Maid for the Italian Mafia

by Flora Ferrari

  “What the?” I ask into the air.

  “What’s that?”

  “Some asshole is trying to take our picture, but he can’t. I’ve got reflective transparent glass so he can’t see a thing. I don’t care what kind of polarizing filter he’s got on that lens. That camera’s not seeing through this glass. No one’s going to see what’s mine. Your body is for my eyes only.”

  I want to pull out a rocket launcher and shoot that fucker clean out of the sky, but I need to stay focused on what’s most important, and not let my anger get the best of me. Plus, how hot will it be knowing they’re trying to get a look at us, while we’re in here fucking like savages less than forty yards from them, and we can see them yet they can’t see a thing.”

  “My body is for your eyes only,” she states.

  “That’s right.”

  “Does that also mean…I’m for your eyes only?”

  “Of course. I don’t want other men looking at you.”

  I turn from the window to her and can clearly see that she’s processing something I’ve said, and it’s not good.

  “So they can’t see us?”

  “That’s right.”

  “You know what?”

  I just stay still, not knowing what’s bothering her and not able to figure it out either.

  “I really need to go.”

  “What the…”

  “Yeah, this was a bad idea.”

  “What are you talking about? This is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

  She slides out from underneath me and as much as I want to grab her and pin her to the mattress and take her right fucking now, I don’t stop her. Respect is a two way street, and I’m not about to take her hostage, if she doesn’t want to be here. I really, really, don’t like the fact of her wanting to suddenly leave, and I need to get to the bottom of what triggered this reaction, but first and foremost I need to respect her wishes.

  “What’s wrong, beautiful?”

  “Beautiful, huh?” she says as she hastily dresses. “If I was so beautiful then why did you bring me to this secret location with the windows that no one can see in? Huh? Because you didn’t want anyone to see me with you. That’s probably why you gave Gabriele the day off and also why your security detail was nowhere to be found this morning. Didn’t want them to see you slumming it with the likes of me, right? Oh, and you don’t have to answer, because I know I’m right.”

  I jump out of bed and grab her by the wrist. “You’re absolutely wrong and you’re head is twisting things that aren’t there. If you wanna go, let’s go together. Let’s go sit in a restaurant where those stupid paps are sure to see us and take thousands of pics of us…together.”

  “Feeling guilty, now? I don’t think so.”

  “Feeling guilty? The only thing I’m feeling right now is how much I want you, and not just now but forever.”

  “Is that what you tell all the girls you bring here to your secret lair? Let go of my arm.”

  “Please. Just sit down for a minute and let’s talk through—“

  “Let! Go! Of! My! Arm!”

  As much as it pains me, I do as she wishes. I know the agony is clearly written across my face, but apparently she’s not believing it. She saw and heard what she wanted to see and hear, even though it’s the furthest from the truth that could possibly be.

  She stares up at me like a cat ready to hiss, before her teeth grind against one another and she turns to go.

  And just like that she disappears from my place, and my life.

  But dammit if I’m letting her leave for good. This is only temporary, no matter what she thinks.

  I hurry to get dressed to make sure she doesn’t do anything careless. I don’t want her to get hurt. I just need her to settle down so we can talk.

  Clearly there’s been a huge misunderstanding and I can make this right again…at least that’s what I’m telling myself, and will continue to say under my breath…until I start to believe it.

  CHAPTER 10

  Mandy

  The elevator which seemed so fast going up, seems slow as molasses going down.

  The second it opens I’m grabbing the doors, trying to will them open faster and faster as I dash toward the front exit. The second my feet hit the pavement, I swear I’ve never run so fast in my entire life.

  There’s a part of me that says maybe I’m overreacting, but it’s a small part…very small, and it’s being completely overridden by the panic and anxiety that are rearing their ugly heads right now.

  I make it three blocks before I’m winded, not to mention I live eons away from here. I’m not privileged, and the privileged life clearly isn’t for me. I’m just not cut out for it. Never was, never will be.

  I frantically tap my phone’s Uber app and wait for what seems like an hour, but in reality is only thirty seconds. As my butt finds the seat and the car pulls away from the curb, I feel a bit better already, but still a long, long way from good.

  Matteo knew I was a virgin and I told him that was my first orgasm. It’s not like me to have friends that I can share things with, at least after what happened to me on the final day of my senior year. I just don’t trust easily. In some ways I never have and now it’s even worse. I’m just not used to opening up to someone, anyone, and making myself vulnerable in front of them like I have, and just did again, with Matteo.

