Can We Work it Out?

Chapter 8

A/N: Hello! This is the chapter about the person behind the press scandal I've mentioned. I hope you enjoy it!

14th October 1977 (Wednesday)

Jim's P.O.V

I open the door to the building and I get inside. I'd rather be anywhere else, but as a manager it's my job to do the dirty work. The whole press thing has been a damn headache – Roger and Brian owe me one. In the showbiz, bad publicity can be as dangerous as a knife. I make my way to the cashier. A blonde girl is leaning on the counter while she shapes her nails slothfully.

"Good afternoon, lady. Could I talk to the owner of this place, please?" I ask her, interrupting her previous activity. She looks me up and down then she peaks her head through a curtain behind her.

"Wait a second, sir. I'll call him." She says turning back to me then peeking her head through the curtains one more time. "Papa, a man wants to talk to you. Come here, please!" She screams.

A middle-aged man, wearing a sort of chef clothes comes from behind the curtains. I must have interrupted his lunch break because his mouth is dirty with some kind of sauce and he has a napkin in his right hand.

"Good afternoon, sir." He nods at me, acknowledging my presence.

"Afternoon..." I respond to his greeting, nodding back at him.

"So, how come you want to talk with me, sir? Do I even know you?" He inquiries me a bit touchy. I'd be touchy if someone had just made me quit lunch time too.

"No, you don't know me. Neither do I know you." I answer to one of his questions. "My name is Jim Beach and I want to talk to you because I feel we might do business."

"What kind of business do you mean, sir?" He arches his eyebrows in both curiosity and apprehension.

"The kind of business that requires some privacy to be discussed about" I say, throwing a glare at his daughter who has been leaning on the counter watching as we talked.

"Connie, excuse us so I can have a word with this man." He asks her sternly. She seems quite annoyed for being shooed. The girl rolls her eyes at us then she goes walking through that curtain behind the cashier. "Now we can talk, sir"

"Just call me Jim, please. Before our talking, I'd like to know your name though." I say, shifting my weight to my right foot, slightly embarrassed for not knowing the man's name.

"Oh, where are my manners?" The man blushes in embarrassment. "I am Luciano Salvatore, at your service." He introduces himself, sticking his hand out to me. I grab it and shake it firmly.

"Okay, Mr. Salvatore. Could we take a seat?" He walks from behind the counter touching my shoulder as he leads us to a near table. I take a seat and he does the same. He's sitting right in front of me, what allows us to keep constant eye contact. This is very important during a negotiation.

"Well, Mr. Salvatore. I'm the manager to this famous rock band called Queen." He's listening to my words intently, but when I say the word "Queen" he stirs and frowns. I think he might have an idea of where this conversation is leading to now that I've mentioned the band. I keep talking though. "A week ago, my drummer and guitarist came to your restaurant and someone took some compromising pictures of them two "together". It must have been a complete misunderstanding but that wasn't... let me see... positive to their public images. Do you get it, Mr. Salvatore?"

"Yes, I do." He nods.

"So, I'll ask you a question and I hope you won't be upset and will answer me as frankly as you can." I lock my eyes with his. "Do you have an idea of who has taken those damn pictures? And if you do, who is it and how can I get in touch with them?" He keeps silent for quite a while. Does he really know something?"

"I'm sorry, I don't know anything." He says closing his eyes briefly, clearly stressed out. I should be the stressed one here! After all, my job is at stake.

"But I do know." A strong Italian accented voice comes from behind me. I turn around on my spot to find a young man. He is wearing a waiter's suit and an apron, and even though this isn't the most attractive attire his looks definitely makes up for it. He has a slightly tanned skin, his eyes are a deep green and his face is a cupid-like one. The boy's toned body makes his clothes seem tight; all these features topped with a stunning white smile. This lad would make anyone fall for him instantly.

"Really? Could I have a word with you then?" I ask, staring at him yet.

"Yes, we could." He motions to Mr. Salvatore to excuse us and he takes the spot previously occupied by the older man.

"Apparently, you've heard all the conversation. No need to introduce myself to you then." He is watching my every move as I talk to him. "What's your name?"

"My name is Vito Salvatore. I work here for my uncle." He answers.

"Uhm... Good."

"Do you have interest in those pictures?" He asks me, smirking.

"Yeah, I do. That's why I'm here."

"Great! I can give them to you and keep my mouth shut..." I'm impressed, I thought it would be way harder to get him to say something. Suddenly, he is telling me he can give me the pictures and keep his mouth shut. "For some sum of money, of course." He flashes a dirty smile at me.

"I should have guessed..." I mutter under my breath. "So how much do you want? What's your price?"

"I want £200,000. It can seem too much for a random guy's silence and a bunch of pictures but I can even make sure to recover the ones I've given out to the press." He just can be kidding me! I won't give him fucking £200,000, not even if he had pictures of my musicians screwing each other.

"You're ambitious, aren't you?" I'm pondering on my next words. I don't know who I'm dealing with. "I feel like we'll have to lower this amount."

"You've asked my price, Mr. Beach. That's it, I'm not lowering anything." He says, gritting his teeth.

"How come I should trust you?" I ask him, trying my best to sound intimidating.

"You should trust me 'cause you have no other choice, sir." The young man growls. What a cheeky brat! The bad thing is he's right. I don't have any other choice.

"Ok. Great point this you've made." I say with a fake smile. I reach out for my wallet in my back pocket. I take a check out of it, waving it at his face.

"Do you want a pen, sir?" The waiter asks me, realizing I have none. Ugh, even the way he spells the word "sir" sounds mocking.

"Yeah, that'd be good." I grab the pen from his hand and sign the check. I look up back to him. "The pictures, I want all of them. And the film you've used on your camera too." He fumbles with his back pockets, eventually throwing the items on the table.

"Here you go, sir." I check the pictures and the films. Oh, I can't believe how prude people are, or pretend to be. Brian and Roger were barely touching each other's hands.

"Your "payment"..." I scoff him as I hand him the check. "You can withdraw the money from the bank whenever you want." I tell him, standing up from my chair. Vito does the same.

"Okay. It was good doing business with you, sir." I roll my eyes.

"Only for you." He flashes one more of his dirty smiles at me. How I've grown to hate this idiot.

"Let me walk you to the exit." He offers.

"No need, man. I know how to get there" I just want to get out of here and never look at his face again.

"If you want so... Goodbye." Vito waves his hand at me.

"Bye."

I was already turning my back at him and going to the exit when suddenly he touches my shoulder. "Say hello to that pretty blonde... And a "fuck you" to that cotton-like haired man." He winks at me.

"Don't worry, I'll do so." I look at his hand on my shoulder and he lets go. "Bye." I say one last time, leaving this place for good.