Howdy boys... i watched too many western movies lately...
I hope you didn't get tired w/ this fic yet, 'cause there still is a long LOOOONG way to go before teh end of this arc. Yes, this chapter is shorter than the previous one, but funy thing: as i was typing & typing & typing it, it got really really too long so i had to cut what i've written into two parts. This first part is stil a lot of bla blah bleeh but the main dish is for the next one, so next chap!
I really hope i won't disappoint you.
Enjoy! ^^
When Xanxus hang up, a strange feeling made itself known deep in his guts. It was the kind of feeling you have when you feel you did what you had to do, properly and all, but still there's something not quite right about it. Yes, Xanxus felt relieved, more or less embarrassed that a man like him had to pass such an embarrassing phone call to such a moron... but mostly it was strange.
"Fuck." He grunted then brought his feet on top of his desk. It was the middle of afternoon and his office was way too bright for him. So bright it was giving the tanned man a headache – plus the hangover wasn't helping at all. Bitterly, Xanxus was thinking again about going back home and back to his bed and leaving all the stacks of work piled on his desk to some unknown trash.
In normal time, Squalo should have been in charge for all that shit, but for now Squalo wasn't there. Naturally, most of his work had been shared among other managers of VR Co., and what Xanxus could see on his desk was just the remaining share – actually the smallest and easiest parts (Squalo clearly made sure of this before leaving; only to say how much the boss gets pampered by his lover). But even this was too much for the raven.
He wanted to sleep. He was so damn sleepy.
A yawn, then the raven closed his eyes.
"So, Boss, what did he say?" A chiming voice suddenly asked in the light. "I'm sure Squ-chan was super happy you called him!"
"Fuck." Xanxus cursed again. He had almost forgotten about that dumbass Brazilian standing (no, rather horribly waddling and caracoling) before of his desk. The fashionable, colorful and oh so annoying scumbag was the one who had had that great idea of calling the silver haired scum in the first place. The reason why Xanxus followed his advice, it was between Xanxus and God only.
Lussuria was beaming behind his sunglasses. He walked to the raven's desk. "Come on, Boss. You can't tell me he's mad at you because that's simply im-po-ssi-ble!"
"Fucking scum. What do you know about him-"
"I do know." The Brazilian man didn't wait for the boss to finish then, in a slow and elegant gesture, pressed his leather gloved fingers on the desk, his head the same level as Xanxus' (which was a rather remarkable prowess, since the colorful Brazilian perched on impressively high wedge booties). "Trust me, boss, I do. You see, small details like remembering his birthday, asking how he's doing… Details like those will show Squ-chan that you truly care about him. Relationship isn't something granted, you have to work over and over again in order to keep the… How should I call it… the 'magic'? of it?"
Xanxus burst out laughing. "Magic? Did you just say fucking magic? Goddamn scumbag, you're two inches from having your fucking face torn to pieces."
"S-sorry, boss!" Lussuria rapidly backed off. "I'm sorry if you misunderstood what I mean. Um… How to put it differently…" He folded his arms, a pensive air on his makeup plastered features. "Well, think about it. Wouldn't you be happy too if Squ-chan did the same things for you? Cooking your favorite meal on an ordinary day, listening to your worries even when he's busy or tired, or anything else… can you remember him doing that for you?"
Squalo, doing that? It's not as though he had never done that. Squalo cooking his favorite meal? Yes, it did happen. Listening to him? Yeah, maybe that, too. Xanxus wasn't the kind of guy who would blabber his worries to the first comer (more exactly, to no one at all). But he appreciated the fact that, from time to time, the silver haired trash and he would have a drink together. Only the two of them in Xanxus' dusky salon in the mansion. They could spend several hours sitting in the calm and warm room, with no need for any word to make the silence around them comfortable.
They needed no word of any kind.
Not sure how to react to the raven's persistent silence, Lussuria fidgeted on the spot. He asked, "Boss, are you alright?"
"Che. You still here?"
"Yes…" Lussuria chuckled. "Since you're the one who called me here. You wanted to talk about the licence didn't you?"
"Aa. That German scum..."
"Yes." Lussuria tapped rapidly on his tablet, the fluttering light from the screen rapidly reflected on the Brazilian's sunglasses. "Meier is already under total control. Squ-chan did a great job handling it the past weeks. They've been so threatened by the tax office about the seizing of the Sector C's that they've agreed on all terms of the contracts. By the way, I think there soon will be an opening for Chinese market. Yen Luo Corporation is already waiting for us to send someone. They said the family investors have too much power and they're waiting for us to unbalance the situation… Did you say something?"
