“Like I told you earlier, Bella. You’re not bound to either your father or uncle; there’s always a way out, you just have to look for it.”
She sat there looking up into my eyes and I could see her thinking about the possibilities, and I could swear that she did see a way out. But before I could ask she whispered a reply into my ear. “With you, I think there actually could be a way out.” She said with a dreamy smile.
After kissing her forehead for a third time I gave the room another once over, not that I expected to find anything from my seat, but I had to look. I knew there had to be a door here somewhere, but I still couldn’t find any trace of it. I took a deep breath and I decided to ask Bella what was going to happen next. Since she had been here last year I figured she had to have some idea about the proceedings.
Matching her whisper I asked, “Since you already know about my ignorance, I don’t mind asking you a silly question. Where are we actually going to play?” Gesturing around the room I added in a regular voice, “I mean we can’t be playing here.”
With a shrug she thought for a moment before she answered me. “To tell the truth, I don’t know, I’ve only been to one other tournament but based on that one…”
“Wait?! I said as I laid my right index finger across her lips. She had only been to one tournament and she won it? Of course that was when I realized what she had been trying to say, so I lifted my finger from her lips as I asked the next question that popped into my mind. “What do you mean based on that one?” When she didn’t answer me I looked down and saw that my finger was still laying across her lips so I sheepishly removed it and waited for her answer.
“Last year’s tournament wasn’t held here. My uncle uses a different warehouse every year.” She said it as if such extravagance was as natural as ordering a hamburger from some fast-food joint. But then with Dempsey, it might be the same thing.
Once again I looked around and with a new perspective I took in the majesty of the room once more. And I was floored. A new location every year, talk about a display of opulent wealth. “What does he typically do with this place after the tournament is finished?”
“Well here is an excellent example of where you benefit from being a genuine friend.” She squeezed my hand to make sure I recognized what I was getting. “All the woodwork and paintings are done by a couple of master craftsman that my uncle has his hooks into, so that doesn’t even cost much, from what I know, it doesn’t even cover the cost of materials. And that is amazing when you consider what just the time of a couple of masters would normally cost.”
“Your uncle certainly knows how to get the most out of his connections, doesn’t he?” I asked dryly without bothering to hide my disgust. I had a certain amount of respect for anyone who had reached that kind of mastery of a trade and just like women and children I went out of my way to protect them from my scams if I could. And if I couldn’t I certainly made sure that they were fairly compensated for their time and trouble. After all fair was fair.
“Well that’s what my uncle is best at, but there are some areas where he just doesn’t have that kind of pull. Take the tables and chairs for instance. As far as I know he doesn’t have any hooks into anyone who could craft them, at least not yet. He has to buy them at their regular price.”
“That’s got to hurt his ego.”
“Not really.”
“How could he possibly not…” She reached up with her left hand and laid a finger across my lips bringing my protest to an abrupt halt. When I looked down at her she was smiling and I could hear the words she was thinking, fair is fair.
When she was satisfied that I wouldn’t press on with my objection, she continued. “He sells the tables and their chairs to any of the players who want them. And of course he sells them at a substantial markup, he knows not everyone will buy the furniture. And since he has men all around the building he isn’t exactly worried about a player trying to take one without paying for it.”
When she saw my stunned face she simply shrugged his shoulders. “He sells more than you might think, this is a unique experience and if you think about the people who are here it makes sense. Plus the fact that each year the design is different enough. While these are far plainer then last year’s, they’re still remarkably ornate.”
“And he manages to sell how many?”
“Last year he sold half of them, but that is something he enjoys.”
“So what does he do with whatever stock he can’t sell? I mean what could he possibly do with tables that each cost a small fortune?”
“Having already made a profit, he leaves behind whatever stock is left over. When the police eventually arrive they find the furniture with an attached note gifting it all to whoever happened to find the warehouse that year.
I sat there, staring at the furniture, and started to calculate what the price tag of these tables and chairs would have to be. I finally decided to give up, whatever their cost a policeman’s taxes would be destroyed by such a gift, if nothing else. “The cops have got to hate these presents by now.”
“That is precisely why whatever is found ends up being donated to charity and since everyone knows my uncle is the one who had them made…”
I could see where she was going with this. “Don’t tell me that he gets a tax right off to boot?”
“Now that would be all kinds of screwy wouldn’t it? But no, he hasn’t managed to get a tax break yet. But what I was going to say was that it doesn’t stop the charities from loving him for the donations.”