how to get to heaven from la paz [3/?] [E]
| Lucalex | Multichap | Mafia AU | Co-Authored with @givewaytopassingbikes
Chapter 3: hell of a night
If there’s one thing you can guarantee Jorge Lorenzo is good at, it’s finding a great bar. Two things make up a great bar. Firstly, it has to be loud. Not so loud you can’t hear the guy across from you speak, but loud enough that no one can overhear you. And secondly, it has to be busy. The busier the bar, the less likely it is someone sees Dani Pedrosa slipping Marc Marquez an envelope full of photos.
“They’ve been losing money.” Dani says, leaning forward in the booth. “Rossi and Salucci didn’t get here until a few days ago, but he left a few of his boys in town.” His finger slips to one of the figures in the photo. “That’s Bagnaia, he’s been out here for months. Techy, you know? And good with finances. I think he’s the only reason Rossi was able to bring his operations into the 21st century.”
Marc grins, and stifles a laugh.
“To his left is Bezzecchi, and he’s a lot more public-facing. He deals with transporters and farmers. They like a friendly face, and he’s rather unassuming. He arrived not long after.” Then Dani’s face twists into a grimace, eyes flicking up to Marc. “You remember Morbidelli.”
He just looks at him solemnly and takes a drink.
“He only got here a few weeks back- we think he arrived with news from Rossi. Because since then,” he slides his finger back over to Bezzecchi, “this one has been talking to some of the delegates over at our plantations. Pedro Acosta, who runs the largest over east, had a meeting with him the other day.”
“Fuck,” Marc massages his temples, sighing, “but why would he even entertain him? Don’t we pay them enough?”
Pedrosa shakes his head. “And it’s not just that. Hard work, long hours, and on their breaks they get rowdy and wind one another up. Nearly every day someone has a bruised eye or a bloody lip. The Academy offers their farmers 15% more and access to prostitutes. On site.”
“And they seriously want that?”
He nods.
“Jesus. Can we afford it?”
“We can do one or the other.”
Marc just groans and slams his glass down on the table. Dani flashes him a look in the low light. Careful. He’s right. Too much noise draws attention.
“Worse case scenario- we just get one or the other- what happens?”
“Well,” he murmurs, “probably around half of them leave. Six farms have been contacted, so out of eleven, we’d have to downsize.”
“To?”
“Five. Six if we push.”
That won’t work. Marc knows that won’t work, and so does Dani, and Jorge, and everyone on their side.
“And-”
“There’s more?”
“And some of our exporters are getting tired. Bezzecchi has been sweet-talking them too. They’re being offered more.”
“Well- where is Rossi getting all this money? Last I heard-”
“Last you heard was over ten years ago, Marc. He’s been doing things. Olive oil.”
“Like in the fucking Godfather?” Marc snorts, incredulous.
“It’s big. And he’s made lots of money, and he’s vengeful, we know this. 2015 ruined him financially, you ‘screwed him over’, and his kid brother went missing. He’s a man enraged, Marc.”
“He’s childish, that's what he is.” He spits.
“You need to come up with something. We can pay for the farmers and the exporters but-” he tsks, interrupting himself, “they seem keen on the prostitute idea. I mean, do you know of anywhere, at all? Someone you’ve got an in with who can give you a discount?”
Marc churns the idea over in his brain. “I might.”
“I hope you do.” Dani takes a drink, and an obnoxiously large sigh. “Otherwise you’re going to struggle to keep your footing over here. Jorge doesn’t want to be on a sinking ship. He’ll back out the second you start losing traction.”
“Yeah,” he says, mutely, “yeah, okay, I’ll get you something.”
read the rest on ao3 here!
