Italian Dinner

Italian Dinner
Chapter One

~*~

So of course once we discovered where Matteo Consolata's office was, they sent me to go in undercover. Sure enough, if they hadn't I wouldn't be telling you this story. It still gets to me, if only I had known what was in store for me once I step foot in that building...I don't know if I would have done it again, knowing what I know now. But then again who would have?

We happened to find Matteo Consolata by mere chance, turned out one of the guy's at the crime lab’s sister's rich husband had been doing business with him, plotting to build a tumultuous mansion on the hills of Sunset Boulevard only to come crashing down the mountain in the next landslide. From what I've heard the housing business was so elaborate that a lot of their services were very hush-hush and some business was by invitation only. So it was only by sheer chance and coincidence that one of the guys was able to find his office downtown.

Swanson thought that sending in two guys real quietly was the best way to ease ourselves into the domain of Matteo Consolata, but as it turned out once they got in his Majesty Matteo wasn't much of a talker and didn't have any useful information at all regarding the murder in Santa Monica. The guys sprang the business card from the corpse on him, and the son of a bitch just shrugged, admitted they did business together, and said it was unfortunate the guy was dead.

Swanson didn't buy any of it, thought the guy was full of shit, so he had the phone line from the office tapped. These guys did a lot of business going in and out, and we were all shocked by the amount of people they turned away, due to simple little problems like lack of money or bad credit. I tell ya, in Los Angeles it's all about money, and if it isn't, you're not acknowledged.

Four days pass and we get a lucky break. We're sitting in the office one morning listening to the tapped phone line, when the guy's secretary calls a law firm and requests that a marital lawyer be sent to Mr. Consolata's office immediately. In the back you could hear obvious shouting, one voice a man, the other a woman. And bam, just like that, we were in.

~*~

So this is how I ended up in the Consolata building...by pretending to be a martial lawyer.

Swanson chose me because he thought it would be good for me to get some LA experience under my belt, but I knew that he chose me because I looked the most non-threatening, and probably because the rest of the guys on the force looked too much like stereotypical Californian cops headed for a corny TV show. Everyone said I looked the part when they dressed me in up in a snappy lawyer's ensemble with the briefcase and the pens in the pocket and the red tie and all that jazz. Despite the protest we received from the law firm that had been called to issue a real lawyer, they had adhered to cooperation, which was good news on our part. Hopefully there wasn't a way for our cover to get blown.

When I first walked into the lobby, I noticed the huge logo by the bank of elevators. CONSOLATA Housing Inc. in giant gold writing, probably cost as much as my new apartment, if not more. The entire lobby was marble, gave the whole place a sort of cold but very professional feel to it. When I told the security guys at the front that I was there to see Mr. Consolata, that I was the lawyer he had called for, they rolled their eyes at each other and then smirked while calling down the elevator. "We figure'd we'd be seeing one of you guys sooner." One of them said, and motioned with his head in the direction of the elevator.

The first five floors were all the simple things to cover up a major organization. Orthodontist offices, chiropractors, life insurance companies, so on and so forth. The rest of the fourteen floors or whatever are all dedicated to this corporation, or so it seemed. The guards at the front told me to go to floor 15, so I did. I wondered if I'd be able to see the rest of the office anytime soon. Perhaps if I was able to fool Consolata into thinking I was a marital lawyer, he'd show me around some and I'd get to see a little more of what lay behind this famous family.

The elevator stopped at the 15th floor, and instead of finding a large, wide open space crammed with cubicles and water coolers and what not, I find a huge desk, and a pair of great bit double doors sitting directly behind it. Of course off to my left and right are hallways leading to the rest of the floor, but I wasn't interested in any of those. There wasn't a secretary sitting at the desk, but I knew there had been one here at one point; a coffee cup with red lipstick on the rim sat close to the phone, and there was a discarded nail file close to the computer. Out to lunch, I suspected. All the better for me.

So I go up to the double oak doors, I pound on them politely, and from inside I hear someone say, "come in", so I go in.

This is when it happened.

I opened the door to find the largest office I had ever seen, the back wall a huge window overlooking the LA downtown. Another huge wooden desk set almost right against it. The carpet looked expensive, the aquarium set in the side wall was immense and filled with unseen tropical fish, and the furniture...I had never seen such elegant looking furniture in all my life! I couldn't believe the money that would have gone into this office alone, I couldn't think of how much the family actually owned in a fancy vault somewhere.

