Just Supposed to be a Summer Job

Like many Mafia lieutenants, Charlie Figs owned several small legit businesses. It was an easy way to move money around, particularly the illegal money. Technically, Stevie's job was to be a combination of accountant and money launderer, but as a newly-minted CPA with a high level of intelligence, Stevie knew that he could "clean" Charlie's money simply by playing within the rules. It might take a little more effort on his part, but Stevie figured it would one day come in handy for both Charlie and him.

++++++++++

Stevie was coming out of Santangelo's Deli when he literally ran into the future Mrs. Tanner. After getting his hot veal and peppers hero and a celery soda for lunch one sunny day, Stevie was going to walk to a near-by park and eat lunch. He wasn't watching the door as he pushed it open and stepped through, bumping into a pair of beautiful women who had stopped walking when the door opened. Stevie had just grazed the shorter of the two, and with the grace of the former athlete he was, he pulled up to a short stop and then jumped backward, apologizing as he did so.

"Damn hippy, get a haircut," said the taller of the two, who stood there with a benevolent smile as Stevie looked up.

Traci Rizzi was a year younger than Stevie but was two grades behind in school because Stevie had skipped sixth grade. The pair were an item for about a year from the fall of Stevie's junior year until the fall of his senior year. The break-up had hit Stevie hard, but that was eight years ago now. The few times they had seen each other since then they both made an effort to be civil to each other.

Traci had cut her long light brown hair to shoulder length and she had gained a few pounds, but otherwise she looked pretty good, Stevie thought to himself. Her light blue eyes twinkled as he looked at her, and she did that scrunchie-face thing she used to do with her nose when she would tease him, which made the few freckles on the bridge of her nose more noticeable. Stevie smiled back at the sight of her before remembering that the other woman was with her.

"I'm sorry ... miss ... I didn't mean to almost knock you over. I was anticipating getting to the famous Santangelo's veal and pepper hero."

"This is my friend, Jennifer Sorrentino. Jennifer, this is Stevie Tanner. Yes, that Stevie, the one I dated for about a year in high school."

For the first time, Stevie took a good look at the other woman. She had long dark brown hair and deep brown eyes. As it was a warm summer day, she was wearing a short dress, and Stevie took a long, slow look up what he came to think were the "greatest legs to ever stride the earth." She was only about 5-2, but she was wearing heels that had to be 4 inches, and those legs were olive and somewhat muscular and oh, so close to him.

"Jesus, Stevie, wipe the drool off your chin!" Traci exclaimed as Stevie came back to the real world with a sheepish look on his face.

Stevie went back inside the deli with the women and waited for them to order their food. Once they got served, the three headed over to the park. Stevie and Traci caught up while Jennifer was mostly silent and ate her meatball hero. Stevie tried not to be too obvious as he ogled Jennifer's legs.

Traci surprised Stevie when she told him she was still single. She thought the next guy she dated steady after Stevie was Mr. Right, but while they were in college Traci caught him cheating with her former best friend. She hadn't had a serious relationship since then. Stevie pretended to be sad for his former girlfriend, but deep in his heart he knew he wasn't because Traci had broken up with him to date that next guy, and he savored the break-up as a revenge of sorts.

He and Traci only had sex twice while they were dating, and Stevie didn't think that was very memorable -- for either one of them. But that was before Angela Bonafiglio taught Stevie some of the ways of the world, he thought to himself.

"Betcha I can make her scream now," went through Stevie's brain.

When the three had finished and it was time to go back to work, Traci insisted on writing her phone number on Stevie's hand so he could call her for a date. Stevie was somewhat surprised that Traci would want to date him again, since she all but told him he she preferred the more aggressive types like Mr. Right when she broke up with Stevie. Stevie thought about asking Jennifer to write her phone number on his other hand, but figured that would piss off Traci and perhaps lead to a scene that he didn't want to play out in front of Jennifer. He would bide his time on that one, he thought.

Stevie figured he would have one date with Traci and then move on to Jennifer, but Traci had other ideas -- especially after Stevie brought her off a half-dozen times with his fingers before one final time on his cock when they went back to Stevie's apartment after their date.

