Mr. Consultant

Chapter 39 Ch.38

Giuseppe knew he was dreaming, a rather absurd and pathetic nightmare.Because no matter what, even if he was about to die, he would not return to the dirty alley of Betoni Street like he is now.The street is still the same as it was 20 years ago, with shops of all sizes crowded on both sides, and the signboards with different contents are covered with dust, so faded that it is impossible to distinguish their original colors.

But in fact, these various shops don't need any clear signboards at all. They are all engaged in the skin business, but the products in the shops are male and female, with different appearances.Those places with a slightly larger facade and higher consumption will have bars, performances, and drinks.As for the smaller place on the facade, there is no doubt that it is just a compartment for the bed.But this is not the cheapest. There are still some prostitutes who solicit customers alone on this street. As long as you give them one dollar, you can let them serve once in the narrow alley.

No one can tell when these businesses started, and for what reason they gathered here.They are just inexplicable, knowing and acquiescing in the bottom of their hearts, even if the era of depression has passed, they can only engage in this shady occupation until death comes mercilessly and tenderly.

But Giuseppe, then called Falco, thought otherwise.He felt like he didn't deserve to be in a place like this, or live like garbage, but at the end of the day, he didn't know what else to do.He just hoped for no reason, looked up for no reason, to some life that he didn't understand.And the most glamorous and decent people he has ever seen are those thugs who come to collect protection money on a regular basis.They are admired and feared by men, and there is no force that can oppose them and deceive their feelings.

Unfortunately, these small wishes above are all that the young Giuseppe yearns for.

He has also seen businessmen in suits and ties, congressmen, and even Mr. President in old newspapers.But he has no idea about it, let alone what is the use of fame and power.He only believes in those banknotes that can be held in his hands, those coins that can make noise, because this is the source of his entire existence.Of course, from the bottom of his heart, he envied those Kong Wu's powerful thugs and their arrogant attitude.It's just that so far, his identity as a commodity is still too far away from the world these sellers live in.

And he, he was going to leave this street one day, somewhere else, where no one knew his name.He wants to live like a normal person, even though he may work hard, even though he may have nothing.He also doesn't want to continue to open his legs to get money like he is now, he wants to live with dignity.Oddly enough, no one had ever taught him the meaning of "dignity", but at the age of 16 Giuseppe could already hold the word to heart.

His companions were amazed by this, and it was impossible to imagine that after so many years in the industry, Giuseppe would still have such a naive idea.They have already recognized the situation before them, got used to this kind of life, and even gave up the possibility of hope.They do not hesitate to believe that Giuseppe's coveting of beautiful things is some kind of great stupidity. After all, those coveting have no chance of coming true, but will only become the laughing stock of reality, a ruthless tongue.

And after all, Giuseppe was the last of them to hope out of such a life, given his background.His mother, a poor Italian woman, was forced to work as a prostitute after being abandoned by her husband.His mother, who was deeply in debt for raising him, owed a large sum to the bustard, and died of pneumonia.Giuseppe had no way out, so he had to start the same business as his mother and repay the astronomical arrears for him.

It's not like Giuseppe didn't think about hanging himself like those desperate women, or living on drugs like those cowards on the street.But whenever he wants to give up, he will remember his wish. Even though he doesn't know what the outside of this street looks like, he still won't choose to die or escape in order to obtain some kind of short-term and vain relief .

In some respects, Giuseppe at that time already had some outlines of the future.His thin, slender, child-like appearance hides a personality like a blade.He was born taciturn, and he often had a kind of indifferent expression on his face, as if the terrible pain that was imposed on him had nothing to do with him.

He was wearing a ginger-yellow long-sleeved shirt that was too loose. The hem of the shirt was half-tucked and half-tucked in a ripe brown cotton kilt. flirtatious charm.He is not like those senior bosses, he does not have the job of serving tea and pouring water, all he has to do is to fuck.And the guests he was going to receive were not as respectable as those of the prostitutes. They were just drug addicts, poor people who couldn't afford money, and dangerous people who were kicked out of brothels.

