Furious now, I was the first to say something. I stood up, the chair legs scraping against the floor like it had when Wolfe stood up. Anger curled its steel fist around my chest. Suddenly, I didn't care if the men had guns or not. No one was going to take my parent's business away, even if it was going downhill. We could fix the shop ourselves. There was no need for anyone to intrude, and the fact that someone would even have the nerve to made me mad. "No!" I snapped.
"Florence-" A hand touched my shoulder. Mom tried to push me back down but I remained standing, glowering at all four of them. "Please."
Beardy, or perhaps now I should call him Brice, suddenly snorted. "Listen to your mother. This doesn't include you."
"Florence, sit." Dad warned nervously.
I didn't. What can I say? My natural teenage instinct was rebellion, and rebel I would, even if it meant standing up to dangerous Brooklyn mobsters that recently decimated an entire business like it was nothing.
Silence shrouded the room for just one moment and then-
"Sit down!" Wolfe suddenly growled. His loud, angry voice echoed through the coffee shop, magnified to a thousand. He stood up so fast that I flinched. The chair legs squeaked against the floor, a cringing noise. I could hear my mother breathing heavily. My back was ramrod straight, but my knees trembled as I looked into the deadly, silently raging face of Wolfe Sterling.
Icy eyes locked with my own, backed with a thirst for challenge that I didn't feel like ruffling. Wolfe matched my hateful glare with one of his own, but I couldn't keep the eye contact. My gaze flickered down to the floor for just one second but a loud noise instantly drew my eyes back to Wolfe. He slammed his hands down on the table, making us all jump. Leaning forward, Wolfe lowered his voice until his words were only heard by me. I had to watch his lips form the words to understand what he was saying. "You've got a real knack for interrupting. Unfortunately, I have a real knack for committing first degree murder. I'm not going to ask again. This is a discussion between your parents and I. You can either sit down and shut your mouth...'' He paused for effect. It worked. My parents drew a collective breath and I tensed. "...or you can so kindly bestow upon your parents the honor of choosing a coffin."
With three people telling me to sit down, I couldn't really argue back very well. Also, standing up for myself didn't seem like such a great idea when a death threat was added in the mix. I liked living, thank you very much. Admitting defeat, I pulled my chair in and sat down. Defiantly, though, grinding my teeth to bone dust in my mouth out of pure anger. Rage was such a strong whole body emotion. Wolfe fixed me with an ice cold glare for a second before going all business-y again.
"As I was saying-" He said calmly. "-I would like co-ownership of the Espresso House."
My parents were just as reluctant as I was to take this offer. Thankfully, they had a better way of approaching it than I did. Dad cleared his throat. "As flattered as we are of this proposal Mr. Sterling, I'm afraid we'll have to refuse." He said nervously. "My wife and I, with all due respect, simply don't feel comfortable having a third party run the Espresso House. Especially some stranger with a gun. This is no offer, Mr. Sterling. It's a threat and we don't like it."
You go, Dad.
"Then let me buy this place." Wolfe was quick to ask. I had to bite my tongue to keep from letting the insults on the tip of my tongue fly. Buy Espresso House? A business we've run for years and some hoity-toity group of criminals just wanted to get involved in selling coffee and lattes?
"What for?" Mom implored curiously. "I mean, I'm not saying yes to this idea, but I would like to know why you would like a coffee shop. If your affiliation to the Crowns is to be held true, a local business in Brooklyn is one of the worst places to hide. Especially since police and reporters are swarming next door. You're a wanted man, Wolfe Sterling. You do realize that, don't you?"
"I do." He had the audacity to smirk. His eyes flickered to me, briefly holding a leveled stare until I looked away uncomfortably. "I am well aware of my reputation. And as for my reasons why, you'll find all the information you need in this file." Wolfe slid a manilla folder across the table.
Dad picked it up and leafed through the papers inside. There were several thick packets of information, as well as documents that looked suspiciously like contract agreements, and what appeared to be blueprints of a building. I peered over his shoulder curiously, but I didn't understand a single bit of anything that was inside. From the looks of it, neither did my father. He closed the folder and put it back down on the table, frowning. "I'm sorry, I still don't understand."
"The tunnels, Mr. Remy." Wolfe said quietly. "We need the tunnels in the cellar."
"Okay, but what do you need it for?" Unable to say silent, I had to ask. The curiosity was killing me. Wolfe glared at me, but didn't lose his temper like he did before. "The tunnels don't go anywhere, and the only exit from them is out back, near the Simmons Law Firm building-"
The hum of the espresso machine suddenly began, startling us all. Pretty soon, the trickling noise of the liquid (it sounded like pee) followed.
