Gynophagia Chronicles: Samantha
Wednesday, September 16, 2218, 10:18 AM
938 Sousa Drive, Walnut Creek, CA
Narative Reconstructed by Peter Howard
"What do you want, Michael?" DeSilva scowled as he peered out through a crack in the door barely as wide as his face.
"May I come in?" Michael Gianni asked politely. He was dressed California Casual, as was common in the upper middle class Walnut Creek neighbourhood, in a thin turtleneck made of fancy, breathable synthetics and a Sports Jacket and pleated slacks.
Johnny stared at him for a moment, then let the door swing wide as he stood leaning on the door jam in nothing but a pair of boxer shorts.
"Fine."
Michael glided into the entrance of the flat roofed home that had as much wall space made of glass as sheet rock. Inside the effect was a well lit and airy feel, as if one was sitting outside under an arbour or an awning, but cool. Air conditioning had the inside temperature at least fifteen degrees below the mid September heat. The interior walls were entirely made of glass, giving the small, but stylish home a much bigger feel than it would otherwise have. The kitchen was completely open to the main room which was sunken in front with several four seat leather couches and a dining area behind that.
Three bedrooms, including the master bedroom were completely exposed, and revealing two naked girls making out on the master bed who stopped and pulled up pillows and sheets to cover themselves when they saw the newcomer.
"I'd have expected to find you living over the hill in Danville," Michael said.
"Too small," Johnny replied. "Too easy to find people in Danville. This town is ten times the size and with just as much money. Danville is all show and no substance. It's easier to get lost in the shuffle here. But then again, you had no trouble finding me..."
"Don't worry, Johnny. I had to go through unusual channels to locate your home... it wasn't easy."
"Good to know. Want a drink?"
"Club soda. If you have it."
"That's right, I forgot. You're a tea tottler till six...."
"That was you're rule..."
"People change..."
"No they don't...”
"People grow up."
"Maybe. But in my experience the get fat, lazy and careless as they grow older," Michael observed. "And you were the one who taught me that lesson as well. It was one of the most important lessons I ever learned, and it's proven true. You really should have been paying attention to the words coming out of your own mouth."
"I'll keep that in mind," Johnny replied. He emptied a bottle of club soda into a tall glass and opened decanter of Charles III brandy for himself, deposited some into a large snifter, and delivered Michael his drink while swirling his own.
Johnny padded into the sunken lounge area as the two girls trying to hide their nudity looked on from the bedroom with annoyed expressions and rolled their eyes in disgust as he sat down on one of the black leather couches. Johnny liked black leather. It was his favourite colour. It made him stand out in his own environment like a shining jewel, as if he was one.
"So what made you track me down so you could spoil my otherwise bliss filled vacation?"
"Is that what it is? A vacation? I thought you lived for your club now..."
"I needed a break," Johnny said. "Getting the club up and running is a twenty four hour a day job. Now it'll run itself pretty much and I can concentrate on more important things."
"Congratulations," Michael said. "It's no small thing to own the hottest club in the Bay Area. I noticed you even upped the cover charge."
"Had to. We were attracting the wrong sort of clientèle. I need to keep the standards up if I want to keep the reputation. Keep the riff raff out..."
"Like Mr. Crack?"
Johnny's eyes narrowed for only an instant. He'd slipped, and he realized it, Michael knew, and watched Johnny as he sipped his brandy while the two regarded each other. Are you so confident of your privacy you are that easily jolted, Johnny? How the mighty have fallen... or were you ever mighty at all?
"So...." Johnny said. "Let's have it."
"I told you to lay off Samantha Wells."
"She's disrupting my client's business, and in the process, mine."
"That's not my problem, and it's not hers either. Deal with it some other way, but stay away from Samantha Wells."
"I didn't do anything..."
"You threatened her at the Tucker wedding."
"How did you...?"
"Find out? Did you think I wouldn't? Johnny, you were the one who warned Glen about underestimating me. Like I said, you should pay attention to your own advice."
Johnny snorted. "It doesn't matter, Michael. It's my business she's messing with. I've got clients who are going to get very violent when they figure out who's at the root of their problems."
"And I'm telling you now, Johnny, go near her again and it'll be terminal for you!"
Johnny's eyes went wide. "Are you threatening me, Michael? You? I'm not some pushover like Glen..."
"This is from the Professor, Johnny. Right now he's on the phone with Carmine and their discussing your viability as an asset..."
"Don't fuck with me Michael!"
"I'm telling you, Johnny. Why don't you pick up the phone and call Carmine and ask him. The professor would rather not put you at the wrong end of a job, but he will if you mess with his business!"
