Ben saw a way out and decided to go for it. Susan, we have to throw ourselves off the stage!
She looked uneasy at Ben's idea. What? Are you crazy? It's too high, we'll break our necks!
But Ben knew that they had to seize the moment, otherwise it would be too late. This is our only chance. I've got an idea. Trust me!
He grabbed her by the waist and leaped, leaving her no choice but to jump with him.
They both ended up right on top of the potbellied drunkard who had passed out and relocated to the floor before the show had started. Even though Ben and Susan's crash landing didn't seem to disturb the catatonic conditions of the man, at least it absorbed the shock of the fall.
Ben recovered first and turned to Susan. Are you ok? Are you hurt?
She groaned about the sudden and inconsiderate action, but when she looked at where she was sitting, she jumped up, startled. Oh my god! We've killed him!
But the unconscious man responded to Susan's fear with a loud fart. While attempting to wave away the foul odor, Ben calmed Susan down. Nah, don't worry about him. He's alive and kicking, but we've gotta get outta here if we don't want to be Bill's lunch!
He pointed to one of the twins who was still trying to disentangle the microphone from his ankle, grabbed her by the arm and both ran out of the nightclub. The last thing they saw before they escaped outside into the commotion of humans, was their follower's risky imitation of their jump from the stage. The noise following their frenemies's leap sounded like bones cracking and loud screaming and cursing that confirmed that their pursuer had missed his mark.
Running and zig-zagging around several obstacles, this is how the fugitives were able to safely get away.
Chapter 2
731 Lexington Avenue: Bloomberg Tower
The backrest of the big, black, leather armchair was facing the entrance to the thirtieth-floor studio, offering a legendary and marvelous view. The highly technological glassed wall was remote controlled to allow the light to dim or shine as desired. Joe Santinis favorite pastime was to fiddle with this gadget while tossing one of his customary mints around in his mouth, especially while his mind was occupied with his nephew, Benito. Or Ben, as he preferred to be called.
You have to admit, he managed a pretty good escape, grabbing the girl and taking off like a jackrabbit right out the front door.
The man speaking about Bens adventure was called Valerio Esposito. From a recently immigrated Italian family, he was part of the group called the Observers, who looked after the young mans physical well-being, unbeknownst to him. Esposito, like a doctor, was available when necessary to administer the proper therapy.
We need to take some cautionary act against that guy, just to make sure he wont be interfering again. What did you say his name was? Jerkoff?
Jerkov. Bill Jercov. And Ive already taken the liberty to prescribe a tranquilizer.
Coincidentally, whenever Ben got involved in some kind of annoying trouble, Joe could feel a strange pain in his gut, a burning in his stomach like he was breathing embers of fire. He figured it was only frustration, attributing the cause to his addiction to the mints that he couldnt get enough of. From a wood box on his desk, he took a cigar and lit it up in hopes that it would calm the unpleasant feeling.
Colombia Presbyterian Medical Center
Dr. Newman was looking over the new patients medical chart.
Nasal septum, mouth, both legs and your right arm broken. Well, for a simple fall, youre sure a mess.
The patient, in a state of confusion, partly due to the painkillers, was desperately attempting to open his mouth to show the empty spaces between his teeth.
Ah, I see. Also missing an upper molar and an incisor. All right, well get you fixed up in no time, Mr Jerkoff?!
The doctor walked off with a smug smile on his face, followed by two gorgeous nurses while Bill whispered, Je rko v!
Clearly, Bills feeble attempt at correcting his last name was useless. The patients file had already been completed with the insulting wrong name.
Bloomberg Tower
Joe appeared satisfied, rotating his armchair back around, deeming to look his visitors straight in the eye.
Well done, good job. Now, where is my nephew? Is he still with the girl?
Esposito answered confidently, pleased with a job well done, Yes. Theyre together right now. Near 6th Avenue at that restaurant called The Italian Affair.
The Italian Affair Restaurant
Ben and Susan were still a little rattled from their experience; they caught their breaths while sipping their wine at an elegantly set table. Between the two, Ben was the one most shaken up by the events of the evening.
I still cant believe what happened! It was absurd, incredible. I had a funny feeling about that job. I should have listened to my sixth sensesomething wasnt right about it. I should have turned around and run the other way as soon as I set foot in that place.