"Wow, that's not the Stevie I remember," Traci gushed as they were laying side by side on Stevie's bed.

Stevie was pretty pleased with himself as he lay in bed listening to Traci start to breath rhythmically before falling asleep.

"I betcha old John Dunning didn't get that much out of her in the four years they were together," Stevie thought.

It wasn't until their fifth date, however, that Stevie used the rest of the lessons taught by Angela. He started by licking a naked Traci from her collarbone to her boobs, then down her flat stomach. He stopped just above her clitoris and moved down to the end of the bed with his face in between Traci's now-twitching legs. He leaned in and softly blew on her puffy labia twice, watching the moisture flow as he did so. He then used the flat of his tongue to lick her slowly all along the entrance to her pussy before flicking her clit with his tongue once forward and once backward. At that moment, Traci's ragged breathing stopped and she abruptly squeezed Stevie's head between her thighs while she spasmed out an intense orgasm while shrieking unintelligibly. Despite not being able to get any oxygen as Traci had cut off his air supply, Stevie went into high speed lick mode and just continued until Traci finished her orgasm about 30 seconds later.

When she finally released her grip on his head with her thighs, Stevie lifted his head and was greeted with the sight of Traci passed out on the bed, and a look on her face that appeared to be a combination of bliss and surprise. Stevie stayed right where he was, breathing heavily, until Traci came to about a minute later. She looked down at him with glassy eyes, and half-mumbled, "Will you marry me?"

Stevie never did get around to asking Jennifer out on a date. A year later, he and Traci were married.

Things were also moving along nicely in Stevie's professional life. Things were going well so well in Charlie Figs' ventures that Stevie was having a tough time juggling everything within Charlie's legal enterprises of an olive oil important company and one for molasses, so he had started looking around for another venture for Charlie Figs. And one day while sitting in a fairly new Arby's restaurant in a town on Long Island, the answer was so clear that Stevie smacked his hand down on the table and yelled out "Yes!" to no one in particular. While the staff looked at Stevie like he had blown a gasket, Stevie took a pad out of his pocket and started furiously scribbling notes. He emptied his half-eaten tray into the garbage and practically jumped behind the wheel of his prized 1969 Mustang Mach 1.

Stevie walked into the offices of CAB Importing and immediately knocked on Charlie's door. He didn't wait for an answer and started to pull his notes out of his pocket while talking about his plan.

"Slow down, Dark Jew," Charlie said calling Stevie by the nickname that Charlie -- and only Charlie -- sometimes called him affectionately. "What the hell are you babbling about?"

In the course of the next two hours, Stevie laid out his plan for Charlie to start a construction company -- a completely legit construction company that would focus on building fast food restaurants and bank branches all over Long Island. The island, Stevie noted, was growing quickly out toward Montauk Point, and fast food restaurants were starting to pop up all over the place as a real meal choice, not just a trend. Somebody had to build these restaurants. As for the banks, well Stevie figured that not only would the population have to eat, but they'd also have to bank, and Stevie had noticed a trend with bank branches starting to pop up as well. Between the two, there would be a lot of work for a lot of firms -- particularly one who specialized in those two types of buildings. Jump in quickly, but build them high quality for a solid price. And with his ahem -- "connections" in the community, it would be highly unlikely that too many companies would want to challenge Charlie's -- and none of them would dare try any lowball tactics.

And with all the various moving parts of the construction trade, it would also be easier for Stevie to do his main job, he added.

"Kid, I don't know anything about construction. Several of the other guys already have companies ..."

"But none of those are completely legit ... or about as completely as you are going to make this one," Stevie interrupted. "And I've got two guys I can bring in who can run this for you.
They will both answer to me ... and I answer to you."

Stevie's "guys" came from his Iowa connections. His old college roommate, Gary Butkus, had been working for a firm doing design and architecture, and Stevie was sure that he'd come on board for a sizable raise over what he was currently being paid. The other guy was a construction superintendent for a firm in Iowa called Kirk Gross. When you wanted a bank built in northeastern Iowa, you called Kirk Gross; the man they relied upon for the best jobs was a stocky Norwegian immigrant named Dean Sahlstrom. He was a master builder and a natural leader of men, and his crew very often finished a job both under budget and ahead of schedule. Stevie had gotten to know Dean well in the year he dated Dean's daughter, Cheryl, at the University of Iowa.