Standing at the side of the desk was a young man, and instantly I assumed he was Matteo Consolata. I approached him, opened my mouth to introduce myself, and had to stop for a moment in sheer awe.

This man...this man who looked almost like a boy who was all grown up, had golden hair, wheat-coloured and silken, shimmering with the sun's rays and brown eyes that seemed of the richest colour of chocolate that they could have been good enough to taste. He was a lithe creature, a frail body hidden by an elegant black suit and blue tie.

He was by far the most beautiful human being I had ever set eyes on.

I am not gay, reader. But my recent marriage that coincidentally ended in divorce had turned me off from women almost altogether. Although I was positive that not all women on the face of the earth were manipulative, lying cows like my ex-wife, I had taken a stand and decided I would definitely accompany myself in the wisdom and guidance of other males my age and size, for sociable purposes, and who knows what else.

However, coming across a man that I was attracted to had never really crossed my mind. But I could tell that this one was going to be in my mind a lot from this day forward.

He stood and looked at me, his face full of question, his eyes staring at me asking the questions that his sweet little mouth wouldn't. Who was I, how did I get in his office, where was his secretary, those kinds of questions, I imagine. I blinked several times, overcome by his graceful loveliness, before I discovered that he had been the first to speak. "May I help you?" The voice of a boy angel, light and golden in my ears like a symphony.

I had to straighten my back and clear my throat. The tie was choking me, and I could feel his gaze was making my hands clammy. "My name is Adrian Black, attorney. I am the marital lawyer your secretary called at 9:00 this morning." I passed him a business card that one of the guys had made earlier on the computer with one of the business programs. I had hoped to god that 9:00 had been the right time she called, but I was worried it wasn't.

He look at the business card briefly, and then stared at me, blinking. "Marital lawyer?"

His obvious confusion was making me nervous. Did I not look like a marital lawyer? Did I have "Police detective" tattooed across my forehead in pussycat pink ink?

"Yes," I tried hard to recall exactly what had been said in the secretary's phone call to the law firm office. Definitely asking for a marital lawyer, she had mentioned Mr. Consolata, but what was his wife's name...she had mentioned it too...Agnes, Alice...Alissa...Alicia...goddamn it! Something with an A!

"You called about divorcing from your wife...Angela, was it?"

ANGELA! Of course it was Angela! Triumph!

...The beauty just stood there staring at me as though I was parading around in a school-girl's cheerleading outfit throwing books and his expensive imported tropical fish over my head.

I tilted my head a bit, trying to give myself an edged lawyer look. "You are Mr. Consolata, aren't you?"

And then, the most interesting thing happened. This boy, this gorgeous thing seemingly made of the sun itself, threw back his head and laughed. I felt overwhelmed by his laughter and shocked by his reaction at the same time. Never had I heard a laugh like his before, soft and musical almost like a woman's, and his smile...oh that smile...I cannot even put into words the beauty of that smile.

He moved closer towards me and gave me that genuine smile. "I'm sorry, you've mistaken me for my older brother Matteo. He's in the office on the second top floor."

Now it was my turned to be confused. This was not Matteo? This was Matteo's younger brother? But...didn't we tap the right phone? We had to, we heard the secretary tell the law firm that Mr. Consolata wanted a divorce that instant from his wife Angela...how is it then that I was led to this charming creature?

But that's just it, isn't it? It was fate all along, or so it seems.

I tried to cover my embarrassment with slight misunderstanding. "Ah, the...plaque downstairs has all sorts of names, I must have-"

My fool's attempt to make myself sound like a man who had just made a simple mistake was positively ruined when the doors came crashing open from behind me, and both me and this delicate cherub of a boy looked to see who had entered the angel's office. Another man, this one with a darker skin complexion and the blackest hair I had ever seen, blacker than mine even. His features were stern and cold and angry, his blue eyes were like absolute ice. I had to stop myself from taking a step back when he came in; I was almost assured that this man was a threat.

"Julian." he said gruffly, and paused when he saw me. His brows furred and he regarded me with obvious question, but said absolutely nothing in regards to my appearance.

The boy behind me spoke immediately, at all comfort with this foreboding man in the office. "Oh, Matteo. Here is the lawyer you hired. I guess there was an office mix-up."

So...this was Matteo Consolata. I looked him over again very swiftly. Yes, I could see how he fit the reputation. Obvious the quiet but very powerful type, not well-liked but rather feared, and would have made a famous litigator if he hadn't chosen to follow the homebuilding dream. He straightened once I had been announced to him. "Oh yes, of course..." he mused. I could hint an Italian accent on the flow of his words. "Mr. Blake, was it?"

