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“Leka wouldn’t know,” Tam unwisely offers. “He’s never boned Mary.”
“Don’t blame you, bro. So who do you like?”
“He’s not interested in any of them. The guys call him Priest. He hears all the girls’ confessions but doesn’t fuck any of them. And it’s not because he’s gay either, cuz we got that covered, you know? We’re equal opportunity pi—”
“That’s enough,” I say quietly. Tam knows when he’s gone too far. He shrinks back into the seat, but Cesaro is like a bloodhound, scenting out weaknesses and weirdness.
“Don’t like the whores, do you?” He guesses wrong. I give a bare nod of my head. If he wants to run with that thread, let him. “Me, too.” He offers me a hit off his smoke. I shake my head. “I’m tired of all these whores. I want a virgin. Someone who’ll take some goddamn suggestion.”
Someone he can train.
“You’d have a better chance at church,” Tam declares. “I go to mass with my momma every Saturday, and the girls there have their knees locked so tight together, you’d think Father Mike puts superglue on the kneeler.”
Cesaro doesn’t agree. “Here’s the problem with church virgins. They’re too fucking demanding. They want you to go to mass with them. Dress a certain way. They don’t want it up the ass. They talk too much when they should be on their knees with their pie holes open and ready.”
“Some of these chicks are picky as hell,” Tam agrees. I’ve seen him get shot down several times. He probably knows what he’s talking about.
Cesaro is shaking his head again. “You’re going about it all wrong. You don’t aim for the alpha woman. She’s gonna be shitty in bed anyway. You go for the shy ones that the alphas bring along to make themselves look better. Those side chicks are vulnerable. You give them a compliment, throw a few drinks their way, and then invite them to the VIP room. Pretty soon you’ve got both the ugly chick and her hot friend fighting over you.”
Beefer slides to a stop in front of the Underground. Before Cesaro jumps out, he jerks his head toward the front of the club. “Come on and learn. You, too, pretty boy. You’ll be a good lure.”
“I’ll watch the front door,” I say. “You go on in with Beefer and Tam.
“Nope. Like I said, you’re going to help lure the pussies in.”
I grind my teeth together and glance toward Beefer. He’s my boss. He’s who I report to.
Cesaro snaps his fingers in my face. My hand whips up and grabs them, twisting his arm to the side. Beefer’s there in a nanosecond, drawing me away.
“Sorry,” I drawl, but no one, not even Cesaro, believes me for a second.
He gives me a grim smile. “You serve at my pleasure, you dumbass.”
“Your uncle’s,” I correct.
“Which means me, tonight.” He snaps his fingers again like I’m some fucking mongrel he can order around.
I start forward, baring my teeth. Beefer holds me back. With a nod, he tells Tam to take Cesaro inside. He draws me to the end of the SUV.
“Look, put aside the guard dog that you do so well and enjoy yourself. Cesaro’s an asshole, but if you play his game, you can move up in the business. Find him a chick. Grab one for yourself. Take them both home and fuck them until you guys are friends.”
“Is that what you’d do?” I ask with real surprise. Is he that lax with his security that he’d bring a stranger into his place where his wife and kids slept? I stalked Mrs. Michaelson for two months and researched her background thoroughly before I offered her the babysitting job. “I’m not bringing that dickhead or any woman into my home.”
Beefer sighs impatiently, his fingers digging into my biceps. “I’m not telling you to bend the girl over the kitchen table as Elizabeth’s eating her mac and cheese, but I am telling you that you’re way too intense. And you don’t have to be. Not tonight. Tonight, Cesaro wants you to play wingman. Draw in some babes and let him choose. You don’t got to do nothing. If he’s happy, Arturo’s happy. Fucking next to some guy is one way to create a real bond. It’ll help build trust between you and Arturo.”
“If I do an orgy with Cesaro in my home, the boss is going to trust me more?” I can’t believe what I’m hearing.
“Christ, you’re hardheaded. Then don’t bring her home. Do her in the VIP lounge. Or out in the parking lot. Shit, we’ll take a whole passel of them back to Marjory’s.”
This shit is going nowhere. I clap a hand on Beefer’s shoulder. “Let’s see what Cesaro wants,” I say.
Beefer visibly brightens. Making this pencil dick happy is clearly top priority.
Inside, I’m forced to give over my gun and my jacket. My only consolation is that Beefer is as miserable as I am about being disarmed. We make our way to a table that Cesaro has claimed.