The effect was instant, Johnny's normally healthy complexion went pale.
"You can't be serious..."
"You think I'm joking? Call Carmine, Johnny. By now, he knows what the score is."
"He's not going to be happy with this at all," Johnny said.
"And that's my problem how? How is that the professor's problem? It's time for your fat and lazy clients to learn how to do business properly, and not rely on temporary circumstances."
"The lesbian prohibition was never a temporary circumstance..."
"It was always temporary, Johnny!"
"It's stood for almost a century!"
"So? People like having the notion of being free, Johnny. It's an illusion, but it keeps them happy. Your clients haven't helped the matter at all with their pushing the limits. The information we provided was never intended to become a full fledged industry. It has limits. You trap too many in power and eventually they'll rebel and change the rules. It's within their power to do, Johnny. And you're not blameless. You've oversold the product. In the information business, if you've only got one product to sell, you're risking going out of business. You have no clue what I'm talking about, do you...?"
"You're fantasizing, Michael. We've got nearly two thirds of congress in the bag. I don't know what you have to sell, but I ain't buying it, Michael!"
"I'm telling you the power you have is going away, and you better diversify or get out of the business."
"You're writing my death warrant. So I can do one of two things. I can face your one contract, or face half a dozen. Which would you pick?"
"You'll be far wealthier and far more popular with your clients if Carmen Sanchez gets her way."
"How?"
"Fraud, Bribery, Theft of Government files, you name it! How do you think these guys managed to pay your clients off? The level of corruption is so many layers deep now you could have nine tenths of congress over two thirds. You could have more power over your clients than you ever dreamed possible."
"That only accounts for those who are currently under our control..."
"Johnny, we're in the information business. We have enough leverage to control anyone in government, except for those naive enough to believe they can fight back. But they'll serve as an example to others. But, if you want to keep trying to do business the old fashioned way..."
"There still a lfew of homosexual sons," Johnny observed.
"And you better not push your luck in that area, Johnny. That can go away just as easily."
"So it's a done deal? Sanchez and Jackson are pushing it through?"
"It is. Maybe not this year, or even the next. Within ten, is the professor's opinion. It's time to build a new set of products. Or, it may pass right away. Your clients will fight it, of course. But all they can do is delay the inevitable."
"Carmine's talking with the professor?"
"He either is, or already has."
"He can't have liked it. He'll be reminding the Professor how much he owes us."
"Carmine is smart enough not to play that card. If he's not, the professor will teach him to get smarter..."
"But in the meantime, I've got problems!" Johnny stood, and began to pace. "I've got La Familia, La Cosa Nostra, the Joshua brigade, the Russians and the Yakuza who aren't going to sit this out! Like I said, Michael, I'm facing a lot of contracts if I don't deal with your little girlfriend. I'm going to need something to work with if you want me to let this slide."
"Alright," Michael said, thinking fast.
"Okay," Johnny said. "Let's have it."
"You'll have to give me a few days."
"I don't know that I have a few days. I may not even have one day! If the Russians or the Japanese find out about this, they won't be looking for an explanation. They'll be out for blood. I need something now!"
Michael sighed. He had no clue what to give Johnny except for something about Senator Jefferson Garvey, who was set to retire from the Senate. It was the very same seat Marcus Jackson was after. Garvey had been funneling money to a hidden Canadian account for years to escape with both his surviving daughters and his son's families for years. From there, the plan was to find their way to an estate they'd purchased in Sierra Leon. The number of people who would be hurt by the scandal would be legion, amoung them Congressman Dillon Kramer, Garvey's hand picked successor. So much money had greased palms after having been laundered the scandal's tendrils would be far reaching for those with no protection. It could make a lot of organizations wealthy to know who was vulnerable and how they could be protected. The Professor's business would boom.
It would also make Samantha's name, if he were to pass it through her. The question was, what would the professor say about giving up Garvey?
"Alright," Michael said. "I'll meet you at your club in one hour."
Johnny had anger and worry on his face as he slammed the door behind Michael, but no matter. Michael returned to his car and headed toward Highway 24.
"Good Morning, Boy," said the Professor on the phone. "To what do I owe your condescension to call me?"
"Professor, I have a problem."
"And that is?"
"Johnny DeSilva is ready to put a contract out on one of the Wells girls."
"And what are you doing to convince him not to?"
"Lying through my teeth."
"Oh?"
Michael explained the entire situation.
"You should not have exposed us like this, boy. I was not ready to bring Carmine DeSilva aboard with the plan. You're forcing me to do otherwise, unless I want to cut you off..."
"That is always an option, sir."
"Of course it is. You should be less careless with the plan, boy. Tell me how you intend to make the most of it."
