Page 46 of Dirty Mafia Torment
I roll my eyes.
My father states the obvious. “You parked your Ferrari in my driveway.”
I place the crystal glasses on a tray and carry it over. The room’s so quiet, you could hear a pin drop. I glance from my father to Emo, whose face is flushed with rage.
“You recognize my car?” Emo snarls.
Shit. Oh shit.
My father’s eyebrows pinch. “Well, yes? Your uncle showed me pictures of it, but we also saw it?—”
“I poured you a whiskey, too, Father.” I cut him off, handingeach mafioso a glass except for the man I shortchanged. “Oops,” I murmur. “Must have miscounted.”
No one’s listening to me.
Emo downs his whiskey, slams the glass onto the tray, and then snatches the glass from the man next to him and polishes it off, as well.
Then he strikes. “I’ve a question to ask, the same question I’ve asked numerous men ever since your last visit with my uncle. I can fucking smell a lie a mile away, so choose your answer carefully.”
“Okay…” my father warily replies.
“Do I look like a cunt stud to you?”
My father jerks like he’s trying to induce whiplash. “What?”
“Cunt. Stud,” Emo enunciates. “Don’t make me say it again.”
“Well … wah … shit … wado … you mean?”
“I want twenty grand for the damages.”
“Twenty grand?” Like flint to kindling, my father finds his voice. “For what damages?”
“To my car!” Emo roars. “In cash. Get it now, or you won’t live to see the wedding.”
No way will I be left alone with this madman and his men while my father leaves the room.
“Oh my God. Your language.” I drop the tray and cover my ears. “Vulgarity isn’t allowed in our house.”
Everyone stares daggers at me.
“I need a broom for the mess I’ve made,” I exclaim, then flee to the kitchen.
I hear my father loudly empathizing with the psycho. Sharing how his dear cherry red Mustang was recovered in the California desert with irreversible damages. How blood had ruined the custom leather backseat.
My father is the worm that survives a heat wave while lying on the California freeway. I wouldn’t be surprised if Emo leaves empty-handed.
And there was mention of the wedding. I won’t die today.
Act normal. Get through this visit. You can do it.
I enter the pantry off the kitchen to retrieve the broom. I’ve got the handle in hand when Emo fills the doorway, blocking out the light.
Stupid, stupid mistake.
I imagine him crawling out of the dark, wearing another man’s skin, just to see who breaks first. A chill settles over me.
“Found it,” I exclaim, holding the broom across my body like it’ll protect me.
