The silence in the air was palpable.
Sergei Golgacev was late for our agreed rendezvous, although from experience that was nothing to be concerned or surprised by.
The Russian kept his own time, in spite of any predetermined plans. Such traits would normally cause problems for me, such tardiness was a sign of ill manners, a lack of discipline. The thought process that your time was more important than the time of the person waiting on you was disrespectful and showed to my mind the greatest level of ignorance.
I gave concession to Sergei Golgacev only by virtue of the ultimate gain our third meeting in so many weeks offered. Already I had conceded that despite my disdain for the Muscovite tolerating his perceived power battle was tolerable, the reward tonight would finally see me take possession of five thousand of the innocuous looking yet extremely potent little blue pills of which I had been provided an effective trial of far too many months previously.
Not that any of the pills had ultimately been wasted I consider as my mind lingers on the memory of the conquests achieved under their influence, the most satisfying of which being Hannah Walker the long-term partner of the despicable and now deceased Logan Hughes.
"Why the scowl?" the stunning brunette offered as she stepped before me, a long wide stretch of black marble bar separated the two of us as she set a fresh tumbler of whisky before me.
Laura Mancini looked stunning as ever, dressed tonight practically all in black. She had worn black now for months since the passing of her beloved father. The attire she wore tonight though bore little resemblance to the respectful solemn outfits of a daughter in mourning. A fitted blazer sat over a scarlet red satin bra, the jacket buttoned at the waist accentuating her ample olive-skinned cleavage. I could not see her lower torso from my position but had noted the short tight black skirt sat over black fishnets accompanied by black leather knee boots when she had met me at the rear door of the Dark Star night club a little under an hour earlier.
"Thinking of dog shit I once had the misfortune to step in," I offered quickly and honestly the contempt etched across my face must have been abundantly obvious for Laura to enquire, my ire was only further raised by the memory and knowledge that Laura herself had become embroiled with Hughes.
"That a metaphor?" Laura offered, and I could not work out if she was being astute or naive.
"Logan Hughes," I heard the snarl in my voice. "I believe you were aware of his...existence."
I watch the sheepish almost embarrassed look cross her features, her cheeks blush a little.
"You could say that..." Laura sets her hands firmly upon the bar to hold herself up, "...I'm guessing he wasn't too fond of me after I wrestled this a place from his grasp... somewhat brutally so if I do say so myself."
Laura's composure returned as she assertively referenced the change of ownership, which I knew was as much the responsibility of her now deceased father, Gio. Laura had always been the apple of his eye and as much as I respected Gio I always recognised Laura was therefore a weakness in his personal defence. A weakness I had no need to exploit but one to which I was sure his rivals might test.
"Retribution." I offer quickly followed by a slug of whiskey, to settle my unease at broaching the subject that I was somewhat ill at ease referencing.
"Retribution?" Laura offers a little uncertainly.
"I'm aware... that you and he..." I stammer, "...the arrogant prick... well he once gloated..."
Laura laughs, cutting through my discomfort, a throaty little laugh that belies my perception of her innocent persona.
"Oh Godfather..." she offers with a smirk that borders flirtatious following her throaty laugh, "...I'll spare you all the details of my less than memorable liaison with Logan Hughes... but let's just suggest that I was never not in control of that brief... unspectacular dalliance."
I find myself simply nodding as my eyes meet her dark eyes which narrow instantly.
"So, no need to think less off me..." Laura continues, "He wasn't even shit on the sole of my Louboutin's... even when I stepped all over him."
I grace her with a grin of genuine satisfaction, her blunt repost easing a concern that has gnawed at my conscience for months. Under the circumstance Laura has no need to lie to me and I respect her decision to not impart even the slightest of detail concerning whatever took place between the two of them.
Logan Hughes, lack of grace and decorum had manifest itself deep into my conscience on far too many matters. His memory still festered even following us death. I could not decide why. I could only now bask in the misery he must have faced in his fall from grace prior to his brutal demise. For the second time in as many minutes I consider my conquest of his long-term partner and feel the satisfaction of the memory bring a smirk to my lips, her taught body locked into the pillory at the Warehouse as I claimed her body with ease, penetrating her harshly and deeply before ejaculating into her unprotected womb. I can only but hope he knew the truth before he passed. His Hannah had been my conquest, although there was still one other connection of his whom I truly desired, the lithe little platinum blonde.