"I'd like to give him Senator Garvey."
"A senator, hmm? Interesting. And how, exactly, do you plan on feeding him what we have on the good Senator?"
Michael took a breath, the pause, he knew, was causing the professor's eyes to squint and his lips to purse. Right now, he was very likely out by the pool enjoying the sight of a nubile young form from whom he intended to take a pelt for his collection of fine leather. The professor truly enjoyed his afternoons this way, and he did not like business to intrude upon them.
"I believe the source should be the media," Michael said. "An unlikely source. One we have full control over."
"Who would that be?"
"Samantha Wells."
"Interesting. And how would a pretty young High school student come across such information?"
"Well," Michael said. "Yesterday a new student arrived. She's studying political science and the teachers at Franklin High have altered the curriculum to accommodate her. They'll be focussing more on political campaigns. This new girl is going to be exposed to her chosen field through the two top journalism students with whom she'll be working closely, one of which is Samantha Wells. She will be analyzing agenda and policy and any other documents she can get her hands on. I did some checking on her last night, and she's very thorough. The faculty have not underestimated her abilities at all, they seem to know what they have in her."
"Who is this little Irish girl?"
"Her name is Elizabeth Lynch. She's the daughter of a very conservative Irishman named Brian Lynch, who is also an aspiring protestant minister. He'll encourage her to run with anything she finds out that's illegal and feed it to her team. Samantha will, of course, take the lead on writing the copy, and before the scandal breaks, we inform Johnny, who informs his clients..."
"So it's Samantha,now. Not Miss Wells?"
Michael opened his mouth to reply, but no words came out. The Professor's Rule 10: Strong Emotions make for unforeseen consequences: Control Them!
"You should be more discrete with your little romance, boy. I have a mind to have you bring her in. But that would bring too much attention if we simply stole her out from under the Playpen Entertainment Group. Any opportunity there has already been lost."
"Excuse me, Sir? I don't understand."
"You will," said the Professor. "Continue."
"Yes, sir," Michael said as he felt the sweat build up on his forehead. "When the scandal breaks, Johnny's clients will be expecting something to break. The fallout will be widespread, affecting as many as a hundred families. Husbands will face jail and the culling of their families, women face the same if they have daughters. It will be in everyone's face for several weeks as the fallout continues. What's important to us is that it will give the DeSilva's leverage to sell our product far and wide, perhaps faster than we planned."
"Perhaps," said the professor. "Very well. You've managed to redeem yourself for now. However, I strongly suggest you limit your contact with Miss Wells to... none. You may feed your information through this Elizabeth Lynch, and I expect a dossier on her and her family delivered within seventy two hours. Do you understand?"
"Perfectly, sir."
"Very good. Senator Garvey may be our little present to Johnny. I will make my call to Carmine, and explain things to him."
"Thank you, sir."
"Michael, there will be no next time. Is that clear?"
"Perfectly, sir."
The phone line clicked dead and Michael stopped at a Seven Eleven and had a slurpee while he composed his pitch to Johnny and Johnny's pitch to his clients, distracted mainly by the professor's words: "out from under the Playpen Entrainment Group."
Martha Carrington had mentioned Bernard Foss's name in connection with the Wells parents. And Ashima Tucker-Khan was involved with Playpen as a Playmate. Samantha Wells was now going to be her assistant editor. Was Samantha officially property of P.E.G. now? He'd seen no evidence of that at all, but the circumstantial evidence pointed to exactly that. How could he have been so blind! Michael turned into the Tropicana Blue parking lot at exactly fifty five minutes after he'd left Johnny's home with a smile on his face as the pieces fell into place in his mind. Samantha was so spectacularly beautiful and talented, how could Playpen, knowing about her, not want her? It stood to reason.
Samantha Marie Wells would become a Playpen Playmate, with all the protections and privileges that offered... That's what the Professor was implying, anyway, it had to be! The question was: how soon?
That thought gave Michael Gianni a sense of loss and joy he'd never fully understand. The whole weekend he'd been clinging to hope that he could resolve this... situation... That was now decided for him. How the Professor knew, Michael might never know. Was it simply his ability to read people? Michael thought not. There had to be something else. Perhaps Johnny had told someone who told the Professor. It did not matter at all. Michael's desire to have something with Samantha... that kiss... some kind of contact...
He'd put Samantha on the trail as soon as he could, he decided, then back it up through Elizabeth Lynch. They key would be getting Lynch into Kramer's local campaign. Before he left his car, he dialed Glen Carrington's number, spoke a few words, sent a document, then made his way in to reassure and comfort the despairing Johnny DeSilva.