Page 27 of Mob Princess

A statement my mother had always made whenever we sat down to have lunch together.

“Bonnie? I have the grocery list for you!”

I picked up the piece of paper from the kitchen counter and walked down the hallway.

“I’m not sure what kind of tomatoes you got the last time you shopped, but they were amazing. Let’s get more of those, yeah?”

But I wasn’t greeted with the sound of her voice as I walked up the stairs.

“Bonnie?” I asked.

I saw our bedroom door hanging wide open. But I didn’t see her inside.

“Bonnie?” I asked again.

The kitchen list fell from my hand as I rushed down the hallway. I stormed into the room and found her closet door hanging open. The drawers of my dresser were pulled out. My clothes tossed about. There were socks on the floor and blouses on the bed, and high heels were strewn about.

“Bonnie!” I exclaimed.

She left. You know damn good and well, she left.

“Fucking woman.” What was I going to do to her?

I marched out of the bedroom and leaped over the edge of the staircase. I planted my feet firmly onto the ground before I rolled my entire back upright. With a sobering breath, I walked to get my coat. I slid my wallet and my keys into my pockets, then hailed the elevator. The mere fact the guards downstairs hadn’t caught her leaving told me I needed to hire new fucking guards.

After I found her, of course.

“Sir, is something—”

I put my hand in the guard’s face. “I’ll talk to you later. Right now, I need my car. Now.”

“Of course, sir. Right away.”

I charged out of the lobby and saw my blacked-out town car pull up. I slid into the back and closed the door, shooing the guards away who followed me. They were useless, anyway, if they couldn't even keep an eye on my damn elevator to see who was coming and going.

“Where to?” my driver asked.

Where in the world would she go? “The closest grocery store, please,” I said, hoping it would be that easy.

I knew she wouldn't be there, but it gave me time to think. And as I concocted a plan of my own, I pulled out my phone. I crafted a text message to Bonnie, consisting of the items on the grocery list I could recall in my muted anger.

Because the only advantage I had at the moment was that she didn’t know I knew she was gone.

Me: Grocery list: eggs, olive oil, those tomatoes you bought last time (double), three red and three white wines, cereal, a gallon of milk (not whole), and sausage.

“We’re here, sir,” my driver said.

I looked up at the sign for the grocery store and grinned.

Me: Go to that corner store that isn’t too far away from our place. The, uh… Store Shack? Or something? That’s where I got the wine from last time. Great place.

After sending those messages off, I sat waiting for my plan to take hold.

I kept my eyes on the parking lot, waiting for her to show up. Time passed slowly, though. Thirty minutes seemed like two hours. An hour and a half later, I was shocked when I saw a yellow cab pulling in, and then she stepped out

“What the…?” I squinted to make sure it was her, but I knew that cadence. I knew that walk anywhere, despite the jeans and the sunglasses and the weird wrap on her head. What in the hell was she doing? It didn’t matter, though. None of it did.

“Wait here for me,” I told the driver.

---