Was Lussuria wearing sunglasses because of fashion only or because he had some eyes problem, Xanxus couldn't tell. What the raven knew, though, was that the scum had pretty good ears since he actually heard Xanxus' last mumbling.
"I just said…" The rest of the sentence died in a low grunt.
"Um. Boss? If you don't speak clearly, I won't get anything…"
Xanxus grimaced. Taking his feet off the desk, he reached for a bottle of whisky in a nearby minibar. Fuck next day's hangover. He had seen worse in his life. The first gulp of the burning Glenfiddich went to burn his throat, so swiftly it made the raven's vision blur in an instant. "I said he didn't fucking remember his shitty birthday. When he gets back here I'll fucking make sure that next time he does."
The tanned man helped himself with another glass. In his inner tantrum, he didn't notice Lussuria's lips stretching into a sympathetic yet sorry smile. "You know, boss." The Brazilian talked softly, almost with a motherly tone, with his eyes back on the screen. "You shouldn't blame Squ-chan for that."
This last remark made Xanxus' attention shift from his glass to the other male. He put both glass and bottle back on the table.
"Like I give a fuck."
…
'It's really been a long time…' Squalo thought, the minute they left Jersey City, as New York City was more and more unfolded to his tired eyes. How many years had it been since the last time he saw those buildings, crossed those busy streets and gaped at the constantly moving, roaring, tireless crowd? The silverette knew the smell of that place. As the Lancia was pacing rather slowly through Manhattan, he could recognize from meters away the heavy scent of the mass shifting in front of the eye-catching boutiques, the imposing skyscrapers, the never-ending honking, swearing, the music, the lights… Everything that could make one's nerves go crazy by only being there.
They were stuck in a traffic jam. Good thing Squalo planned everything before hand, days before that important meeting, because it seemed that he wouldn't get to see Vito Giordano before at least one hour. But it was alright. After all, the meeting had been scheduled for noon.
Was that apprehension he felt deep in his mind? Squalo wasn't sure himself. It wasn't because of the fact that this city had become somehow unfamiliar to him. As a matter of fact, due to his new job, the silver haired man had since long grown accustomed to travelling in totally unknown places. Or… was it rather the fact that those places were not totally unknown to him? And even if they were, what's the difference? No matter what had happened before, he made sure to cut a dash between his past self, his past memories and his present. Now, his present and nothing else.
Heaving a deep sigh, the right hand man wrapped his coat tighter around his lean body (this month sure was colder than usual, and even with the heating of the car on, a Mediterranean person couldn't easily get used to it) then sank sluggishly in the passenger seat.
The radio was playing Why can't we be friends. The brat at the wheel was giving the impression he pretty liked the song… Or at least he knew the song enough to whistle and taping out in rhythm with it. Very annoying.
"Vooi, stop doing that." Squalo yelled while glaring at Lambo.
"Ah? Ah, sorry." The younger man turned the radio off. However, with the only source of sound gone, all that was left in the car was a long and awkward silence. "Ahem, so…" Lambo started, "You said we're heading to Giordano's private hotel… Does that mean VR Co. is envisaging coming to the States soon?"
"Not officially. But the Boss is seriously thinking about it."
Lambo laughed. "Really? 'Cause I actually can't imagine Xanxus being serious about anything at all… I mean, the last time I saw him, he was more the reckless and carefree type. Well, it happened years ago, but I hardly can figure an adult and responsible Xanxus," he laughed louder, "not after what I saw of the guy back then! Ha! Ha!" Lambo was practically having hysterics… for about ten second, but right after stopped dead in the track, sweat dropping on his forehead, as he recalled who was sitting in the car with him. "No, that's not exactly what I meant, it's more like this... You know, stories from the past and all! Stuff like that doesn't count anymore, and I'm sure Xanxus- No, the Boss has changed a lot since then!-"
"Voi."
"Yes?... Yes?" The younger man looked carefully at the silverette. The latter was giving him back a clear and straight glance, grave but not angry at the least. It was intimidating, having those grey orbs anchored at his face like this.
"You," Squalo resumed, "you and Xanxus do know each other?"
"Huh? Ah, yes…more or less." The other male replied, attention now back to the traffic which was starting to get decongested. "We're from the same town in Sicilia. You know how it is in our 'family': every one knows every one, from the brother of your mother to the little cousin of the grandma of your nephew's wife. So it's like we've grown up together … Aa, but not exactly. I still was a kid when Xanxus was already in his teenage years. I'd say that I'm more acquainted with the people who were surrounding him, more than himself." The young man's lips cracked in a smile. "Though I'm not sure that you'd believe that a man like me, at the lowest step of the pyramid, would know somehow like the Boss, wouldn't you?"
