AllFreeNovel
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1
No one notices me slipping into the darkness. I move swiftly away from the wedding party heading into the mansion.
A minute later I’m approaching the staff entrance around the back. I find what I need next to a catering van with its back doors swinging open.
Servers in claret-colored velvet jackets carry crates and boxes into the kitchen from the back of the van. One of them has left his jacket draped over a case of beer.
I grab the jacket and slip it over my shoulders as I move forward. Now there’s nothing to distinguish me from the staff apart from the Glock 9 in my shoulder holster.
I glance into the van as I go past, and something stops me dead in my tracks. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen is climbing out, piling up crates ready to go inside.
She’s concentrating on what she’s doing, so she hasn’t seen me watching her. Caramel waves framing her face, lively emerald eyes, a sprinkle of freckles. She’s wrinkling her nose as she counts something off out loud.
I have time to take in the rest of her body before she notices me. Petite, slim, long legs, and an expression of confusion when she sees me looking at her. “You waiting for something to do?”
I point at my chest in a “Who, me?” kind of way.
“Yeah, you. Come and take these into the kitchen for me, would ya? Start with that tray there. Don’t drop it. Boss’ll kill you.”
“I’d like to see her try.” Shit, why did I say that? I pick up the tray. “You got it.” I manage a smile and a wink, turning and carrying the tray into the kitchen.
First job done.
I’m inside and no one suspects anything.
Kitchen’s like something out of the Overlook, all steel and white tiles, more people in those fucking awful jackets, scurrying in and out while the boss yells at them from under heavily lacquered red hair.
Two of the servers are talking over by the pot wash while they scrub dirty plates. “Wasted it all on drink, I heard.” I tune into their conversation, cutting out all other sounds.
“Bullshit.”
“That’s why he’s marrying her. Got to get his debts paid off asap.”
“That’s bullshit, I’m telling you. It’s cementing mafia family ties.”
“Who told you that?”
“If he was as poor as you say, why’d he have the wedding here?”
“Come on. Smallest function room. Prize Caddy out front is three years old with a dented fender. Not enough of us to work the place properly. He’s got two guards and they’re both drunk already. Can’t afford proper protection.”
“Come on, no one hits weddings. I’m surprised he even brought those two.”
I could correct the guy speaking, but that would give away why I’m here. I could tell them I know why the groom’s in debt. How he spent most of his family’s ill-gotten assets not on booze but on paying off underage girls, so they keep their mouths shut about how handsy he gets. Did his best to silence them, but it cost a lot.
Only, one of them still talked. Groom bought off the cops investigating and thought that was the end of it. But the girl kept talking and eventually the story got back to my employers who don’t like famiglia members embarrassing them. Which is why I’m here.
“You,” the redhead says, pointing directly at me. “Stop staring into space and get that tray to the top table right now.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I reply with a crisp nod, following a group of servers through the flapping doors into a ballroom crammed with guests.
The place is too hot and smells of sweat and spilled beer. The lights are too bright. Music is too loud. What a night to remember for the happy couple. There’s a pile of vomit in the corner, and a server is on his knees, scrubbing away at it. To my right I hear a glass smashing followed by a cheer, the sound cutting through the earsplitting thump of a ten-year-old dance anthem.
I weave my way effortlessly between the crowds, looking for the groom. He’s got to be here somewhere.
My luck’s against me. Not at the top table. Bride is sitting there alone, looking like she’d rather be anywhere but here. I know the feeling, sweetheart. Would never find me leaving my bride alone. Not that I’ll ever be dumb enough to get married.
She doesn’t look up at me when I dump the tray. That’s for the best. Last thing I need is someone else who might identify me.
