Chapter 2: Mancini

I climbed into the back of my waiting car, another Breitling creation, after spotting the jackasses in a town car three doors down; and headed to my first stop of the day. Traffic was a little more sedate in my neighborhood on Central Park West, which would change just a few short streets over, where the hustle and bustle of the city began.

I own clubs all over the city, as well as internationally, along with a few restaurants and one oil-company down in Texas. I have my fingers in a lot of pies yes, and it amazes me that I can control it all, with just the push of a button. Technology has gone a long way in making life easier for guys like me. I could sit in a pied-a-terre in Paris France and conduct business in Prague, gotta love it.

Some business still needed to be handled the old fashioned way though, face to face; though I tried to keep those to a minimum, because people got on my fucking nerves. On the phone, or behind the computer screen, I could hang up or log off; in person, I usually ended up having to fight the urge to cold clock a motherfucker. Sometimes I wasn't so good at reining it in, it came with the territory.

The clubs fit in perfectly with my lifestyle. They were a nice backdrop and a nice meeting place for my other dealings, this way I always stayed in control of my environment. I had shit set up so my stalkers couldn't come sniffing around, especially in this particular place.

Mancini's had been my first foray into the nightclub business. As with everything else, I'd done the homework, looked at the pros and cons from all angles, and dove right on in. My brothers were part owners with me in all my ventures, because that's the way I wanted it. I never did anything business-wise without involving them, and at the rate they were procreating, they were going to need every dime.

I usually tried to touch base with each of my places at least once a week, if not more, whenever I was stateside; although I had eyes and ears in every one of them. I liked knowing what was going on in my place; who was doing what. Only select areas were off limits for my listening devices, unless I changed that for my own purposes. These were the places where I conducted the business the police of the world would like to know about, and in fact have been trying their damnedest to uncover for at least ten years now.

At thirty-four I'd done plenty to garner their attention. I flaunted my prowess, while thumbing my nose at them and each time I bested one of their agencies, they ran with their tails tucked between their legs; until they regrouped and came back at me harder than before.

Too bad none of it ever worked. I had no interest in sitting in a cell, but neither did I have any interest in playing nice with the good old boys. They'd have to work for every morsel, and I threw them none. So far they were o for plenty; some of them had made for great entertainment over the years, some not so much. But each time they got to be too bothersome, I flung them off like the pesky insects they were.

***

Sitting in my office, on the top floor of one of my three nightclubs in this area of the Meatpacking district, I went over the night's take from the day before. Not bad for a Wednesday night, but then again, none of my places ever did poorly. Good promo, and the off chance that the man himself might make an appearance on any given night, kept my places packed. Though there's been lots of speculation in the news media over the years about my shadowy lifestyle outside the limelight, people still seemed obsessed with who I am and everyone wanted a piece of me.

I gave them little nibbles, but never enough to sate their appetites; I'm not stupid, that's what kept them coming back for more. Women, not to sound clichéd, were a dime a dozen, I had my pick, but I'm very choosy. Over the years I've sampled a select few. In my younger years, I even gorged myself there for a while, but now my tastes were changing. The older I got, it seemed the less enticing the lure of the chase became.

Not that I was looking for permanence or anything like that, but I've grown tired of playing the field. My mama would love nothing better, than to see her one remaining son hogtied, and spitting out little Mancinis to her heart's content. But as much as I hate disappointing her, this was the one thing I'd yet to give her, and things didn't look like they would be changing anytime soon. I'd acquired a healthy dose of distrust in my travels; it would take a very special woman to break down those walls.

Of course I couldn't be here without being interrupted, so the knock at the door fifteen minutes later was no big surprise.

"Come in." I barely took my eyes off of what I was doing, as one of my day managers came in. Starling was supermodel beautiful, with the looks and the body to make it on any runway in the world, but preferred to have the life she led. Working for me during the day, and being at home with her husband and kids at night.

"What's up Star?"

"You flew the coop again didn't you Hanky?"

I wish she'd stop calling me that shit; she's the only one who does and no matter how much I threatened her with termination and all manner of bodily harm, she refused to relent. I chose to ignore her disrespect and focused instead on her cryptic question, the girl's nuts so who knew what the hell she was talking about.

"What're you talking about now?"

She rolled her eyes at me and huffed, which seemed to be her trademark move when dealing with yours truly.

"Your latest cuckoo puff, she's been making the rounds, because Sabra and Annette already called to complain about her behavior. Now me, I just told the nut that I'm not your damn answering service and that was the end of that, but the others aren't nearly as brave as I am, so they've been suffering through her bullshit."

"I guess we're talking about Mara here?"

"Yep, so what did you do this time, the bracelet, the watch, the necklace what?"

"None of the above; I've just been really busy lately; now what's going on with my business?"

"You're cold dude, straight up icicle; anyway then, on to more important things apparently. Let's see, sales are good, business is booming, in spite of the recession. Mostly bored debutantes, with daddy's platinum card burning a hole in their pockets, sipping on thirty-dollar martinis and nibbling on twenty-dollar veggie wraps. That about sums it up, oh and I need a raise." She grinned at me.

" I just gave your ass an undeserved raise, two months ago, and your disdain is showing again." For someone who was once a debutante herself, she sure didn't feel any love for her fellow ilk. She positively abhorred women of a certain class, including her own mother on occasion. According to her, they were all bubble headed nymphets; that could be due to her mother divorcing her father when she was thirteen years old to marry up.

"Meh! Whatever! Anyway, you need to deal with the beer distributors. People are complaining about the beer on tap, they say it's a bit watered-down. We checked the pressure and everything's fine there, so the only thing we can deduce, is that it's a problem originating from the company. I've been hearing whispers from other places in the city that seems to be having the same issue, so I'm thinking you might want to jump on that right quick." She fiddled with the stuff on my desk, until I rapped her knuckles with my Mont Blanc.