Elite 2: The Wrong Side of Revolution (5 page)

Daniel shook his head, disappointed in what Jordan had become.
Open your own damn door,
he thought to himself.

Daniel wondered what he would have thought of the couple were he not working for them and saw them climbing out of their SUV.

They were a glamorous looking pair. Demérs—ruggedly handsome with his somehow finely groomed stubble and his custom tailored suit, the top two buttons of his billion thread white undershirt undone showing off just the right amount of chest hair—and Jordan with her auburn hair styled elegantly up above her shoulders, a slim fitting red cocktail dress that showed off her figure perfectly, and matching strappy heels that Daniel was sure were made by a foreign designer whose name he had probably heard before.

Wow,
he thought to himself. Jordan really did look beautiful. Until now he hadn’t stopped to take notice. White collar life suited her.

After climbing out of the car, Demérs turned to say something to Salvador while Jordan turned to catch Daniel staring at her.

“What is it?” she asked him.

“I’m just realizing that it’s been a while since I’ve seen you last. You look really good,” he admitted. “You’ve got kind of a modern day Audrey Hepburn thing going on.”

“Huh,” Jordan responded, not sure what else to say. “Thanks?”

Daniel laughed under his breath.
Still don’t know how to take a compliment I see.

Just then Demérs finished his conversation with Salvador who made his way back around to the driver’s side of the vehicle.  “Shall we?” he asked, holding his arm out for his bride-to-be.

Under normal circumstances Daniel would have waited out in the car with Salvador while Jordan and Demérs had dinner, but given that this was Daniel’s first time working for Demérs as well as his unique relationship to Jordan, Demérs decided that Daniel should join them in dining with his newest business partner. After all, it wouldn’t be a bad idea for Daniel to familiarize himself with the man he was supposed to be protecting his client from.

Enzo’s was just as high-class as Daniel had expected it to be, with more plates, glasses and silverware at each place setting than he could figure out what to do with. He did his best to follow Demérs’ lead and blend in as best as possible.

Demérs’ business partner had already been seated when they arrived, so the hostess led them back to the man’s “special table” all the way in the back corner of the dining room.

“Jordan, Daniel,” Demérs said as they arrived at the table, “I’d like you to meat Roger Benze.”

The man stood to first greet Jordan with a gentle grasp of the hand, and then Daniel with a firm handshake.

“Jordan. Daniel,” he greeted accordingly.

“Pleasure,” Jordan replied.

“Nice to meet you,” said Daniel. Truthfully, he was unnerved by anyone who had their own “special table” in the back corner of an Italian restaurant.

Roger Benze was an older gentleman, and his advanced age showed. His head was shiny and bald savor the mangy grey hair with patches of dark that stuck out from the sides and just above the neckline. He had bushy grey eyebrows which sat above his narrow brown eyes. His skin was a leathery tan, and a large nose sat above his thin lips. When he smiled his teeth were a nasty shade of yellow, no doubt the victims of tar stains from decades of smoking.

He gestured to the two considerably younger individuals who sat to his left. They apparently felt no need to stand on ceremony for their introductions.

“This is my daughter Layla,” Benze said, placing a hand on the shoulder of the young, blonde co-ed next to him, “and my nephew Tommy. He looks after me.”

Layla managed to lift her heavily made-up face from her phone just long enough to offer a brief smile. Tommy just nodded with a forced half-smile, clearly trying to appear intimidating.

Though older, Benze seemed like a man who was still capable of providing a lot of pain to anyone who crossed him, but there was little doubt that “Nephew Tommy” was his hired muscle. Tommy looked as equally a shady character as his uncle, but with far less personality. Daniel guessed Benze kept him around because Tommy followed orders without ever questioning them. To Daniel, Tommy appeared to be an empty shell incapable of independent thought.

To Daniel’s surprise, very little of the dinner conversation revolved around business. Instead, the two parties got to know each other a little better.

Demérs opened the conversation by telling his story of graduating from Ball State before making some immediate inroads with the right financial advisors who had helped him make some very wise investments that ultimately paid off big for him.

Benze told his story next. He was apparently born in West Germany and his parents brought his family to the states when he was still very young. His father opened a bike shop shortly after they arrived in Boston and was able to scrape up just enough money to send his son Roger to college where he earned a degree in marketing. Benze used his degree to build his father’s business until a larger company offered to buy it for two million dollars.

“That was a lot of money back then,” Benze commented.

In his old age Benze’s father took just enough for he and his wife to live out the rest of their lives comfortably, and gave the rest to Benze and his sister. Benze then used his half on a multitude of business adventures throughout his eventful life. He now owned a large estate several miles outside of the city.

“The one that brought me to Chicago was some run-down old Jazz club,” Benze explained. “The club itself was a hole, but we shot a ton of stag films in the back. Made a killing off those damn things!”

Layla let out a sound of disgust and made an equally appalled face. Daniel imagined she had heard that story more times than she could ever want to.

“Sorry darling,” Benze said apologetically to his daughter.

Jordan’s eyes immediately shot down to her salad as she instinctively picked up the pace of her eating.

From there Benze was able to convince Layla to string enough words together to talk about how she had recently completed her sophomore year at Arizona State, but had decided to take a year off to “clear her head.”

Jordan then went on about her first year of teaching at her new school. Though not quite as interesting as Benze’s story, Daniel found Jordan’s to be the most enjoyable of them all.

Not so surprisingly, no one seemed at all concerned about Daniel’s endeavors, or Tommy’s either for that matter. This made Daniel wonder why he was even there and not out in the car with Salvador. That lasted only until he heard the server utter the words “Eggplant Manicotti” and place a plate full of delectable Italian cuisine down in front of him.

