Fatal. Jacqui Rose

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       7

      Salvatore Russo, holding the phone, kicked away the naked teenage hooker who seemed to think helping herself to his best cocaine was part of their deal. Watching her sprawled on the floor, he glared angrily as he sat at his gold-leafed kitchen table in one of his palatial homes in Fort Collins, northern Colorado, in only his cream cotton boxer shorts, which were straining at the seams and sticking to him like glue. His diamond-encrusted medallion, given to him by his father, hung amidst the sweat-drenched hair on his chest, and the oozing perspiration trickled leisurely from between the creases of his twenty-inch neck.

      It was hot. Too damn hot, added to which the maintenance guy had given him a whole heap of bullshit along with some prissy smirk about how he wasn’t able to fix the air con until Monday. Two goddamn days away. Well, he’d teach the motherfucker about how it wasn’t possible to fix things. He’d make sure no doctor, no hospital, no surgeon could fix his goddamn legs and face once he’d finished with him and then he’d see who was smirking … Two goddamn days. The man was a jerk. And now, now, he had this bitch, this ball-breaker of a woman answering the phone like she was goddamn Capone.

      Spitting at, but missing, the waste bin, Salvatore growled down the line as he gestured to the prostitute to leave the room.

      ‘Put Cabhan on … adesso! Now! I wanna know what the fuck he’s done with my coke.’

      ‘He’s not available to speak to you … but I am.’ Franny stopped, then, with her tone dripping in sarcasm, added, ‘And it’s good to see you’ve got your priorities straight.’

      Salvatore, shaking with fury, hissed through his teeth whilst he squeezed his phone in both hands. ‘Fuck you!’

      ‘No, fuck you, Sal. I would’ve thought you’d have asked about Ally first, but I forgot, you’re a Russo.’

      ‘There’s nothing to ask, my niece is dead. Now if I were you, I’d go and sort your fucking period out and pass the phone to Cab. I don’t deal with women.’

      Another pause before Franny, coolly and matter-of-factly, said, ‘That’s not what I’ve heard, Sal. I hear you deal in women all the time.’

      Flickers of white light appeared in front of Salvatore’s eyes. Blind rage and fury surged through him as he felt his blood pressure go from baseline to sky-high. He pressed his muscular fingers onto his eyelids, massaging them, trying to find some relief from the stress.

      ‘Bitches like you need to be put in their place.’

      ‘And that’s why I’m at the top of my game. I’m in my place … So, are we going to keep going round and round in circles, or are we going to talk business? But I do want you to know I am genuinely sorry about Ally. Le mie condoglianze.’

      Standing up, Salvatore began to pace around the large, expansive kitchen. He laughed scornfully. ‘Is that some kind of joke? I don’t want your fucking condolences. I curse them. You hear me? Like I curse Cabhan. He murdered my niece, and he’ll pay for that.’

      Franny spoke firmly. ‘Salvatore, we both know that it wasn’t Cab who killed Ally. She was the one who was driving, not him.’

      Mopping up the trickling sweat from his brow with the corner of a blue napkin, Salvatore opened the fridge and stuck his head inside for cool relief. ‘Let me tell you something, if you were standing next to me right now, I’d blow your fucking head off. My niece is dead. She was sixteen years old, yet you think you can disrespect her when she’s not even cold in the ground?’

      ‘No, Sal. I’m not saying it was her fault, I’m saying it was an accident. A tragic one, but she was driving nevertheless. They are the facts.’

      Salvatore raised his voice along with his head, banging it hard on one of the fridge shelves, sending cooked meat and salad along with his temper up in the air. ‘Goddamn whore, pass me over to Cabhan! I wanna know what happened to my coke.’

      ‘He got rid of it.’

      It was Salvatore’s turn to pause. ‘What the fuck are you talking about?’

      ‘Like I say, he got rid of it. Ripped the bags open and let it go.’

      Incandescent with rage, Salvatore ran his arm along the breakfast bench, dragging and smashing the bowl of cut fruit along with bottles of olive oil and vinegar onto the marbled floor.

      ‘So Cab thought it was a good idea to play snow globe with my coke, like it was Santa’s fucking day out?’

      ‘It was a good job he did, otherwise the police might’ve been wanting to talk to you.’

      ‘Rat me out? That wouldn’t be a smart idea, he knows exactly what happens to rats and their families.’

      ‘No, he wouldn’t have, but it would’ve been pretty easy for the police to work out who it was they needed to come and talk to. He did you a favour.’

      Salvatore burst into menacing laughter. ‘Some fucking favour. Do you know how much money I lost?’

      ‘Not exactly, but I’m willing to compensate you. Every dollar. So, what do you say?’

      Salvatore stared out of the large window of his house, which looked out across the lawn towards the ornate water fountain. ‘I don’t think so.’

      ‘Problem is it’s not your decision to make, is it, Sal? We both know who’s really in charge.’

      ‘Where you’re concerned, I am in charge.’

      ‘No, but you’re not. I want to speak to your brother. I want to speak to Nico. Make it happen, otherwise the offer’s off and you’ll be out of pocket by about three million dollars.’