“Consider him a bodyguard—something your cousin should have given you so you didn’t find yourself in this predicament.” He paused for a second and shook his head. “No, you’d probably still be in this placement, but at least he could’ve said he’d tried. Big Tommy will get you whatever you need. Are you a Windows user or do you prefer a Mac?”
“Windows,” I answered without thinking too much about it.
Frankie nodded once and pointed at Big Tommy, who’d taken up a spot in the room’s corner. “Pick up one of those and all the other necessities. I’ll make a more detailed list later,” he said.
Big Tommy nodded once in his direction and left without another word. The place behind him was soon filled with someone new. He looked similar, but the new guy had shorter hair in the deepest blue eyes of anyone I’d ever seen.
I didn’t have time to stare into them, though, because Frankie wrapped his fingers around mine in that weird way he’d been embracing me and tugged me past the living room through a tall, thick wooden door. Inside was an office space fit for the man. It looked exactly what I expected with tall bookcases in dark wood. The only thing missing was Frankie sitting behind the desk smoking a pipe.
“I have work to do over the next two days, but you can use a spot in my office to finish your paper.”
Right then, I had two choices. Rip my hand from Frankie’s and actually make that big escape or accept his help and place myself in the hands of a notorious criminal.
“What is your paper on?”
Did he really care?
Oh well, he asked. “Effective ways to motivate employees.”
Frankie smirked and blew a breath through his nose. “I’m great at motivating my associates.”
CHAPTER 9
I figured he had to be joking, so I laughed.
You should never laugh at a mafia boss if he’s not joking. “Excuse me if I don’t consult the mob leader for employee motivation tips. My professor is old, but I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t consider cement shoes as an acceptable form of motivation.”
Frankie sat down behind his desk and leaned his arms across it, looking like a normal business manager. If I encountered him in the wild that didn’t include him kidnapping me, I’d buy into his desperate ploy at looking legitimate.
He kept watching me like a hawk, another tactic I should’ve learned from my cousin but hadn’t. When a mob boss stares at you, shut your mouth.
“Are you done yet?” he asked as I schooled my features.
“Yes. Sorry,” I said, sounding like a child who’d gotten in trouble. I’d stopped laughing, but I hadn’t been able to wipe the smile from my face. It was just so ridiculous of an idea.
“Cement shoes have been out for years. We have too much going on to have them constructed.”
“Wait, what?” I asked, deciding to take the bait and listen to this man tell me how he motivated his henchmen without cement shoes.
“It’s about employee retention, so you don’t need murder. First thing to keeping everyone happy is profit sharing. Everyone wants their cut. Time off helps, and we offer a great health care package.”
“You give your goons healthcare and time off?” What about the whole married to the mob business thing?
“We also have a summer employee carnival and Christmas party. We’ve done a cruise when profit margins were exceptionally high. Big Tommy got sea sick.” A deep, infuriating smile hit his face.
“You calculate profit margins?”
“You’d be surprised how many of my businesses are legal. We’ve worked hard the last few decades to legitimize our operations. We also offer time off based on years of service, comparable health benefits, retirement packages, and family benefits for on-the-job accidents.”
“You mean people who got murdered?”
“It doesn’t happen as often as it used to, but yes, accidents happen and I make sure their families are taken care of. Those receive medical care. We offer a nice 401(k) match too.”
Shit. I wanted to work for Frankie.
“You’re telling me you have people in the mob long enough to retire?”
Frankie tapped the top of his desk. “Times have changed.”
