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Authors: E. J. Fechenda

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The Beautiful People

BOOK: The Beautiful People
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The Beautiful People
Number I of
New Mafia
E. J. Fechenda
(2013)
Tags:
New Mafia
New Mafiattt

Natalie Ross has always gone to her brother for help. Grant’s been her rock throughout their turbulent childhood. Knowing she’s struggling financially, he gets her a job at Crimson, one of the hottest nightclubs in Philadelphia where he works as head of security. Natalie promises Grant she won’t get sucked into the party scene or involved with any of her co-workers because she’s focused on finishing her last semester of college. Her promise doesn’t last 24-hours once she meets Dominic.

From the first night as a Crimson employee she falls for the handsome bartender, despite her brother’s protests and warnings about the guy. With a cool job, a hot man and more than enough money to pay her bills, life is looking up for Natalie.

Things drastically change when she witnesses her brother kill three men and discovers he’s a soldier for the Philly Mob. Dominic is too. In fact, his family is the mafia. Suddenly Natalie is a liability and she’s given an ultimatum: keep quiet or die.

Initially, Natalie is enamored with the money and power associated with the lifestyle. The mafia also offers the close-knit family she's craved her entire life. She soon learns that this family's values are more than skewed. A series of violent events leaves Natalie feeling trapped, vulnerable and questioning whether she made the right choice.

This book is intended for a mature audience as it contains: sex and sexual assault, plus drug and alcohol use.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The
Beautiful People

Book
One of The New Mafia Trilogy

By
E.J. Fechenda

Copyright
© 2013 E.J. Fechenda

Kindle
Edition – published 2013

All
rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without the
permission of the author, except where permitted by law.

This
is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and
incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a
fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual
events is purely coincidental.

Cover
image by: dwphotos via iStock

Acknowledgments

I seriously wouldn’t
have made it this far without the unfailing support of friends, parents and family,
especially “my boys” - my husband Steve and son Matt who have to deal with my
distracted state the most – thank you for your encouragement and love. To my
“Lit Bitches” Shannon, Beth, and Liz, I couldn’t have asked for better beta
readers. To the fabulous ladies of my writers group, Marlee and Nicole, you
were the first to read
The Beautiful People
(the first to read any of my
writing) and through the years as our friendship has grown, our writing has
too. Thanks to the awesome Maine writers community for continuing to inspire
and thanks to all of my friends, near or far, for your support. Writing is very
personal and my stories are like horcruxes because a little bit of my soul is
in each one.

Prologue

It was only a job. At
least that’s all it was supposed to be. Despite student loans, the occasional
loan from my brother, Grant, and income from waitressing at T.G.I Fridays, I
struggled to make ends meet. Grant was the head of security at Crimson, one of
Philadelphia’s top nightclubs, and he helped get me a job there as a cocktail
waitress, but I had to agree to one of his “conditions” first.

“This
is just temporary, until you graduate, okay?”

“Relax
and believe me when I tell you I don’t have aspirations to be a career cocktail
waitress,” I reassured him. We were grabbing a slice of pizza before heading
into work together.

“Well,
believe me when I tell you a number of people have gotten sucked into the
glamour and money – the whole scene – and are still there.”

“Are
you talking about yourself? It was the glamour that lured you in, wasn’t it?” I
teased, but really was curious what it was about Crimson that caused Grant to
drop out of college.

He didn’t answer and
gave me one of his “don’t mess with me” stares. I laughed and stood, picking up
my grease soaked paper plate for the garbage. “Grant, I’m just kidding. Come
on, I don’t want to be late on my first day.”

Grant drained the rest
of his soda and I followed him out to his car which was parked in front of the
pizza joint. He drove a new Lexus sedan, silver and fully loaded. This alone
was probably the reason he never left Crimson. Obviously he was doing alright
for himself without a college degree.

My brother was quiet
during the brief ride from South Street until we pulled into the employee parking
lot in the rear by the loading docks. Crimson was a refurbished brick warehouse
that sat hulking over the Delaware River in the old industrial section, near
the decommissioned Navy Yard. Blue, an after hours club owned by the same
development company, was located in a twin building directly next to Crimson.
We parked and a neon sign cast an eerie bluish glow across the hood.

“I
want to give you some advice for your first night,” Grant said, turning to face
me.

“Okay…”

“First
of all, if anyone gets inappropriate with you or too handsy, let me or one of
my guys know. We’ll take care of it. Second, there are a lot of egos that work
here, so there will be drama. You’re better off not getting involved, which
leads me to the last thing…don’t get involved with any of the guys here. Dating
a coworker is not a good idea.”

“Company
policy?”

“No,
company policies are kind of loose. It’s my policy…for you.”

