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“Sweet-tits, hey, listen.” He puts his hand flat on the window, pinning her inside his slimy intoxicated aura. “You took care of me all night, now let me take care of you.” He slips two hundred-dollar bills carefully inside her shirt, doing his best to look sly as his fingers brush against her breast.
I bristle, wanting to pummel him through the glass.
“Appreciate the tip. But I’m not interested in dead presidents. Thanks for freeing the slaves though.” She pushes him out of the way and heads back to the other waitresses.
I relax, laughing to myself. He does kind of look like Lincoln. Then a fire returns when he forcefully yanks her skirt up like he’s looking under a tablecloth. A pair of panties with cat-like avocados shine in an up-light.
She slaps his hand off.
“Sorry, Monroe. Just wanted a reenactment of your favorite pose.” Mimmo laughs at himself, then nearly falls back in his drunken stupor.
I push past Tony and stomp over to Mimmo, seeing a flash of red. His eyes are barely able to focus, but I know he’s in there somewhere.
“Hey.” I yank him by the collar.
“Bull, whoa. Whoa.” His hands go up.
“Do you know who that is?” I speak through gritted teeth. “That’s Hairtrigger’s baby sister.” I grab two of his fingers and snap them hard so he falls to his knees. I didn’t break them, but I still just might. Now he’s on the ground, mouth open in pain, staring up at me.
“I didn’t know, Bull. I’m sorry. Ah!”
“Get up. And show some respect.” I let go of him, flicking my eyes to Gia.
I can’t tell if she’s impressed or terrified. A part of me thinks she didn’t want me to do that. She hates how the mob handles things. Doesn’t matter. The men need to know she’s protected goods.
“S—sorry, Ms. Castellano. I had no idea.” Mimmo struggles to his feet.
“I’ll forgive you if you show your underwear,” she tries to make light of the tense situation, and all her new waitress friends giggle nervously. “Kidding. I’m kidding. You’re fine. Don’t go killing each other over little ol’ me.”
I slap Mimmo lightly on the face, twice, telling him he’s been warned, and head back to my main circle. Glancing at the waitresses again is a warming sight. It only took a night, and Gia was already able to break through a very thick barrier of cosmetic surgery and the hen-ish behavior of our normal staff. Of course – she’s fiery and fun. What’s not to like? But the point is… maybe I can invite her to more events. Nothing wrong with enjoying the view.
That hope fades, however, when a familiar silhouette comes skulking from the shadows down the street.
My oldest friend. Marco.
His heeled loafers knock hard against the pavement. He always walks like he’s on his way to bash in someone’s head. Deep frown, angry eyes, bushy eyebrows that are somehow knitted. Those two scars on his neck are what makes him, though. I’ll never forget it – when he got caught up with the Colombians, and they threatened to give him a ‘necktie.’ They cut him up carefully, avoiding the artery so he’d suffer in fear for his would-be last moments on Earth. Had I not busted in to save him… he would’ve died a gruesome death.
He takes a long pull of his cigarette and flicks it in the street, eyeing his sister. And before I can react, he’s got a hand squeezed around the back of her arm. “The fuck is she doing here?”
I step out of my circle in hopes to calm him.
Marco eyes me, and I see the fire inside him. “Her shift was supposed to be over before any of our boys got here.” He points his finger angrily.
“What the hell, Marco? You’re stalking my schedule?” Gia swings out of his grasp. “How’d you even know I work here?”
“Yo. I’m trying to respect your privacy.”
“You’re screwed up in the head is what you are.” Gia points at her temple.
“Yeah? How those paintings coming?” He cackles, then laughs harder when Gia goes to hit him. “Missed you too, Sis.”
“Hey, relax.” I give him a kiss on either cheek. “We got done counting early. Our crew had a good week. We popped a bottle at the hideout, one thing led to another, and we showed up at Bangos an hour ahead of schedule. Hey, Trigger, don’t look at them.” I slap him lightly on the face. “I’m the one who saw her and offered her a little extra to help out. Being nice to my boy’s kid sister.”
“She wants nothing to do with this lot.” Marco pulls another cigarette and lights it. “She made it loud and clear at a family dinner. What was it, Sis? Four years ago now?” He shakes his head. “Bitch won’t even come see Mom if I’m close by. I’m talking to you, Gia.”
She smiles facetiously at us, then gives the finger.
“What a cute family reunion you gathered for us, Castor.” He takes a hard pull of his cigarette. “Now get her the fuck out of my sight.”