"Black, sir." I was scared to death to correct him. "Adrian Black."

"Ah, well..." he began and then went into a deep sigh. "I'm terribly sorry but as it is I will not be acquiring your service, my wife and I have made amends, we're running off to Palermo, but I'll happily pay you for your time."

The disappointment was thrown over me like a bucketful of ice water. There was going to be no inside tour of the building, no uncovering of secrets, no holding of Matteo's trust in order to find out if indeed he knew something about the murder in Santa Monica. The entire dream of catching them was dead; I didn't see how we could get in any other way.

So I felt defeated. When he offered to pay for my time all I could do was shake my head blankly. "Oh that's...that's really not necessary." I knew that was a very non-lawyer thing of me to say, because he regarded me once again with surprise.

"Oh, well good." he said finally, probably at a loss of anything else to say. Then he turned away from me and focused all his attention on the boy who was seemingly his younger brother. "As I was saying if you want those papers regarding the Michaels estate, they're upstairs with the committee. Mandy has my numbers in case you need me."

And just like that Matteo Consolata turned on his heels and headed for the door. He was gone shortly, as were my hopes.

I sighed; I felt as though all of my hopes to put in some good work at the station were deflated like a bunch of helium balloons. What a horrible feeling it was. This had been completely unsuccessful, and there wasn't any way it could get any worse.

There was however, and very shortly, a way for it to get a whole lot better.

"Well," I said, holding my briefcase that contained false divorce papers and holding it tight to my side. "That's that."

Matteo's younger brother looked to me, his eyes were filled with what was probably compassion. "I'm sorry about Matteo." he said, looking at the doors as if his older brother was still standing there. "He and his wife have only been together four years, this is the third time they've threatened to divorce."

Well that made sense why the guards downstairs rolled their eyes when I announced who I was. "Well...it's good that they've made amends." I then pressed my lips together to keep from smiling when I discovered a way he'd introduce himself. "So if you're not Matteo...which Consolata are you?" I hoped it didn't sound rude or anything.

His eyes widened when he realized he hadn't introduced himself. "Pardon me," he said and extended his hand to me. "Julian Consolata."

I shook his hand, smiling. Julian...what a name for such a gorgeous being. "Julian, that's nice. You look so different from...Matteo."

And I meant it. Compared to the frightening businessman who was in here just a few minutes ago, Julian was like a breath-taking golden boy, young and pretty and cheerful, like sunshine pouring through gray rain clouds.

Julian grinned, that gorgeous grin that made me a little shaky. "I know," he giggled, like people had been saying the same thing to him all day. "It's the hair."

Indeed it was, but it wasn't just the hair. Matteo had a cold exterior, whereas Julian had a very warm disposition. If I didn't know they were brothers and they were standing side by side, I never would have guessed they were related in the least. "It's everything," I said, and then I thought of something else, a perfect line to strike up interesting conversation. "Were you born in Italy?"

That was probably a stupid question; with a last name like "Consolata" how did you not come straight from Italy?

Sure enough he nodded. "Yes, in Florence. Sad to say I didn’t grow up there. But I've inherited some of my aunt's features...so I'm blond and pale and different from the rest of the family." he shrugged his shoulders as if it was a bad thing which it most certainly was not.

I nodded, trying to seem interested. "Hmm, well...it was nice to have met you." I said finally, dreading that I should have to leave so soon, but staying a moment longer when Matteo was obviously not in need of me anymore would have been very suspicious. "I guess I should shove off."

Just as I turned to leave, I heard him say. "Wait, Mr. Black...uh,"

I turned around and looked at him, and he had a darling deer-in-the-headlights look, and he was somewhat flustered. "Would you...uh, care to join me for lunch?" I couldn't help but smile just as soon as he had said it. "I uh...since Matteo doesn't need you, I think I may have a proposition for you...if you don't mind."

How could I possibly mind? And even if I didn't want to lunch with him, Swanson wasn't going to let me pass up the opportunity to get close to at least one of the Consolata's, even if it wasn't the one we had originally targeted. So of course I accepted. "Well I'd be delighted."

The way Julian smiled when I accepted, suddenly I had a feeling I would be seeing a lot more of him in the future.

