Page 67 of Glamour and Grit

“Ah, what the Hell? Nunzio, take her to see Justin. Then give our ringer a call and see what his hold up is. I knew I shouldn't have paid him in advance. Fucking cokehead.”

I’m led to the yacht’s upper deck, and ushered into an elegantly appointed room with wooden floors polished to a sheen. An impressionist painting of a fisherman hangs on the wall. It could be a suite in a five-star hotel anywhere in the world.

“Justin?” I call out.

A moment later, Justin appears in the doorway to the adjacent room. His eyes widen, and then he enters the suite’s main room, carefully closing the door behind him.

“Oh, thank God you’re alright.”

I run to him and we embrace. He hugs me back, but awkwardly. His whole body is stiff. I chalk it up to him being scared that the Morenos have caught me, too.

“Hey, Sis, how are you holding up?”

“I’ve had better days. Damn it, Justin, did you have to get yourself involved with mobsters?”

He doesn’t reply, other than to look even more guilty. I assess his condition. Justin doesn’t appear to be injured. In fact, he looks to be in great shape. Then I notice his brand new, tailored Italian suit, and matching leather loafers.

“Why are you dressed like Moreno’s mini-me?” I ask, suspicion creeping into my tone.

“Ah, well, it’s complicated, Selene.” He sighs. “You’ve got to understand the situation I’m in.”

I cover my face with my hands.

“You’re not Moreno’s prisoner. You’re working with him.”

“I’m not working with him,” he says quickly. “Nobody works ‘with’ Moreno. You work for him, or you get a bullet in the back of your head. That’s the way it goes.”

I heave a long sigh and peer out between my splayed fingers. Justin looks more stubborn than guilty now. Like he’s in full justification mode. I’ve seen this before way too many times.

“Why are you doing this? You know he’s just going to throw you away when he’s done with you. And me too, for that matter.”

I shove him hard on the shoulder. He takes a step back.

“You can fuck up your own life all you want, but you have no right to mess mine up, too.”

Justin scowls, a line forming between his eyebrows.

“Hey, you’re wrong. After you do this job, I’m going to be a Made Man.”

“You’re not Italian, Justin.”

“You don’t gotta be anymore. It’s the new era. Hell, I heard one of the capo’s sons is openly gay. The mafia relies on fresh recruits like any other organization. The new generation aren’t quite as stuffy or traditionalist.”

“Great, so now the woke mob is a thing,” I groan. “You put my life in danger, Justin. And for what? Fancy suits? Cuban cigars?”

“I’m tired of being a loser, Selene. I wanna be a winner. And the only way to be a winner is to pick the winning team.” He sighs. “I’mreally sorry about this, Selene, but in the end it’s going to be a boon for you, too. Not only will you get a sweet payday, like way more than you’d make in five years of working on that show, but you’ll have one of the most powerful men in LA owing you a favor.”

“I don’t want to get even more twisted up with Moreno. I’m not like you.”

Justin rolls his eyes.

“Here we go again. You always did think you were better than me. Always talking down to me, acting like you knew better.”

“Justin, I was looking out for you, not talking down to you. There’s a huge difference.”

“Not from where I’m sitting, there’s not. Just do what Moreno wants and we’ll all go home happy, all right?”

“No, it’s not all right. I don’t want to break the law, or help a guilty man go free. I don’t care how much money he’s paying me, or you for that matter.”

---