I turned around to see Francesca stepping out of a black Hummer Limousine, the driver holding her door open. Three men walked out of the building from behind us to pick up multiple luxury shopping bags from the car.
Although the sun was hiding behind grey clouds, a large pair of Dolce & Gabbana sunglasses protected Francesca’s face from New York’s peasants, matching her2000s heels and brown fur coat. Her platinum hair glistened and bounced as she made her way over to us, her signature red lip the cherry on top.
“Thanks for waiting. Traffic was crazy.”
“Wasting more money?” The man next to me spoke up.
“We all have our addictions.” Francesca narrowed her eyes as he brought a cigarette I hadn’t even noticed he was holding to his lips. “Maria, meet my little baby brother, Tony.”
I mentally chuckled; the man was anythingbutlittle. And considering Francesca was twenty, he couldn’t be that much younger.
I might have not known his face, but his name brought instant recognition.
Antonio DeMone, known as ‘K.O. Tony’, was the youngest child of Enzo and Silvia DeMone, and the official pain in the ass of the Cosa Nostra, with the biggest playboy reputation from Vegas to Miami.
Despite being right-handed but able to knock anybody out with just a left hook, nobody or nothing could knockhimout.
Not a single professional fighter, which he sometimes only fought for fun or others’ entertainment. Not even the strongest alcohol or purest drugs imported from Eastern Europe and Latin America – hence the nickname ‘K.O.’.
Tony was known for being an extremist. Everything he did, he did to the fullest. It didn’t help that what he did most was women and cocaine.
One could only imagine the lengths he went to when a problem arose concerning the family business. Horror stories circulated the streets about what he did to those who fucked with the New York Mafia – not only his father’s, but any of the five families.
He was insanely reckless, which only meant there were no rules he wouldn’t break, boundaries he wouldn’t cross, or limits he wouldn’t exceed.
“Tony, this is Maria Pérez, the…” She struggled to find the right term. Hit-woman? Assassin? Cold-blooded murderer? “Contractor.”
Guess that was a nice way of putting it.
Tony turned to me, giving another repulsed one-over. I noticed the dark circles under his eyes from busy days and sleepless nights. He blew smoke in my face. “Only thing she’s killing is my fucking nostrils.”
I sighed and looked back at Francesca. “I need to use your shower. And borrow some clothes.”
“What are you waiting for? I just bought like thirty new outfits. We’re exactly the same size,” She said as we entered the building, making our way to the elevators.
“Can I stay with you for a while?” I forced myself to swallow my pride. I never asked for favors but we were friends and I was desperate.
“I already told them to get one of the apartments ready after our phone call. You’re now the official proud tenant of 52B.”
“Fuck. You went rogue?”
“It was time.” I didn’t want to lie to Francesca, especially since she was helping me so much, but I couldn’t explain what happened when I didn’t even know myself. “I just need some time to lay low and get on my feet.”
I walked across Francesca’s master bedroom in a towel and grabbed the burger she ordered through room servicewhile I was using her bathroom. While I now had keys to apartment 52B, it was empty.
“You look so much better,” She said, flipping through this month’s fashion magazines. “I didn’t want to say anything earlier but you looked fucked-up.”
“Bitch, I almost died.” A laugh bubbled out of me, making Francesca laugh in return.
Half an hour later, although my body was numb with exhaustion, I was getting ready to go back out on the streets of New York.
“I need to see an old friend… Natalia Moretti,” I told Francesca. “I’ll be back in a few hours.”
She raised a brow from where she was lounging on her huge bed. “Moretti?”
“I know what you’re thinking, but no. It’s just a coincidence.”
Moretti also happened to be the name of one of the five New York Mafia Families. Pure coincidence.