everybody else in the club’s busy dancing and drinking the night away while we’re ready to make some business happen.
“Well?” I say. “Move the fuck out of our way.”
The security guard trips over himself moving to the side and winds up like an empty sack on the floor. Me and the others step right by him and into his boss’s office.
Milos’s equally as thrown off guard.
As we burst into his office, he spills the drink he’s sipping on down the front of his shirt. “What’re you?—?”
“Milos, it’s so nice to see you again,” I interrupt, moving through his office like it’s my own. It basically is now. “I’m sure you remember the last time we met, do you not?”
He sits up in his large office chair and gives an uncertain nod. Reaching for a napkin to dab the stain on his shirt, he says, “O-of course, Diavolo. H-how could I… how could I ever forget?”
“You tell me, Milos. I thought we had an understanding.”
“W-we do, Diavolo. Why would you think…” He can’t even bring himself to finish, his face sheening with a sudden sweat.
I grin from behind my mask, hands deep in my pockets. “Are you nervous, Milos? No need to be. This is a friendly visit if you choose for it to be. I’m here because I’ve heard things. Things that are not so good.”
“You know me. I don’t do anything. I’m all about my business. The club and that’s all.”
“Adagio.”
From my left Adagio steps forward and tosses a set of photos onto Milos’s desk. He returns to my side like the dutiful soldier he is.
Milos’s face pales setting eyes on the photos scattered in front of him. He husks out a shaky breath and then releases a laugh that sounds a couple notes away from a cry.
“Titus Tuco… he… he asked to have dinner. That’s all.”
“Is that all? Really, Milos?”
“I swear it. I wouldn’t lie. I wouldn’t double cross.”
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” I say into the microphone. “We thank you for attending the special Rise and Thrive charity dinner tonight. We have gathered to celebrate the charitable donation of… of…”
I freeze, my blood running cold at the name on the sheet of paper.
No.
No. No. NO!
An awkward silence develops as people in the crowd exchange looks and Cheryl’s eyes widen in horror.
No… it can’t be… NO!
I look back up at the audience and paste on a smile that’s more of a grimace. “Mr. Rafael Calderone.”
10
RAFAEL
“We… we weren’t expecting you.”
I glance at Adagio on my left and then at Maurizio on my right. My gaze returns to the nervous security guard, the mask I wear making the stare down even more unsettling. He’s supposed to be guarding the door to Milos Popovic’s office, yet here he is quaking on the spot like a pussy.
We’ve shown up to Club Euphoria—spelled U4EA on the neon sky blue sign—one of the hottest clubs in the city.
Everybody else in the club’s busy dancing and drinking the night away while we’re ready to make some business happen.
“Well?” I say. “Move the fuck out of our way.”
The security guard trips over himself moving to the side and winds up like an empty sack on the floor. Me and the others step right by him and into his boss’s office.
Milos’s equally as thrown off guard.
As we burst into his office, he spills the drink he’s sipping on down the front of his shirt. “What’re you?—?”
“Milos, it’s so nice to see you again,” I interrupt, moving through his office like it’s my own. It basically is now. “I’m sure you remember the last time we met, do you not?”
He sits up in his large office chair and gives an uncertain nod. Reaching for a napkin to dab the stain on his shirt, he says, “O-of course, Diavolo. H-how could I… how could I ever forget?”
“You tell me, Milos. I thought we had an understanding.”
“W-we do, Diavolo. Why would you think…” He can’t even bring himself to finish, his face sheening with a sudden sweat.
I grin from behind my mask, hands deep in my pockets. “Are you nervous, Milos? No need to be. This is a friendly visit if you choose for it to be. I’m here because I’ve heard things. Things that are not so good.”
“You know me. I don’t do anything. I’m all about my business. The club and that’s all.”
“Adagio.”
From my left Adagio steps forward and tosses a set of photos onto Milos’s desk. He returns to my side like the dutiful soldier he is.
Milos’s face pales setting eyes on the photos scattered in front of him. He husks out a shaky breath and then releases a laugh that sounds a couple notes away from a cry.
“Titus Tuco… he… he asked to have dinner. That’s all.”
“Is that all? Really, Milos?”
“I swear it. I wouldn’t lie. I wouldn’t double cross.”
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