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Anything would be better than….
“You! I thought I threw you out!” A gruff voice exclaims, my landlord’s huge bulk of belly fat almost knocking me down as he literally runs into me on his way out.
“I…I,” is the best I can manage, stammering and feeling ripples of anxiety flash across my belly.
My knees go weak again, and my whole body is numb.
“Got yer rent?!” he snaps, bringing his face closer to mine, making me recoil in disgust.
My head shakes a ‘no’ in silent reply, but I somehow manage to find my voice again.
I remember everything that happened today.
“I…I got a job, though. With your cousin,” I blurt out, but he’s ignoring me, pushing past me toward a waiting cab before calling over his shoulder.
“You’ve got until tomorrow morning, or I’m changing the locks,” he grunts.
“Mr. Portello,” I call right back to him, finishing my sentence.
I know I’ve hit a chord when he freezes to the spot, turning pale.
It takes him a moment to collect himself, and he asks the cab to wait before he turns slowly, scanning my face for a lie, and seeing that I’m telling the truth, he swallows hard.
“You…Yougot a job with Mr. Portello?” he asks with quiet disbelief, looking around a little before stepping closer.
I feel my head nodding with confidence now, even though it’s nothing to be happy about, working for the mob.
But it might just get this hairy ape off my case until I can find something else and figure out exactly what I’m going to do before tomorrow to get out of this mess.
“Yep,” I almost gloat, despite my own panic over it all.
“Start tomorrow, and Mr. Portello said that you wouldn’t throw me out. Him being your cousin and all….”
My landlord swallows even harder and asks me in a croaking whisper, “He said that huh?”
“Well. I’ll know if you’re telling the truth soon enough…I just don’t want any….,” he starts to say when the cabbie shouts over to him to hurry up or forget his ride.
“Just…No trouble,” he wheezes again, sweat dotting his brow as he bustles into the cab. He’s heading downtown before the cab makes a sharp U-turn.
It makes me wonder if he’s ever coming back at all.
The mention of the name Portello seems to have put the fear of the devil into him. And if my own is anything to go by, it’s probably justified.
I should feel relieved. I should feel grateful even.
For the first time in a long time, something worked in my favor.
My landlord looked more worried than I was,andhe didn’t mention the rent once I dropped Mr. Portello’s name into the mix.
Then why do I still feel worried?
And why can’t I stop thinking about the other man from the restaurant?
The tall, dark, and way better than handsome man.
The man I’d drop to my knees for, doing anything he wanted.
That’s way more than I’d want to do for any Portello sleaze.
