The Plug's Wife (8 page)

“Ok, listen.  I’m sorry I yelled at you.  I just need you to understand that running Banks and Reid is not the same as running this business,” Mitch warned.  “I’m sure JB has assets that you can probably live off for the rest of your life.  But this side of the business, it’s no place for a woman.”  His words felt like an open handed slap on Summer’s face. 
No place for a woman?!

“You can either partner with me or you can go off on your own. I’m stepping into this in place of my husband and you can accept that or you can leave,” Summer said calmly.  Mitch’s words hadn’t swayed her one bit. 

Mitch shoved his hands into his pockets and balled his fists until his knuckles throbbed.  He wasn’t prepared to share the boss position with anyone, much less, a woman. 

*****************************

Summer stepped out of Mitch’s BMW X6 and slammed the door behind her.  Mitch handed his keys to the eager-for-a-tip valet standing in front of the towering skyscraper.  Summer glanced back at the caravan of black SUVs that followed.  Mitch nodded at Billy, who sat shotgun in the front passenger seat of the first vehicle.  Summer didn’t bother to look back at any of the passengers of the three heavily tinted vehicles.  Summer and Mitch had not exchanged any words while in the car on their way to meet Cardinale in a high rise on Manhattan’s Upper East Side. 

There was a stark difference between Mitch and Jesse, from the way they dressed, talked, looked, and carried themselves. Jesse would never have chosen to wear a pair of flashy pocket True Religion jeans, a Givenchy t-shirt depicting a vicious dog on front, a leather jacket, and Timberland boots to an important business meeting.  Jesse was much classier than that. 

As the elevator ascended the building’s floors, Summer closed her eyes behind her dark, spike-trimmed Valentino shades.  She pictured what Jesse would have worn for today’s meeting.  Probably, a tailor made suit.  Maybe a dark blue linen or smoke grey Armani suit with a perfect, solid satin pocket square; a pristinely pressed, crisp white French cuff shirt with diamond monogrammed cuff links worn open at the collar; and on his feet, a pair of black suede Salvatore Ferragamo loafers.  Jesse’s outfits exuded class and sophistication.  Mitch was still in his hood rat stage. 

When the elevator doors dinged open on the 22
nd
floor, Mitch rushed out first.  Another notable difference between Mitch and Jesse.  This one Summer couldn’t let slide. 

“I guess chivalry is dead,” Summer mumbled disdainfully, glaring over the top of her glasses.  It was the first words she’d said to Mitch all day. 

“Act like a man, get treated like a man,” Mitch replied with a disgusted grumble.  He wasn’t going to pretend to be happy about this arrangement.  He was still sour as hell with the fact that Summer had insisted on seeing Cardinale rather than giving him free reign to take care of things.  Mitch knew of Cardinale but the two men had never met in person.  Jesse had been real particular about keeping his connect to himself, something Mitch always resented Jesse for. 

Four men stood like sentries in the hallway awaiting their arrival.  One man, who resembled an ogre, put his hand up, halting their movement.  Another smaller, but just as ugly, muscle man waved Summer forward.  He rubbed his hands up and down the outside of her close-fitting Chanel boucle skirt and jacket to make sure she carried no weapons or recording devices.  Summer stepped out of her Ruthie Davis pumps so they could thoroughly examine them as well.  Another man examined inside her mouth and even her thick, cascading curls.  
Damn.  I bet they don’t search you this well when you go see the damn president. 
Summer said to herself. 

Cardinale’s men gave Mitch an even more thorough once over.  They ran their hands along the legs of Mitch’s jeans, around his ankles, and even between his legs.  They made him remove his jewelry and even lift up his shirt to show that no wires were taped to his chest. 

Once the pat-downs were complete, two men led them inside.  Summer’s stomach did back flips as she stepped into the ultra modern suite.  She forced herself to swallow the bit of acidy vomit that crept up her esophagus.  Mitch was trying to act cool and collected as well, but Summer knew better. 

