“That’s impressive. How much are they?”
“We charge ten thousand per stick. It pairs nicely with the five-thousand-dollar-per-shot cognac from the French Revolution, or the Pappy Van Winkle.” Matteo turns to me with a smile. “And your job is to entice patrons to amplify their experience here with the most exclusive of everything. Other than privacy and comfort, that is our most valuable offering.”
He runs through the other expensive cigars I’m supposed to upsell—the Gurkha Black Dragons, stored in their handcrafted camel-bone boxes that are around twelve hundred dollars per stick or over a hundred grand for the box. The Arturo Fuente Opus X, which now seems to be a great deal at over thirty thousand per box. The Cohiba Behikes are practically bargain priced in my mind because they’re under twenty grand per box. The price scale continues downward with cigars ranging in price from hundreds of dollars for one to merely fifty.
I commit every word to memory, which is a habit I honed while interviewing on the off chance my recorder would fail or the recording turned out muffled.
An hour later, a tap on the glass catches my attention. I expect to see Tanya summoning me, but Cannon stands there watching us.
How long has he been there, and how didn’t I notice?
I blame it on the ventilation system, that’s louder in here due to the particular needs of the cigars.
With a friendly expression, Matteo waves to the boss. “My time is up, Drew. Do not hesitate to come back for more lessons. The more you know about the cigars and their stories, the more effective you will be at your job.”
He has no way of knowing that the only reason I want to be effective at my job is to find out what the man on the other side of the glass knows. And if I do it right, he never will.
I hold out a hand, and Matteo shakes it. “Thank you for your time and expertise, sir. It was a pleasure.”
“Don’t be a stranger. And good luck with Tanya. She’s not an easy one, but she is loyal once you are part of her circle.”
Yet another warning about Tanya. Interesting.
I move to the door Cannon is opening, and note his features are tight rather than relaxed like they were when I saw him this morning.
My first thought is—he knows.But that’s impossible. Ariel is one of the best hackers in the world. The mob doesn’t have anyone who could drill through the false identity she created for me.
With my heart hammering, I step out of the humidor room and wait for him to speak.
“I need to talk to you in my office.”
7
Drew
Being called into my boss’s office on my first day, especially when he’s wearing an unreadable expression, isn’t a good sign for a regular employee.
And for someone like me? It’s a one-way ticket to terror.
The rational part of my brain is hoping this is simply a formality following the end of my shift.Or maybe Tanya said something to try to get me fired?Either of those are vastly preferable to the only other alternative I can think of right now—that someone recognized me ... like Silas Bohannon.
With a lump in my throat, I focus on my steps, keeping them even and at pace with Cannon’s as I follow him to his office. Once we’re inside, he closes the door.
“Sit.”
I’m tempted to glance behind me, but I err on the side of obeying his order in silence. He doesn’t take a seat behind his desk until I’ve lowered myself into the leather club chair.
“Are you going to quit?” Cannon’s question catches me completely off guard.
“What?”
“Are you going to quit today?” He speaks slower this time, a current of tension underlying each perfectly enunciated word. His hazel eyes sizzle and snap, like he’s daring me to lie to him.
Already have, Cannon. Will definitely continue.
My shoulder blades press into the padding of the leather back as he brushes a hand through his dark brown hair in a frustrated move.
“I wasn’t planning on it,” I reply carefully. “Why would you ask that?” The confusion in my tone is totally genuine.