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I can’t remember the last time I ate or slept.
Since meeting Jasmine, she’s all I’ve been able to focus on.
“Do you people all walk around with suitcases filled with money all the time?” Jasmine asks me.
I start to chuckle but realize she’s being serious.
“We do now,” I inform her, thinking of the case we now have and not even bothering to go into details about how difficult it is to actually come by real money for myself in my world.
It looks lavish from the outside, and it is, I guess. But I had to ask if I could live on my own, away from home, when I was thirty, for Christ’s sake.
The life isnotwhat the TV and movies make it out to be.
“We’ve got enough for dinner at least,” I remark, peeling off a few bills and starting to ball them up.
“Here,” I tell Jasmine, passing her the rest. “Crumble it up, tear a little here and there if you can.”
Her face stares back up at me as if I’ve lost my mind.
“Make ‘em look used,” I instruct her.
“Only thing dumber than walking around with this much money is spending it,” I remind myself, knowing I’ve already broken every code, rule, and oath in all of the Martinelli family history.
“Uhhh, do we really need to show like this many hundreds?” she asks, explaining it’s a roadside diner, not the Shangri-La hotel.
“Good point,” I agree, letting her pocket whatever she likes from the stack before closing the case, grateful when it’s stashed neatly under the back seat.
The dull whump of helicopter blades heading in the opposite direction lets me know that Maria Portello got away alright.
This much cash, plus whatever else she was carrying, is more than enough to get her almost anywhere.
“Would you rather have gone with her?” Jasmine asks me, sounding a little cold after I notice she’s been watching me listening for the chopper heading away from the weather right on top of us.
“What the hell does that mean?” I ask, feeling something else in my chest.
Next to the little explosions, Jasmine gives me, it’s a new feeling.
One I don’t like so much.
“I mean, she’s from your world. Got good looks and money,” Jasmine sneers. “Even with that raccoon make-up job,” she spits, angrily tossing the money in her hands down as if it's dirt or worse.
“Hey,” I tell her firmly, gripping her wrist until she looks at me. “I’m here with you because you’re all that matters to me now. More than my family, and definitely more than her and her money!”
I let Jasmine’s wrist drop, surprised at how much it hurts me inside when Jasmine acts like this.
I wonder if this is what a heart attack feels like? After pacing by the car in the rain, I sit my already soggy ass on the hood, kicking at a stone.
I’m not here long before I feel Jasmine sidle up next to me, slipping her wet hand into mine.
“Hey,” she whispers.
“Hey,” I rasp back at her, feeling like a teenager all over again until she tells me what I need to hear.
“Iamglad it’s me with you, Rocco. I didn’t mean anything just now…I’m just….”
“Hungry?” I tell her, finishing her sentence for her.
Looking at her getting wetter by the second, smiling when she does, I feel my heart set back in its rightful place again when she tugs at my jacket, signaling me to lean down and kiss her, which I do.
