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The mayor chimes in, looking like a dog with a bone. “The Vices have all but taken over the entire western seaboard. He’s a premiere power, and our neighbor.”
“And how is that any of our concern?” Devonde whines.
Everyone else is on edge, waiting for Clive to lash out. Even the Matron is gripping her podium, unsettled.
“I’ll tell you why it’s your concern, Mr. Devonde of Devonde Pharma and Medical. I’m honored, truly. And might I say, I am thrilled to meet you. Big fan. Not surprised that you’re here, either.” Marco is pure sleaze. But it works.
Devonde raises one eyebrow, a quiver of a smile thinning his lips. “Go on.”
“I’ll give the sales pitch, I guess. I have men in every major city. I own every trade route. Drugs, guns, running dozens of operations that generate an obscene amount of money. Money that could benefit the expansion of your club.” The insult is clear.
“How did you find out about our organization?” Clive barks.
“That is an excellent question,” the Matron belts out, pure authority and grace.
“Ah, you see, my late wife grew up in Sanctum Harbor. She was one of your own. Always wanted us to come back here, maybe retire here. But when my beautiful daughter ran away, disappeared, we searched everywhere. Ultimately, the loss of her only child led to her untimely death. She just gave up.”
My heart nearly stops.
My mother is dead.
It has to be false, a ploy. Every word out of his mouth is meant to manipulate, coerce. He weaves stories, gaslights, flat out lies through his teeth.
He glances around the room, pleading with each member for pity. The remorse on his face is a farce. “I do miss her…”
It must be a lie. It has to be.
The hair on my back of my neck is standing on end. Alert, ready to lunge at a moment’s notice. Or run.
I realize I'm gripping Evan’s hand with murderous intent, my fingers aching. He squeezes back, leaning a shoulder against me to quiet my shaking.
Marco is still spinning his tales, reaching out to each member of the gathering. “This get-together of yours, it's quite the soiree, isn't it? Pull out all the stops, don’t you. My kind of place. And that show? Sweet mercy, she was hot.” His eyes drift to us, and my skin crawls.
President Clive hasn’t backed down, pacing a rut in the carpet, his fists balled at his sides. “This soiree is a centuries-old tradition that you should not have been invited to! You have no business meddling in how our town is run, how it’s run for decades.”
“President!” the Matron snaps, cutting the air with her hand.
“Sorry. But so what if he knows what we do here? He’s already despoiled our sacred meeting. The Block will need time to deliberate on whether we see fit to continue participating if this is the way things are going.”
“Oh, come on now, Xavier!” Vanderberg yells, put out and fuming. “Hear Mr. Vice out. I thought you, of all people, would see the potential…”
“Thank you, Tyler. May I call you Tyler? President Clive, I’ve heard so much about the Block. Your club is legendary. Notorious. I’m sure we can reach some sort of an agreement, and if not…” Marco wags his hands, tipping them back and forth, an ambiguous motion.
“If not, what? You leave us alone and never show your face in Sanctum again?”
“Well. There are ways by which we can maintain a peaceable existence.” Marco grins from ear to ear like a shark. It’s a veiled threat.
“Precisely! We can coexist.” the mayor offers energetically.
“Bullshit. Matron, get this clown out of here or I’m out,” Clive shouts, planting his feet and pointing.
“Actually, if the Block is out, I may be interested in what you have to say. Unless you’re implying what I think you are. I will not be giving up any territory.” Devonde starts with a smile, devolving into a vacant stare that drops the temperature in the room a few degrees.
“Whoa, I get it. You’re all kings in your own castles here.” Marco is still grinning, ingratiating. But his tone drops, flat and unwavering. “But I will point out that I’m working my way north. And it would be troublesome if we started running into conflicting routes with the Block. Stepping on each other’s toes, if you will.”
“Step on our toes and see if you still have a foot, asshole,” Clive snarls.
“We want to work with you, not against you.” Marco is losing his temper. I know the signs too well.