The floor to ceiling glass rendered a breathtaking view of New York.  Summer felt like she was sitting on top of the world looking out those windows.  Everything else inside was a blinding shade of white.  The walls were painted an institutional shade of white and the marble tiled floors looked fresh like purely fallen snow.  There were four white leather couches circling a white leather ottoman that served as a coffee table in the center of the room.  There were three white shaggy throw rugs that looked like no one had ever stepped on them either.  To the left was a glass top bar; the bottom was tiled in white.  Four eggcup, white lacquer stools stood in front of the bar.  Summer shuddered.  All of the white made her feel cold.  She wondered if Jesse would’ve been proud of her for taking charge of his affairs like this.  Who would’ve ever thought a nobody like herself would be sitting in a high-priced suite like this waiting to negotiate terms of a lucrative business deal?  She smiled to herself. 
Sometimes the good comes with the bad.

“Good afternoon,” a feeble voice echoed in the middle of the sterile room.  Summer whirled around so fast she nearly stumbled backwards in her heels.  Mitch turned slowly like a gunslinger from the old Western movies.  Neither Summer nor Mitch was prepared for what they saw in front of them.  Summer blinked a few times to make sure her eyes weren’t deceiving her.  From her peripheral, she could see Mitch was thinking along the same lines. 

“You must be the new Mrs. Banks,” the man croaked out as he inched slowly towards Summer, cane in hand, and flanked by three huge security guards.  Summer couldn’t believe that this hunched over, feeble bodied old man reaching out to shake her hand was the big bad Cardinale that had all the so-called gangsters in New York running scared.  She felt something like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz when she finds out that the all-powerful wizard is just some old guy behind the curtain controlling everything. 

Who were you expecting? Tony Montana!
Summer thought to herself.

Cardinale combed his few remaining strands of silver hair over his round, liver-spotted bald patch.  His yellowing and wrinkled skin dangled under his chin and wobbled when he spoke.  He looked like an escapee from a nursing home rather than a deadly, billionaire drug kingpin. 

“Yes…I…I am Mrs. Banks,” Summer stammered, trying to keep herself from staring too much or giggling.  Cardinale reached out a gnarled hand towards her.  He took her hand and planted his cold, wet lips on top of it.  Summer’s skin crawled as she felt the moisture of his spit on her skin.  She wanted to pull her hand back and sanitize it immediately.

“And you, Mitchell?” Cardinale said flatly to Mitch, craning his floppy, turkey neck to look up at him.

“Mitch…just Mitch,” he corrected.  “It’s an honor to finally meet you.  I’ve heard a lot of things about you,” Mitch brown nosed right away.  Summer rolled her eyes.  She hated weak ass men. 

“Sit down,” Cardinale instructed, waving a shaky hand towards the pristine couches.  Summer sat on the very edge, back straight and ankles crossed.  Mitch sat next to her, also on the edge of his seat.  “First, my condolences for your loss.  It was an unexpected thing for all of us.” Cardinale voice sounded like two pieces of sand paper rubbing together.  Summer couldn’t tell if he was being genuine, especially since rumor had it that Cardinale might have been the one behind Jesse’s murder.  She cleared her throat, willing herself to remain calm.

“Thank you, it was unexpected, and I am working on finding out who was responsible.  There will certainly be a heavy price to pay.”

Mitch shifted uncomfortably, causing the leather on the couch to crackle. 

A sound that signaled both Mitch and Summer’s uneasiness.  Cardinale nodded at Summer.  He seemed to be pondering what she said. 

“So, I hear you will be taking over for JB, yes?” Cardinale asked, looking directly at her.  Suddenly she felt hot inside.  She gripped the side of her purse so hard her knuckles paled.  This was the moment of truth.

“Well, not exactly.  Mitch is going to take over, but I want to collect JB’s interest in the business and keep his portion of the businesses alive,” Summer corrected, feeling the heat of Mitch’s gaze on the side of her face.  It was what she and Mitch had agreed upon at the Bridge.  The air in the room suddenly felt stifling.  Tension buzzed like a swarm of bees around their heads. 

“I guess you could say I would be a silent partner while Mitch runs things as boss,” Summer clarified.  The old man was seized by an uncontrollable throaty, rattling chest cough.  Summer’s eyes went wide.  She looked at Mitch. 
Is he seriously about to croak?
  Mitch, lost in deep thought, didn’t seem to care or notice.