“Oh hell yeah,” Daniel blurted out involuntarily.

He instinctively looked up in mild embarrassment to find everyone at the table, including the server, staring at him. Jordan’s eyes were wide as if to ask “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Daniel,” she spoke, “it’s just Italian food. Relax.”

Daniel stared back, deciding on the response that would go the furthest in smoothing over a rather embarrassing situation.

“I
love
Italian food,” Daniel shot back in an intentionally overdramatic fashion.

Benze let out a big belly laughed at Daniel’s response.

“Me too kid!” He exclaimed. “I’m glad someone else gets as excited about it as I do!”

He picked up his glass of wine and extended it toward Daniel. Daniel picked up his own glass and clanked it against the old man’s.

Benze’s laugh was loud enough that it had garnered the attention of those sitting around them. Daniel was just grateful it had taken the attention off of his own statement.

“Just wait until I get my hands on a cannoli,” Daniel added, playing along with Benze’s eccentric nature.

“I like this kid! Where’d you find him?” Benze asked.

“He is Elite’s finest,” Demérs commented in a tone that was clearly intended to inspire Benze to calm down a bit.

“Oh yeah, Elite. I’ve heard of them. That’s Chuck Richfield’s group over there, right?” Benze inquired, turning his attention back over to Daniel.

Daniel swallowed his first bite of his dinner a little sooner than planned. “Yeah,” he answered.

It scared Daniel a bit that Benze not only knew about Elite but about Richfield himself—especially the fact that he knew him by “Chuck.”

A few bites into the main course Daniel noticed that Tommy had been staring at him almost the entire time. This made Daniel feel incredibly uncomfortable not because he was intimidated by it, but because he found Tommy to be incredibly creepy.

Finally Daniel had enough, and as he took a bite of his manicotti he began staring right back at him. Once he swallowed his bite he said, “You alright there Tommy?”

This caused the others at the table to stop what they were doing and turn their attention to the two body guards sitting across from one another at the table.

Tommy was a creepy looking dude. He had thin, dark, moppy hair which sat flat atop his head, and thin black eyebrows. His face was pale and thin which accentuated his narrow jaw and cheek bones with thin white lips and a narrow nose. He looked nothing like his uncle or cousin.

His eeriest features were his deeply sunken eyes which seemed to be permanently cast in shadow by his swollen brow line.

“I’m always okay,” he responded.

Daniel could only counter with a confused look which begged the question, “What the hell are you talking about?”

It was clear to Daniel that a battle of wits was out of the question so instead he did his best to ignore Tommy’s gaze through the rest of the meal.

Not a moment too soon Daniel found himself back out on the street as he, Jordan and Demérs were bidding their dinner guests farewell as a car pulled up to carry Benze, Layla and Tommy back to their suburban estate.

While Demérs finalized plans with Benze for their meeting at his estate on Monday, Jordan turned to talk to Daniel.

“How you feelin’?” She asked him.

“That cannoli was flipping fantastic,” he responded, placing both hands on his belly as he arched his back to stretch.

Jordan chuckled. “I’m glad you liked it. It’s nice to be able to go out to dinner with you again. You always did appreciate good food.”

Daniel smiled fondly, remembering all of the good times the two had sharing meals together in the past.

“Yeah,” he responded as if just realizing it.

After the Benze family auto pulled away, Demérs rejoined the two of them.

“I suppose I should call Salvador,” he said, pulling his phone out of his inner jacket pocket.

“Nooo,” Jordan countered almost whiningly. “It’s Friday night and not even nine-thirty. Let’s go have a nightcap at Rudy’s.”

Demérs shrugged and turned to follow Jordan who was already started down the sidewalk. “Guess we’re having a nightcap at Rudy’s,” he said to no one in particular.

Daniel followed taking in the atmosphere that he had sorely missed since moving to the Elite complex. It was Friday night in the Windy City and the Theater District was alive with activity. He missed living downtown, and he made sure to appreciate every moment he had while he was down there. The sound of the L-train in the background made the experience only that much sweeter.

It was no more than a ten-minute walk to Rudy’s, and Daniel smiled as they walked into the vaguely familiar old bar. He had been there a couple of times in the past with his former co-workers. The swanky décor always gave him the feeling of being in the sixties, drinking in one of those classy joints where they cursed the “goddamn hippies.”

As they sat down the bartender immediately came over to take their drink order. Jordan ordered some cocktail Daniel had never heard of and Demérs ordered a glass of scotch he had also never heard of. When the bartender turned to Daniel, he opened his mouth to speak but Demérs cut him off.

“Don’t worry,” he said to him, patting him on the forearm, “you’re off-duty for the night.”

Daniel smiled in false-appreciation as he never for a moment considered not ordering a drink. “I’ll have the Founder’s Dirty Bastard, please,” Daniel told the waiter, ordering the scotch ale.

“Oh, they have Founders here?” Jordan asked instantly, the name of the craft brewery out of Grand Rapids, Michigan piquing her interest. It was one of their favorites when they used to go out for beers together.

“Yeah, gotta have one,” Daniel responded. “You don’t drink beer anymore?” He asked her.

“I do,” she responded, a bit defensive in tone, “I just found a couple of mixed drinks that I like also.”

After the bartender returned and they enjoyed the primary sips of their beverages, Demérs turned to speak to Daniel. “So what was the feeling you got from Benze?”

Daniel thought for a moment, as he hadn’t actually taken the time to construct a proper opinion yet. Then the obvious question came to him.

“Does he have any mob ties?”

Demérs chewed on the question a few beats before responding.

“Why is that any of your concern?” He retorted in suspicion.