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How the hell?
Josh opens up the pack of cigarettes and takes one out. He takes a shaky breath that I see just out from his mouth, the air cold, just before putting it between his lips. “You got a light?” He asks, the cigarette moving with his lips.
I shake my head. “I don’t smoke anymore..”
He nods. “Tony turning over a whole new leaf…”
I unfold the piece of paper that I’d crumpled and stuck in my pocket to read the address. I sigh.
“I’ll see you later…” I call out over my shoulder before digging my hands in my pocket. At times like this I hated not having a car.
“Madam Rosa calls … you answer…” Josh calls out, amused. “That’s why she keeps doing this shit!”
He’s right.
I know he is.
But it’s the only world I know.
I’m not like Josh.
I can’t just make an escape like he can.
Not that I even want to leave the world.
I enjoy it.
I just don’t necessarily enjoy it with Madam Rosa.
The sky was grey, bleak and lifeless. The address on the paper took me to a run-down grey warehouse. Rust was running up each side of the exterior and the roof looks like it’s been dinged by a few trees falling over on it… or maybe even meteors.
Am I supposed to go inside of this shit hole?
The office door next to all the bays is cracked. I kick it open and look around. I hear a faint drip in the distance. It smells like an old moldy basement. The air is cold and damp, I know I’m not leaving there without a few mold spores making a home in my nostrils.
The concrete floor had puddles. Probably from the roof.
Hooks hung from the ceiling. It was dark, and I almost missed them, but their creaky metal chains gave them up before I laid eyes on them. The only light to speak of was from the tiny slits in the ceiling.
There seems to be a propeller type fan up above and it’s slowly rotating as the wind from the outside hits the rusty blades. The screech of its slow rotation is almost as torturous as nails on a chalkboard. “Are you here?” I ask, anger bearing down suddenly.
“You’ve been avoiding me..” Her voice vibrates against the walls. I still can’t tell where she’s at. That is, until a blast of light shines directly in my eyes, blinding me.
With my hand outstretched over my face, I scowl. “Cut the light down!” I demand.
“Watch who you’re talking to…” One of her goon’s voices booms. It echoes against the metal walls.
“I have a job for you to do,” she says, her heels clanking on the concrete floor, getting closer. I watch as her shadow appears in front of the light and her figure grows larger the closer she gets. It’s crazy how someone so old still manages to put on heels every day.
“I need you to infiltrate the Chicago family…”
I scoff. “Which one?”
Rumor has it, there’s been a slew of families taking over there.
“The only one that matters…”
“The Outfit?”