~*~

We dined at a crowded Italian restaurant on the patio in the 2:00 sunlight, which was perfect because it wasn't nearly as busy and we could talk comfortably without the noise from the dining room. Julian sat directly in the sun across from me, making his hair appear like gorgeous spun gold. Despite the fact that this seemed to be a fairly restricted business meeting and nothing else, I was hoping to get a little inside information, just whatever I could about his family.

After we had been shown to our table and ordered, I felt it was a good time to begin our discussion. "So Mr. Consolata-"

Julian stopped me. "Call me Julian, please. Mr. Consolata is everyone else in my family." he smiled delicately.

I smiled back, appreciating the fact that he would allow me to call him by his first name. "All right Julian, what was this proposal you said you had for me? Don't tell me you're looking to get divorced too?" I grinned, but only because he laughed at what I had said.

"You have to be married to get a divorce, Mr Black." he said rather cheerfully, as though he was happy to show off the fact that he was not married.

"Adrian," I corrected him, and again he smiled in that trusting way of his.

Our drinks came. Julian had ordered white wine and I had ordered a beer. After we took our appropriate sips of our drinks, I settled back in my seat and folded my hands in front of me on the table as Julian explained.

"Well," he sighed as though frustrated by the very mention of it. "The truth is that the business is facing a difficult time at the moment, we've upset a potential customer and have just recently refused him business...all on the president's word, mind you."

"Of course."

"Well this client is pressing charges and at this time we are looking for all the legal help we can get." he looked at me and in his eyes was a helpless look, like a naughty child being refused dessert after refusing to eat his dinner.

I smiled, but in all truth I was a little worried as to what I was going to say in reply to that. I was not a lawyer, I didn't know anything about lawyers, aside from the fact that the lawyer that divorced my wife and I was a considerable prick who was only too happy to split us apart for our money. "I'm afraid I'm just a marital lawyer, Julian. I wouldn't be of any help at all."

"You're sure?" He looked so disappointed. "Aren't all lawyer studies moreless similar?"

How the hell would I have known...were they similar? All I could do was laugh and shake my head. "Oh no, that's an old fabrication. Marital is far different than...maritime, let's say. It all has to do with the ethics and principles of the teachings."

God was I pulling this out of my ass. And yet I seemed to be a pretty resourceful actor.

Julian sighed deeply and nodded. "I see," he said, and began to finger the neck on his wine glass. "That's rather disappointing. You seem like quite a promising lawyer."

I laughed, not just because I wasn't a lawyer, but also because I'm sure that if I was I'd think quite different of what he was saying. "Only for destroying marriage, I'm afraid. Just promise me you won't feed me to your brother for declining, he looks stressed enough as it is."

I was worried that this would be too crude or un-called for with Julian, but to my relief he just smiled. "Yes, poor Matteo. Things have been very hectic, especially around the office. We're all looking to take care of this calamity one and for all."

"Doesn't the company have a lawyer? Judging by the size of that building I'd say you can probably afford the best lawyer in the country."

Julian nodded. "Oh of course, but there's only so much he can do. And Santo's paying him quite a bit of money to assemble the twelve best lawyers in the city."

I paused, and I was sure that the expression on my face fell to something no more than shocked. Santo...he had said the name "Santo", didn't he? Of course it made total sense but I had to make sure.

"Santo?" I repeated, trying to act as though I hadn't heard him.

Julian looked up at me and nodded. "Yes, Santo Consolata. He's my uncle, and the president of the company."

I could have sworn that if I wasn't sitting there with him, I would have shrieked in joy. We had found him, and furthermore we just may have found a way inside the organization.

Julian sighed and then looked at me again with sadness in his eyes. "Well I'm sorry, Adrian. If I had known...ah I'm afraid I've dragged you here to lunch for nothing. I'm sorry."

Hey, I wasn't sorry in the least. I got to spend an hour and a half with the beautiful Julian Consolata and learned some very valuable information regarding the Consolatas.

"It's fine, Julian." I told him. "I didn't have any appointments for this afternoon."

Then I got an idea. If Julian was as trusting as he looked, maybe there was a way I could get him to tell me exactly what was wrong at the company. Maybe then we could get a little more insight to the way Santo Consolata worked, maybe get a clue to the murder at Santa Monica, or look for any sort of motive. I wasn't all that positive about it, but any info was better than no info.

"Say why don't you tell me some more about this situation you have at the office, and I'll repeat it to a lawyer friend of mine who does more business law?" I asked him, taking a drink of my beer. I watched as his expression changed dramatically.

