Page 22 of Once Upon A Christmas Kiss
I leave my brother’s house and return to the tomb, my apartment. I pick up my bags that I always have ready to move as soon as it’s ordered.
A few days later, I’m taking care of my last job. Although the contracts are done, I received a special request from the Boss to gather more information, and now I’m waiting for the action to start.
The night is cold and dark. It’s late, two in the morning. I’m on my stomach in the fields across from some warehouse, waiting, watching. I look through my night vision at the transaction with rival drug dealers infringing on the Boss’s territory.
I look at the fuckers, talking and exchanging the money and drugs. Each one has two men taking care of the exchange.
Okay, it’s time to take them out.
I look through my sniper rifle, inhaling, holding my breath, softly pressing the trigger. The bullets race across, taking out the men one after another, dropping them like flies.
Immediately, I push up, gather my equipment; I then run over to grab the guns, drugs, and money.
Fucking hell!
I take the bounty to my Capo, but I’m no fool. I keep the money and guns. I let them deal with the drugs as they please.
Yeah, the Boss gets his cut of the money.
I drive back to the cheap hotel to check out, moving across downtown Sacramento to grab another hotel room. It’s a higher-end hotel; the rooms are nicer. I drop my bag on the bed, walk over to the bar to grab the small bottle of tequila, twist the cap off, taking a long pull. I close my eyes, feeling the burn flow down my throat and a chill run up my back.
Fuck!
I needed the tequila to relieve the stress and the fucking demons that torment me. After every job, the demons ruthlessly flood my mind, burning my soul. I throw the small bottle at the wall, closing my eyes, grinding my molars, feeling the darkness enveloping my soul. I know that this is only going to get worse; I have no salvation, no mercy.
I walk to the bathroom, open the shower stall turning on the water. I undress, shoving my clothes to the side, take a step back, walk into the hot shower, rest my hands on the tiled wall, hanging my head.
A few minutes later, I grab my black wool coat from the chair and pull it on, walking out of my room and down the elevator hall. My objective is to find some food, tequila to unwind, to chase away the fucking darkness clinching my soul.
I don’t know why I’m still here instead of driving back home, but I feel this need to stay, release some stress, and fight my demons before spending time with Mamma. My life has been hell the last year, and I know it’s all on me.
I walk out of the hotel, pressing my shrouded leather shoes into the walkway, taking long strides looking at the restaurants. Although I see all types of restaurants and bar on this street, I’m surprised by the crowd of people out at this time of night walking down the sidewalk in and out of the establishments.
Okay, there’s a Mexican restaurant, and the smells are fucking enticing. I walk into El Patron, walking over to the bar. I order a cold Model and dinner plate of tacos. The Mexican music is loud, the people laughing and talking are mesmerizing, slowly lifting the darkness and lighting my mood.
I enjoy my meal; it’s fucking delicious, watching the lively crowd. But, yeah, it’s a little too loud for me; I need to get gone. I pay and push off the stool walking out of the restaurant. I look around, walking down the street.
Six
Antonella
Mamma and I have been visiting my Zia every month since Jacob is hardly ever home; he’s fucking busy and always stays at his MC’s clubhouse. So, we decided to spend Christmas with Zia, Sofia, and Bria in Sacramento.
We pack our bags, my beautiful baby girl, Nicoletta, is in the car seat, and I drive down Hwy 80 listening to Christmas music.
“Ella, you didn’t forget to pack up enough outfits for Nicoletta,” Mamma asks, looking over the seat at Nicoletta sleeping.
“Mamma, I brought plenty of outfits for her, don’t worry, besides we can always wash them, I’m sure Zia would be okay,” I say, turning up the song of Last Christmas by Wham.
It’s freaking apropos.
It was last Christmas since I saw Nicola, and I didn’t know if I should hate him for ghosting me. But deep in my heart, I don’t hate him; I never will. I know that he disappeared because of stupid Jacob. I can’t fucking believe he did that. So, the days passed, into weeks, too busy with the pregnancy and thinking that he would show up any day.
What the fuck!
Right.
Here I am, a year later and no Nicola.
