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Chapter 9
Domencio
The next morning, Iwoke up energized from the thought of seeing Sydney later. The shit with Darren’s thieving ass was the last thing on my mind. The situation was handled, so there was nothing else to dwell on.
After showering and getting dressed, I met Jefferson in the dining room where my breakfast eggs benedict with Hollandaise sauce, two crisp bacon, two sausage patties, and a bowl of mixed fruit was laid out along with today’s newspaper.
“Sir, your breakfast is served along with orange juice and coffee. Is there anything else you should need?” he asked.
Picking up the newspaper, then fanning it out, I replied, “No, Jefferson. I have everything I need. Thank you.”
“Very well, sir. If you need anything, please call,” Jefferson said before going into the kitchen.
While reading the newspaper, I devoured my breakfast. When finished, I grabbed my briefcase, then left the house and headed to the office.
After giving the valet my keys, I went inside and two of my men flanked my sides. I spoke to a few of my employees as I moved through the crowd of players, who were hoping this morning would be the day to make them rich. Finally, we made it to my private elevator. To get to the top floor where our offices are located, you needed a key. This key is different from the one that takes you to the High Rollers floor. My men took their positions on the outside of the elevator as I stepped in. Once inside, I inserted the key and turned it, causing the doors to slide shut before I felt the elevator begin to rise.
When the elevator stops, the doors open to the large lettering of DeLuca Management, Inc in black on the wall. Our mutual secretary sits at her desk in front of it.
“Good morning, Mr. DeLuca,” she greets as I walk out of the elevator.
“Good morning to you, Mallory,” I returned.
Smiling, she informs, “Your mail is on your desk as well as the files on the new development on the riverfront. I’ve given Mr. Rengould copies also.”
“Thank you, Mallory,” I praised.
“One other thing,” she says, picking up a small piece of paper. “That representative from Oasis Casino Group called a few minutes ago. He would like for you to contact him about doing business together.”
Taking the piece of paper from her, I look at it. This is the third time the guy has called. The first time, I was professional and listened to what he and his company were offering. They wanted to buy me out of Blue Bayou and although their offering amount was very generous, I declined. Blue Bayou is my baby that I created, and I wouldn’t sell it for no amount of money.
“Some people just can’t take no for an answer,” I tell Mallory.
“Apparently,” she co-signs as she gets back to work.
I glance to the right to see Batista sitting at his desk, on his cell phone. I stroll that way to check in with him. Opening his glass door, I enter and take a seat in the chair in front of his desk and wait for him to finish his call.
“I don’t give a shit what you thought, I’m telling you I want a sample of each gun out for the buyer to examine,” he pauses, then says, “You know what, don’t do shit. I’ll do it myself when I get there. That way I can make sure every piece we ordered is accounted for.” He abruptly ends the call before tossing the cell phone on the desk.
“What was that about?” I questioned.
“Fucking Carmine all of a sudden thinks it’s a good idea to keep the guns in the crates. He had the nerve to suggest he would take pictures of the guns to show the buyer. What kind of shit is that?”
Sitting my briefcase on the floor next to the chair, I state, “It seems either Carmine is getting lazy and is trying to do things the easy way or he could be doing some shady shit under our noses. Either way, I don’t like it. I think it might be time to look into getting a new warehouse manager.”
Batista nods. “I think you’re right. Anyway, we’ll deal with that when we meet with the buyer.”