Susan looked at him with a puzzled expression. Well, Ive got to say, it doesnt take a genius to figure out what kind of club it is! I only took the job because if I dont have the money by the end of the month, I wont be able to pay my rent and Ill be on the street. But you? Why the hell did you accept? You dont look you fit in with those kind of people. Or like youre hard up for money, seeing as the way youre dressed.
Ben, embarrassed, looked down at his clothes, awkwardly trying to hide the Emporio Armani signature.
Oh ya. I mean no! Im not a loser or a convict or anything like that, but Im not a millionaire either. My uncle got me a great deal for the suit from some relatives from Italy. But gee, now that you mention it, youre out of a job because of me.
No, dont worry about it. Its not your fault. I dont think I could have stood it much longer there, anyway. Tonight was the perfect occasion to get away from those perverts who kept trying to feel me up.
Ben felt lucky to have always had a family who was there for him no matter what, helping him out in every way.
But now how are you going to pay the rent? I mean, have you got someone to help you? Your mom or dad, a relative, a boyfriend?
He casually threw the question out there, just to ascertain her status, while he swigged his wine to hide the fact.
Ive never had a real family, and regarding menugh, forget it!
Red flags were waving in Bens mind, which made him curious to find out more. In what waydo you mean you, and menyou dont like?
He had always thought of himself as open-minded to the idea of a lesbian friend, but in all honesty, if it were true, it would have shattered a few of his fantasies hed already had about Susan.
Are you asking me if I like women? Well, what would be wrong with that? You like women, dont you?
He blushed for even bringing up the subject. Pushing his chair back, he sat up straight and tried to wipe the look of a predator off his face.
Ya, Ive always wondered how women do it.
Susan burst out laughing, and Ben realized that he was way off the mark.
You fellhook, line and sinker! Even if she couldnt stop laughing, she did her best to control herself.
You mean to tell me that you were pulling my leg? Although relieved that she wasnt into women, he was pretty shocked at the idea of being made fun of by someone he barely knew.
Ya, Ive always wondered how women do it.
Susan burst out laughing, and Ben realized that he was way off the mark.
You fellhook, line and sinker! Even if she couldnt stop laughing, she did her best to control herself.
You mean to tell me that you were pulling my leg? Although relieved that she wasnt into women, he was pretty shocked at the idea of being made fun of by someone he barely knew.
Sorry, I couldnt resist. Plus I wanted to break up some of the tension. Are you ok now?
She tilted her head and nibbling at a piece of bread, kept looking mischievously at him. That gesture, apparently insignificant, was extremely seductive to Ben. It went straight to his heart and tied him to her forever.
Ya, thanks. Its usually me who has to contrive ways to make other people laugh.
The waiter brought their steamy first courses. For Ben, bucatini allamatriciana and for Susan, homemade fettuccine with pancetta and asparagus. While Ben rubbed his hands together in front of his plate, Susans stared, open-mouthed at hers.
Wow! Except for pizza and spaghetti, can you believe that this is the first time Ive ever tasted real Italian food?
Really? I have a hard time not eating it; in the traditional Italian family, cuisine is very important. So, buon appetito. I hope you enjoy it.
At first, Susan found it a little difficult to twist the fettuccine around her fork, but then got the hang of it and started emanating sounds of rapture with every bite. The people dining at the nearby tables thought it was rather funny, while the owner of the restaurant was delighted.
When Susan had cleaned her plate, Ben offered her a taste of his bucatini and she didnt hesitate.
This food is amazing! Now I understand your parents!
A cloud of nostalgia passed through Bens thoughts. Actually, my Uncle Carmine raised me, along with my other uncles. My mother died giving birth to me. And my father, well, I only have a few memories of him. He was out for a walk and found himself in the middle of a shootout and was hit by a random bullet when I was just two-years-old. The greatest thing that I inherited from him was my vocation. He was a comedian, a great comedian. I think he would have made it big, if only hed had the time.
So, in a way, youre trying to break into the business to honor him?
Well, in part, yes. But mostly its for me. I truly love this work and I know he would have understood and supported me. Unlike my uncles
Ben wanted to talk about himself, but was worried about boring Susan, so he tried prompting her with incomplete sentences to see if she was really interested.
