Tava Del Nove
LUCK BE A LADY
Coruscant | Galactic City
Le Luna Restaurant
“The code broke,” cigarra hung from her mouth, smoke coiled and Tava stretched, tugging with one hand on the opposite sleeve of a deep gray blazer over top a rosy corset and loose slacks stitched from the same dark fabric. It was a busy habit- something to do with her hands and it swept upward on her cheek before two fingers nabbed the bad habit from between her lips, “a deal is a deal.” The petite framed woman sank back into the booth, made a motion with her hand, palm out and displaying all five fingers as if saying ‘what do you want?’
“You musta installed it wrong. The code works fine, T,” he said with a pull from his drink.
It was a motion she often used to hide the features of one’s face when lying or at the very least not admitted the whole truth. A lot of folk did it, but a lot of folk weren’t looking to read people. “Look,” she began with a wave of the hand with the death stick, “it all trickles down...and I’m not, I will not suffer my good name being tainted. This is purely business, Dean. Max’s issue with me doesn’t have to be yours. So, either you provide me with a code that isn’t trash, a code for…” the Coruscant born slicer paused, dark shaped brows pinching, lips thinning at the corners, “half the original deal or ...”
Anger, annoyance flashed in Dean’s green eyes, jaw working. He took a breath, inhaling through his nostrils, “Tava, honey…” His large, slender fingers ran through his hair cooly, “you know I’m good for it. Have I ever let you down? I’ll have it back to you in three days tops. ”
The woman flashed half a smile that was more out of her amusement at his poor acting, than agreeing to any amount of poodoo coming from his mouth. Knowing Dean, he’d peg her for the former. It was all fine though. “So, how is Max?” the only way to describe the way her mouth twisted was wolfish.
Max Dennier was a golden boy of the Criminal Underworld, child of a mob boss that hopped from Nal Hutta. He was also despicable. Always had been, even as far back when they were all wee hood rats. He had two chances to prove he wasn't worse than the scum's poodoo licked boot. Max failed both times. There were certain lines you didn't cross and that man, even as a boy, played hopscotch with them.
She never quite understood what the Don saw in him, other than being a direct descendant from the man's loins. Lu Navosse, despise being a criminal overlord, was a family man. They came first.
The family came first.
It was something Del Nove could respect. This was probably why she was still alive or why she was constantly looking over her shoulder. Lu didn't like her because of Max- all by proxy. Were it not for that, that particular boss and herself could have had a beautiful relationship. Dennier saw to that never ever happening.
The prodigal son was not used to the word no. It appeared to vex him and cause pain. Tava obliged him at every turn. She couldn't seem to help it. Especially after...that one night. Small nostrils of her nose flared lightly, but her wrist touched her lips, pretending to hide a smile that masked it.
"Oh, you know, dove. Max is Max," Dean shrugged his large shoulders and spoke with his hands. He usually didn't entertain her inquires when concerning that sleemo. Every so often he slipped though.
Tava counted on that and her hand drew up, holding two fingers to the air for scant seconds. Moments after their food arrived, delivered by a waiter in a crisp black and white suit, a duo of wines appeared. Red and rose in a leather wrapped bucket of ice. "Eat up, enjoy."
The night would prove fruitful. She felt it in her bones. It was to be a lucky night.