Mobster's Angel (Mobster Series)

by Rachiele, Amy

  I close my eyes and listen to the Brit chick rummage around the room for her tattoo shit. “Pull your pants down,” she orders and my eyes snap open at her request. Shit! I unsnap the button on my jeans and unzip them. Then I lift my ass in the air to lower my pants.

  “Underwear too,” she says, hovering over me with a shiny piece of paper with my tattoo on it. Double shit! I didn’t think this through. She reads my face and laughs. “Here.” She places a white small sheet over me. I lift my ass again and take down my drawers. She flips back a corner of the sheet where my tat is going and puts the stencil on the spot. The stencil is cool against my skin. A click and I hear a whirring begin. It almost sounds like being at the dentist. “This may hurt a little bit.” The needle goes in. I shut my eyes and let her do her job.

  In a half an hour, I have a swirled E on my hipbone. The flesh is red and raw, but the letter is cool. I wasn’t too sure how I would feel. I like it. Hurts like hell, but I like it.

  Chapter 3

  Erin

  Lather.

  Rinse

  Repeat.

  That’s how I feel. It’s a monotonous routine, keeping up appearances, and Saturday night comes all too quickly. After Clarissa suggesting I see a therapist the other day, I need to step up my game this evening.

  I stand in front of my closet that is jam packed with beautiful, high-end clothes. I’m stuck. I don’t know what to put on for the club tonight. It’s exhausting making decisions, especially when they’re not the decisions you’d like to be making. I push a couple of hangers aside when my computer pings with an email. I take a break from figuring out what to wear and shake the computer mouse to wake up the screen.

  Oneill@gmail.com

  It’s from my mother. A perplexing knot forms between my brows and I sit down at the computer, intrigued. Why is she emailing me?

  FORWARD:

  Subject: Academic Opportunity, H.S. + Program

  NJU is offering precollege programs for talented high school students. Experience the excitement of college life, take college courses, receive high school credits and complete required general education courses.

  Offered courses:

  • English Composition

  • Physical Science

  • Math

  • Humanities

  This accelerated program is a pilot program and will only be offered to a limited number of students, freshman to senior, across the state.

  Appropriate good standing at your high school and exemplary GPA are required. If you are interested in this opportunity, please complete the required forms by July 10th for the Fall semester and submit to your district Superintendent.

  Sincerely,

  Jason Howard, President

  New Jersey University College Road

  Vicks, NJ

  Education is Excellence

  ATTACHMENT:

  Application_1.doc

  Hmmm. I guess this is my mother’s subtle way of saying she wants me to come home.

  Knock...Knock.

  “How’s it going in there?” Joey asks through the door. “Don’t get like Clarissa!” he jokes. “Or the two of you will never leave the dorm!”

  I hear Clarissa whisper to him, and I suspect it’s about me and my mental state.

  “I’m fine!” I yell back and close my email window. “I just have too many clothes to pick from!”

  There is whispering again. I don’t want them conspiring or worrying about me. I reach for the door handle and fling the door open fast.

  “I have superhuman hearing you know. I’m. Fine.” I say quickly. Joey and Clarissa are standing there, shame-faced.

  “Oh please! These doors are paper thin. A ninety year-old without their hearing aids could hear through this door,” Clarissa says with a sarcastic grin recovering quickly from my confrontation.

  “I. Am. Fine. Help me pick something to wear!”

  “Geesh, don’t get all huffy.” Clarissa prances into my room and over to my closet.

  “Don’t take all night,” Joey says and walks away to wait for us in the living room.

  *****

  California weather is always comfortable to me. Being from the Northeast, I’m used to quick weather changes and needing a coat in the spring. We finally settled on a dress of all things, clingy material with a halter-top. Clarissa and I don’t carry pocketbooks because we like to dance and Joey won’t hold them for us: he’s accommodating, but he draws the line at purses.

  The club isn’t too far away; it’s only about a twenty minutes drive. This is the closest club to the school. Any other one, and we would’ve had to drive for at least an hour. Clarissa and I always get in because Joey uses his “charm.” Occasionally, we run into other students from our school who have fake ID’s. Clarissa and I look fairly young, though. We could pass for eighteen, but twenty-one? I don’t think the bouncer would fall for it. Joey isn’t quite there yet either, but he knows how to grease the system.

