Page 13 of Mafia’s Dirty Secret

She drove into town with the radio off, hoping the road noise would soothe her, would let her brain calm down a little. Her cheek wasn’t bruised, but it was still red, and she could swear she could still smell the faint odor of pee in her hair.

Marie wanted to stop the car on a quiet stretch of the road and cry, but she’d promised Matteo she’d meet him, and after this morning, she needed the sunshine his presence brought to her life. She needed the way he made her feel when she was with him. She craved his attention, that feeling of safe contentment, that she had when he was near her. She barely knew him, but already, she wanted him in her life. Now, she just had to find a way to meet with him more often, all while she figured out how she’d convince him she wasn’t damaged goods, or not worthy of him.

Her foot pressed down harder on the gas pedal and her fingers tightened on the wheel. Right now, she wanted to focus only on him. Later, she’d worry about what to do with her mother. Hopefully, Jane would succeed with the doctor, and her mother would take a nice long trip to the hospital.

The idea didn’t please her because she thought she’d get time with a man, but more because she wouldn’t have to deal with a woman that abused her. She was trapped with that woman for 23 hours a day. It was hard enough when she wasn’t delirious, but now? It was too much to take.

As she pulled into a space in front of the café, Marie made a decision. She would not talk about how pitiful her life was, she wouldn’t whine about her position. She’d just talk with him, get to know him, and hopefully, she’d be able to deflect most of the questions he was bound to have if they involved her mother.

“Hi,” she called out brightly when she spotted him at the same table they’d used the day before. “Did you even leave the place?”

She knew he had because he had on a pair of black shorts and a thin white t-shirt that fit loosely around his chest. Not as sexy as those tight shirts he wore, but she didn’t mind. The heat down there could kill a person.

“Nope, been here since yesterday afternoon waiting on you.” He grinned at her, and she could swear her knees went weak. She sat down across the table from him and smiled weakly.

“Persistent, aren’t you?” She meant it as a joke, but he nodded his head seriously.

“I am. You’re a lovely woman, and you have this gentle air about you. I like it.” He smiled, amused at himself. “It doesn’t hurt that you’re beautiful.”

“Oh,” she said and brushed at her hair with her fingers. “I’m glad you think so.”

“I do, but that’s not why I’m here. You’re the most interesting person I’ve met since I’ve been here.” He leaned forward as he spoke. “Most people have greeted me with a southern charm that oozes right out of them, but you’ve just been… normal, I guess is the right word.”

“You just don’t know,” Marie said with a laugh and a slight wave of her hand. “The women here will mother you to death if you let them. And the men? Well, another pool-playing beer buddy never hurt anyone, right?”

Marie hadn’t known an ounce of love or support from the community over the years, except for her teachers, but otherwise, there’d been no one that cared for her the way she’d just described to Matteo. She’d seen it with other people and had felt a niggle of resentment over it. Nobody cared about her like that. Nobody gave two fucks if she lived or died. She wasn’t here for complaining, though, so she turned her thoughts away.

“But why don’t they do the same to you? Why aren’t there armies of women lined up at your door to help?”

“Well, that’s a long story. They help in their own ways.” Marie evaded the question. “Last night we were given a new air conditioner by one lady if that tells you anything.”

Marie hoped it was enough to end that line of questioning. She wasn’t very good at this evasion game with him and knew she’d give something away if she wasn’t careful. His eyes seemed to draw out the honesty in her, and it felt wrong to not be completely honest with him.

“It does, actually. It tells me a lot.” Matteo nodded his head and looked around at the café doors. “You want something? I’ll run in and get it. I know you don’t have a lot of time to be here and you should stay off your feet for a while. You look tired today.”

He didn’t know the half of it, she thought as he walked into the café to get her usual order. The woman inside knew what Marie wanted, she’d been there often enough, and Matteo soon came out with her drink and a plate of beignets.

“That will you perk you up,” he said as he put the items on the table and sat down.

“I hope so. I’m sorry if I look bad. It was… a rough morning.”

“Don’t worry about it, you’re still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” The way he said it made her almost believe him.

She knew she wasn’t ugly. Her mother’s mix of Spanish and French genes, along with her father’s Italian, had produced a child that was alright to look at. She thought her nose was too big for her face and that her ears stuck out too far from her head, but he didn’t seem to notice that.

“I think the local beauty queens would disagree with you, but I’m glad you think so.” She brushed his fingers with hers, a move that surprised her, but she was glad she did it. Awareness became a thing she finally understood as he looked at her. She’d read about it in books but had no idea what it really meant.

Now, as her skin went tight and every cell of her body seemed to draw towards him, she knew exactly what it meant. She was aware of him in ways she’d never been aware of a person before. It was an incredible thing to experience and all she could do was look at him, helpless to do anything but that.

He snapped out of it first and sat back. He still looked at her, but the odd moment had passed. He smiled, easily, as if comfortable with what had just taken place. “I like you, Marie. I don’t know why, but I really do.”

“Good. I like you too.” She glanced down at his arm, the one with the tattoo, and saw what it was now. His name, in cursive letters, going up from his lower wrist to his elbow. There were smaller, finer things entwined with the letters, leaves maybe? She couldn’t tell and didn’t want to stare.

“So, what do you do for fun around here?” he asked. A perfectly innocent question, but one she wasn’t sure how to answer.

“I guess that depends on what you consider fun?” She asked it as a question, to avoid answering right away.

“A good meal, some exercise, boating, um,” he gave a bashful smile and scratched at the back of his head with an index finger. “I don’t know, what do you guys do?”