The two men crossed the room, meeting in the middle and shook hands.
Bruno gave the man a once over and narrowed his eyes on the fresh-faced accountant. Dressed in a tux and tie, he was tall, slim, clean-shaven, not a scar on his body, not a hair out of place. His very image screamed boring and mediocre.
“I hear you want to talk with me?” Bruno said, in his usual shotgun approach. “I take it this ain’t some sorta’ set up. Because if it is, you and whoever you’re working for should be very, very afraid.” He sneered, narrowing his eyes at the man in the tux.
Frankie smiled. “Bruno, sit down, please.” He motioned the big man toward the study to one side. “I’ll just be a minute.”
Eyeing the man with distrust, Bruno passed the entrance to the expensive room and entered the book-lined, dark-wooded study. He paced for a moment in front of the fire which was dying in the fireplace, then spotted something and went over to the big desk by the window. The surface was covered with contracts, receipts, and reports ? all for this hotel and Casino. Bruno frowned; what were these out for?
Then dropping into the neighboring armchair, he sat back in his seat and waited for Frankie.
Frankie entered ? black leather briefcase in hand? and closed the door behind him.
“What’s this about?” Bruno repeated.
Frankie sat down beside him, “I take it you’ve read the letter from your boss.”
Bruno nodded slowly. “Yes, yes I have. It was rather vague. And to be honest, I’m having doubts it was even Castillo who sent it. Why should I trust you? A man I’ve never even met?” He leaned across in his seat menacingly.
Frankie leaned back, cowering away his lips moved for a few seconds before any words came out. “B-But you know of me by reputation, surely? And by reputation, you’ll know I’ve worked for Vincent Castillo for nearly three decades and in that time, I have never once betrayed the trust he placed in me.”
Bruno narrowed his eyes on the man, then he slowly sat back in his seat. “Okay then, spill it.”
Frankie nodded. Shifting so he was directly facing Bruno he told him, “I’m sorry to say I’ve got some bad news to share with you.”
Bruno made no reply, didn’t react at all.
“I’m afraid it’s your boss’ wish that you…. pay the bills on this place from now on.”
Bruno glared. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”
Frankie turned to him with a triumphant expression, spreading his arms wide. “The casino and resort are yours now, Bruno. Castillo wants you to have it.”
Bruno stared at him for a moment then shook his head. “This is fucking crazy. This place is owned and operated by the Mission Indians. Any profits earned are divided up among their people. What are you trying to pull?” He stood up, shaking his head as he slipped on his shades and took a step towards the door.
Frankie jumped up and stopped him.
“Take your hands off of me before I break your fucking fingers!” Bruno growled. “This place had enough out of me already. It ain’t getting anymore,” he declared, the bitter aftertaste of all the hours he slaved for minimum wage just to line the native Indians pockets, filling his mouth.
Frankie didn’t let go. “Castillo will do much worse to me if I don’t deliver his message.”
Bruno huffed, “You got ten minutes. This better be good.” He sat back down.
Dropping into his seat, Frankie explained, “What you say isn’t wrong. This place was owned by the Indians one-hundred percent…. but not anymore. All they own now is the land the casino is built on.”
Bruno stared at the man, confused.
“You’ll have to pay the Mission Indians of the tribe rent for the land. A couple of million per year, but the rest is yours. Castillo bought the chiefs out a few years back. It was a crooked deal but the contracts are watertight. I oversaw the process myself.”
Bruno laughed. “Castillo’s got money, I know that. But the money to buy a place like this...oh, come on.”
Frankie drew in a breath. “Everyone has a price, Bruno. And he made the Chiefs an offer so obscene they couldn’t refuse.”
“So what? You’re telling me the Chiefs took the money from the sale and ran?”
Frankie nodded slowly. “Precisely.”
Bruno pushed back his chair, shaking his head. “Let me see the contracts,” he demanded.
