“Ignore it,” Grease snapped, and Micro groaned.
“I can’t, man. It might be urgent. What if Soph needs me or something?”
He answered it on speaker, and gestured at us to shut it.
“Yeah?”
“Is this the club president?”
“What club?”
The guy sniffed a little, sounding like a pissy fuck already.
“You know exactly what club, just like I do, Micro. Would you like me to list your real name, the club’s details, and every other little fucking detail I have at my disposal? Spoiler alert, I knoweverything.”
Grease reached over and tapped the mute button.
“I know that voice. I mean, I’ve heard Ice doing impressions of the fucker.”
Micro sighed, jabbing the button again.
“Since you know everything, you clearly know who you’re talking to. Do me the same courtesy, will ya?”
Another sniff.
“My name is Nige Kingsley, and I’m calling to arrange a discussion with the Bennetts, even though I’m not their fucking secretary, and I have more important things to do.”
Who the fuck were the Bennetts? Bennett what?
Grease groaned and dragged his hands down his face.
“Not those pricks.”
“I can still hear you.”
Shit. I leaned over and jabbed the button this time.
“Who the fuck are the Bennetts?”
Grease sighed. “They owned that shithole club that the Don had his meet in, you know the day I took a bullet for him.”
Oh. “And why the hell is he calling us?”
Micro jabbed the button again, glaring at me.
“You two keep your fingers off my fucking button.”
“I don’t need to hear what you people are doing to each other while I’m on the phone,” this Nige guy sniped, “the Bennetts are looking for assistance with a little situation, and the asshole Luca said you were the people to talk to. Specifically someone called ‘Grease’.”
“That cunt!”
The guy sniffed again. “Charming. Anyway, they need protection for someone, VIPs, and they want the best. Luca says that’s you, Grease, since I’m guessing you’re the man with the delightful turn of phrase.”
Grease reached for the button again, and Micro slapped his hand away.
“Prick. Look, I’m not doing shit for anyone. You want mafia help, that’s Luca. That prick shouldn’t be sending-”
“I was led to believe you run a security consultancy. That’s who we need. I’m about to give you an address. Be there at nine tonight. The Bennetts will be waiting.”