Among these people, only a handful are really willing to find a man.And the other clients just treated him as a cheap substitute for sex, and asked him to turn his back to them and not make a sound.The bustard got this idea right, and then collected old clothes from the scumbags in the street, which was considered clumsy, and scribbled on these equally clumsy goods.Giuseppe found it unreasonable at first, whether it was wearing women's clothes or sleeping with men, he had some kind of resistance from the bottom of his heart.He felt that this was abnormal, not a problem that could be calmly accepted.

But people's habits are always terrible. Later, he thought that pleated skirts are better than pleated skirts, at least they can be worn around the waist when necessary, so as to avoid some kind of repeated washing.He later learned to use other things to empty his mind, and even put on an expression of enjoyment when necessary.He began to like smoking, and even though the bustard forbade them to get addicted to it, he still liked the spicy and throat-choking feeling and the sobriety it brought.

He knew that he had to be awake, that he had to remember the passing of the minutes, the sad reality, and the joy that was reflected in it, so close at hand.He refused to indulge in any fantasy, any warmth, he realized that only money is his savior.

Thinking of this, Giuseppe took out a roll of odd banknotes from his shirt pocket.He carefully pulled out one and quickly stuffed it into the waist of his skirt.He knew that this matter was quite dangerous and might bring him great trouble, but he was still stubborn and wanted to gain his own benefits.

After finishing this, he straightened the collar of his shirt again, put on a nonchalant look, and then returned to the small, dilapidated apartment at the corner of the street.However, what he didn't expect was that the moment he opened the door, he was suddenly grabbed by the hair, and then dragged into the hallway like dragging something.Giuseppe felt baffled, but years of experience living on Betoni Street told him clearly that he was about to face a catastrophe.

Bustard is a tall, thin woman in her fifties.She was biting a cigarette in her mouth and smeared thick pimples on her face. When she saw Giuseppe, she rushed in front of him quickly.Before Giuseppe could defend himself, she slapped her twice hard.She ordered her subordinates to strip off Giuseppe's clothes, and threw the half-worn banknote found from his skirt waist in his face, and then yelled in a shrill voice,

"Son of a bitch, nasty fucker! Who gave you permission to hide money!"

She didn't understand who instigated him to do such a thing.Giuseppe has no relatives, no way to pay, what does he want the money for?But no matter what, she couldn't allow this kind of evil, and she wanted to punish the child well, so as to achieve some kind of purpose of killing chickens and monkeys.She leaned in front of Giuseppe, tried her best to put on a kind expression, then pointed to the innermost room and said:

"Son, go play with the guests there for a while, and the account between us will be written off."

The prostitutes behind her snickered maliciously after hearing her words.They whispered, hinted, and winked at each other, as if they were waiting for a long-lost show.Giuseppe despairs, both because of the uncontrollable fate in front of him, and because of the cruelty and malice of those around him.After all, they all had the same misfortune, but these people, those who were as unfortunate as him, were deeply grateful for what happened to him.

The bustard admired his fearful and sad expression, then slowly took two steps back, and the high heels made a sound like a hammer being dropped on the ground.She told Giuseppe that in that room was Molo, the Molo they were all afraid of.

Giuseppe Of course who she's talking about, that's a sadist, a murder addict.He was terrified of this, and had to whisper and beg for forgiveness as if he were praying to God.He doesn't want to be killed, let alone abused to the point of inhumanity. He still has some small wishes, and some pursuits that he can't even articulate.

But what can he do?

His fate, his life, everything about him does not belong to him.

Realizing this, Giuseppe felt a sudden feeling of despair.He realized that what he was doing was a boring, self-important laughing stock.He stood up from the ground with a pale face, ready to accept his end without any resistance.

