Post by Cres on Sept 28, 2006 7:08:30 GMT -5
When Chip walked out the store door, he was still in a good mood. When he got to his car with the groceries, however, his mood sank. There was a man clad in a suit sitting in his car, his legs carelessly on the car door and his other arm over the bench back-support, sporting an arrogant smile.
"Hey, Ciro! How you doin'?" the man called out as Chip approached his car.
Chip’s expression was less than gracious.
"Get your feet off my car, Antonio,” he said dryly, stopping close and slapping Antonio’s feet with one hand. “And while you're at it, get yourself off my car."
Antonio laughed and removed his feet from the car door. But he didn’t make a move to get up.
"Ti calma, bello Ciro, il mio amico!” he said in his perfect Italian – of which Chip knew he was very proud. “I'm here to make a deal with you."
Chip shook his head while walking round the car to the driver’s side.
"Didn't I already tell you that the only deal you and me are gonna make is we stay out of each other's way?” he said as he dropped the groceries onto the backseat.
Antonio’s grin was sly now.
"No, you see, my friend,” he said, looking up at Chip, “the situation's changed a little bit. I think we have something you want."
Chip frowned, alert now. He examined Antonio’s face carefully, suspicious.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
Antonio chuckled.
“Sit down, before you hurt yourself,” he said, motioning for Chip to get in the car. Chip frowned a little but did as Antonio said. He had the feeling he didn’t want the other guy shouting, either. Antonio’s smile was evil. “You seen your little blond friend lately?”
Chip’s heart froze. He managed to keep his cool front, but inside he felt suddenly very, very cold. Cold with fear. What was Antonio talking about?
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Chip stared hard at the other man’s eyes.
Antonio twirled round the golden ring in his middle finger, looking out of the car rather carelessly.
“Oh, sure you do,” he said. Then his face grew colder and he turned to look at Chip, all playfulness gone and a cruel expression on his face. “He’s a guest at my father’s house.”
Chip swallowed - he knew exactly what that phrase meant. He didn’t let his feelings show. Only barely he managed not to punch Antonio in the face.
“I still don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said with a low voice – to buy some time to think, if nothing else.
Antonio laughed.
“Oh, come on, mio amico, you know exactly what I’m talking about. He’s five foot eleven, tan blond, green eyes and he calls himself Ace. Oh, and… I think this is his.” The man picked a very familiar-looking cell from his breast pocket and tossed it to Chip’s lap. “Still wanna pretend stupid?”
Chip stared at the cell in his lap for a long, silent, desperate moment. Then he turned his head away, leaning his elbow to the car door, and rubbing his temples. He felt as though the world was reeling around him. His worst fears were coming true.
“What do you want?” he asked, though he knew the answer already.
Antonio looked smug.
“Cooperation, Ciro,” he said with a low, hissing voice. “Just… cooperation. We want that deal to go bad. We don’t care about your filthy sins with that boy. You can fuck a dog for all I care. But he’s gonna die if you don’t do exactly what I tell you. Tomorrow, I’m going to call you and tell you where to be and when. Make sure to keep your phone with you – and don’t squeal to anyone, or you’ll be sorry. Capisci?”
Chip rubbed his hand over his face, and then looked at Antonio. It felt as though his heart had just dropped somewhere into his stomach. He nodded slowly.
“Capisco,” he answered quietly.
Antonio smiled like a snake and got up, flinging himself out the car. He leaned over to pat Chip on the shoulder.
“Bellissimo,” he said. “Good boy. We’ll be in touch.”
And then he started to walk away along the street. Chip sat in the car in silence, watching him go, for some moments before turning to start up his car. He had never hated Antonio more than at that moment.
[[cont. elsewhere for both.]]
"Hey, Ciro! How you doin'?" the man called out as Chip approached his car.
Chip’s expression was less than gracious.
"Get your feet off my car, Antonio,” he said dryly, stopping close and slapping Antonio’s feet with one hand. “And while you're at it, get yourself off my car."
Antonio laughed and removed his feet from the car door. But he didn’t make a move to get up.
"Ti calma, bello Ciro, il mio amico!” he said in his perfect Italian – of which Chip knew he was very proud. “I'm here to make a deal with you."
Chip shook his head while walking round the car to the driver’s side.
"Didn't I already tell you that the only deal you and me are gonna make is we stay out of each other's way?” he said as he dropped the groceries onto the backseat.
Antonio’s grin was sly now.
"No, you see, my friend,” he said, looking up at Chip, “the situation's changed a little bit. I think we have something you want."
Chip frowned, alert now. He examined Antonio’s face carefully, suspicious.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
Antonio chuckled.
“Sit down, before you hurt yourself,” he said, motioning for Chip to get in the car. Chip frowned a little but did as Antonio said. He had the feeling he didn’t want the other guy shouting, either. Antonio’s smile was evil. “You seen your little blond friend lately?”
Chip’s heart froze. He managed to keep his cool front, but inside he felt suddenly very, very cold. Cold with fear. What was Antonio talking about?
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Chip stared hard at the other man’s eyes.
Antonio twirled round the golden ring in his middle finger, looking out of the car rather carelessly.
“Oh, sure you do,” he said. Then his face grew colder and he turned to look at Chip, all playfulness gone and a cruel expression on his face. “He’s a guest at my father’s house.”
Chip swallowed - he knew exactly what that phrase meant. He didn’t let his feelings show. Only barely he managed not to punch Antonio in the face.
“I still don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said with a low voice – to buy some time to think, if nothing else.
Antonio laughed.
“Oh, come on, mio amico, you know exactly what I’m talking about. He’s five foot eleven, tan blond, green eyes and he calls himself Ace. Oh, and… I think this is his.” The man picked a very familiar-looking cell from his breast pocket and tossed it to Chip’s lap. “Still wanna pretend stupid?”
Chip stared at the cell in his lap for a long, silent, desperate moment. Then he turned his head away, leaning his elbow to the car door, and rubbing his temples. He felt as though the world was reeling around him. His worst fears were coming true.
“What do you want?” he asked, though he knew the answer already.
Antonio looked smug.
“Cooperation, Ciro,” he said with a low, hissing voice. “Just… cooperation. We want that deal to go bad. We don’t care about your filthy sins with that boy. You can fuck a dog for all I care. But he’s gonna die if you don’t do exactly what I tell you. Tomorrow, I’m going to call you and tell you where to be and when. Make sure to keep your phone with you – and don’t squeal to anyone, or you’ll be sorry. Capisci?”
Chip rubbed his hand over his face, and then looked at Antonio. It felt as though his heart had just dropped somewhere into his stomach. He nodded slowly.
“Capisco,” he answered quietly.
Antonio smiled like a snake and got up, flinging himself out the car. He leaned over to pat Chip on the shoulder.
“Bellissimo,” he said. “Good boy. We’ll be in touch.”
And then he started to walk away along the street. Chip sat in the car in silence, watching him go, for some moments before turning to start up his car. He had never hated Antonio more than at that moment.
[[cont. elsewhere for both.]]