The Rise and Turmoil of Charlie Lee
Taking out his pocket watch, Charlie Lee glanced at the time and strode toward his sleek black sedan parked by the curb. His lunch meeting with Senator Damon was imminent, and punctuality, as always, was crucial.
SA Restaurant, located at 271 Bihubin Road on the North Bank of the river, was one of most renowned dining establishments. It was a frequent haunt for the city's elite—celebrities, politicians, and the influential gathered there to discuss matters of importance over sumptuous meals.
"Good afternoon, sir. Do you have a reservation?" the waiter at the entrance greeted him warmly.
Inside, Senator Yevich Damon was already seated, basking in the melodies of the piano played by an elegant woman on stage. However, Charlie suspected Yevich's appreciation was less for the music and more for the captivating performer herself.
"Yevich, my apologies for being late. Traffic on Fifth Avenue is unforgiving," Charlie said, casually handing his coat and hat to the waiting staff before settling at the table.
"Charlie, isn't this rendition of Figaro's Wedding absolutely enchanting?" Yevich asked, his gaze locked on the pianist.
"Perhaps you should invite her over for a drink," Charlie suggested, raising an eyebrow.
Taking the cue, Yevich summoned a waiter and handed him a $100 bill along with a whispered request. "My friend here admires that lady's talent and would like to invite her to join us."
Charlie smirked to himself. He wasn't sure if the music was exceptional, but as a friend, his role was to facilitate. Beyond that, Yevich was on his own. He'd done his part—friendship had its boundaries, and Charlie was no matchmaker.
As the pianist finished her performance, she gracefully bowed amidst applause, then made her way to their table.
"Good afternoon, gentlemen. I'm Katie. It's a pleasure to meet you." Her voice was smooth and confident, her demeanor radiating poise and charm.
"The pleasure is ours, Ms. Katie. Please, call me Charlie," he replied, gesturing toward Yevich. "Allow me to introduce Senator Yevich Damon, an ardent admirer of your music."
"Thank you for your kind words, Senator," Katie said with a warm smile, as Yevich stood to pull out a chair for her in a display of gentlemanly etiquette.
Meanwhile, Charlie observed the exchange with mild amusement, comparing Katie's composed sophistication to someone he affectionately nicknamed "the little elk," whose straightforward demeanor he suddenly found endearing.
As Yevich and Katie immersed themselves in conversation, Charlie turned his attention to the restaurant's entrance, where William—a trusted ally—finally arrived, albeit late.
"Charlie, Senator Damon, my sincerest apologies. Traffic was horrendous," William said, handing over his coat and hat to the waiting staff.
The absurdity of the excuse struck both Charlie and Yevich. Charlie suppressed a chuckle and quipped, "What a coincidence! I was stuck in traffic myself not long ago."
William, oblivious to the irony, nodded earnestly. "Yes, Chicago's traffic is terrible these days."
"Next time, perhaps set your watch ten minutes ahead," Charlie suggested, feigning a look of reproach.
William, realizing his faux pas, managed an apologetic smile. "Excellent advice, Charlie. I'll keep that in mind."
As their meals arrived, Yevich finally shifted the conversation to more pressing matters. "Charlie, let's talk business."
Charlie raised an eyebrow. "Yevich, haven't I already contributed enough to Chicago's prosperity?"
Yevich put down his utensils and fixed Charlie with a serious expression. "Your contributions are undeniable, but you need to focus more on public philanthropy. Libraries, parks, orphanages—visible acts of goodwill. They'll bolster your reputation."
"Did someone suggest otherwise?" Charlie leaned back, his sharp mind scanning for potential threats.
"Charlie, you've drawn a lot of attention lately, especially with your investments in Hollywood. People are questioning the source of your wealth, and some are calling for your assets to be frozen until everything is clarified," Yevich confided, his voice low.
Charlie clenched his fists under the table. "This reeks of prejudice," he muttered, his frustration barely contained.
"Not prejudice, Charlie. Politics. You know how this game works," Yevich said, leaning closer.
Charlie took a deep breath, then raised his glass. "Thank you for the warning, my friend. I'll take the necessary steps."
Yevich nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. "I'll be there for your company's launch event—and your public charity initiatives, of course."
After settling the bill, Charlie and William left the restaurant and climbed into Charlie's car. On the drive, Charlie turned to William. "Have you heard anything about this so-called investigation into my finances?"
"There's been some chatter, but nothing concrete. It's mostly small players trying to stir trouble," William replied.
"They might be small now, but they've found leverage. This is more than noise," Charlie said, his tone sharp.
"You're overthinking this, Charlie. They wouldn't dare go that far," William insisted.
Charlie dismissed him with a wave. "Perhaps you should get out here," he said coldly.
The driver pulled over, and William exited reluctantly, frustration evident on his face. As the car pulled away, he kicked a lamppost in anger. "Damn it!" he growled, realizing how much he depended on Charlie's influence.
Back in the car, Charlie instructed his driver, "Take me to the club."
When they arrived, Charlie stepped out, preoccupied with his thoughts. Just as he approached the entrance, a sharp, searing pain spread across his chest. Instinctively, he dived back into the car, narrowly avoiding another shot.
"Boss is under attack! Move!" the driver shouted, pressing his hand against Charlie's bleeding chest.
The street erupted into chaos. Men in long coats emerged, brandishing concealed machine guns. The crowd scattered, their screams echoing through the city.
"Get Mike and Wang on the line," Charlie ordered, his voice steady despite the blood pooling on his shirt.
The bullet lodged in his chest was slowly pushing its way out—a surreal phenomenon Charlie felt but couldn't fully comprehend. Two towering bodyguards hoisted him up and rushed him inside the club as the rest of his men formed a protective wall.
"Boss, hang in there," the driver urged as chaos reigned outside.
Inside the club, Charlie collapsed onto a couch, his mind racing. He needed to regroup and strategize. The high-profile attention he'd garnered was now a liability. His meteoric rise in wealth and influence had made him a target, and enemies were circling.
This wasn't just an attack on his life—it was a warning. And Charlie Lee wasn't one to back down.
He would fight back. On his terms.