"The tunnels do lead somewhere." Wolfe reached over, opened the folder, and slid out one of the blueprints. He pointed to a bunch of square line things that represented what could only be the mazeway under the coffee shop. "Somewhere very important. Or rather, they connect certain places that we need to access. The easiest way to them is through the tunnels that run beneath the sewer lines of Brooklyn. The floors under the Espresso House have a huge cluster of entrances. You just never had the courage to explore deep enough, Florence." Smirk. "Scared of the dark?"
Oh. If my parents weren't here right now, the things I would do to him...
"We don't want any association with mobsters." Dad spoke up sharply. "It's bad business. If the police find you, and they will find you, they'll drag us along with you. Please, we don't want any trouble. With all due respect, this is silly. You're trespassing on my property. Tell me why I shouldn't call the cops right now and end this-"
"How much do you want?" Wolfe cut him off. He seemed to be getting more and more irritated with my parent's refusal to give up their business. "I'm sure I can pay enough to-"
"We're not going to put a price on this." I snapped. "Get the hint, you dick. We're not selling. And we're not giving you any ownership of this business."
Wolfe raised his eyebrows in amusement. He leaned back on the chair and watched me carefully for a few seconds. I felt my cheeks flush under his scrutiny. I don't think anyone else felt the weight of his gaze like I did, especially since most of them were directed at me. Finally, Wolfe looked away. He smiled, but there was nothing nice about it. "How about 3 million? For everything. I'll pay in cash. You take the money and I take the shop."
"That's not happening." I muttered.
"I didn't ask for your opinion." Wolfe growled.
"And we didn't ask you to come here." Without thinking, the words slipped past my lips. I felt both Mom and Dad stiffen at the remark. Brice chuckled but tried to smother it before Wolfe heard. But Wolfe had ears like a wolf and he heard everything. Glaring at Brice first, Wolfe stood up. His hand fell to his gun and at that point, I wanted a hole to open up in the middle of the floor and swallow me up just so I could be spared of the look he gave me.
"Let's try this again." He said softly. Behind Wolfe, his three guys posed in an intimidating stance and tried to look threatening. They had all picked up their guns too. "I tried to take this the nice way, but I guess it's not working. Allow me to give you some motivation, Mr. Remy."
As Wolfe clicked the safety off on his gun, I jumped up again. I couldn't help myself. With a build like his, making myself a bit taller seemed to make me feel less vulnerable. But why not make myself taller than him? Who said I couldn't do that? Without giving it another second of thought, I scrambled up on the chair so that I was standing on it, thus making myself tower over just a bit over Wolfe's head.
Ha.
"Florence, what are you doing?" Mom asked in both frustration and anger. She didn't seem as scared as she was before, even though the situation was a lot more dangerous than before. Was I the only one terrified of getting shot here? Dad didn't even look half as frightened as I felt. Was it an encore of April Fools Day?
"I'm sorry-" I was getting desperate now. They were all looking at me funny, like I was the crazy one here. Um, what about the four freakishly tall criminals that busted up in here with guns? Wolfe pinned me with a glare but I blathered on. "-but I have something to say. While I may not the owner of this shop, I'm the daughter of the owners and I think that gives me the right to voice my opinion, no matter how wrong it is, under the constitution of the fifth amendment of the United States of America, blessed be our nation, our forefathers of a constitutional democracy-"
Brice looked bewildered. "Is she okay?"
I glared at him, and just continued louder. I didn't even know what the fifth amendment was. "-and I think that this entire thing is completely unfair and one-sided. You-" I stuck my finger at Wolfe, fuming. "-don't get to decide what my parents do with this place. They own this place and they decide when to sell it or who to give it to. You can't just come in here and make them give a percentage of this business-"
"We don't want the money." The brown-haired one that looked related to Brice spoke up. He looked at Wolfe and then to me, where I was still perched. "We want the tunnels and access to the pathways that lead from the tunnels."
"Sure." I frowned. "To run your illegal business, which is worse than giving you co-ownership. If you get caught, you'll take us down with you. Look at what you did to the Lane Diner. Every cop in Brooklyn is going to be looking for you guys. Any association with the Crowns, especially aiding and assisting in these activities, will get us into more shit than the yard of a dog-owner who doesn't own a pooper-scooper. We can't be involved with something like that. We're a tiny little local business with barely any customers-" I pinched my fingers together to emphasize on how little. "-and we can't risk helping the mafia on their crimes."
For a second, no one said anything.
And then, after I started to think I'd suffocate on the thick, awkward tension floating on the room, my father finally decided to step up. "I'm sorry, Mr. Sterling, but I agree with my daughter. We will not be associated with the Brooklyn Crowns. We'll let you guys walk out of here and we'll never speak of this again if you all just leave without starting any trouble. It's the last thing we need. So if you wouldn't mind, Mr. Sterling, do us the pleasure of exiting through the doors you came in through."