“Excuse me,” Cardinale finally rasped as one of his guards handed him a glass of water.  His hands shook violently as he raised the glass to his lips.  He sipped the water and handed it back to the man.  “There, now.  So, you want to collect from your husband’s connection to the business, but have another actually run the business?” Cardinale summarized for clarification.  His silvery medicine-dilated pupils bore down into Summer’s soul, like a father eyeing his wayward teenager.  Cardinale still possessed a strong jaw line and prominent deep-set intense eyes.  He may have even been quite handsome in his younger years.

“Something like that,” Summer replied tentatively.  “I really don’t have any experience with all of this.  I just want to make sure I can take care of myself. I know that is what my husband would’ve wanted.  We never got to start our life together.  I will give Mitch the lead, I just want to stay connected to Jesse’s interest,” Summer explained.  Summer needed to be convincing and acting was one of her strongest talents.

“No,” the old man rasped.  Summer raised an eyebrow.  “In this business you come in with all of your dedication or you don’t come at all!  You don’t just sit by and collect.  You are not the goddamn IRS,” Cardinale chastised.  

“She doesn’t know anything about the business, Cardin…” Mitch tried to interject.  Too much of the conversation had focused on Summer already.

“I know she doesn’t know anything, but you will teach her!  I will not deal with anyone but her in place of JB!” Cardinale raised his frail voice, cutting Mitch off.  Mitch snapped his mouth shut, the vein at his temple beating firmly against his skin.  He balled his toes in his boots.  Summer shifted uncomfortably.  She wasn’t there to step on Mitch’s toes but there was really no way around it. 
Shit!

“Mrs. Banks…” Cardinale started, trying to calm himself. 

“Summer, please sir.” 

“Summer, what a pretty name,” Cardinale said dreamily, the wetness of his voice making her cringe. 
Old men are disgusting. 
Summer tried not to think too often about how many times she’d been subjected to the wrinkled, grimy paws of old men when she’d first arrived in the United States.     

“Summer, in this business there can only be one boss for each crew.  Understand?” Cardinale asked.  Summer looked on, confused.  “Where I am from, when a man dies, his eldest son takes over his business.  If he has no sons, then his daughter.  If no daughter, then his wife.  You are JB’s wife, and so you will be his successor.  You will be the boss of the New York operations in place of JB and you will have to dedicate yourself to being the only boss,” Cardinale said with finality. 

Mitch sprang up like a jack-in-the-box.  This was not how he’d envisioned things going. He was clearly the next in line for the position since he served as JB’s right hand for years.  He was the most qualified candidate for the position.  

“You’re making a big mistake.  She’s not even at the amateur level in this game.  Someone with no experience can really make this dangerous for all of our people,” Mitch protested.  His insides burned, his fists curled.  Cardinale’s men moved closer, but Cardinale did not react to Mitch’s outburst.  Mitch was outnumbered for sure.  His eyes danced around the room. 
Fuck!
He screamed in his head.  If he wanted to make it out of there in one piece, he had to dial it down first.  He wasn’t stupid.  Mitch’s shoulders slumped in defeat and he returned to his seat.  Cardinale waited for him to finish making a fool of himself.  He hadn’t swayed the old man one bit.  

“Everyone can learn.  You will teach her what she needs to know or you will be out of the business,” Cardinale said dismissively, raising his hand.  With that, Cardinale was immediately surrounded by his people again preparing for his exit.  One man helped Cardinale to his feet and handed him his walking cane.  Cardinale shuffled a few steps towards Summer and Mitch. 

“Summer, one more thing.  If you ever thought it was me who sent the men to kill JB at your wedding, I give you my word that that is not true.  If I wanted to kill a man, I wouldn’t do it with his family watching. JB was loyal to me for all of our years.  He was a good person and he didn’t deserve to die like that.  We made a lot of money together
and the business was mutually profitable.  Killing him wouldn’t make any sense, business or otherwise.  Whoever killed him, also stole product worth a lot of money from me.  In keeping with my culture, I want to avenge the death of my friend and business partner just as much as you.  So when you find the person that did this, allow me to do the honors,” Cardinale uttered with deadly intent.  He placed his hand on Summer’s knee and patted it lightly.  She looked down at the green and blue veins popping out of the pale, paper thin skin of his hand and wondered just how many men and women Cardinale had killed with those hands.  She shivered just thinking about what he might do to the person(s) responsible for Jesse’s untimely death.