Chapter 2
The sun was hung high on clear skies as the Burgess Silver Fast cruised down the French Coast at a steady pace. On board the billion-dollar yacht were three individuals; James, Littlefoot, and Ali, all three looking forward to a relaxing weekend. James, who was the owner of the yacht, could be seen pouring himself a glass of champagne from the lounge area while his pals sat in the back of the sun-deck discussing business related matters. Ali had been employed as Littlefoot's secretary for some time now and it wasn't all that uncommon for the two to be discussing work even while on break.
"So the letter's done?" Littlefoot asked.
"Yup." She answers. "That and the monthly report."
"Good good…"
"What about your side? How did the purchase of Red Guards Armories go?"
"We're a in a little disagreement over the price. I wanted 2.3mil but he's looking at 3mil."
"Why not 2.5?"
"I was just about to suggest that when he had to depart for an emergency. He said he would call back."
"And?"
"I haven't heard from him since."
"Now isn't that unfortunate?"
"Or his company."
"Looks like somebody's trying to avoid you."
"Even after using a random stranger's phone."
"Okay, now that's weird."
It was at this moment that their human pal came up to the sundeck with a half-full glass of champagne in his hand. He seemed a lot more casual compared to his usual self, wearing a white polo-shirt, Rayban Aviators, and cap bearing the Tag Heuer logo instead of the old Pastel or Don outfits. The only thing that remained unchanged was the IWC Schaffhausen Ingenieur on his left wrist, which he wore just about everywhere he went.
What caught Littlefoot's eyes however was not how casual his friend acted but the fact that he had a file-holder in his left hand. It bore the logo of Red Guards Armories, the company Littlefoot was trying to purchase. James placed the tannish file-holder on the coffee table along with his glass of champagne and sat down adjacent to Littlefoot.
"Here's the deal." James said as he sat down. "2.1mil for the purchase. If you're not willing to buy at this price, I'm getting the company for 3mil like he wanted."
"How did you…" Littlefoot mumbled in shock.
"Simple. I just gave him an offer he couldn't refuse."
"What kind of an offer?" Ali asks.
"That I can't tell. I wouldn't want to let me secret out would I, Madamé Ali?"
"It's "miss", not madam." Her cheeks reddened as she turns away. "Though it would be nice if it was."
"Ali-" Littlefoot tried to say.
"Relax! I'm not going to do what I did before. I was just… Expressing my feelings."
"Riiight."
While the three continued their relaxing cruise down the sea, they had no idea that someone was secretly watching them from the coast. Through the lenses of his powerful binoculars, Dominic Ferrero could see the three lounging on the sundeck discussing something. A Soldato within the Elysian Cosa Nostra, he had been secretly employed by Cera to spy on Littlefoot when she became suspicious about her husband, who recently had a habit of staying out for a bit longer than usual.
That and regularly joining James on his yacht for no apparent reason(they were not business partners nor did they do any form of business together).
"The number you have dialed is currently unavailable, please leave a voice message after the beep."
TOOT
Littlefoot tapped the "end call" button on the JP200 phone with a worried look on his face. Cera hadn't informed him about going out with someone yet despite this, she hadn't answered his repeated calls home. It was the first time she had ever done such a thing and the Apatosaurus felt worried for his friend. He ran out of the cabin located below the lounge deck and climbed up to the sundeck when he found his human friend chatting with his(Littlefoot's)mistress with a glass of champagne in his hand.
"James, can we turn back to Monte Carlo right now?" Littlefoot asked. "Cera's not answering the phone."
"Relax, Littlefoot! She probably went out with her friends." His friend answers before taking a sip of champagne. "That or she's in the bath."
"I've called a few times already and she's not picking up."
"Then she's probably out with her friends."
"You don't understand, James. Cera would never go out without calling me. She knows your number and she knows I'm on board. I told her to call you if we were on your boat and she wanted to head out."
"She probably took a nap then." James pats his friend on the back. "Just call her in a few hours or so."
"What's the call about anyways?" Ali asks.
"I wanted to tell her that I might be hitting the bar with James later." Littlefoot answers.
"Look at you, Littlefoot." His human friend smiled. "You've grown, my friend."
"All thanks to you."
"Heh… Don't worry about the call. I'll phone her personal number later. Y'know? To make the whole thing more convincing."
"Thanks."
"My pleasure, pal."
At this moment, "Danger Zone" by Kenny Loggins suddenly played on James' phone and the Capo Di Tutti Capi walks away as he swiped to answer the call. To his surprise, he heard his son on the other line with great news; he had just been successfully transferred to Ricardo Crockett High School, a place he wanted to study at for quite some time now as it was very close to Monte Carlo and gave him access to the high-life his father used to live when he was based there.
James was honestly surprised that he didn't need to ring up the school's administration, having expected that there would be a few strings that needed pulling. Not like he would complain or anything since this proved his son was more than capable of handling certain things on his own. Still, there was one thing his son needed for his stay in Monaco and that was a car that wasn't overly unsuited for city traffic.
And since Armando was more of a supercar fan than a practical teenager, James knew he had to sacrifice one of his more daily-able prized possessions. So he did…
"You can have the keys to the Murcielago Versace Edition or the McLaren 12C." He said to his son. "Whichever suits you."
"I think I'll take the Lambo." Armando answers. "I've always been a fan of their roars."
"Take that then."
"Alright dad. Thanks!"
James sighed as he placed his Aster Vertu back in the right pocket of his white colored pants. His son was living such a good life, having been brought up by a father and mother in an extremely wealthy family with a personal gold vault just to store everything. He briefly reminisced about his own childhood; about the feud between him and his own father after the McDonald's case; about how he had to basically run his own branch of the Cosa Nostra so he could get out there one day.
Unlike James, Armando's good relationship with his father meant there was little chance of a family war when he replaced his father as the new Capo Di Tutti Capi.
As the vessel reached the furthest point of its course and slowly made the turn back towards Monte Carlo, James once again reached for his phone. He tapped on Cera's name in the "contacts" section and called her, patiently waiting for her voice to come through. And what do you know? She picked up!
"Hey James, how's it going?" She asked.
"Everything's fine here." He answers. "You seem down."
"Nah, I'm just thinking about something."
"Mind telling me what it is? Maybe I can help."
"Nah, it's a minor case really. I think I can handle it on my own."
"Alright."
"Surely you didn't call me just to check on me, right?"
"Oh no. I'm calling because Littlefoot and I will be meeting tonight for a business deal. He intends to buy Red Guards Armories and I'm there to make sure things go smoothly."
"So he's not coming home for dinner then?"
"Hold on, let me ask him." James lowers his phone briefly and turns towards Littlefoot, who was next to Ali at the back of the sundeck. "Littlefoot! You going back for dinner?"
"Nope!" The Apatosaurus shouts, playing along.
"Okay." James places his phone next to his ear. "No he's not, ma'am."
"Alrighty then, I guess I'll head out with a couple of friends later."
"Sure."
Tears flowed from Cera's eyes as she pressed the "end call" button on the JP200 phone on her desk. She turned towards Dominic Ferrero, who had his laptop at the ready, and asked him to plug his laptop to the printer on her husband's desk. It was time she made her intentions clear to her husband, whom she now knew had failed to move on from his ex-girlfriend even after separating from her.