Cleo

W(h)ine

Niall had come into the living room not long later. Jesus was ready to meet when the word was said. He wouldn’t admit it, but he was scared. No one blamed him. Manny was ruthless. I wouldn’t admit it, but I was scared. Of course, I’ve dealt with so much shit the last few years; I wasn’t going to back down. Not just yet.

The problem with getting Gio on the same page was his son Leo. He was still relatively young, being only three years older than me. The man felt like he ran everything. He wanted to be his father and it royally pissed me off. If I needed to meet with Giovanni, Leonardo was there instead.

There had been multiple incidences that I’d nearly punched him in the throat, but Niall was always beside me whispering, “You do it, we lose.” in my ear. Niall was right and it pissed me off even more. But this time was not a matter that could be handled with Leo; I’d probably slice his throat before he walked in the door. That was just the mood I was in.

Niall was on the phone in the kitchen. Despite the loud, obnoxious debates of the boys over a soccer game, I could hear Niall trying hard to get a straight answer. “Why can’t you put your father on the phone?” I’d hear him say, “He’s busy isn’t an answer, Mari—“ He’d stop, “No, you don’t understand, we need your father.”

After about ten minutes of this endless stream of “Why” and “But” I pushed myself up from my seat and grabbed the phone from Niall without warning. “Okay, you little shit.” Silence met my ear, “Put your father on the phone before you find my three thousand dollar stilettos down your esophagus.”

“He’s busy, Maria. Tell me what you need and I’ll see to it.”

He was testing my patience and he knew what buttons to push. “Okay, how’s this? If I hang up this phone right now, without speaking directly to your father, I will be very unhappy.”

“Boohoo.”

“No, let me finish. Me being unhappy is like shoving a nice, plump bloody steak in front of a wild pitbull. I bite. I will see to it all help from my end is done. You will no longer have a peace keeper and your father will wonder why the Mar Rojo’s are up his ass.” Liam was leaning against the casing of the kitchen entryway. I made eye contact. “Without me, you guys will go down, not by Jesus and his gang, by Manny.”

Again I was met to only silence. “Goddamn it, you little shit—“

“Maria, always nice to hear from you.” Giovanni’s voice appeared and a small smile met my lips.

“Your son is begging for my knife in his throat.”

Gio laughed, I could see the old man nodding in my head, “You are right. He needs a woman like you to keep him in check. You don’t think you’d offer to take that place, do you?” I laughed as well, earning a cheerful, “Thought so.” I went to start speaking, but Gio was already two steps ahead, “I assumed you called about Manny.”

“I did, Sir. I was hoping to meet with you and Jesus later. We have a lot to talk about. Plans to make. This isn’t going to be a walk in the park.” Sliding down the wall slowly, I sat Indian style on the tile floor. “Do you think you can make it, minus the annoying second shadow?”

“For you, Maria, of course. I can see you around five, if that’s alright.”

I nodded and winked at Niall, “Perfect. I’ll be sure to pull out my beloved bottle of Monfortino for you.”

“You know the way to a man’s heart, Bella. Ciao.”

I ended the call and handed the phone back to Niall. “Inform Jesus that dinner will be on me tonight. Five sharp, no flunkies. I want you guys to stay out of the conversation as well.” I stood and crossed my arms, “Just stay in your rooms and pass that message along to the others.” I looked from Niall to Liam and sighed before walking to the basement door. “One last thing.” I placed my hand on the doorknob, the kitchen still in earshot. “Jasmine is not to leave the house, use the phone or have access to the internet. She is completely shut off from the rest of the world.”

Turning the knob, I stepped in and walked down the carpeted stairs into the furnished basement. My fingers quickly found the light switch, I found myself in the basement almost as much as I did my own bed. The rooms were small, but each held things I needed on almost a daily basis. We had a couple small rooms for any of the girls who needed it. Being a prostitute or stripper was hard, sometimes they didn’t have a place to go and of the few girls I had control over, I wasn’t about to let them have nothing.

There was a panic room, clichély placed behind one of the many bookshelves. I had yet to use the room, yet I knew where it was as if I’d been there a million times. Besides myself, the boys each had the password to the room. Even in the situation we found ourselves, I hoped the room would remain unused.

We had a storage room and the final room, the largest of them all, was our wine room. This was the reason I found myself in the basement a lot. Wine was always something to have. Not only because of my line of work, but because wine was something I found astonishing.

I didn’t know too much about wine, but I loved finding new ones. I didn’t have a single duplicated bottle, excluding the vintage wines. I owned many different years of certain types. I enjoyed most of them and so did my guests. Usually I’d bring a bottle to a meeting, lighten the mood. It was a great ice breaker as well.

Gio had a special interested in my 1968 bottle of Monfortino. He respectfully only drank one glass each visit, not that he needed my bottle, he had a few of his own. But I didn’t mind sharing, it wasn’t often I drank myself. I was usually downing beer with the guys.

I pulled out the bottle and grabbed the closest white wine I could find. Not really caring much for the brand and found myself back up stairs, preparing something for dinner. I wasn’t much of a cook, but I found myself a little helper when Jasmine came out, complaining about Niall. “He just came in and took my phone. Didn’t say a word to me. Is that really how you are going to let them treat me?” She said.

I smiled kindly at her and placed a pan on the table. “He was simply following my instructions. You are no longer Miss. Popularity. You no longer have the right to a facebook, twitter or any of the other popular websites. You cannot and will not talk to anyone from your life. You will talk to me, my boys and if you’re lucky, you may find yourself conversating with some of my girls.”

“You can’t do this.” Her face hardened and she looked like she was about to cry at the same time. “You can’t take away everything I love.”

Sighing, I took Cod from the fridge and set it beside the pan on the table. “You lost the right to freedom and loved ones the moment you sold your soul to the Devil. As of right now, Manny may not know we have you. Don’t make it harder for me to keep you off the streets or in a bag in the dumpster.”

She didn’t look at me. Blue eyes darted around the room as she tried not to cry. “Then what can I do? Rot away and wait for your ‘boys’ to take advantage of me?”

“Don’t you dare speak of them that way.” I snapped. Jasmine looked at me and held her breath. “Either go in the living room with the guys or stand here and cook dinner.” Without a single moment of hesitation, she grabbed the pan, the fish, some oil and spices and started dinner.