Dean wasn't particularly fond of the younger man's long hair, but during several deep discussions with Stevie he found Stevie to be anything but the drug-crazed hippy he assumed, and had actually started thinking he might like this young man for a son-in-law. But then his daughter suddenly announced she was dumping Stevie for some rich kid from the Chicago suburbs, and Stevie no longer was part of the picture.

The breakup stung Stevie badly, but that was in the past, and Stevie knew he had to have Dean to make this work. For his part, the older man was pleased that Stevie had considered him that highly, and when Stevie made him an offer that was half over what he was currently being paid, the older man was on a plane to New York. And for an added bonus, he was bringing with him his top assistant.

++++++++++

Angela Bonafiglio's Christmas parties were almost legendary. She would cater them in to the big house she and Charlie owned in Roslyn, and her guest list not only included a lot of crew guys, but also a lot of people from the New York City social scene, including several politicians, actors, and singers. The food was top notch, a four-piece string group played in the home's expansive den, and people mingled merrily about with top-notch drinks in their hands. Stevie had been attending the parties since he first went to work for Charlie, and Traci had been with him for the last two.

An hour into the party, Stevie and Traci had drifted off into different parts of the house and were both mingling with the various guests. Stevie, having just gotten himself a plate of food, was headed toward a spot in the dining room when he spotted Traci in a small group of people that included Sal Costa in the home's parlor. Traci had her left hand wrapped around Sal's upper right arm from the inside, and while in conversation with the group, she would occasionally lean in to Sal and apparently whisper something in his ear. The two would then share a smile.

Stevie decided he didn't need to sit down to munch his food and stayed just outside the parlor watching this little scene play out. He knew that Sal's position in Charlie's organization was as muscle primarily, and that Charlie trusted him as much as he trusted Stevie. For his part, Stevie had as little to do with Sal as possible, considering him a necessary evil, but not one he wanted to get to know closely. At 6-2, 220 pounds, Sal was a pretty good physical specimen and usually thought he was the best looking man in the room ... and acted that way. He seemed to have no trouble finding women, and when he went out there was always a "9" or a "10" on his arm.

While Sal and Traci had met before since Sal and Stevie both worked for the same man, Stevie had never before noticed Traci even talking to him, let alone looking extremely comfortable laughing and joking with him in a group. He considered walking over to join the group when he saw Sal pull a pack of Kent's out of his jacket pocket, light one up and then casually place the cigarette up to Traci's lips. She closed her lips around the smoke without missing a beat as Sal got out a second cigarette and lit one for himself. The familiarity of the gesture wasn't lost on Stevie.

The familiarity of the brand also wasn't lost on Stevie. While Traci didn't smoke heavily, her preferred brand was Salem, yet Stevie remembered seeing several crushed out Kents in ash trays at his house from time to time. Some had Traci's lipstick on them, some didn't. Stevie always assumed the Kents without lipstick on them were from one of Traci's friends who didn't wear lipstick -- one of Traci's women friends. Stevie suddenly felt his stomach knot up. He put his plate of food down half uneaten.

Stevie kept his distance from his wife the rest of the night, but made sure she was just within his vision regardless of where she went. For the most part, she stuck with Sal like he was her husband, occasionally wandering away to get something to eat or drink or to talk for a minute or two with another friend. She never went looking for Stevie the rest of the night.

Traci happily chattered away on the car ride home as if nothing was different in her life. Stevie was almost completely silent, but Traci didn't seem to notice that. His mind was going in several directions at the same time as he made plans to find out if what he was seeing was just paranoia on his part or a real concern.

Stevie could have used any number of Charlie's associates to track Traci, but for something this personal and delicate, he used a highly-rated agency run by a former police officer. The agency didn't waste any time, and in two weeks the agent assigned to Traci told Stevie in a meeting at his construction company office that she had met with Sal Costa on consecutive Wednesday afternoons at Stevie's house. Stevie had let the agent plant a couple of spy cameras in the house and some "bugs," so he was able to get some grainy shots of the couple having sex in the master bedroom, along with audio of the event. From the look of the photos and the sound of the bugs, it was clear in Stevie's mind that the two were very familiar with each other, meaning that the affair had been ongoing for some time.

