Page 371 of Sinfully Savage Mafia

Building big circles of friends means willingly putting trust in people, and I just don’t have that luxury.

When the door opens and people begin filing out of the plane, I expel a grateful sigh. I need to get my head screwed on straight, and getting out of this airport is step one. I sling my bag over my shoulder and turn to Dottie and give her a cheerful wave. “So great talking to you,” I gush. “Have a great time with your?—”

Then she grabs my arm and links it with hers, tugging at me as I try to walk up the aisle. “It was so rude of me to not even ask your name, dear!”

My lips stretch into a tight line. “It’s Anya,” I say.

“Anya! What a beautiful name! Just like you,” she says, patting my arm. “Now, Anya, I would be so appreciative if you could help me carry my things to the baggage claim area. I’m afraid if I have to lug them myself, my friends will leave me here!” She chuckles. “I move so slowly these days, you know, because I had a hip replacement not too long ago…”

Fuuuuck.

How can I leave her now?

I grit my teeth and hoist her bags over my free shoulder as she yammers on about her bionic hip.

Eh. This won’t set me back too much and hey, I need all the good karma I can get, especially with this new job hanging in the balance.

Speaking of which…I really need to binge watch someYouTubevideos before I head over to the interview.

I’ve given good performances before, but this one will have to be the best one of my career if I can pull it off.

Dottie clings to me like Saran Wrap as I guide her through the throngs of people in the terminal. We sidestep men, women, wheelchairs, wayward kids, and rows of slot machines. That’s when I almost lose Dottie…and my mind.

I can tune out her nasally voice, but I refuse to chase her around the slots like a kid let loose in a goddamn candy store.

So I firmly place a hand over hers, keeping it stuck to my arm as we wind our way around the airport toward the luggage carousels.

I search the origin points for JFK International Airport. “There it is!” I exclaim. Carousel 3. And as luck would have it, the bags are already circling. Dottie reallyisa pretty slow walker.

Now is my chance to make a break for it.

“Dottie!” Another woman calls out from a neighboring carousel. I turn around to see another Estelle Getty lookalike waving her hands over head.

“Bette!” Dottie says in an excited voice. “Anya, look, it’s my dear friend, Bette!”

I smile and walk Dottie over to her friend. “It was such a pleasure to meet you. Best of luck for a fun weekend!” I say with a bright smile, backing away.

Thankfully, Dottie and Bette are already talking and laughing like I’ve disappeared into thin air, which is exactly what I’m about to do.

I swivel around and dash out of the first door I can find, a blast of dry heat pummeling me like a huge hair dryer that opened fire on humanity.

Holy shit.

My skin almost instantly pebbles with perspiration, making my clothes stick to me like I’ve just been dunked in a vat of water. I fan myself as I drag my carry-on behind me in search of a taxi stand.

I didn’t have a chance to schedule an Uber because I had Dottie to contend with, and if I need to wait out here for a second longer than necessary, I’m afraid I might just evaporate. I pick up the pace, ready to cross over to the other side of the street outside of the Arrivals gate when a cherry red Ferrari Testarosa squeals to a stop in front of me as I start to cross the street and I yelp, jumping backward.

“What the fuck, you lunatic?” I yell, flipping off the driver whom I can’t really see through the shaded windshield. “You almost hit me!”

The door opens and my spine stiffens as one long leg climbs out of the driver’s seat, followed by another.

My breath hitches when I see one of the most gorgeous men in my entire life smirk at me. Oh, sweet Jesus.

It’s Gio.

How thefuck?

And why? Here, now?!

---