Barely Legal

12

Jules Kenworth stood alone in his conference room, gazing down at the huge mahogany table at which he held sway over not just board members but executives, investors, politicians, and would-be bigwigs of all stripes. Kenworth was a mogul’s mogul, often imitated, never equaled. He ruled his empire with an iron hand, and had no patience for anyone not on board with his latest venture. His business was real estate. His default mode was acquisition and construction.

The centerpiece of the table was, as always, his current project, in this case the forty-six-story luxury office building he planned for Lower Manhattan. The meticulous scale model, an engineering marvel in its own right, was a beauteous thing to behold.

The phone on the conference table rang. The call must be important or his secretary would not have put it through.

Kenworth picked up the phone. “Yes?” he snapped.

“Tommy Taperelli,” his secretary replied.

Kenworth didn’t bother to acknowledge her, just clicked the line over. “What?”

Taperelli was used to such briskness from the billionaire developer, and put up with it gladly. Just to be associated with Kenworth upped his stock a hundredfold. Kenworth, on the other hand, was proud of his mob connections. While he would not be caught dead with the likes of Mario Payday, Kenworth was happy to be seen associating with a sophisticated wise guy like Tommy Taperelli.

“I just got a call from court,” Taperelli said.

“Don’t tell me they took the plea bargain.”

“No, but the lawyer didn’t show. Sent another guy in his place.”

“Any good?”

“No, but he’s slow. The case could drag on.”

“No good. I want the kid in jail where you can lean on him.”

“I know.”

“I don’t think you do, or I wouldn’t be getting this phone call. Let me spell it out for you. Councilman Ross fucked me on this deal and now his kid is going to pay. Because no one fucks me on a deal. No one. I want him in jail, where you can arrange for his ‘health benefits’ and his ‘social calendar,’ until his father realizes what a horrible mistake he made. I want him there now. Not next week. Now.”

“I know. I know.”

“This new lawyer is a problem. I don’t want to hear about problems. I just want them to go away.”

“I understand.”

“I’m glad to hear it. Make the problem go away so I don’t get any more of these phone calls.”

Kenworth slammed down the phone.

He was righteously pissed. This had to happen, and not just for revenge. Kenworth had practical reasons for needing the kid in jail.

The bone of contention was a zoning ordinance. The councilman had refused to grant an easement on the height restriction on his building, which would have allowed him to add thirty floors. Kenworth stood to lose an astronomical amount if he couldn’t change Ross’s mind before the council voted next week.

Kenworth shook his head deploringly. Things were getting really bad when you couldn’t even trust a mobster to get the job done.