  Even with the car windows up, you can feel the vibration of the club’s music thumping. Joey swings into a snug spot near the entrance. A long line of people are huddled along the sidewalk waiting under the glow of street lights to be let in.

  “Here we are! Who’s ready to dance?” Clarissa sing-songs.

  Inside, it’s wall-to-wall bodies and that makes me nervous. I think it stems back to my recent trust issues. Crowds don’t generally bother me too much, but tonight seems exceptionally packed.

  Clarissa does her trade-mark bounce to the bar. She orders two bottled waters. Joey secures a stool over to the side where he can have the best view of the dance floor, tables, and exits. His view is going to be obscured by all these people here tonight. If I wasn’t wearing these spike heels, I would be blind in here.

  Clarissa hands me one of the bottles, and we work our way over to Joey. The crowd thickens as we move, and we have to slip our bodies between groups of people. A girl from our school tugs on Clarissa’s shirt to say hi. Clarissa gives a wave, and we continue on.

  From this distance, I can see that Joey is on his phone. How he can possibly hear anything in this place is beyond me. The music thumps, blasting out all of our eardrums. The dance floor has grown bigger due to the amount of bodies. People are dancing in the walkways and by the bar. I’ve never seen it like this.

  As we finally approach him, Joey motions for us to go dance and he mouths have fun. He must be doing some mob business. We plop our water bottles in front of him and take off into the jungle of dancing bodies. Clarissa leads us right to the middle. It’s a little bit of a fight, but we get there.

  I let go. I allow my body to move with the music. Clarissa takes my hand and we jump and shout to each song. We get silly, hyped up on the atmosphere of the club. Our favorites are played one after the other. I’m laughing my head off. A few times a couple of guys try to dance with us, but we are just too wild and they nonchalantly scamper away.

  Something hits my back. An elbow, I think. I go to turn, and an entire herd of bodies collides with me. Even over the loud music, screams, yells, and curses echo and bounce off the walls. I lose my balance and topple over, landing on the people behind me. Body heat, sweat, and anger boil around me as I flail on the floor like others trying to get up. The mob, not like the one my father belongs to, but rather a reckless, panicked riot, presses forward.

  Clarissa shouts to me, and I see her reaching for me over the throng of people. Her face is panicked. I’m being stepped on. The pain of shoes imprinting their marks on my legs increases my terror. Someone’s boot crushes my hand, and I shriek in pain. A pointy dress shoe kicks me in my rib cage. Someone’s knee crashes into my head. I’m stunned. I roll over and try to push myself up, but I can’t get my footing. As soon as I try, someone pushes me down. It’s tough to breathe. I’m being crushed.

  Clarissa is wedged in the crowd, unable to get to me. I can see her from my horrifying position on the floor, but there seem to be miles between us. We stare at each other, deathly afraid.


  My hand goes to my head because it throbs. My legs are twisted beneath me. Another person falls and lands on my back. I yelp in pain and feel my back bend awkwardly. After all I have been through and endured, I’m going to be a nightclub statistic. Joey’s training didn’t prepare me for this: getting trampled wasn’t in the curriculum.

  Clarissa’s face changes. She looks oddly happy. Two hands wrap around my waist, and I am hoisted up. The crowd moves, and I am pushed to the exit. People move aside for my captor.

  “Don’t worry Erin, I’m going to get you out of here.” A voice travels to my ear.

  Brice! What is he doing here?

  For the century I was on the floor, it is only seconds before I’m outside in the night air. My breath rattles in my chest, not sure if it wants in or out. I pant uncontrollably. Brice sets me down, but doesn’t let me go. He forcibly puts me into a car. I clip the top of my head on the door jam, but he doesn’t apologize. I begin to worry.

  I lift my head. I’m in Brice’s limousine. As it hastily zooms away from the club, I’m thrown against the back seat. Brice sits across from me.

  “What about Clarissa?!” I choke out, fear and panic still rampant through my veins.

  “Joey will get to her,” he says with no emotion. His face changes, he grins and his eyes darken.