“Oh
a Big Brother policy,” I said and tried not to roll my eyes. “I get it Grant,
all work and no play. You don’t have to worry.” He didn’t because I had no
interest in hooking up with anyone. I’d done enough of that in high school. I
was here for the money until I graduated college in the spring.

Turns out agreeing to
Grant’s policy was easier said than done. While he warned me that I would be
tempted by the whole scene, he didn’t tell me just how seductive it would be.
Turns out, Grant didn’t tell me a lot of things.

Chapter 1

The club thumped and I
watched the crowd pulsate with the beat while waiting for drink orders to be
filled. Dominic, one of Crimson’s bartenders, smiled and winked as he put two beers
plus an assortment of shots on my tray, which I hoisted up onto my shoulder before
proceeding to weave through the wall of people. My short skirt and tight top
showed more skin than I felt comfortable with, but it was hard to curl inwards
like I wanted to without spilling drinks all over the place. Even though this
was my first night working at Crimson, it didn’t take long to realize how many
men considered the skimpy uniform an open invitation to grab at my body. I
didn’t see any of the other girls running for security every time someone
pinched their ass, so I followed suit and ignored Grant’s earlier request.

When the club cleared
out, I joined some employees around Dominic’s bar.  He was busy stacking clean
glasses, the steam from the dishwasher causing his black hair to curl. He smiled
when I approached, a flash of even white teeth, and this made me squirm a
little. The fact that he was able to trigger such a visceral reaction from me
with one glance was bothersome. I reminded myself of Grant’s “policy” before
sitting down on a stool furthest away from Dominic. I should have been relieved
to find his attention no longer focused on me, but on one of the shooter girls,
and for obvious reasons. Her cosmetically enhanced boobs tested the confines of
her top. She had sculpted curves and platinum blonde hair, a regular Barbie doll.
Instead of relief though, annoyance and a hint of jealousy pulsed through me. I
glanced down at my B cups and silently urged them to grow on command, but no
such luck.

I noticed the rest of
the employees around the bar maintained various stages of perfection. The women
could be bikini models and not just because our uniforms were that skimpy. Their
hair and makeup were still as immaculate at the end of the night as in the
beginning. I, on the other hand, felt disheveled and droopy.  The men were equally
flawless in their black t-shirts which stretched across fierce physiques. Shaking
off the moment of low esteem, I turned my attention back to counting out tips. Peroxide
Barbie sat down to my right.

“Hi,
I’m Brittany. We didn’t get to meet earlier. Are you Natalie, Grant’s sister?” 

I nodded and Brittany retrieved
a wad of cash from in between her breasts and said, “Tonight rocked!”

I pulled out a less
impressive wad of tips, which I’d kept in my skirt pocket, not my cleavage.

“Yeah,
I had a good night. I made more than I would have in a week at my old job.”

“Where?”

“Friday’s.”

“Oh
yeah, totally. This is the place to work. Everyone wants a job at Crimson and
they’re hard to come by.”

“It’s
who you know, isn’t it?” I looked over at the opposite end of the bar where my
brother sat, drinking a beer. He was surrounded by a bunch of the other
waitresses. If I wasn’t his sister, I would probably find him attractive. He was
tall, muscular and had an air of confidence about him. He walked with his broad
shoulders straight, ready to carry the weight of the world. In some ways he did
and even carried my burdens every once in a while. Grant gestured for me to
come down so I gathered up my tips and said good night to Brittany.

“Everyone,
here’s my little sis, Natalie,” Grant said to his groupies. They would be
lining up, vying to be my best friend, just to get to him. They usually did, like
my freshman year in high school when he was the big senior football star. Fake,
shallow bitches, I thought to myself as I smiled and said hi.

“I
assume you two met?” Grant asked when Dominic replaced his beer.

“Yes.”

Dominic regarded me with
deep green eyes and I had to keep myself from busting out in a goofy grin. I
didn’t date much and mainly focused on my studies, but I would have been blind
not to notice that out of all the Crimson men I had seen, he was by far the
hottest and like my brother, moved with this cocky assurance, which appealed to
me more than his biceps. I imagined what he might look like naked just before
he asked me if I wanted a drink and I found myself incapable of answering.
Grant nudged my arm and glanced sideways at me. I needed liquid courage in
order to have a normal conversation with this guy. So I ordered something I
hadn’t had in a couple of years.

“I’ll
take a shot of Cuervo.”

“Whoa,
Grant you didn’t tell me your sister was so hardcore… or beautiful,” he winked again.
“You’ve been holding out.”

Grant responded with an
uneasy laugh and eyed me with caution, worry that this was going to be one of
those
nights clearly etched on his face. I used to drink…a lot, and Grant had to
cover my ass on a number of occasions in the past. Even though I’d behaved for
close to three years, those memories will reside in the forefront of his memory
until I’m eligible for Medicare.

