Book II – Chapter 08: Six Pines

Posted On September 14, 2014

“It’s just a day trip, Demos. What do you need all this crap for?”

Demos didn’t look up from the suitcase on his bed, fully focused on the array of contents inside. Ferris’ question wasn’t worthy of a response. Everything in the suitcase was absolutely necessary, from the set of leather belts to the two different kinds of Swiss skin moisturizers — how could he possibly be expected to travel without them?

“Look,” Ferris continued. “You can’t even fit it all in there. We’re going to be gone for one night, tops.”

“You can either stand there and bitch all day, or you can help me arrange this,” Demos said with a pointed glare. “Your choice.”

Ferris groaned, pushing the slimmer man aside to survey the suitcase. Muttering to himself, he began to shift, refold, and stack until the contents resembled a Mondrian painting.

“I knew I kept you around for a reason,” Demos said, lifting another set of dress shoes.

“Don’t you dare,” his friend said, pointing back at the closet. “And if it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t be going on this stupid trip to begin with. I can’t believe I agreed to this.”

Demos frowned, first at Ferris, then at the shoes. Before his lips could curve into a full-fledged pout, he gave in, setting the leather oxfords down with a sigh.

“Well, you did,” he said, shrugging. “And it’s too late to back out. You already made the appointment with them.”

Ferris only exhaled, lifting his glasses to rub his eyes.

“We’re not going alone, though,” Demos continued. “Uncle Vic said we should bring one more, just to be safe. What do you think, maybe Sergio?”

The room was quiet as Ferris considered the question. Faces flashed through his mind — the Giorgettis had plenty of muscle and connections. Only one face, however, could possibly make any difference.

“Gina,” Ferris said, finally looking up.

Demos gave a faint laugh, but the other’s expression remained stern. It took a moment for Demos to realize it — the plain and awful truth that Ferris wasn’t joking.

“What?” Demos spat, his face screwing up in revulsion. “Are you fucking kidding me? This is a casino, not a dress boutique in Milan.”

“Look who’s talking,” he replied, gesturing to the pairs of designer socks in the suitcase.

“No. Absolutely not. What about Nicky, or—“

“The Marianis already tried bringing in a bunch of tough guys,” Ferris said, folding his arms across his chest. “Look how well it worked for them.”

“Then what about Uncle Vic? What’s he going to think when—“

“We’ll say it’s for the image. It’ll be less suspicious.”

“Ferris,” he whined, his teeth clenching in desperation.

“We bring Gina or I’m not going.”

Demos groaned, slapping both hands onto his face and dragging his fingers down his forehead. He looked physically pained. His perfect casino road trip — his one chance to show his stuff, was going to be demolished by his harpy of a cousin.

“Argh,” Demos said, tightening his eyes as if he’d tasted something rotten. “Fine. Fine.”

“Great. Why don’t you give her a call?” Ferris said, trying not to smile.

“You do it. I… I need a drink,” the Italian muttered, slinking out of the room. The door slammed shut behind him.

Ferris looked up at the ceiling before removing his phone from his pocket. At least Gina would probably have a lighter suitcase.

#

Miles of sugar maples banked the upstate highway, leaving dappled sunlight rushing over Demos’ car. He was in his usual spot in the passenger seat, sucking on a dying cigarette and scowling at the scenery. He was making every effort to avoid the rear view mirror, not wanting to remember that Gina was in the back seat. She had apathetically agreed to accompany them, though Ferris had suspected she carried more enthusiasm than she was letting on.

The atmosphere was understandably stale. It was unfortunate that Ferris, the least socially apt being in the vehicle, was forced to lighten the mood.

“Thanks for coming on such short notice,” he said, his eyes fixed on the endless road markers.

“It’s all right. I was wondering if American casinos are as terrible as they look on television,” Gina replied, her eyes locked on her phone as she idly tapped the screen. Though she still carried an accent, her grammar had made progress over the years.

“Have you ever even been to a casino?” Demos mumbled before tapping his cigarette out the window.

