Page 33 of Justice for Francesca

“You’re part owner of a million-dollar lottery ticket. What are you complaining about?” Cruz argued.

“You know I have no interest in that ticket. Never have, never will.” He looked at Tripoli. “My wife got a lottery ticket as a tip when she was a waitress. It was a big winner.”

“Nice,” Tripoli said.

Cruz refocused the questioning. “Why did Mila want ten percent of this location versus the new one?”

“She said it was because she rarely traveled to London and wanted to be on the ground floor of somewhere she’d actually spend time.”

“During the time leading up to and including the purchase of the club space, you were dating Mila. What about afterward?”

“We dated from just before the purchase of the London space up through the opening of Elysium. The relationship could be classified as the ‘I could use a plus one’ variety.”

“Because she was a principessa?”

Waving the question off, Tripoli finished chewing his food and swallowed before answering. “That kind of thing has never mattered to me. I make my judgments based upon whotheyare.”

“Like Michael Murphy,” Calder said.

“Exactly.”

“So Mila’s connections didn’t bother you?” Cruz asked. “When was the last time you saw her?”

“It was just after we opened Elysium. We opened January seventh. Three days later, I believe, was when I spoke with Mila about us. The relationship had long run its course, but the weeks leading up to the opening were busy, and I knew that the conversation with Mila would be drama-filled and long. I honestly didn’t have the energy for the fallout that would occur, so I decided to wait until after the opening to end the connection because I didn’t want that drama to spill over into opening night.”

“Did she create a scene when you broke it off?”

“Oh, she tried. However, I did it in private, and a scene rarely works when there’s an audience of one. She made some emotional threats—I’d used her for her connections, I’d be sorry, I’d never have it so good with someone else, no one could live up to my expectations, etcetera.” He considered his statements. “Most of it was bogus. From the beginning, I was more than clear about why I introduced myself to her, as well as my take on a more involved relationship. Even why I felt that way.”

“And you hadn’t seen her since that argument?”

“No. She spent most of her time in Chicago, although she did have a home here. I believe she made The Lucky Rabbit, our club in Lombard, Illinois, her home club at that point. I certainly never saw her here, anyway. Then again, with the new club opening in three months, I’ve been spending most of my time in either Los Angeles or London. The only time I ever heard from her after we broke up was when there was a club issue here at Elysium that needed her vote. It was about giving Tilly, Ryleigh, and Michael individual shares in the club. Her vote didn’t swing results, but I allowed her to have her say. She was outvoted ninety to one on Tilly’s portion.”

“She had problems with Tilly?” Calder asked.

“Mila didn’t like that Tilly had no financial stake in the club to have earned those shares.”

“But neither did the other two,” Calder confirmed.

“That is correct. It was just Tilly who was the issue. I think Mila saw her as a rival, but Tilly is like a little sister to me. There’s no interest there, on either side.”

“One last question,” Cruz said. “Out of curiosity, when Mila said no one would live up to your expectations, what would those be?”

Tripoli smirked. “Somehow, I don’t believe that question is investigation related.”

Cruz smiled knowingly again. “Frankie may be complicated, but she’s also worth it.” Finished with their food, Cruz left money on the table for their meals and stood. “Thanks for answering my questions. I’ll letFrancescaknow you were concerned and tell her to call you.”

“I’d appreciate that.”

After Cruz and Calder left, Tripoli stayed seated at the table for a few more minutes. A flapping sound entered his left ear, and he felt a delicate force land on his shoulder. He turned his head to see She-Ra had come for a visit. For whatever reason, the shy little lady bird seemed to recognize him and always came to visit his table. He picked up a piece of fruit from his plate and hand-fed it to the bird.

“She’s sneaky, She-Ra. Francesca probably could have talked to her boss by phone, but she used that conversation as an attempt to avoid me.” The bird pushed her head back and forth several times as if she agreed with him. “Her head is still too caught up in her need for rules and structure. Too worried about making a misstep. Too worried about being a McCabe. That need would make her an excellent submissive, but that isn’t what she wants or needs. She doesn’t need a power exchange.”

She-Ra bobbed left to right to suggest that, no, she didn’t need that.

“She needs me. Someone who will love her with every part of him. Someone who will put her first, above everyone and everything else. Someone who will protect her, even from herself. Someone who will respect her need for justice and who wants justice for her. Someone who will care for her in ways she doesn’t even know she needs.”

Without a doubt, that final reason was his purpose. He lived to serve, whether it was his country, his work family, or now… Francesca. It’s what men like him did.

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