Wolfe sighed. Then he paced around for a bit, and then he sighed again. At first, I thought he'd have the decency to leave us alone. Even if he was a dangerous criminal, no one could be as cruel to actually kill an innocent human being, right? Well, I was wrong. About the killing part at least. You see, I had a habit of underestimating dangerous situations. Talking didn't exactly help me in times like these, and it seemed that talking also didn't help Wolfe Sterling. If anything, it just made him angrier than before. Our refusal, no matter how nicely it was presented, just wasn't an option for Wolfe.
It took less than two seconds to find myself staring at the barrel of Wolfe's gun.
Almost instantly, Mom burst into tears and Dad jumped up, sweating profusely. I stood, frozen on top of the chair. The mere sight of weapons made me uneasy. To find myself having one pointed right at me was much worse. Wolfe smiled. His arm was extended above his head to point at my own, never wavering, never shaking the gun in his hand.
"How about this?" His eyes pierced through me, almost shining with bright amusement. It was fascinating, really. To see how his mentality played out. Pointing a gun at whoever he pleased to get a power high. Brice leaned over the table to slid a form to where my parents stood, not moving like me. Wolfe stepped closer, keeping the gun trained on me. "You can either sign the paper and hand me fifty percent of the business or I'll blow her pretty brains out right here."
His finger was poised on the trigger and he looked serious enough that I didn't doubt his words for a second. The safety was off.
Luckily, neither did my parents. "Okay!" Dad almost shouted. Panic lined his voice and it killed me to hear it. "Okay, fine." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pen. I noticed his hands shaking. "I'll do it. I'll sign it. Don't hurt Florence, please."
"Tick tock, Mr. Remy."
Flashing one more spiteful look at Wolfe, I watched with numbness as my father scanned the paper quickly and then, much to my fury and Wolfe's delight, shakily signed his name on the line provided. As soon as it was done, Brice swept the papers away and handed them to the guy with the blonde ponytail.
I couldn't take it anymore. Not only did the bastard force my parents into giving the Crowns co-ownership of the Espresso House, he had done it through fear and intimidation. I really should have called the cops when I had the chance. Or at least shouted for help. The police were probably in Lane Diner right now, searching for the Crowns when they were next door this very second. Jumping off the chair, I was about to run off to my parents when a hand suddenly clasped around my wrist and yanked me back.
I found myself looking into mesmerizing blue eyes. Wolfe leaned down, his quiet words brushing against my flushed cheeks. He smelled like peppermint and really good cologne. "I'm sorry, Florence." He said softly, soft enough that I was the only one who could hear him. He didn't sound sincere in the least, but rather almost tired like he had done this one too many times. I could feel the heat emanating from his palm, fingers circled gently around my wrist. "Pulling a gun on you wasn't my intention, but it got the job done."
Blinking back tears, I yanked myself out of his grip. My legs felt like jelly as I walked back over to my mother, who was now sniffling miserably. My father stood next to her, still in disbelief over what he'd just done. Or at least, what they had just forced him to do.
The quiet brown-haired one that looked related to Brice gathered up the rest of the papers on the table. Brice and the blonde ponytail guy one walked to the door. Much to our relief, Wolfe followed after giving my father a mock salute. He smirked, making my heart go 'aww' and my mind go 'ugh.'
"Lovely doing business with you, Mr. and Mrs. Remy. See you around....Florence." Wolfe drawled as he made his way to the door without looking back. The air didn't seem to loosen the weight until we watched them get into a black van waiting by the curb and drive away. A black van that was parked directly behind a NYPD police cruiser. The glass doors were still swinging.
All at once, we seemed to melt.
"Can I kill him?" I whispered as they all left. "Will you help me kill him, Mom? I know some great places to hide a dead body. I think it will bring us closer together as a family-"
Before I could persuade my parents to go along with this impromptu plan, I was interrupted by a large, wet kiss to the forehead. Cringing, I wiped away my mother's spit. She kissed me again on the hair this time, tears shining her eyes. "I was so scared, Florence. Oh my God, no one will ever point a gun at you again. Are you okay? My heart-"
"Fiona, please tell me I did not just do that." Dad interrupted. He was pacing around madly, hands over face in disbelief. "Dammit! How could he do that to us? We're an accomplice to their crimes now. This cannot be happening. I need- I need to go. I need to clear this up with Stewart. I'm-" He stopped for a second and then looked at me. "And Florence! How could they use her as persuasion, Fiona? A teenage girl! I can't- I'm gonna lose it. I have to go. We'll talk about this later but right now- I...dammit!"
He stormed away, the kitchen door slamming shut behind him. Mom and I stood there for a second, both trying to slowly process what's happened. Wolfe Sterling, famous Brooklyn criminal king, is my new boss. Can he fire me as a waitress? Was that even legal? Probably not, but then again, nothing that Wolfe did was legal.
Mom suddenly stiffened. She turned to look at me, confusion twisting her pretty features. "Florence."
"Yes?"
"What did that man mean when he said 'that chick from last night'?"