“Only Ca’ Noghera, though I don’t think that should matter. You’re not bringing me along to play poker, are you?”

“Like you know how to play poker.”

“Demos,” Ferris warned, reminding the other of the talk they had had prior. The Ghost had promised, in so many words, to behave himself. The Italian shut his mouth, but not before giving the other a healthy eye-roll.

“Look, there’s a rest stop up ahead,” Ferris said, making another attempt to distract the two cousins from their proximity. “Let’s get something to drink.”

The travel plaza was crowded, making it difficult to find a proper parking spot. Ferris finally positioned the car behind a van with three children and two dogs, nearly hitting a man carrying a bag of ice as he opened the door.

“You two hungry?” Ferris asked, squinting past the sunlight at the main building and its shops.

“I’m not eating at McDonald’s,” both Italians said in unison, then glared at one another. Ferris groaned before walking away.

“All right, you two can wait for the royal banquet or whatever. I’m getting some coffee.”

Demos hesitated, realizing that he could either tail his crabby friend, or stay behind with Gina. He swallowed, then hurried after.

It was only when they were alone that Ferris’ true crabbiness came forth.

“What is the matter with you?” he said, using the tone of an exasperated parent as Demos sipped his coffee. They had found a quiet picnic table around the back of the rest stop, taking a moment to rest the shade.

“What do you mean?”

“You know exactly what I mean. Victor gave you this job because he thought you were adult enough to handle it. But you’re acting like a fucking kid whose mom won’t drive them to the mall.”

“You were the same way after dinner when—“

“I was drunk,” Ferris said with a glare. “You’re sober. At least I hope you are.”

“You know Gina and I don’t get along. She hates me — she’s always hated me. She doesn’t even care about this trip, she’s just playing games on her fucking phone. Why the hell did you think this would be a good idea?” Demos said, ashing his cigarette on the grass.

“You’re right. I thought this would be a good idea,” Ferris said, ignoring his coffee as he spoke. “You can either trust my decision, or continue acting like a child.”

Demos exhaled, allowing the smoke to snake into the air. His gaze had fallen to the ground, tight as he considered his friend’s words.

“All right,” he finally said. “I trust you.”

“Thank you,” Ferris said, sighing in relief. “Now let’s go find Gina. We have to be there in two hours.”

#

The casino was massive, towering over the surrounding trees like a glass ziggurat. There wasn’t a building around for miles that matched even a third of its height. A valet took the car and Ferris could see the dollar signs rolling through Demos’ eyes as he gazed up at the structure. It certainly looked lucrative.

“Who’s this, some kind of chief?” Demos said, gesturing to a bronze statue as they approached the doors. It depicted a tall, shirtless man in a complete feathered war bonnet.

“He was a Canadian professional wrestler,” Ferris replied as an attendant held the door for them. “International heavyweight champ.”

“Oh, right.”

“He was also a chief,” Ferris added with a smirk.

Gina lifted her sunglasses as they entered the lobby, allowing her eyes to adjust to the dimmer light. The entrance was spacious; a wide stone fireplace sat across from the reception desk with a chandelier made of antlers glittering above their heads. The faint sound of running water drifted from a marble fountain behind the front desk.

“Ferris, you’re a bit early,” came a voice from the side. A man in a gray dress shirt approached, reaching to shake Ferris’ hand. His dark hair was combed smoothly back, adding a professional air to his smile.

“Hi, Don. Traffic was better than we expected,” he said. “I hope it isn’t any trouble.”

“Of course not.”

“These are my associates,” Ferris continued, gesturing to the two Italians. “Demos and Gina.”

“You can call me Don,” he said, shaking their hands in return. “ Welcome to Six Pines.”

“It’s a pleasure,” Demos said, giving the man a perfect smile. “Are you the proprietor?”

“Ah, no. The chairwoman is Ellen — er, Mrs. Hill.”

“Missus…” Demos said, his voice trailing.

“Yes, though she’s a bit busy at the moment. We weren’t expecting you until four. Would you like a tour while you wait?”