But at this time, at this seemingly hopeless time, a group of tall and strong middle-aged men came to the door.The leading one, whom Giuseppe had met and remembered as the second in command of the local gang, was named Giovanni, Giovanni Cortero.He knew that this was a capable gentleman who managed all the business in Bettony Street.He didn't care to think about why such a gentleman came here, so driven by the desire to survive, he tried his best to shout for help in Italian.

Giovanni noticed him because of this, and looked at him with a look that looked like garbage.He is a tall, burly, middle-aged man with a bushy beard, a square face, thick eyebrows, an eagle nose, and brown-black hair combed carelessly behind his head.He hugged his shoulders and asked the bustard in a rough voice:

"What's the matter with this little thing?"

"He doesn't play by the rules here, we're just going to teach him a lesson."

The bustard was taken aback by his words, not understanding why he should care about Giuseppe.But she immediately put on a flattering expression, leaned in front of the second in command, and said in a good voice:

"My dear sir, he's just a lowly whore, and he doesn't deserve your attention at all. I'll go get this month's money right away, please wait a moment, don't worry."

Giovanni listened to her words, neither affirmed nor denied.He just looked at Giuseppe's eyes and felt that there was something strange in those gray-green eyes.He had never seen such a firm and brilliant look in the eyes of a prostitute. The eyes of those people only had ashes and a complete denial of life.He was silent for a moment, and found that the child in front of him was also looking directly at him.Giovanni felt curious and couldn't help but speak, and asked in Italian:

"How do they want to punish you?"

When Giuseppe heard this, his eyes widened immediately as if he had grasped the rope of God.He quickly explained things in Italian, including Molo's behavior, including his grievances.He knew the bustard couldn't understand what he was saying, so he played as innocent and unfortunate as he could.

"Molo?" asked Giovanni, adding, "Sirio Molo?"

"Yes, sir, my almighty sir, have mercy!"

Giuseppe's eager pleading made Giovanni laugh, and he was no longer young, and when he smiled, the corners of his eyes were a little wrinkled.He looked at the bustard again, and asked her to bring Mo Luo here in an orderly tone.Puzzled, Giuseppe watched Giovanni's actions and the thug who appeared in front of him not long after.

Giovanni smiled softly and borrowed a small knife from his subordinate.Then, beckoning the two thugs with his eyes, he caught Molo in front of Giuseppe.He walked over, took Giuseppe's right hand, and put the knife in his palm.

"Kill him, as long as you kill him, I'm willing to reward you."

Giuseppe felt the shivering, metallic chill in his palm.He didn't understand what happened, why Molo, who was threatening his life last second, had to die, why Giovanni could say such a terrible order in such a gentle tone.He shook his head like a convulsion, but he dared not put down the knife in his hand.He begged aloud, more earnestly than before, that Giovanni would forgive him for his crime.

The second-in-command, however, was unimpressed. He found Giuseppe's reaction the funniest toy in the world.Of course, he didn't expect a lowly male prostitute to do anything earth-shattering, but purely, seeing his frightened expression was also some kind of wonderful pleasure.Giovanni said to him again:

"He wants to kill you, why don't you kill him? No one is God except himself."

Giovanni's words flowed into Giuseppe's heart word by word.At that moment, the 16-year-old suddenly realized what he really wanted to have.What he was looking forward to was not a glamorous and decent life, let alone stupid fame and fortune.He just wants a knife, a knife that can protect himself in times of crisis, a knife that can pay off all grievances clearly.

Whoever wants to kill him, he will kill——

What a simple truth!

Thinking of this, Giuseppe clenched the handle of the knife in his hand, then he stood up suddenly and stabbed Molo's heart with a knife.The bright red and warm blood soaked his hands and splashed all over his cheeks, making him look like a demon crawling out of hell.He turned and looked at Giovanni's astonished face, and handing him the knife back, he said:

"Sir, you are right, he wants to kill me, why don't I kill him?"

The author has something to say:

Juvenile Giuseppe is so sweet, still in women's clothing! ! ! (you calm down