Chapter 7 Fucked Up High School Reunion 2
For a moment, the whole club seemed to vanish, including the music, the chatter, and even the air itself. It was just Falcone's hand on Cedric's jaw, the weight of his stare pinning him in place like a butterfly under glass.
"I said," Falcone murmured, his voice low enough that only Cedric could hear, "who sent you?"
Cedric's pulse thudded against Falcone's fingers. "No one," he managed, trying to keep his voice steady. "I told you, I just needed a job."
Falcone studied him like he was reading a language only he understood. "You expect me to believe that? That out of every club in this city, you happened to walk into mine?"
"I filled out an application, and someone called me back. That's how jobs work," Cedric said quickly. His brain was already scrambling for lies that sounded like the truth. "You think I'd volunteer to be here if I knew it was yours?"
A slow smile curved Falcone's lips. "That's what I'm trying to decide."
He released Cedric's face at last, but the phantom of his touch lingered. Falcone turned to pour himself a drink, calm as if they'd been chatting about the weather. The amber liquid caught the light as he swirled it in the glass.
"Do you know what the difference is between a liar and a bad liar, Cedric?"
Cedric swallowed. "I'm guessing you're about to tell me."
"The bad ones think speed will save them. They rush their words and forget their breath. The good ones…" He looked over his shoulder, his eyes catching the low light like a predator's. "They know when to pause."
Cedric forced a breath, trying so hard to put himself together, but it came out shaky anyway. "You got a degree in psychology or something?"
Falcone's expression didn't change, but one of the men at the table snorted. Falcone didn't have to look at him before the sound died instantly.
"Psychology?" Falcone turned back fully now, leaning against the bar. "No. Just experience. You learn to read people in my line of work. Their tells, their weaknesses." He took a slow sip. "Their pressure points."
"Yeah? And what's mine?"
"Desperation." The word landed like a stone in still water. "You reek of it. The way you hold yourself, the way your eyes keep darting to the exits even when you're trying to look calm. You need something. Money, probably. Maybe protection."
Cedric's jaw tightened. "Everyone needs money."
"True. But not everyone walks into a lion's den to get it." Falcone set his glass down with deliberate care. "Unless they're running from something worse."
The silence stretched between them, taut as a wire. Cedric could feel the weight of the other men's stares, could sense them waiting for Falcone's signal. His mind raced through possibilities, and none of them were good.
"Tell me," Falcone said softly, leaning back. "Does Detective Marcus Chen still have that same self-righteous streak he used to?"
Cedric froze. Every muscle in his body locked up.
Falcone's smile was small, patient. "You didn't think I'd do my homework, did you? The police van was registered to the 12th precinct. That's Chen's district. And now you're here, trembling in front of me, pretending you just 'needed a job.'" He tilted his head. "Coincidences are a fairy tale, Cedric. You should know that by now."
Cedric's mouth went dry. "If you already know, why ask?"
"Because I want to see how far you'll go to lie to me." Falcone sipped his drink, eyes never leaving Cedric's face. "It tells me what kind of man you are. And what you might be worth."
"Worth?" Cedric's voice came out rougher than he intended. "To whom?"
"To me." Falcone moved closer, slowly taking a step at a time like he had all the time in the world. "See, the way I figure it, Marcus wouldn't send just anyone in here. He'd need someone motivated. Someone with skin in the game." He stopped just inches away. "What's he got on you?"
Cedric said nothing. His heart hammered so hard he was sure Falcone could hear it.
"Ah." Falcone's smile widened. "There it is. That look." He circled around Cedric like a shark. "Let me guess. He offered you a deal. Help him get dirt on me, and he makes your problems go away. Am I close?"
Still, Cedric kept his mouth shut. Every instinct screamed at him that anything he said would be used against him.
"Your silence is an answer too." Falcone stopped in front of him again. "But here's what Marcus didn't tell you. He's been trying to bring me down for three years. Three years, Cedric. And you know what he's got to show for it? Nothing. Because everyone he sends in here either gets cold feet…" His eyes glinted. "Or they get smart."
"Smart how?"
"They realize they're playing for the wrong team." Falcone gestured to the room, to the luxury surrounding them. "Marcus can promise you freedom from whatever trouble you're in. But I can give you something better. I can give you power."
Cedric let out a harsh laugh before he could stop himself. "Power? I'm standing here about to piss myself and here you're talking about power?"
"You're standing here alive," Falcone corrected, his voice sharp. "Do you know how many men have stood where you are and didn't get to walk out alive?" He let that sink in. "You're breathing because I'm choosing to let you breathe. That's power, Cedric. And right now, I'm offering you a taste of it."
"In exchange for what?"
"Information. You tell Marcus what I want him to know. Feed him just enough to keep him happy, keep him trusting you. And you tell me everything he's planning."
Cedric's brain screamed at him to run, but his feet wouldn't move. "You want me to be a double agent."
"I want you to be smart." Falcone's voice dropped lower. "Marcus will use you up and throw you away the second you're no longer useful. I've seen him do it. But me?" He spread his hands. "I reward loyalty. Generously."
"And if I say no?"
The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees. Falcone's expression didn't change, but something dangerous flickered behind his eyes.
"Then you walk out of here tonight, go back to Marcus, and tell him whatever you want. But you should know that the moment you do, you become a liability. To him and to me." He leaned in close enough that Cedric could smell his expensive cologne, subtle and lethal. "And I don't leave liabilities lying around."
Cedric's throat felt like sandpaper. "You gonna kill me or something?"
Falcone chuckled, the sound low and rich. "If I wanted you dead, I'd have never asked your name." The line hung between them, dangerous and intimate at once. "No, Cedric. I don't want you dead. I want you to be useful."
"There's not much difference from where I'm standing."
"Then you're not standing in the right place." Falcone straightened, his demeanor shifting from predator to businessman in a heartbeat. "Here's what's going to happen. You're going to come with me. We're going to have a little chat somewhere quieter. And you're going to decide whether you'd rather keep lying… or start surviving."
Before Cedric could respond, Falcone stood and nodded once to his men. "Bring him."
Two sets of hands gripped Cedric's arms in a swift move, not rough, but firm enough to make it clear he didn't have a choice. As they guided him toward a door at the back of the club, Cedric caught one last glimpse of the main floor. The dancers still moved under the lights, and the crowd still drank and laughed, oblivious to the fact that somewhere in the shadows, a man's fate was being decided.
Cedric wondered if anyone would even notice if he disappeared.
The door closed behind them with a soft, final click.