  “You’re a hard woman to get alone,” he offers and trails his eyes down to my lap.

  I glance down and my dress is wrapped high and tight around my thighs, almost to my hips. My legs are covered in smudges, scuffs, and darkening bruises. I shift quickly and pull the dress down as far as it will go to cover myself.

  This is wrong! My conscience screeches painfully in the back of my skull. Something is off! My mind tells me.

  “Would you care for a drink?” he asks, with fake cordiality.

  He holds up a cut crystal glass with a dark liquid sloshing inside. “You must be thirsty after that mess.”

  An unsecured drink! Don’t touch it! Now Vito is in my head.

  “No, thank you,” I say on the edge of my breath. “Please take me back. I want to see Clarissa and Joey.”

  “Come on, have a drink,” Brice encourages.

  “No, thank you,” I repeat. I look out the window; we’re headed to the highway. “I really need to get back to the club.”

  “Erin, things will go much more smoothly and be more enjoyable if you just cooperate.” He’s oddly disappointed.

  “I’m not sure what you mean, but I’d like you to take me back to the club.”

  Brice’s face is mysteriously stony and hard. I do a self-check. I have nothing with me to check. No phone to call for help and no key to the apartment to shove in his eye, just plain old me.

  He smoothly transfers to my seat. He is very close, brushing his leg with my bare one. He offers the glass to me again.

  “Really, Erin, you look overwrought. Have this to calm you down.” Brice thrusts the glass under my nose. I push him away. He grabs me by the back of the head and pushes my face into the glass. I struggle against his strength.

  “No!” I shriek. “Get that away from me!” I raise my arm quickly, using its force and hit him under the chin. The blow jostles the glass, spilling half of the drink onto the pristine carpet. His face flames with anger.

  “You’re a fiery little thing, aren’t you?” he remarks.

  Brice lunges at me on the bench seat. He tries to pin me while still holding the damn glass. I wiggle away and bang on the darkened window between us and the driver with the back of my fist.

  “Help!” Bang. Bang. Bang. “Hello! Help!” I’m up on one knee, with my back to Brice. A cool hand brushes the back of my thigh and travels up my skirt. I spin. Bastard!

  “Don’t bother, Erin, he is well paid,” Brice says in a bored tone, resting back on the seat after our scuffle. “You’re making this really difficult. I have to say I wouldn’t have thought you had it in you.” I glare at him and his words register as ugly pinpricks under my bruised skin.

  A phone buzzes in his pocket. He pulls it out. He reads the screen with a mocking smile.

  “Oh, look. It’s Joey. I bet he’s going berzerk looking for you.”

  I move sharply, trying to grab the phone in the confined space of the backseat of the limo. He rips it away fast. I react. I surprise Brice by giving him an uppercut to the jaw.

  “Holy! Mother Fucker!” Brice wails as he writhes in pain. “You bitch!” The glass and phone drop to the floor. More liquid soaks into the carpet. I snatch the phone from the puddle.

  I steady it in my hand and try to get to missed calls. I almost had it. Just as I go to hit JOEY, Brice tears it away.

  In a furious rage, Brice grabs a small plastic package from under the seat. Pills? He tears it open. He grasps one between his fingers. I see where this is going and snatch the glass up off the floor. Quickly, he springs and tries to stick the pill in my mouth. I turn away, using my arms to keep him at bay. His anger makes him stronger and he tries to immobilize me. My only thought is get out of this car.

  I hit him again, exactly the way Joey showed me, except with the glass in hand. Glass shatters everywhere. He is reeling. I smash him again with my bare hand, right in the jaw. My knuckles sting and tears trail down my face. Brice tries to lift his body, but he slumps back down onto the leather seat.

  Self-preservation rules me. I riffle through the seat pockets and little cabinets as fast as I can. I find a black umbrella with a pointed end. Good weapon. I press buttons and turn knobs. A little compartment flips open and it’s the controls for the radio, T.V., and – finally - the window. I press the lever that says “down.” Slowly, the glass lowers, revealing the back of the driver’s head. He sees me in the rearview mirror. I catch his eyes. I lift the umbrella high pointed directly at the spot between the spinal cord and head.