"Why wouldn't I?" Came the long haired man's answer, as clear-cut as his eyes.
"It's just... People often don't believe that, so…."
"So what? If I tell you I believe you then I fucking believe you. Like I give a shit about what people think."
Saying this, Squalo turned his head to the window pane – which simply meant that the discussion was over.
Lambo couldn't find anything to say anymore. That Squalo guy really took him off balance too many times, and no matter how much he wanted to get along with that silver head, all the attempts he had made till now had been completely vain. Vain and humiliating. Of course, Lambo had already dated women with strong personality, high class ones, the type of women you just don't get with catchphrases as lame as 'You are the first thing I think of every morning, the last thing that stays on my mind every night.' But one way or another, the young man could always find a way to get in their pants…
'Not like I wanted to get in that man's pants!' He thought with an abysmal fear, sweat dropping on his forehead becoming more and more disagreeable. 'I don't think he's an horrible person or anything… Look, I agree he's truly gorgeous, whether his face, or his hair. Even the body, if you squeeze a little, may be quite enjoyable… Hey. Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey. What the hell am I thinking about? Gah! It's because of that stupid Gianini. If he hadn't told me that, right now I…" wouldn't be envisaging the man sitting at my side as a possible good fuck.
"No. No, it can't be." Lambo finally whispered.
"What? What's that?" Squalo fumed after angrily hitting the door with his fist. "And what's wrong with you shithead, always squirming and mumbling shit since we got in the fucking car?"
"It's nothing! I was just talking to myself… Ah, there's Giordano's hotel."
They've finally left the more populous part of the town. Far behind them were the noisy and touristy Rockefeller center, Times Square and their endless flow of sightseers. The Lancia was now entering Carnegie Hill. The contrast between the two neighborhoods was almost shocking: when the former was mainly an immense bundle of colors and loudness, the latter was much more peaceful, a more under-control version of the city with its quiet cross-streets lined with beautiful apartment buildings. Hence, the sophisticated part of Manhattan. How this image wasn't corresponding to the nature of the man Squalo was about to meet, though.
That was also part of the past.
Vito Giordano's private hotel wasn't departing from the lot. It was an eye-catching, priceless 1875 town house, well-kept and all, with a striking view on the Park. It wasn't Giordano's main residence, just a pied-à-terre where the old man used to welcome his important guests, since the calm and discreet neighborhood surrounding the house made it perfect for holding professional meetings in a cozy environment, far from the indiscreet ears and oppressing atmosphere of the head office. Outside, a footman was already waiting for the car, eyeing carefully as they went out. Commercial smile stuck on his not-so-young not-so-old face, he welcomed both Vongolas with a humble bow, showing the way to the entrance of the hotel.
"Signore Giordano is looking forward to see you, Signore Squalo." He said.
"Yeah." A grimace stretched the silverette's features. "Though I'd have never thought that someday that old geezer would be happy to see me…"
Lambo innocently raised an eyebrow. "Mmh? Why?" He asked, but immediately bit his lower lip at the severe glare Squalo cast at him. None of your business, that glare clearly meant. However in a fraction of second, the glare softened into a more polite and composed stare.
"A suitcase of mine should arrive here after half an hour or so." He said to the footman. "There are very important papers to show to Giordano inside, so as soon as it arrives here, take it to our meeting place."
Once more, the footman bowed in obedience.
Once they got in the hotel, a butler (a man obviously older than the footman) greeted them with the same kind of smile. "Signore is waiting for you in his office at the last floor. Will you be good enough to step this way? …"
"At any rate, Squalo," Lambo was now whispering in the silverette ear. The place looked too much dignified and impressive for the young man. He couldn't help but feel out of place in the luxurious hallway and the magnificent lobby they were walking in. Even alone in the old-fashioned elevator with only the silver haired man and the butler, the atmosphere still was oppressing. "At any rate, no one told me what you're exactly up to. I know you're going to make an important contract with this family (Lambo's voice dropped fifty decibels lower as he pronounced the word 'family'), but actually what are you going to do? You've left all your stuff in the car, haven't you? So what are you going to show to that old geezer? He's not the kind of man that would listen silently to you if you don't have something he truly wishes or anything…"
"Humph. Stupid brat. Do I look like a fucking amateur to you? That's why brats will always remain brats." Squalo grinned. Squalo's victory grin. A light chime. Then before them, the elevator opened up to another hallway. At the end of the corridor, the old butler pulled the leaves of a door open. Squalo just irreverently walked to the door, silvery hair gracefully trailing behind him. "Huh! Just sit there and look how adults settle their businesses."
TBC
