all faiths in man shaken

Giovanni Carosi // 41

[gcarosi]

nicholashyde:

“Right, sorry” Nicholas said to the man before removing his feet from the table. He often got too comfortable in places, a hazard of the combination of his job, work ethic, and personality all rolled into one sloppy mess. Nicholas leaned forward and rested his elbows on top of his knees, interested in what the man had to say. Normally, he would have sent someone to deal with the issue but Nicholas was asked for by name. And as he listened to what the man was saying, he could understand why. Someone fucked up and Nicholas didn’t like fuck ups.

When asked about what drink he would prefer, Nicholas belted out “Scotch” in between the man’s story. As the story progressed, the raging fire that always sat in Nicholas’ belly got hotter and hotter. He prided himself on having a business that kept people in line. Nobody liked a sloppy girl, especially not one you have to pay for. So when the man offered Nicholas a smoke, he was glad to take it. He nodded along, listening to the story, and waiting for it to get worse. It was pretty bad.

“Well fuck” Nicholas finally said in a breath of air once the story had been finished “Let me first apologize for that sloppy mess, I assure you that is not how I run a business. You are right, the girl in question most definitely is new and she sure as shit isn’t going to have a job after I speak to her. But you see, problem is, that she has debts to pay so I can’t just go letting her walk away.” He took a drink before taking in a huff of smoke and blowing it out “Anyway, that’s not your problem. You say girls keep showing up at your place? That sure as shit isn’t something I asked, either. Fuck, we got ourselves a real mess, don’t we?”

 As Giovanni spoke and poured out his choice of drink - for two - he watched the man listen from the reflection of the mirror on the wall and took notice in his body tensing up with every word. He handed him both the drink and the cigarette. “Well fuck indeed,” he concluded and returned to his seat. 

Giovanni nodded at his words. “Of course, of course,” he agreed and encouraged the man to go on. “I’m not one to complain about it,” Giovanni admitted, and paused to take a sip. “To be honest with you, I probably wouldn’t have said a thing if she hadn’t been so careless with her words. A good time could be had and the payment could well be made, but I know a man out there would be pissed - and most importantly I know you’re a man who runs a strict show and if I were you I’d want to be told if things were getting even the slightest bit out of line, so here we are. Debts to pay, no debts to pay - I’m sure you’ll make a wise decision. Maybe just a word or two; your business and not my right to interfere or make suggestions, really.” Giovanni inhaled the smoke, let it fill his body and exhaled slowly, then he looked at the man and said, “They just need a fuckin’ map - or a better sense of direction. ”

[gcarosi]

anabclking:

Anabel couldn’t be certain about whether the male had been the one to call her or not. Nor did he seemed prepared to clear up the situation as she arrived. Though, by his lack of desire to escort her towards the door, the brunette decided that perhaps she had been wrong and had infact found the right place. Slowly, the brunette descended further into his home, wide eyes peering around at the beautiful furniture and paintings, almost in awe at what stood before her. “Thank you.” She finally said in a small voice, moving slowly towards the couch, almost in fear that one false movement might break something that would put her in even bigger debt. 

“Wine would be nice.” She told him, not wanting to be of trouble or impose. After all, many of her clients had wanted her for one thing, and one thing only. As her leg folded over the other, the brunette slowly pulled down on the hem of her dress and awaited the arrival of her drink. “Oh, I’m Anabel, and you are, sir?” She knew his name, but she wanted to be certain that she would call him what he wanted that night. 

“Mia,” Giovanni called out and in a few seconds the young woman’s head popped into the room. “Signore?” “Vino rosso e bianco, per favore. Una selezione.” As they waited, Giovanni observed her with a slight smile, but thinking of something else. Business. Calls to make, time being wasted. Then he remembered she had asked for his name. “You can call me Vince tonight.” 

Mia placed two bottles of red wine and two bottles of white wine on the table in front of them, along with a wine opener. Giovanni had always found pleasure in opening wine himself. “Grazie, Mia.” Giovanni pointed at the bottles and then turned his head to ask her, “Red or white?” Before she could answer, he added, with some urgency, “I’ll be frank with you, Anabel - I had requested for you at a time of weakness. Tonight all I want from you is talk. I want you to talk. I won’t touch you - not a single thread on your head. And not because I’m not interested; you’re a very attractive woman, Anabel, but there is lot on my mind and sex is not always my chosen distraction. It isn’t tonight. How do you feel about that?” Relieved, he could only imagine - and then thought otherwise; perhaps she felt nervous now - not a talker, not inclined to share information, to answer questions from strangers whose requests were not part of the job. 

[gcarosi]

Buena Vista Social Club - Chan Chan - HQ

[gcarosi]

nicholashyde:

As Nicholas entered the place, he had to stop himself from laughing. It was so extravagant–too gaudy for his own tastes. But he had to commend the man sitting in front of him, he sure as shit kept up the whole act. Nicholas nodded at the other’s words and made himself comfortable by sitting on one of the chairs and putting his feet up onto one of the tables with no shame. “Fancy place you got here. Though I’m fairly sure you called me.”