Your relatives arent happy with what you do? So, do they want you to do something else? asked Susan.
Theyd like me to do something a little more traditional. Like Uncle Johnny, whos the manager of a company that deals with insurance.
Wards Island Bridge
Two hulking men on the bridge had their sleeves rolled up to their elbows. One of the mens biceps were so flexed, that the material of his shirt was on the verge of ripping.
Damn you! I told you I should have got one size bigger!
What are you talking about? You tried it on a month ago at the shop and it fit perfectly. It isnt my fault if you work out so much at the gym.
The two of them, having what would have been a normal conversation in different circumstances, were actually swinging a passed out man upside down by the ankles over the side of the bridge.
If this creep ruins my shirt, I swear Ill let him drop like a rock!
Johnny Greco, sick and tired of listening to the two men argue, threw down his cigarette butt. You guys wanna shut up? And you dont drop anybody without my permission, otherwise you get a nice little hole in your forehead, understood? This fuckin Chinese is worth his weight in gold, and Id rather have the crisp banknotes than a useless cadaver!
The man, intimidated, apologized immediately for his arrogant comment. Sorry, Boss. I was just sayin. Ten minutes now we been holding this fish whos fainted and wont wake up.
Johnny looked over the bridge to see for himself and realized they were right. All right, Ill take care of this chickenshit.
He unzipped his pants and started pissing over the bridge right into the poor mans face, who instantly came to his senses, spluttering and gurgling.
Well, well! Good morning! So whats your decision? You want our insurance policy, or not?
The poor wretch realized where he was and terrorized, started screaming. Yes! Yes! I want it! I want it!
Johnny smiled pleasantly for a job well done, lighting another cigarette to celebrate and seal the deal.
Did you hear that guys? We have a new client. Pull him up before he shits in his own face.
The Italian Affair Restaurant
Ben listed all of the respectable occupations of his uncles as he had been told by them.
and my Uncle Frank works in finance, in banking.
Somewhere in Manhattan: in a basement
Frank Colombo was silently and calmly examining the banknotes delivered by Bart Wilson, who was fauning for approval. So, Boss? How does it look?
Bart was more than satisfied with his work, but had to wait for the final word that only his boss could give. He had been working day and night for months; it was a question of principle more than anything.
The paper is good quality, pleasing to the touch. The edges arent too soft, either and the color is pretty clear
The dark circles under Barts eyes lit up with pride while he tried to point out further details. We also improved the loss of color on the seal.
Frank picked up a piece of paper and held it under the banknote, then with his fingernail, he started scratching the seal. He then examined the paper and didnt see any loss of color. He repeated the operation with a dull pencil and still didnt see any loss of color. In one more attempt, he rubbed it harder to get a faint result. It looked like a job well-doneexcept for one tiny detail.
With the magnifying glass, he scrutinized the serial numbers.
Were still not there yet.
Barts world came crashing down on him. He started stuttering, W-w-wewerestill not there yet?
The serial numbers, see? Theyre still not perfectly aligned. The rest is passable, not perfect, but pretty good. Now get back to work. I want a final result by the end of the week.
Sure, Boss. Consider it done.
Staggering away from sheer exhaustion, Bart headed back to the drawing board.
The Italian Affair Restaurant
Theyd even be happy if I went to work at Uncle Carmines restaurant.
The waiter then brought the second course to their table. Here you are. Beef braised in Barolo wine with porcini mushrooms for the signorina. And seared lamb cooked on embers for you, sir. The roasted potatoes are on the house.
Thank you so much and send our compliments to Mario. Everything is exquisite, as usual.
The waiter didnt leave without first winking at Ben in reference to Susans beauty and choice of food. If she noticed, she didnt show it.
On one hand though, youre lucky. I mean, whatever happens, youre always covered.
Ben felt his chest swell a bit. Yes, it really has its advantages. It means I can dedicate all my time to my passion. I should say, though, that Ive been pretty lucky since childhood. I remember the time, when I was ten-years-old, an encyclopedia salesman knocked on the door and gave me a beautiful new soccer ball, just to promote his books. It was the exact same ball that a neighborhood kid had stolen from me just a few hours before.