  He knows I’m a virgin. He knows I’m the kind of person who gets lost in my mind, which is why I prefer reading pages to people, although I feel like I can read people pretty well too. It’s a trait you develop when you’re the shy, overweight girl that doesn’t attract a lot of friends or attention from anyone.

  And apparently Matteo doesn’t want any attention when we’re together either, or else why would he have gone to such measures to make sure he wasn’t seen with me, let alone being with me?

  I try a three breath break, which I read on the Internet is a good way to manage stressful situations. It’s simply…three deep breaths and exhales, and I try and remind myself that Matteo Milano is not Jaxon Malone.

  “What a dick,” I blurt out, reliving that terrible experience.

  “Yeah, that dude making a left hand turn from the right lane really needs to get his head examined.”

  It takes me a second to process, but then a giggle escapes me.

  “Or were you talking about my driving?” my Uber driver says.

  I pull up the app and see his name is Karen.

  “No it wasn’t you, Karen. Am I saying that right?”

  “Yeah, it’s a man’s name where I come from, although I know that’s not often the case here.”

  “Where are you from?”

  “Warsaw, Poland. Home of Frédéric Chopin. Have you heard of him?”

  “Heard of him? I listen to his music quite frequently.”

  I look in the rear view mirror and see Karen’s eyebrows raise as his smile turns upside down, but not into a scowl. “Huh. That’s strange to hear from someone your age these days. I thought you kids were all visual, with Instagram and stuff, and not so focused on stopping to listen to amazing things…no offense to Lil Wayne or Taylor Swift.”

  “You listen to…?” I’m surprised as Karen looks to be quite old.

  “Gotta adapt and stay up with the times, right?”

  It takes me a minute to reply, but I do, and in the affirmative.

  I feel like Karen picked me up for a reason, as corny as that sounds. He’s like the wise old voice of reason, a mentor, even though we just met and have barely spoke.

  But he’s absolutely right. I do need to adapt and stay with the times. I’m still living in the past, on my final day of high school.

  I lean back in my seat and stare out the window as the memories come rushing back.

  Jaxon Malone. Even his name was cool, and was he ever…until what he did.

  I’d tutored him during the first semester of senior year, mostly because Engl
ish class came naturally to me, and I felt a great sense of purpose knowing the whole school wanted Jaxon to get a passing grade so he could remain on the football team. As the star quarterback, and one that was being highly recruited to the top schools, I knew what I was doing was very important to a lot of people, and that made me feel more important than I ever had.

  Well, Jaxon managed to get a B, which was a miracle considering where we started, and I even wound up helping him with History too, where he pulled another B. Not bad for a guy who was in serious danger of flunking both classes, and watching his dreams of a career as a college football player, and possibly pro, evaporate over a couple of senior year classes.

  But, as it turned out I was the one who wanted to evaporate, vanish into thin air, after what he did to me.

  It was the final day of school, and Jaxon approached me and gave me a very heartfelt thank you for what I’d done for him. He’d signed with the number one college team in the country and the coach was already saying that Jaxon would come right in and start as a freshman, the first time that had happened in the school’s history…and they’d been a football powerhouse for over seventy years. Impressive to say the least.

  But what impressed me more than anything is when he took his letterman jacket off and told me he wanted me to wear it the rest of the day, because “without you, none of this would have been possible.”

  I can still feel my body being overtaken by goosebumps as he slid his jacket on me and gave me a kiss on the cheek.

  For the rest of the day I did everything I could to be seen. It was the first time in my life I’d made an effort to actually draw attention to myself. Heck, I even leaned forward in all my classes so people could see that I had on Jaxon Malone’s letterman jacket.

  My mind raced with thoughts that maybe, just maybe, he felt something more. But I did a good job at keeping those thoughts at bay and just thought the cocky football star had found a soft spot on the final day of school, and was finally giving me my recognition…not that I ever wanted or needed that, and certainly didn’t ask for it, but boy was it sure nice.

  People were patting me on the back, left and right all day. Guys and girls were smiling at me everywhere I went, and I soaked it all in, basking in my glory…until final period.

  Suddenly the sound of squealing pigs filled the hallways and I knew this must be the senior prank that everyone was expecting. We didn’t know who would do it and when, but we knew somebody would do something. The boys were always plotting and scheming things all year long, trying to make the teachers’ lives hell on a daily basis.

  The class stepped outside and watched as the other teachers tried to catch each pig. They were numbered from one to ten and slowly but surely the teachers were able to get them all corralled to the cheers of the students.

  At least I thought they got them all corralled.

  “We’re still looking for number three,” a few instructors said.

