The Drazen World: The California Limited (Kindle Worlds Novella) by Catherine C. Heywood Page A

– was where his heart lay.  It was Jack Drazen’s kingdom.
    He descended the stairs with practiced swiftness, dodging fawning patrons and supplicating staff with a tight smile and a gaze that was never completely fixed upon them.  He found his guest where he always had, at the table in the dead center of the main floor, practically kissing the dance floor and ogling the main stage.  He preferred a private box on the second and his guest knew that, likely reserved the one he did for that very reason.  He never came to town without wanting something and would do anything to unsettle Jack to get it.  Unfortunately for him, Jack knew that gag.  Had perfected it himself.  So they always approached each other with swords sheathed but hands at the ready.
    “Francis Fiore,” Jack said, extending his hand with a wide smile.
    “Jonathan O’Drassen.”  Frank, a dark Italian three years his junior but equal in height and charismatic physicality, stood, buttoning his suit coat and shaking his hand.  Then he gestured to a chair for Jack to sit as if it were his table, his club, and they sat.
    “I hear congratulations are in order,” said Jack as Frank poured him a glass of red wine, emptying the bottle he had opened.
    “They are.”  Frank smiled as they clinked their glasses with a salute!
    Jack sat back and shook his head.  “She must really be something.  I don’t know why you’d keep a cow when milk is so cheap.”  He nodded to a pretty blonde Canary Girl swinging in a cage nearby.
    Frank chuckled softly.  “You’ve never been in love, my friend.”
    Were they friends, Jack wondered, studying him?  He supposed he was a right enough fellow.  But there was always something slightly off about him, like a hanging picture that was first and always eschew.  Or he was a dago and he thought the race of them slightly off.  Or he was in the mafia and they were more off than all the rest.  What had he said?
    “Love,” he finally said.  “I don’t think so.  Is it as bad as they all say?”
    “Worse.”  Frank threw his hands up as if chagrined.  “It was time I settled down.  I had a girl once back in Milwaukee.  Really loved her, but…”  His gaze was distant, then he signaled for a cigarette girl and bought a pack, his smile warm as his eyes crawled leisurely up and down her body.  Then he slipped one from its pack, put it between his fingers and sat back gracelessly, his face alight with amusement.  “Why don’t you light this for me, doll.”  He moved his fingers not one inch in her direction and that, of course, was by design.  She bent over just so and Frank took a long, leering look at her cleavage as she put his cigarette to light.  “That’s fine,” he said, taking a drag, then he picked something away from his tongue.
    Jack regarded all of it in some faraway place in his mind, some six-years-ago place.  “Milwaukee,” he finally said, sitting forward.  “That’s peculiar.  Did I know that?”
    “I don’t know.  What’s so peculiar about it?  It’s a shit town with dairy farms on one side and Lake Michigan on the other.  Worked for the Outfit for a time up there when I was younger.  Cut my teeth on them.”
    “Really?  You don’t hear too much about people cutting their teeth on the Outfit.  Seems to me it’s more like the Outfit cuts their teeth on people.”
    Frank chuckled breathily, his gaze narrowed.  He was not amused.  They stared at each other for a long moment.
    “Come to chisel me for more talent, have you?” Jack asked, his tone lighter.  “How’s Vegas, the new venture?  Hotel Meriggiare, is it?”
    They talked business for over an hour, both asking for more than they needed and getting less than they wanted.  Negotiations complete, Frank sat back and took another long drag from another cigarette, the ashtray in front of him piled like pick-up sticks with cooling butts.  Then he pointed at the stage.  “You’ve got a lunch