Alcohol made my muscles
tingle and relax after a few sips. After a couple of drinks, I gained the
confidence my brother came by naturally. Just being near Dominic made me nervous
so I needed all the help I could get. Dominic set the shot down on the bar in
front of me. Quickly glancing at Grant, I slammed it back without a flinch; no
salt or lime. It didn’t take long for the warmth to start coursing through my
veins, loosening my muscles. I ordered another one. Like a turtle creeping out
of its shell, with each shot I became more gregarious. After my third Cuervo, I
was ready to flirt the pants off of Dominic, literally.

Miranda, the club
manager joined us at the bar. The way she orbited around my brother, I had a
pretty good idea about their relationship. I found this discovery interesting
because Grant hadn’t mentioned that he was seeing anyone. “Grant, you have a
phone call. You can take it in my office.”

            “Okay. Nat,
hang out for a bit and I’ll give you a lift home.”

He and Miranda walked
away, leaving me alone at the bar with Dominic. Brittany joined me and sat on
the stool, adjusting her low cut shirt to reveal more cleavage. She smiled at
Dominic, but he turned away and focused on wiping down liquor bottles.
Interesting, I thought to myself and snuck a glance at his ass which, like
everything else, was perfect.

“So
Natalie, are you up for a smoke session?” Brittany interrupted. I turned towards
her. She tucked her hair behind an ear, mimed holding a joint up to her mouth
and inhaled.

“No,
I’m good with the shots. I stopped smoking pot a long time ago.”

She raised her eyebrow
and gazed at me with intensity. So she wanted to test the new girl.

“I’m
in,” Dominic said, his eyes scanning me up and down. My insides did a
somersault and at that moment I tossed the “Big Brother Policy” out the window
– in less than twelve hours I might add - a new record. Brittany eyeballed
Dominic in a completely different manner. Her bright blue eyes glittered, not
with tears, but some other emotion.

Moments later we were
sitting in Brittany’s car. She introduced me to Allegra, one of the two chesty shooter
girls.  Allegra smiled and passed me a joint which I almost dropped the first
time around because I was shaking so badly from the cold and from being out of
practice. Weed was something else I hadn’t had since high school. One night at
my new job and the old vices were popping back up.

The January night was
frigid and the car took a while to warm up. Allegra and Brittany sat up front while
Dominic sat in the back with me. Feeling brave after the tequila and a few
tokes, I inched closer to him and the temperature instantly got a lot warmer. We
leaned towards each other, our shoulders touching. Brittany occasionally glanced
in the rearview mirror and scowled, which made me uncomfortable, so when
Dominic placed his hand on my thigh, I adjusted the position to where she couldn’t
see. I placed my hand on top of his and linked our fingers together. Then I
held my breath as he moved in for a kiss.

A loud bang pierced the
silence around us. I jumped and my head jerked up, almost colliding with
Dominic’s face. “What the hell was that?”

“Probably
a car backfiring,” Dominic whispered against my neck, trying to get my
attention back. It almost worked. His very presence distracted me especially
when I inhaled his spicy scent.

A second bang cracked, ricocheting
off of the old, brick buildings which surrounded the parking lot. This time I
recognized the sound.

I waited for the
sirens. In any big city, gunfire was pretty common, and Philadelphia was no
exception. There were many times I heard gunshots in the distance, but this was
different. These were really close. A few minutes passed and the atmosphere in
the car grew tense. Headlights whipped around the corner and a gray sedan pulled
up to the loading dock located at the rear of Blue.  A man in a long trench coat
got out and the back door to the club opened up.  He spoke to someone who
remained in the shadows and something was exchanged. When the guy moved to get
back in the car, his coat moved to the side and the light caught his badge that
was clipped to his belt. The officer got back in his car and left.

My jaw dropped. Did I
really just witness this? I turned and noticed everyone in the car staring at
me. “Did you guys see that? I think the cop just got paid off!” Allegra and
Brittany shrugged their shoulders and directed a weird look towards Dominic,
who squeezed my hand.

“It’s
nothing. Probably a gun from the gun check went off. No big deal.” 

“But
there was more than one shot.”

“Happens
all the time, don’t worry about it and just don’t go telling everyone. We…” He
stopped mid sentence.

“What?”

“Nothing.
Forget you saw anything.”  Dominic breathed this against my neck, but this
wasn’t as distracting as a few minutes earlier, I couldn’t take my eyes off of
the darkened back door of the club.

Finally I blinked, but
still didn’t say anything. Focusing back on my co-workers, I caught Brittany
smirking at me in the rearview mirror, almost daring me to panic. My instincts
were screaming at me to get the hell out of the car and run, but I quickly
silenced them. I considered how excited I was to work at Crimson, how all my
college friends thought it was cool, and plus I needed the money. Dominic
massaging my thigh, just under the hemline of my skirt, provided another reason
to ignore my gut.  

BOOK: The Beautiful People
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