Читать книгу Cruel - Jacob Stone - Страница 18

Chapter 10

“Dapper Vince” Scalise sucked on his Cohiba Esplendidos, blew a smoke ring from his mouth, and watched absently as the bluish-gray smoke dissipated into the air-conditioned room. The actor Ben Chandler was also smoking a Cohiba, both men lighting up after their steak dinners. Chandler was holding his cigar between the index and middle fingers on his left hand so he could use his right to pick up the twenty-five-year-old single malt scotch that went for eighty dollars a glass.

The city of Los Angeles prohibited smoking inside a restaurant, so even though Scalise and Chandler were in a private room at Palace 21 they were still violating the no-smoking ordinance. But that didn’t matter. No employee wanting to keep his teeth was going to tell Scalise to put out a cigar, and even if the waitstaff serving them hadn’t recognized the danger Scalise represented, they were too starstruck by Chandler to complain about what the two men were doing.

“Cigar’s not bad,” Scalise noted, hamming it up as if he were actually a connoisseur of expensive cigars. Every blue moon Joe Penza would hand some out from his private stash, and occasionally Scalise would take one off a mark, but usually he smoked more moderately priced cigars. “Nice flavor. Good burn. Not the best I ever had, though. That would be an Opus X. Ever try one of those?”

“I haven’t, but next time we get together I’ll make sure I have a box of them.” Chandler’s face was lit up brighter than any kid who ever raced down the stairs to open Christmas presents. “Vincent, I can’t thank you enough for seeing me. It’s going to be a huge help.”

Scalise raised an eyebrow. “Just because you buy me dinner, a few drinks, and a cigar you think we’re on a first-name basis?”

Chandler stiffened. “My mistake. I meant Mr. Scalise.”

A smile cracked the gangster’s face. “You should see the way you look right now, like you’re about to keel over. Benny, you need to learn how to take a joke. Damn right we’re on a first-name basis. But I gotta tell you, it’s getting tiring hearing you thank me all night.”

Some pink peppered Chandler’s cheeks as he recovered from his scare. “Still, it means a lot to me,” he said.

Scalise leaned back in his chair. He was the picture of nonchalance as he blew out another smoke ring and sipped his scotch. Expensive scotch was something he knew well. A handful of downtown restaurant owners were on his collection list. These guys were degenerate gamblers and in deep to Penza, and whenever they came up short, Scalise, in exchange for giving them an extra week and not breaking their arms, would confiscate a bottle or two of their best single malts from the bar, while his former partner “Irish” Colgan would get a steak dinner packed up to go, his price for letting the owner keep his teeth.

“What else was I going to do?” he asked. “I’ve known Billy Dunn since forever. If he’s going to ask me to do this favor for you, then that’s what I’m going to do.” His eyes dulled as he puffed out more cigar smoke. “I should’ve called you three weeks ago when Billy first asked, but I got busy. My apologies.”

“No need to apologize. I know you’re getting sick of me thanking you, so I’ll just say it one last time. I can’t possibly tell you how thrilled I was when I got your call today.”

The thin smile Scalise showed wasn’t much different than a cold-blooded reptile’s. He winked to show what he was about to say was bull. “I don’t know why you think hanging out with me is going to help you with that movie role. You got the wrong idea about what I do, ’cause I’m nothing more than an average schmo working a job. Whoever told you I’m connected with the mob is nuts.”

Chandler didn’t need the wink to know that Vincent Scalise was an important player in Big Joe Penza’s organization. From what he’d been told, Scalise did everything from breaking legs to robbing banks.

“Sure, but I heard you know people,” Chandler said, being as diplomatic as he could about it.

Another wink from Scalise. “I know some big talkers. Nothing more than knockaround guys who think they’re bigshots. These clowns tell a good story, but that’s all it is—a story. You’ll meet some of them at the poker game later tonight.”

A wind chime noise sounded. Scalise wrestled his cell phone from his jacket pocket and squinted at a new text message. “We got to wrap up this party. There’s an errand I need to do. Afterward I’ll take you to that poker game I’ve been telling you about.”

Scalise drained what was left in his glass, and Chandler did the same. The two men walked out of the private room with cigars in hand. They collected dirty looks as they walked through the main dining room, but even if people didn’t know who Scalise was, they were still smart enough not to say anything to him.