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The crew looks at me differently than when I was a prisoner in the Escalade. I’ve upgraded, and my heels give me some sense of authority. At least in my head, they do.
They stay silent until I settle on the other end of the island, opposite Donny.
“Hey look, picked this broad up at the club. Not bad, ah?” Sal presents me like I’m a prized bottle-service woman, and I raise my eyebrows in response.
“At least someone knows how to treat a lady,” I say, holding my drink up to Sal.
The other guys ‘oooh,’ looking to their boss, who grins.
He’s playful today, I notice. And he looks sexy when he smiles.
All the other men have pit stains under their shirts – probably from the day’s heavy lifting – but Donny is as clean and smooth as a freshly showered model. He outshines them all. Hair perfectly slick, pecs outlined from his opened dress shirt, grey eyes shining in the light.
In an alternate universe, this could’ve been a nice meeting. But I tell myself not to forget where I am… what I am to them. Cattle.
“The Rigiano in you is peeking out today,” Donny says smoothly. “And I don’t mean that mouth of yours.” He motions to my eyes.
I shrug. “Why not? Your lovely maid fed me. No one laid a hand on me for a few days, so I figured, why not put on a show for Sal?”
More ‘ooohs’ and some low laughter breaks out.
I take a nice gulp of my perfectly made drink and drape an arm around the sweaty mafia man with hairy arms.
“Careful, Dice,” Donny says. “Make sure you still have your wallet when you’re done there. Only way a girl like that is interested in a guy like you is for the money.”
My mouth hangs agape as I run my hand over his stubbly beard. “Don’t listen to him, Sal. You’re quite a catch. I like men who are hospitable.”
“I ordered the drink,” Donny says, wanting praise.
“He brought it to me.”
“When you go to a bar, do you give the waiter attention, or the guy who buys your drink?” Donny asks.
“Don’t listen to him, Sal.” I cover his ears. “You’re much more than a waiter.”
I get off of him with a good-natured kind of dismissal before taking the joke too far, and push my empty glass toward fake Furio. “Do me a favor since you helped kidnap me, pour me another drink.”
“How’d you know I was the bartender?” he asks.
“I didn’t.”
The night goes on with similar banter for a while, making me feel like the Don’s daughter again. Attention, some flirting. A nice buzz. On top of the world.
I missed it, if I’m being honest.
All I’ve been doing since Marco died is trying to run away from all that I know. Now that I’m forced into it again, it’s not so bad.
After a while, the men crowd around the TV and put on a show called Gomorrah which seems to be like The Sopranos, sans some of the drama, plus ten times more killing. It’s kind of sick that these men probably live it, yet still want to watch it at the end of their day.
Donny is the only one left at the island with me. He pushes himself to his feet, and I tremor inside. He’s so tall and menacing when he wants to be. He could take me right now and snap me like a twig.
He comes closer, and I do my best not to react.
My vision swims, but my eyes still hold his.
Electricity sparks through the air as he stalks toward me. There’s an enormous bulge silhouetted through his slacks, and in my drunken state, I want to grab it.
He stops too close to me.