"Oh." Julian's mood suddenly perked up and he grinned. "That would be wonderful, are you sure you wouldn't mind?"

"Not in the least." I said smiling.

Our food arrived just as Julian was halfway through discussing the whole ordeal at work. Apparently this client who had upset the flow of the business had done so by demanding a 10% take-off towards all construction costs and to begin work before permits were acquired, which Julian said was against their policy. The gentleman was very upset, said that no one said no to him, that he was the most powerful man in Los Angeles and that the Consolata company not only lost his business worth an odd $23 million dollars, but that they were about to lose a lot more due to an aggressive lawsuit. Just as Julian finished the salad he had ordered for lunch he told me that despite the fact that construction on other deals were still up and running, all business at the office had paused to deal with this lawsuit, and that Santo Consolata was convinced they would win against the asshole, with a team of highly sophisticated lawyers.

I listened very carefully, but it didn't seem like there was any clues involved at all. If Santo Consolata had decided to just get rid of the asshole by killing him in a crappy diner in Santa Monica, Julian hadn't mentioned a thing about it. But it was very unlikely. What I was hearing sounded like a genuine problem for the company but they weren't about to go shooting people in random open places. Absolutely no evidence by what Julian told me to suggest that this family dealt with their problems with a machine gun. By the time the cheque came, I was one unhappy fake lawyer.

We parted ways by shaking hands. I told him I would pass on the predicament to one of my lawyer friends, and he told me that he appreciated it, gave me his card, and said that he enjoyed meeting me, and that he hoped someday in the future we would meet again. Despite the fact that I said the same, I didn't see any reason on either of our parts to see each other again.

So I more less watched as the breath-taking Julian Consolata walked back into his uncle's office and out of my life, and I slunk back to the police station with my tail in between my legs and my mind asking my body unsuitable, strange questions.

~*~

When I got back to the station I told Swanson and some of the boys all about what had happened with Julian. Swanson was pissed off, as I suspected; he was upset that I hadn't thought to go even further undercover and tell him I was a lawyer and would be more than happy to join his uncle in the fight to save the company. Needless to say at the end of the lecture I felt like shit and Swanson was pissed at me and we still didn't have much of a lead connected to Santo or any of the Consolatas. All in all it had not been a successful day.

Things completely changed towards the dinner hour. I had been sitting at my desk filing the report on what I had done that day when one of the guys from homicide came and sat down next to me, giving me my regular black coffee in a Styrofoam cup that I had asked for.

"What was the name of the kid you talked to again?" he asked through his coffee cup. I paused my typing to look at him. Henderson, Lars Henderson, nice guy but looked too much like one of those cops you would see on TV in the 1980s. Had a lot of frizzy red hair and always wore a white shirt with coffee stains on it.

"Julian Consolata." I told him, rubbing my eyes. It was almost 7:30 and I didn't know why the hell I was still at the office. Maybe I just didn't feel like going home or something.

But then I noticed Henderson making this face, like the name was really familiar to him, forget the fact that the boy's uncle was deemed the Devil in the city. "Wait a minute, Julian Consolata? Wasn't he that little faggy boy who won that domestic abuse case last year?"

My head shot up as he said this. "What?"

"Oh yeah," he said, putting his feet up. "Last year this kid Julian Consolata, can't be more than 22 right, gets beat up by his high profile boyfriend, who's like the head chef of one of the greatest restaurants in the city, right? So anyway it was on the news that the fag's family sued the guy all the money he had, that included his job at the restaurant, and the guy went totally bankrupt, had to work at Old Navy or something to pay bills."

I was trying to get this all over my head when he leaned forward with a big smile. "But then guess what? He makes these threats against the Consolata boy, the usual bad threats, some death threats and bam!" Henderson snapped his fingers. "The next day the guy disappeared, just like that. Poof, gone, presto! Does not exist anymore. Course you can tell what happened, right?" Henderson laughed. "Poor bastard, but what a stupid son-of-a-bitch, wouldn't you say? I mean you hear the last name Consolata, something tells you you don't fuck with the Consolatas."

Henderson was still talking, but all I could think about was Julian...Julian was gay. Julian was fucking gay!

~*~

The very next day I called Julian Consolata's office. The secretary answered, asked who I was, and said that she would see if Mr. Consolata was in his office. Julian picked up within a minute, sounded very cheerful, said he was glad to hear from me so soon.

I asked him if he would like to have dinner with me the next night, and I could tell he was blushing when he said he’d love to.

~*~

Next chapter: A date. ^-^