John Locke - Callie’s Last Dance

“It all starts with the first step. I’m in with Carmine. Second step, Roy. You think Callie will kill Roy for us?”

“Not even.”

“Why not? It’s how she makes her living.”

“She wouldn’t want me working there. But can I tell you something?”

“Sure.”

“I’m not gay. And although it’s a great lifestyle, the handwriting’s on the wall.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m a kept woman, we’re drifting apart. I can tell she’s going to dump me soon.”

“Why?”

“I begged her to take me with her this weekend to a big party in Cincinnati. She refused.”

“Bad sign.”

“I know, right?” Gwen says.

“A hundred grand would make you an independent woman of means.”

Gwen laughs. “’Woman of means?’ Who talks like that?”

She laughs again. Then says, “Anyway, I’d need more than a hundred grand to leave Callie.”

“What if I gave you a piece of the club?”

“ Excuse me? No offense, Willow, but you’re still at square one. You may have big plans, but at the moment, if we’re keeping it real, you’re a cocksucker. You might be blowing the boss, but he owns the club, not you.”

For a split second Willow’s jaw clenches in anger. But she works through the insult and says, “A year from now you won’t remember how I started.”

“Meaning?”

“I’m going to leverage my sexual skills into an ownership position.”

“You’re crazy. He’d never give you his club.”

Willow waves her hand dismissively. “No. But under the right circumstances he’ll sell me forty-five percent.”

“Math was never my best subject,” Gwen says, “but I’m pretty sure it takes fifty-one percent ownership to have control.”

“In the real world it only takes fifty and the hyphen to control a fifty-fifty deal. I’ll own forty-five percent, you’ll own five, which gives us fifty.”

“And the hyphen?”

“You and the girls.”

“Tell me why.”

“Working together, you and I will double the value of his business. We’ll be running all the day-to-day leaving him to wonder when to take his next dump. If he doesn’t like something I’ve planned, you’ll stick up for me. And I’ll do the same for you. I’ll work the books, you’ll work the girls, and Carmine will get fatter, older, and richer. At some point I give him papers to sign, allowing me to legally make all the business decisions. At that point he can either sign the papers, or watch us go down the road and start our own club.”

“Wow.”

“Trust me, Gwen. For all intents and purposes we’ll control that piss ant club in the space of six months. But that’s just the first step.”

“What do you mean?”

“I want it all.”

“There’s only one club, Willow.”

“Carmine’s ripe for the plucking. I want to take over his other businesses.”

“Excuse me?”

“I want to run the entire west coast.”

Gwen laughs. “You’re not even Italian!”

“It’s a different era, Gwen. It’s all about making money, moving product. Mob guys are like all other guys, meaning they want two things. Money and power. Those who want money will get more. Those who want power will get killed. Are you with me or not?”

“You’re eighteen fucking years old! They’ll squash you like a bug!”

“When the transition’s complete, I’ll give you fifty percent of the club. And five percent of everything else.”

“You’re truly insane.”

“Pretend I can do it. Would you run the girls?”

“For five percent ownership?”

“And a hundred grand off the top.”

“I don’t believe for a minute you can pull this off.”

“But if I can?”

“If you can somehow manage to get legal control of the club, yes, I’ll run the girls.”

Willow smiles. “If you agree to run the girls, I’ll get control of the club.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s a process. I’ve known Carmine a few hours and already got his name on an apartment lease. But I have to show him I can deliver. Killing Roy and bringing you back to the club is a hell of a coup.”

“Okay, I get that. But I don’t understand how you plan to take control.”

“Baby steps. First? Lover. Second? Confidante. Third? Business advisor. Fourth? Accountant. Fifth? Well, that depends on what I discover along the way. I’ll help you get your hundred grand immediately. And later on, you’ll help me gain control. But of course, none of this can happen until-”

“Roy’s out of the picture.”

“Exactly. So I need to take him out, or find someone who does this sort of thing for a living. It would be nice to have a hit man in my pocket. You think this Donovan Creed guy would do it?”

“No. But I know someone who will.”

“Who?”

“Donovan Creed’s daughter.”

“Seriously?”

Gwen laughs. “You’ll have to be careful. She’s not playing with a full deck.”

“She sounds perfect.”

Gwen laughs. “You’re a piece of work.”

“Can you set up a meeting? First thing tomorrow morning?”

“I’ll do my best.”

“Great.”

“Anything else?”

“Yes.”

“What?”

“Can I get dressed now?”

Callie Carpenter.

Cincinnati.

THE PHONE RINGS five times before Dani answers.

“Hello?”

“Sorry I’m late calling you back,” Callie says.

Dani yawns. “That’s okay. Can we talk a minute?”

“Yes.”

“Um…where are you?”

“Down the hall.”

Callie hears her take a deep breath.

Then Dani says, “You want me to come to your room?”

“No. I’ll come to you.”

Callie and Dani.

“I ALMOST GAVE up on you,” Dani says.

“I was tied up.”

“Not literally, I hope!”

As she enters Dani’s room, Callie picks up the scent of perfume. She notices a capless tube of toothpaste on the sink, a wet toothbrush, and a makeup case whose contents are scattered across the counter as if a bomb exploded nearby. Her room has a king bed, a utility desk, and a table with two chairs.

Dani sits at the foot of the bed. Her lips are glossed, her hair freshly-brushed. She’s wearing a man’s white dress shirt and, from the glimpse Callie got when Dani plopped onto the bed-white cotton panties. Callie slides one of the chairs directly in front of her, and sits in it. From the way the bed’s been hastily made, Callie concludes Dani had been sound asleep when she answered the phone. The call ended a minute ago, which means in that small space of time Dani managed to throw the bed together, brush her teeth and hair, and apply perfume and lip gloss, though she had to dump all the makeup out to find the lip gloss.

Callie’s in jeans and a scoop-neck tank top, no bra. Their knees are two feet apart.

“How did you know which hotel?” Dani says.

“I started with the closest ones to Sal’s house and called till I found you.”

“How many did you call?”

“Four.”

“I’m impressed.”

“What happened tonight?” Callie says.

“We had a fight.”

Callie nods. “You want to talk about it?”

Dani smiles. “You’d do that?”

“What?”

“Listen to me rattle on and on about some meaningless fight?”

“If it would make you feel better, yes.”

“I wouldn’t put you through that.”

“Thanks.”

Dani laughs.

They’re both quiet a minute, Dani staring at her hands in her lap, Callie, staring at Dani. Callie, reading all the signals, knows a slam dunk when she sees one. This incredible creature, Dani Ripper, is primed and ready. All Callie has to do is…