Giovanni watched calmly as the man made himself comfortable in his home, eyes scanning the place with what he quickly gathered to be a bit of amusement, which amused him just as much. When his feet landed on the table before them, Giovanni’s eyes fixed on the pair briefly - too comfortable for his own taste. “Easy on the table, eh? I don’t keep this place spotlessly clean for nothing.” The memory of calling him returned and he cursed himself for having forgotten. “Right, yes, I did.” Here he rose and walked toward the liquor cabinet. “I did and for no other reason but to share a story about a recent visit made to my place; extremely blonde, long - longest legs I’ve ever seen, beautiful woman, and young - looked no older than twenty-two; yours, no doubt.” 

Yours, no doubt. His own words disgusted him, betrayed his sentiments - and yet they were words he considered not only appropriate, but necessary to suit his current company. Company he would have much rather have somebody deal with instead, due to the horror he had always had for the trafficking trade. “What’s your poison?” Giovanni asked as he opened up the cabinet and then resumed, “- said her name was Maria when she introduced herself. Joyce when she left. More alcohol in her than should be in any woman, no doubt. She made her feelings about you quite clear - not words I dare to repeat, unfortunately. Vile on the lips of a woman. The trouble here is she mentioned you by name, quite explicitly, and more than once. Details about your life too. Speculations, surely. A lot about her life too. Whether any of it is true or not, I don’t know.” Giovanni lit up another cigarette, inhaled and offered one to the man. “Shit like that needs to be kept in line, eh? She’s not employed to talk, after all. Perhaps the lady could benefit from a word or two? She must be new - had that new air about her. And before you ask, no I did not ask for her, but she was one of a few to show up mistakenly at my place over the past few weeks. Neighbour’s call, I’m sure.” 

[gcarosi]

anabclking:

Anabel smiled at the male and eyed her surroundings slightly. Someone had mentioned how a man had called for her, and this neighbourhood was one she knew well. Though whether she’d mistaken the addresses or not was a different question. “I was told that someone had called for me.” A prostitute, she wanted to inform him, but knew he would catch on. 

“Ah, yes,” he said lowly, his eyes watching the woman closely, as if he had been expecting her. From the way of introduction and a subtle look in her eyes, Giovanni knew what she was there for. There had not, however, been a call for her; rare was a night spent in the company of an unknown woman. A man has needs, but most importantly a man must keep his worth, just as a woman must keep hers - or so Giovanni believed. “Please make yourself comfortable.” He instantly realised that some poor man somewhere nearby was getting agitated. Steve two doors down, no doubt - always around with different women, Steve. Steve, yes, it was surely Steve. Giovanni imagined poor Steve by the door, looking at the time, waiting impatiently for company that would not be arriving so soon. 

“Drink? I have wines, spirits...” There was something about these women that made Giovanni feel a fatherly need to reach out, understand and try to change. It was a line of work he had always detested because of his love of women and his disgust for men who had no love for them whatsoever. A very profitable line of work, Giovanni knew all too well, and this only increased his hatred for it. What can one man do, however? Very little for the whole lot, but perhaps, with some effort, quite a lot for one - implant a seed of thought, or something of the sort. “What’s your name? My memory’s failing me.”

[gcarosi]

“Come in, come in,” Giovanni said, exhaling the cigarette smoke and turning around to face his evening guest - unexpected and therefore of great interest to him. “Usually Mia tells me when somebody’s making their way in; I never turn anyone down, see - always tell her to open the doors, let them come in if we’ve met before, and she’s great at keeping track of names and faces, but unusual is her decision to not announce the arrival of a guest. Anyway, evening to you and welcome to the living room.”

[mary-mckinney-blog]

“Excuse me, sweetheart, but that’s a darling shirt you have on. Can I ask where you got it?”

[gcarosi]

Armani. Custom-made. It sounds pretentious, doesn’t it? Just honest. Interested in surprising a dear one? I haven’t been called darling since 2014. 

[gcarosi]

“I hope you know I’m not happy about this,” Giovanni said into the phone and sunk back into the restaurant’s chair. “I told you what needed to be done - made it explicitly clear and you said you understood, but clearly you didn’t understand, or you did understand, but for God knows whatever reason you - “ Silenzio, he immediately reminded himself just as his voice was getting louder. It was rare for Giovanni’s temper to take over in public, but because the restaurant was relatively empty, he had, for that split second, forgotten that he was not at home and it took the awareness of his own temper being lost and the arrival of a customer to realise that this was no conversation to be had in public and so he hung up discreetly, but kept the phone against his ear and said, “Listen - listen - please don’t interrupt me this time and listen. My guest arrives next week and I thought the dinner was all set and there were no problems. Now you call me and tell me that what I asked for a month ago - and what you said your service could provide - can’t be done. Do you always treat your customers like this?” Giovanni kept still and feigned, convincingly as always, concentration and dissatisfaction before sighing and adding, “Listen, we’re going in circles here. If your service is as good as you claim, I expect a call from you personally tomorrow at exactly eleven in the morning with a solution to the problem.” 

Then, he hung up, placed his phone inside his pocket and finished his Grappa quietly before turning his head to see the person now sitting on the table beside his.