... thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen ...
He couldn't stand being at home. She'd spent so much time there towards the end, it felt like part of it belonged to her now. Sometimes Ari thought of moving out, but then he worried that if she did ever come looking for him, she wouldn't know where to find him.
... twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three ...
And he hated being at work, because it just reminded him of what a fuck-up he was; he was still struggling with his two worlds. Working for his father, wanting to be the kind of man she'd want; achieving all his life long goals, changing his life long goals.
... thirty-one, thirty-two, thirty-three, thirty-four, thirty-god, fuck this, fuck her, fuck. I used to be fucking normal person, what happened to me? A nice pair of tits in a dark club, and suddenly I'm fucked.
Ari collapsed onto the ground, then rolled over onto his back, draping his arm over his eyes. It was all a lie. The first time he'd met Valentine, he'd been intrigued, but it was the second time that had caused him to become obsessed. Seeing her sitting there in her ratty cardigan, no make-up, her hair a rat's nest on her head. Such a chameleon, and from that moment on, she'd never stopped surprising him.
He chuckled at that thought, realizing just how true it was – it had been three weeks since he'd laid eyes on her, and yet she was still surprising him. With her tenacity, with her anger, with her ingenuity. How could it be so hard to get ahold of her?
Because you're going about it the wrong way. You're attacking the fortress from the front door – maybe see if someone's left the back door open.
Ari's arm dropped to the ground and he stared up at the ceiling, feeling like an idiot. Of course, he'd never felt this way about a woman before, so he figured he was entitled to a lot of idiocy.
If he couldn't get to Valentine on his own, and he couldn't get her to come to him, then he'd have to get someone to act on his behalf. Someone to bring her to him. But who? Not the goth-y little roommate, she would never turn against Valentine, she seemed to idolize her. Same with the giant bouncer at her club. Ari needed someone ... more corrupt.
He needed someone he could buy.
He needed Marco DelVecchio, her boss, the owner of the nightclub she worked at – the same nightclub Ari was now banned from for life.
“Holy shit,” he chuckled. “I really am an idiot.”
He hurried off the ground and began to stride towards the locker room, almost barreling over some other members. He ignored them and the showers, changing right back into his clothing before leaving the club.
Even though he was still technically on his lunch break, Ari went straight back to his office and locked his door behind him, instructing one of the receptionists not to let anyone through. He combed through a bunch of files, pulling out folders, then sat hunched over his desk, sifting through all the paperwork paperwork.
When Ari had first ever paid for Valentine's time, part of the deal had been that he would help the club's owner, Marco DelVecchio, with some of his legal problems. DelVecchio had a lot of fingers in a lot of different pies around Chicago. His club Caché was the newest at only eight years old, and also the most lucrative. But he also owned several legitimate night clubs, had a large stake in a casino, and several pay-day loan businesses.
The pay-day loans were the problem. Shady businesses in the best of circumstances, Del ran them like he was a loan shark. Lots of questionable practices and tactics took place, and it was obvious to Ari they were also used to funnel laundered money. There had been multiple complaints, and now it looked like the IRS – and possibly the FBI – were on the brink of shutting Del down.
And if the FBI got involved with one business, it was very likely they would dig into his other businesses. Caché was registered as a night club, that's how they got their liquor and business license. But Ari knew from personal experience that a lot of the events that took place within Caché's walls weren't strictly legal. All it would take was one surprise inspection, one legitimate raid, and the place would be shut down for good.
Ari was pretty sure Del wouldn't like that one bit.
DelVecchio had stopped talking to him at the same time as Valentine, clearly valuing his employee more than the potential legal help he could get, which really spoke highly to his character. But the pay-day loan businesses would give Ari a foot in the door. He wasn't a Sharapov for nothing – he had contacts in both the IRS and the FBI offices there in Chicago, as well in the Gaming Commision, Liquor Control Commission, and multiple other agencies.
So he started making phone calls, and he didn't stop until he'd called in enough favors, and offered more in return, to get what he wanted.
“Rose!” he hollered when he finally unlocked and opened his door. She worked in the secretarial pool and handled all his phone when he wasn't available. She stood up in her cubicle, her coppery bangs just barely visible over the wall.
“Yes, Mr. Sharapov?”
“I've gotta step out,” he said, going back into his office. He could hear her footsteps approaching, so he kept talking. “I won't be back today. Take any messages for me, okay? I'm expecting a call from an Agent Brewer.”
“Yes, sir,” she said, hovering in his doorway while he put on his blazer and his overcoat. “Anything else?
Ari thought for a second, then grabbed his briefcase and car keys.
“Yes. Don't tell my father about any of this, don't mention Agent Brewer or the FBI, got it?” he said, then he gave her a hard stare. He knew he was an intimidating man, and had no problems using it to his advantage. She swallowed thickly, but kept a straight face and nodded.
“Got it. I won't tell senior Mr. Sharapov anything.”
He gave her a tight smile, then brushed past her as he walked into the hallway, leaving her to shut and lock the door behind him. He liked that Rose liked working for him, but he liked it even more that she didn't like his father.
He made quick time driving through town, and though it had been weeks since he'd been there, Ari found his way to Caché easily enough. He parked near the alley behind it, then walked up to the back door. After ringing the bell, he stood back and glared up at the security camera. A couple moments later, the door swung open, and the giant bouncer Serge stepped outside.
“Ari, my man,” he said, yawning and stretching. He was only wearing a white tank top and a pair of wrinkly jeans. “Didn't expect to see you around here again.”
“Hello, Serge,” Ari said. “Your boss here?”
“It's his home, ain't it?”
“Wanna get him for me?”
“Not particularly.”
Ari had come prepared for this moment. He knew the large man would love nothing more than to beat him up – Serge acted like Valentine was his baby sister and was always at the ready to defend her honor. So Ari pulled an envelope out from his inside pocket, and he handed it over to the bouncer.
“Then give this to him. I'll wait.”
“And why should I do this?” Serge grumbled, looking over the blank envelope.
“Because it's not about her,” Ari retorted. “This is about Del, and it's about Caché, and it's about him potentially losing the whole thing.”
Serge looked doubtful, but he eventually turned around and stomped back inside. The door slammed shut behind him. Ari folded his arms and leaned against the railing, waiting for his return.