“That would be nice,” Gina replied, slipping her sunglasses into her purse. “How old is the building?”

The group moved through the lobby — as Don and Gina chatted, Demos fell purposely behind.

“Fish,” he whispered in irritation.

“What?” Ferris replied and he attempted to listen to the conversation ahead.

“You could have told me the owner was a woman.”

“Why does it matter?”

Demos couldn’t think of a proper reason, only clearing his throat and fussing in his pockets. After a moment, he scoffed.

“That’s what I thought,” Ferris murmured as they moved through the casino floor.

“This is the gaming floor,” Don said with a brief gesture. “There are over a thousand slot machines, as well as a wide range of table games. We host three to six tournaments per month in blackjack, three card poker, and let-it-ride. It all started as a bingo hall in the nineties, but as you can see we’ve expanded quite a bit.”

“Quite,” Demos said, eyeing the machines as they walked past. Ferris could see that his friend was impressed. This worried him — the more Demos wanted a piece, the harder this was going to be.

“There’s a hotel, as well?” Gina asked, making mental notes.

“We have two hotels, both with four diamond ratings, as well as five restaurants and two bars. Do you like Italian food?”

Demos opened his mouth, but was immediately interrupted.

“They had Italian for lunch,” Ferris lied, fully aware of how nitpicky Demos could be of anything that claimed to be ‘Italian.’ He had no desire to listen to his friend criticize the authenticity of an entire menu until the sun set. “I think they’d like to see the steakhouse, Don.”

“Of course. Right this way.”

Once again, Demos fell behind, tugging Ferris’ sleeve to whisper against his ear.

“I want in on this,” he said, his eyes focused on the reflections of slot machines on glass. “All of it.”

“That’s what I was afraid of,” Ferris murmured.

The more of the casino they saw, the more Demos’ desire grew. A dread began to grow deep in Ferris’ gut, wishing he could think of a way out of this. Why hadn’t he asked Don to give a less impressive tour?

After a quick glass of wine and a look at the spa, Don’s phone rang.

“Ah,” he said, covering the mouthpiece with his hand. “She’s ready for you now.”

The chairwoman’s office was on the top floor, offering a view of the surrounding forest and the casino’s golf course. The decor was understated, with a few polished plaques on one wall and an oil painting of a bear behind the desk.

“Please, have a seat,” Ellen offered after their introductions. “Now what brings you to Six Pines? You mentioned this wasn’t related to Sterling.”

“That’s right,” Ferris said with a nod. “I apologize for contacting you for extraneous matters, but my associates had something they wanted to discuss with you.”

“Is that so?” she asked, setting aside some papers on her desk. Her gray hair was tied neatly at the nape of her neck, her features accented by a pair of silver chevron earrings.

“We won’t waste your time, Mrs. Hill,” Demos said, sitting upright in the leather seat.

“Please, call me Ellen,” she said.

“Ellen,” Demos repeated. “I wanted to ask about the men who visited a couple of weeks ago.”

“We have many guests at Six Pines. You’ll have to be more specific.”

“Of course. They may have offered some kind of deal, perhaps in a share of your business — in protection.”

“I believe you are referring to ‘extortion.’ And why would you be interested in such a thing?”

Ferris shifted uncomfortably. This was already going downhill.

“Call it what you will,” Demos said, clasping his hands. “But please, satisfy my curiosity. You turned them down, if I heard correctly. Why is that?”

Ellen gave a sudden laugh, slapping one hand on the top of her desk.

“A gang of white men comes in here making promises and you want to know why we said no?”

Demos struggled to keep from frowning. The chairwoman looked thoroughly amused, though her eyes carried hints of impatience.

“These men — the Marianis,” Demos continued. “I’m sure you know how stubborn they can be.”

“Oh, yes. They’ve already come twice.”

“And what will you do when their negotiations become… more aggressive?”

“We’ll contact the police, of course. And if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you sound just like one of them.”

