Page 29 of The Worst Best Man

“I’ve got me mates, me rum, and a good story for the day. What more do a man want?” Papi asked.

“How about another story?” Frankie offered.

“I’m listenin’.”

Frankie was desperate. The man had information she needed, and if she didn’t get it out of him the nice way, Aiden was going to throw tens of thousands at some mercenaries to drag the truth out of him.

She leaned in and whispered her offer to him. Papi’s eyes widened to the size of the soggy coasters on the bar.

“You tell me everything you know in return?” Frankie asked, clarifying.

He nodded as if in a trance. “Oh yeah. You got a deal. But you first.”

Frankie shot a glance at the door to the grocery and made sure Aiden and Antonio were nowhere to be seen.

“A deal’s a deal,” she said, untying the halter top to her dress.

Her unbound breasts enjoyed the temporary freedom and the weak breeze pushed down from the drooping ceiling fan above. Papi’s jaw dropped, hypnotized. The rest of his cronies followed suit.

She counted to five, making sure everyone had seen what needed to be seen and then tied her dress neatly back in place. She downed the shot of rum in one swallow and slapped the glass back on the bar.

“Drinks for everyone,” Papi announced coming out of his breast trance and tossing his arms in the air. The crowd cheered.

“Talk, Papi,” Frankie insisted.

“Okay. Alls I know is dis guy calls me up and says he got a driving job for me. He needs me to pick up his frien’ at Oistins. Oh, and his frien’ might not want to get in the car so I should bring some help.”

“He asked you to kidnap someone.”

“No, no, no! Dis man, he gives me your friend’s number. I call him and tell him I have a surprise for him. Drunk Americans are not bright, not bright!” Papi pointed a gnarled finger at Frankie.

“Preaching to the choir, Papi. Keep talking.”

“So, he’s like ‘Cool, man. A surprise.’ An I’m like, I’ll see you on the sidewalk. I’m in a white van. And he went there willingly, and my frien’ helped your frien’ into the van, and that’s that.”

Poor, stupid, drunk Chip.

“Where’d you take him?”

“Rockley Ridge Resort by Sandy Lane. But good luck getting’ in dere. Some big to-do tonight. All Hollywood an’ stuff. Lotsa security.”

“Who took Chip off your hands when you got to the resort?”

Papi shrugged and pushed another glass of rum at her. “Don’ know. He did not feel the need to introduce himself. He pay me. I leave.”

“What did he look like?”

“Big burly like guy. Like a bear. I dunno. But he was just hired muscle, I think. He said his boss would be happy.”

“What did they do with Chip?” Frankie asked.

Papi tapped her glass with his and they drank.

“Ahhh, that’s the good stuff,” Papi hissed out. “Anyway, your friend was sleepin’. He passed out drunk on the ride. So, the big guy just carried him toward the elevators like a bride.”

“And you left and came here.”

“To celebrate an easy night’s work.”