  “Stop this car right now! Or I’m going to jam this umbrella through the back of your fuckin’ skull!” I say with a sheer menace and command that astonishes even me. His eyes widen in the mirror, and I feel the vehicle begin to slow. For some weird reason, I don’t feel fear.

  I lean down and almost brush my lips to Brice’s ear as I say malevolently, “Don’t ever come near me again… Next time, it won’t end this nicely.”

  I brace myself and cock my leg back. With all my might, I knee him in the crotch.

  “Oaf!” escapes his lips as his limp body jumps with the force of the blow.

  I don’t take my eyes off him as I reach behind me, open the door, and slip out onto the sidewalk. The limo peels away, leaving tread marks on the street. I look around, gauge where I am, and start walking.

  Vito

  I’m not sure why, but I go back to Baby Ticks on Friday. It’s something to do, even if just to let off some steam. I jog down the dingy steps to the basement. I’m early. The room hasn’t filled up with beer-bellied bodies yet.

  I see Ty immediately. He slaps my shoulder in greeting.

  “Dude! You’re back! Cool,” he says.

  “Yeah. I needed it,” I tell him.

  “I hear Jacko’s coming in tonight too. Huh,” he chuckles. “I’m surprised after you embarrassed the shit out of him. It was so fuckin’ funny.”

  I shrug.

  “No, seriously, this guy thinks he’s the fuckin’ best in this hell hole. You’ve been out of it for awhile.” Ty motions to Ziggy, the bartender, and yells. “Get one over here for Vito!” A beer slides down the bar, and we stride over to it. Another beer is poured for Ty. He raises his glass to me. “To fuckin’ up losers,” he toasts. I tap my glass with his.

  “Yeah.” I agree. “Sometimes I like it way more than I should,” I murmur, more to myself than to Ty. We shoot the shit for a while until Baby comes around the corner from the back door, his fuckin’ cigar hanging out of his mouth. His eyes light up when he sees me leaning against the bar talking with Ty.

  I chug my third beer.

  “Hey, how’s Tonio? I never see him anymore,” Ty asks.

&nbs
p; “Getting married.”

  “I heard. That Irish chick. I hear her sister is pretty hot too. Nice tits and ass for her age,” he says casually.

  Bang.

  I smash my beer down on the bar. It breaks into thick curved pieces of broken glass. Ty jumps back from the splash of amber liquid that covers the bar and the floor. A couple of people regard us for a second before turning back to their conversations, uninterested.

  “Shit dude. You okay?” Ty asks.

  The tap of a finger on my shoulder makes me spin. Jacko leans in too close to my face.

  “You are fuckin’ going down. That was bullshit last week and it’s not gonna happen again. Watch out Rossi. I’m comin’ for ya.” He flicks his finger on my chest. He’s trying rile me. Maybe to start something right here. Little does he know that I’m already fucking riled.

  In one smooth motion, I swipe my leg out, catching both of his, and pull. He goes down like a fish, squirming to try to stop the fall. He hits the floor in a heap, but he jumps up quickly. His fists are tight, ready to strike me. Ty grabs Jacko from behind.

  “Bullshit!” Jacko screeches, high-pitched and angry. Ty keeps his hold on Jacko while he struggles. “Fuck you!” he spits at me in an intense fury.

  “Aw, you hurt my feelings.” I mock. “Get used to the floor asshole, cause that’s where your gonna be soon.”

  A few people shuffle away from our argument and continue their conversations at a safe distance. I brush off the confrontation. I walk away and through small crowd of people to Baby’s crates.

  “You in, tonight?” he asks gruffly.

  “Yeah. I want Jacko.”

  Baby huffs. I’m trying to determine if it’s him trying to laugh or if he’s pissed.

  “So?” I say after a long, bizarre pause.

  “No,” he says.

  “What the fuck?”

  “He’s all I got when you’re not here. Last week was bad for business. You ain’t coming around no more, so I need to spread it. You kill his spirit? I got no one. Follow me?”

  “What about Ty?” I ask.

  “He’s good, but he ain’t got no fire.” The mangled cigar swirls around in his mouth, distracting me. “I got some new kids coming in. You fight one of them.”