Demos swallowed, his fingers suddenly tightening against one another.

“Actually,” came a voice from his side — it was Gina. “I don’t think that’s going to happen. I’ve read about your experiences with the police.”

“Oh?” the chairwoman said, turning a curious eye to Gina.

“You can’t rely on them and you know it,” Gina continued. “Sooner or later, you’re going to find yourself in a difficult position.”

“Then what exactly are you proposing?”

“You can work with us instead,” Demos said once he rediscovered his voice. “The Marianis wanted thirty percent — we’re only asking for twenty.”

“Absolutely not.”

“We—“

“Under no circumstances. We run a clean business here. I’m sure Mr. Levinstein has made this clear to you.”

Ferris shrunk in his seat.

“Threaten all you want,” Ellen continued, her tone firm. “We will not be bullied into corruption — not by the Marianis and not by you. Perhaps this is just profit to you. For us, this is our livelihood — our schools, homes, and clinics. If you want to kill us to take it, then so be it.”

”Bold words,” Gina said, lifting her head. “But words won’t protect you from the Marianis. Perhaps there is another way we could help you.”

Demos shot his cousin a tense look — he did not enjoy being in the dark.

“And what way is that?”

“Your security officers and tribal police are armed, but not as well as us. We could even the odds — for a price.”

“You want to sell us guns,” Ellen said, folding her hands on top of her desk. Her eyes were focused on Gina; it was the first time she seemed to be taking any of them seriously. Demos’ eyes flickered back to the chairwoman. He was struggling to keep quiet — he knew this might be their only chance.

“That’s right. Weapons, protective equipment, and a few men until you’re properly trained. The best offense is a good defense, I’ve heard.”

“And how much is this going to run us?”

“We can negotiate those terms once you’ve decided on the goods,” Gina replied, crossing a leg over her knee. “This would be in both of our best interests. Neither of us want you falling to the Marianis.”

“I could make it clean,” Ferris added, his tone even. “In the books.”

The chairwoman leaned back in her seat, taking a moment to consider her guests. Her eyes trailed over the two men, eventually settling on Gina. Demos took in a careful breath, afraid anything louder would offend the woman’s senses.

“I’ll need to see the goods before I make a decision,” she said. “And I want to discuss this with the council.”

“Of course,” Gina agreed. Her expression remained stoic, effectively hiding the elation that was rising in her chest.

“We’re meeting tonight. I can have a tentative answer for you in the morning.”

“In the morning?” Demos asked. He didn’t want to return to Southport empty-handed.

“You’re welcome to stay in one of our hotels for the night.”

“You’re very generous,” Ferris said. “Thank you.”

“Who said it was free?” Ellen said. A terrible silence followed her words, broken only by a sharp bark of laughter. “Ha! A joke. Just a joke. You need to relax. Why don’t you try the spa? Go on, Don is waiting for you in the lobby.”

Ferris didn’t exhale until they left the office, the door shut firmly behind them. His breath came out in a shudder and he placed a hand on his chest to steady himself.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered. The elevator was quiet as the lights flickered from one floor to the next. Gina folded her arms, gazing out the glass to the parking lot below. After a moment, Demos spoke up.

“Gina,” he said, his voice barely audible.

“Yes?”

“I’m—“ he started to say, then changed his mind. “That information about them, their history. Why do—?”

“I was reading up on them during the car ride,” she replied, holding up her phone. “What did you think I was doing, playing games?”

The elevator chimed and the doors opened, revealing the warmly lit reception hall. Gina stepped out to greet Don who had, as promised, been waiting for them. She explained quite adamantly that she would be needing a separate room from the other two as he led them past a restaurant.

Demos’ eyes were locked on the floor, uncharacteristically soft as he studied the pattern on the carpet.

“How did you know?” he whispered. “How did you know she’d be able to pull that off?”

“Because,” Ferris answered, looking ahead. Gina had stopped to examine the menu of the Italian restaurant, giving an unimpressed scoff when Don turned away.

“She’s just like you.”