"What's with the grin?" Laura offers, snapping me from my thought process.
"Just revelling in that cunts demise," I genuinely offer in response. Earning a further devilish smirk from Laura.
"I should be grateful..." Laura offers looking beyond me into the empty venue, "...without him I wouldn't have this place."
"It's a little quiet tonight in here," I bluntly offer.
"I've only opened because a close family associate needed a meeting place for their surreptitious business dealings... I mean it's not like you haven't your own venue for such illegality."
"Sometimes neutral ground is for the best," I offer with a slightly sardonic grin. "A little over dressed aren't you... if you've nothing better to do?"
"I'm trying... unsuccessfully to keep my acerbic older brother out of this place for the same reason as I let you in," Laura offers, "...And perhaps I've my own rendezvous to attend after you've finished your business."
I decide not to press Laura on her personal affairs, I overlook her savvy, her worldliness, failing often to see the woman she has become. Cast in the shadow of a proud strong Italian family. Her previous comments on Logan Hughes enough proof on such matters. I decide therefore to change the subject matter.
"How is your Brother?... I haven't seen him since..." I stop myself not wishing to reference their Fathers funeral, sensing the underlying hurt the subject still causes. Wounds that have not fully healed.
"Marco?" Laura questions as if she has more than one male sibling, "I believe he's good... so far as I'm aware he shares nothing with me...I suspect he's running more and more drugs through the family business... which would not be approved of by our..."
I hold my tongue conscious two-fold of the Mancini family beliefs and also that I have not informed Laura of the nature of my business tonight with Sergei Golgacev.
"Oh, and he's in love... smitten some little skinny blonde with as an acerbic personality as his own... she's already moved into the home with him... little style and very little substance...goes by Ari or something equally as trashy... I'll give it three weeks."
The name pricks my sense immediately, the name matching the brutal unflattering description Laura delivers is surely too much of a coincidence.
"Typical Marco then" I offer, my pulse uncharacteristically racing wanting to pursue details of the to my mind enigmatic little platinum blonde.
Once again Logan Hughes or rather his exquisite little plaything enter my mind.
Further thoughts or discussion on the matter are instantly parked as I sense movement out of the corner of my eye. Laura's accomplice, a slender strawberry blonde introduced earlier to me as Jamie enters the main bar area dressed in a short black cocktail dress accompanied with strapless black, silver spiked heels.
"Mr Salazar..." Jamie confidently states, "...Mr Golgabev is here."
Slipping from the bar stool with a nod to Laura who instantly steps away to prepare requested refreshments in line with Sergei Golgacev's preference. I can only hope that Jamie's mispronunciation of the hulking Russians name has not soured his attitude. I want negotiations to be swift and decisive the process has taken far too long to arrive at this moment as it is. To my mind it is a simple transaction, my cash in exchange for vast supply of his little blue pills.
Even as I extend my hand with a warm smile to the bear like grip of the greying, craggy faced Russian sporting heavy five o'clock shadow, who greets me with a wide yet hideously insincere and borderline menacing grin my mind was still racing on the prospect of finally locating the delicious little blonde I have sought for so many months.
My mind lingering on her delightful little whimpers and cries of ecstasy as she was held restrained across a bed while a mechanical fuck machine mercilessly tormented and stimulated her perfect body.
"Sergei..." I sincerely offer, snapping my mind to the here and now, "...how are you?"
**********
I was not drunk but my senses were dulled.
Between the two of us the Russian and I had consumed nearly the entire contents of a litre bottle of Siberian Vodka over ice. I looked up at him through bleary eyes. He had said something to me only seconds before hand, but it had failed to register.
Only moments earlier his two associates had left us almost as quickly as they had joined us.
Leaving me with an innocuous enough looking old fashion Adidas leather sports hold-all that was full of plastic bags. Each bag containing one hundred of the little blue pills, I had not counted them all, but I trusted that there were fifty bags in total given the brief case of cash, that the largest of his cohorts had taken with him, was well out of sight.
He had counted the cash the moment Laura had set it on the table between us at my signal, not so much as a thank you had been offered in courtesy. Just a grunt and another caustic grin on a nod.
"We should celebrate our partnership properly Mister Salazar..." Sergei offered. "More vodka and perhaps those girls can come and join us."
His words register this time and I instantly believe it is a bad idea, a bad idea that I am reluctant to relay to Sergei out of respect.
