Forgive Me(86)

“Maybe that’s the date they all became somebody else?”

Mike gave a nod of approval. “So what now?”

Angie took out her cell phone. “Now, I call a guy I know who wants to take me out to dinner.”





CHAPTER 45



The car carrying Dante Lerardi hit a pothole and bounced hard enough to send a splash of Jameson and soda onto his pant leg. “Hey!” he shouted from the back seat, holding his drink far away from his body. “Take it easy there, Pedro. This is an Armani here. Now it’s all stained.”

Raynor Sinclair never told Dante his real name, and Dante never asked. The sobriquet amused Raynor, who had a fair complexion and could claim only Irish and English heritage. He cracked a half smile Dante couldn’t see, dug out a handful of napkins from the center console, and retrieved a fresh can of soda water from the small cooler on the passenger seat beside him.

“I’m sorry about that, Mr. Lerardi.” He passed the items back to Dante with his gloved hand. “If you dab the pants with the soda, it should take out any stain.”

Dante cracked open the can, dipped the napkin into the opening, and did some dabbing with a scowl on his face. “This suit probably cost more than you make in a month.” He had a hard-edged voice and the clipped speaking style of a hurry-it-up Northerner.

“Again, I apologize.” Raynor kept a neutral voice to go along with his neutral expression. It wasn’t easy to remain calm and composed in Dante’s presence. The man had been antagonistic and boorish for most of the two-hour drive, but Raynor took the high road and acted like a true professional. He looked like a professional, too, dressed in a designer suit with a white shirt and black tie, the outfit of a chauffeur, someone who should be good at avoiding potholes. But then again, he wasn’t a chauffeur.

Dante grumbled as he dabbed the wet spot, expanding against the brown fabric of his suit pants. “I look like I pissed myself. Be more careful, all right?”

“Yes, of course,” Raynor said.

Dante, occupied with the stain, didn’t notice Raynor glance at him in the rearview mirror, couldn’t see the disdain flare in eyes hidden behind dark glasses. Once he had done enough dabbing, Dante’s gaze shifted to the verdant Virginia farmland rolling past his window. “What the hell am I going to do out here? If you got me picking freakin’ potatoes or something, I’ll shoot you between your goddamn eyes.”

Raynor cracked a half smile Dante couldn’t see. “You won’t have to pick potatoes.”

“Yeah, I better not,” Dante said, spitting out the words. He adjusted the lapels of his suit as if the act somehow bolstered his credibility as a man not to be reckoned with. “Farming is undignified.” He undid a button on his silk shirt, opening the collar to expose several gold chains resting against skin artificially tanned to an unnatural shade.

“Four months ago, I was bagging ten g’s a week, moving so much Big H up and down the east coast I could have made this field look like it was coated in snow. And you know what that kind of dough got me?” He ran a hand through the wisps of his remaining hair and smiled broadly enough to give a flash of his gold tooth. The brightening expression tightened the loose skin flapping beneath his chin like a turkey’s wattle. “It got me a lot of play. Hotties, all fine, nubile young things. And look at me. Fifty-five, not much muscle, a threat to blow away on a windy day. You think they would have done me without the drugs and the cash? I’m talking foursomes, brother, that made my balls fall off.”

Raynor said, “I’m sorry for your loss.”

Dante leaned back in his seat, confused for a moment, before eventually figuring it out. “It’s a figure of speech, you jackass. My balls didn’t literally fall off. I’m just saying, I’m used to a certain lifestyle and this crap-ass backwoods place you’re taking me to doesn’t quite meet my standards.”

“I can assure you, Mr. Lerardi, where you’re going, you won’t miss one thing from your old life.”

Dante picked something out from between his teeth using a manicured fingernail. “Yeah, I better not with what I’m giving you guys. My contribution shut down most of the Big H supply coming into the ports.”

“It was very helpful information,” Raynor said. “I’m not going to deny you that.”

“I’m just saying, I expect to be well compensated for my sacrifice.”

“Oh, you will be.”

“By well compensated I mean, I like redheads,” Dante said. “No BS, either. I want the carpet to match the drapes, if you know what I’m saying.”

In a humorless voice Raynor replied, “You’re a man of very refined taste.”

“Whatever,” Dante said, his gaze shifting back to the window and the world zooming along outside.

“So who am I going to be anyway? I want something badass, something that says I’m nobody’s jerkoff.” Whatever was lodged between Dante’s teeth needed a bit more picking to get out. “What about Clint?” he suggested. “That’s a badass name. Like Eastwood, but you know, something different obviously, because that’d attract a lot of attention.”

“If your new name was Clint Eastwood? Yes, I think it would.”

“Right. But like Clint Eastwood. Maybe Downing. Or is there a Robert Downing? You know, Iron Man.”