"It looks like Mr. Costa takes a long lunch on Wednesdays," the investigator noted.

"What a schmuck I am!" Stevie said to the investigator. "I never even had a clue. We have sex three, four times a week, and I would have bet the mortgage that her life revolved around me. We were even talking about having kids in the next few years!"

All the investigator could do was apologize for being the messenger. He thanked Stevie for handing him a check and then beat a hasty retreat from the room.

Once the investigator was gone, Stevie allowed the rage that was building to wash over him.

"Son of a bitch! Stupid motherfucking son of a bitch! How could you have been so fucking blind?" Stevie yelled to himself.

The yelling alerted Gary, who was in the next office, and he came running into Stevie's office with his fists balled and ready for whomever Stevie was getting ready to fight with. When he didn't see anybody else in the room, he turned with a concerned look at his friend, never having seen the usually collected Stevie this out of control.

"What's going on, Stevie? Who needs their ass kicked?"

Despite being 6-1, Gary was 145 pounds dripping wet, and probably couldn't beat Stevie's mother in a fistfight, Stevie had often thought to himself. Despite that, when it came to a friend, Gary would be the second man into a fight to have Stevie's back, with Rich Nowinsky from back in his college days always first. That kind of loyalty brought a smile to Stevie's face, and then as he thought further about the old days and Rich, the smile gradually became a smirk, and the mad blush that had covered Stevie's face and neck quickly faded.

"You know what, Gary? You're a fucking genius!" Stevie cried out in triumph as he looked at his wary friend.

"We need to take a short road trip to Iowa City one of these coming weekends. Get the old gang together."

Gary had seen that look on Stevie's face before. Stevie was working on something in his mind, something big. Gary knew he'd tell him soon enough. He turned and went back to his own office, shaking his head.

Stevie knew he couldn't get direct revenge on Sal Costa because Sal was an integral part of Charlie's crew, and crew members were not supposed to fight. But crew members also weren't supposed to fuck with another crew member's wife either, Stevie thought.

Stevie called over to Stuart Klein, a good friend who also happened to be a divorce attorney, and got an appointment for the next afternoon. After hanging up the phone, he put his head down on his desk and cried for the first time since his father died.

Once he was done feeling sorry for himself, Stevie also set up an appointment with his physician to be tested for venereal diseases. Sal had a history of sleeping around, and had picked up a bug at least twice since Steve went to work for Charlie Figs. Stevie was embarrassed to have to tell Dr. Crain's nurse what he needed, but he realized it was time to put away his pride and deal with necessity. He also knew he had to stay away from his wife sexually for a couple of weeks.

Stevie directed his attorney to have papers drawn on the grounds of infidelity. He told the lawyer to offer her one-third of the marital assets, and she could keep the house if she could make the mortgage payments. He offered to pay her alimony for five years.

"Fuck the cheating bitch!" Stevie told his attorney, "And fuck that bastard, too!"

Stevie promised the attorney a handsome bonus if the papers could be ready to be served by the next Wednesday's fuckfest. He explained the plan to the attorney, who looked at Stevie and shuddered.

"Man, you've been working for the crew way too long," he said.

While Stevie and Gary Butkus watched through binoculars from down the street on the next Wednesday, Sal Costa pulled his brand new '81 Ford Thunderbird into Stevie's driveway. He got out of the car, went to the front door and walked in simply by turning the doorknob. Apparently, both he and Traci felt pretty confident that Stevie was being a good worker bee, and wouldn't see the car in his driveway, and she felt confident enough to leave the door unlocked as well.

Stevie looked sideways at Gary staring at the house through his binoculars, his mouth slightly gaped open in what Stevie guessed was shock.

"Arrogant bastard, isn't he? And who the fuck buys a brand new T-Bird in shit stain brown?" Stevie inquired.

That apparently broke Gary out of his reverie. He grinned back at Stevie.