WEST CROSS

Chapter six

Tony sat quietly fuming. He was impressed by Carla's office and he felt a deep sense of pride knowing all his daughter had achieved on her own.

Tony was in his sixties and he still looked like the type of man that could easily charm the pants off any girl but Tony was too business-minded to be bothered with women.

He hated that Carla made him wait every time he wanted to see her. He knew making him wait was her way of showing him she was in charge. Carla was his daughter but she could easily make an iceberg shiver.

Carla walked in just when his last shred of patience got exhausted. She hid a smirk seeing him seethe in anger. Carla sat behind her massive desk and regarded her father like she would a deadly python.

“What is it?" She asked curtly.

Tony took two relaxing breaths before saying, “What is this I'm hearing about you buying ONE man for a billion dollars. Have you gone mad?"

“What I do with my money shouldn't concern you, old man," Carla said, snapping at him.

“But of course it does. Do you know why? Because I'm your partner in the nightclub and we agreed you were going to buy three fresh possible dancers. You bought one and somehow you've failed to send him to the club.” Tony said, fuming. His doctor had warned him about his blood pressure and here he was digging his grave without a shovel.

Carla looked at him cooly and tried to remember a time he had shown her love and affection like a father should but she had a hard time. All he cares about is my money and trying to control everything I have. The cold bastard, she thought. I'll never end up like him.

“Carla." He edged forward red-faced, realizing she wasn't paying attention to him anymore.

“West isn't going to the club. I plan on making him my liaison."

“Your what?" He asked, crinkling his nose. “What does that even mean?"

“It means anywhere I go, he goes." She said, realizing how it sounded, saying it out loud. It sounded crazy but she knew that was exactly what she wanted. It was the reason she had bought him.

“Carla!" Her father bawled angrily. "You have to—-"

“I don't have to do anything you tell me, father." She said, laying a thick emphasis on the last word.

Tony tried to imagine where he had gone wrong. He knew he was selfish and wasn't going to win any Best Dad in the World award but he believed he had tried his best to raise Carla. He saw too much of himself in her and it frightened him.

Without saying another word, Tony got up and left the office. For the first time in her life, Carla felt a deep inner strength that transcended everything else. She had stood up to her father and called him on his bullshit. She felt like she could do anything and the chains that had once held her down were now gone. It was nothing but dust.

Tony felt hot rage wash through him as he passed the corridor. He turned the curve and reached the hallway and saw a poorly dressed young man. Tony guessed that it was the same young man that had made Carla stand up to him. Tony tried to remember the name she had called him. West? Yes, that's it.

Tony approached the young man who regarded him with a curious glare. Tony studied him for a moment and hated him immediately. There was nothing he hated more than deep-rooted poverty and this young man stank of it.

“You must be West,” Tony said, trying to sound overly intimidating.

His eyes flared and he was hoping to make the young man shrivel in fear but West just nodded in response to his statement.

“Yes sir,” West responded, bowing slightly. He wasn't sure if he should be bowing to Miss Carla and her guests or not. After all, he wasn't a slave; not in the conventional sense of the word.

“I don't know what kind of poor people black magic you used on my Carla but I can assure you it won't last. You'll get what you deserve, boy!” Tony yelled at a stunned West.

Confusion darkened his face as he tried to imagine what he must have done to piss off the stranger. Just then he saw the resemblance and realized the man who was about to unleash all hell on him was Carla's father. But it still didn't explain his anger towards him.

“What did I do, sir?"

Tony moved forward riding West to the corner. He was an impressively big man and his shadow could easily swallow West's whole form. West had no wiggle room and he felt like a caged animal about to be offered up for slaughter.

“Sir—”

Tony cut him shut raising a thick finger in the air. "You don't get to say anything you lowly bottom feeder. Just listen in silence.”

West gulped as the hot air emitting from Tony burned his flesh. As much as he tried to play it cool he knew Tony could easily crush him into fine powder.

“Your kind always prey on hardworking individuals like my sweet little Carla. Coming into our lives like parasites just to ruin everything. It's the only thing you're good for.” Tony's bloated face was vicious as he spoke. He was certain now that the boy had charmed Carla and it was up to him to do something about it. It was his duty as her father.

“But I—”

Tony’s fist smashed into West’s jaw and for a moment he saw a bright light explode before intense pain assaulted the side of his face. West instinctively moved away from his attacker, not willing to risk getting hit again. He was sure another hit would be enough to send him to the Grim Reaper.

Tony made a move to approach West but he shook his head. “You're not worth it.” He said and then spat on West's feet.

West stayed there digesting the events that just happened while massaging his bruised face. He wasn't sure he was ready to look at the damage in a mirror.

Carla walked into the hallway with a bored expression and West bowed using the action as a shield to hide his bruised face.

"I'll be going to—" Carla looked up and saw the wicked bruise. “What happened to your face?"

“I—Uhm, it's nothing, Miss Carla." He said casually. “I fell."

Carla trembled in anger. If there was one thing she hated it was being lied to and she knew he was lying to her through his teeth because she could see the telltale sign on his face. There was a livid red mark on his face twisted in an intricate pattern that was the same as the sigil on her father's ring.