  “Where in the world could it be,” my Calculus teacher said.

  “The other nine weren’t this difficult.”

  Finally there was an announcement on the loudspeaker that we needed to find little piggy number three, and that everyone should help. The students all agreed, as no one wanted an animal’s health to be in jeopardy or anything like that. The prank had worked, was funny, and now it was time to wrap it up. And wrap up, is exactly what the principal did, as in locking down the school until we found the final lose hog.

  “No way,” someone said.

  “That’s cold blooded.”

  “So cruel,” another voice said.

  A few of the cheerleaders started laughing hysterically, pointing in my direction and I turned to see if someone had caught, or heaven forbid, harmed the pig. Laughter erupted and before I knew what was happening I felt the hands of my math teacher on my back.

  “Can I please borrow this?” he asked.

  “No! This is mine to wear for the day,” I protested and slid from his grasp, which only caused the laughter to flow like fresh rainwater down the side of a Colorado mountainside.

  “Please, Mandy,” Mr. Johnson said, his lips pursed as he looked at the back of the jacket.

  “No!” I continued.

  Mr. Johnson pulled out his phone and said something into it, and quickly the principal’s voice came over the loudspeaker. “Jaxson Malone report to the principal’s office.” Then there was a pause. “No one will be allowed to leave the building until Jaxon Malone comes to the principal’s office.” Another pause. “Now Jaxon!”

  Why did they want Jaxon?

  Why did Mr. Johnson want my jacket?

  “Please, Mandy. Just let me take it off your back.”

  Strange words that didn’t make sense.

  I took a few steps away from my teacher and slowly slid the jacket off, watching the students pointing and one voice stood out from the others. “She doesn’t even know what’s on the back.”

  In my hands I flipped the jacket over and it only then occurred to me that Jaxon’s “lucky” number three was the number on my back…and the number of the missing pig.

  And the big bear logo that represented our school? It had been covered up by a crude felt cutout of a pig!

  I tossed the jacket to the ground and stormed off.

  I swear I was going to punch through the glass when I reached the front of the building. Even the students that were laughing at me, which was damn near all of them, cleared a path as I bulldozed my way to the exit.

  Luckily for everyone, just as I arrived the final bell sounded and the doors sprung open.

  The last thing I remember was seeing Jaxon out of the corner of my eye. He was laughing and the principal literally had him by the back of his collar, but at Jaxon’s six foot five size and nearly two hundred pounds of muscle, the principal was no match.

  The entire offensive of the football team was there pointing, hooting and hollering, and of course…oinking.

  That was the last I ever saw any of them, even forgoing the graduation ceremony which I’d looked forward to so much. I’m not gonna lie, it was my “fuck you” to whoever my parents were. I was determined to show them, even though I didn’t know a thing about them or their circumstances, that I didn’t need them, or anyone. I graduated on my own. I’d made it.

  But I never got that moment, because of that moment the last day of school.

  A tear pricks my eye, but I straighten my back. Fuck, those people who laughed at me.

  “We’re here,” Karen says, his voice bringing me back to the present.

  “Thank you,” I say. “For getting me here safely.” I’m not sure why I said that, but I guess it’s because the world’s not exactly a safe place anymore, and it restores my faith in humanity that a stranger, who I just met via an app, can let you in their car and drive you to your location safe and sound.

  Then again, maybe my faith in humanity hasn’t quite been fully restored…at least not after the way I reacted to Matteo.

  “Whatever it was, it too shall pass,” Karen says. “A nice, young lady like yourself has her whole life in front of her. Don’t dwell on whatever just happened. Embrace all the beauty of the world that awaits you.”

  Taxi driver slash mind reader. “Thank you,” I say.

  Karen’s hand extends to the back seat and I go to dig in my pocket for money before I blurt out, “I can just pay with the app. I’m so forgetful.”

  “We all need a hand sometimes, that’s all. It’s not about money. This one’s on me.”

  I finally get it, and extend my hand to his. His grip is just firm enough without being overpowering. His hand is warm and welcoming, and this moment with a “stranger” is exactly what I needed.

  “Now you run along and have a wonderful day, you hear?” he asks.

  “I will,” I say. “Thanks to you.”

  As I step out of the car I stop and watch him pull away, seeing his hand waive as I look down the block through his back window.

  The Uber app is
still pulled up and I tip him fifty bucks, which is a lot of money to me, and quickly leave him a perfect rating, before I trek up to my ground floor studio, if you can technically call it that. It’s actually a one-car garage that was turned into a small apartment so the guy who lives here could profit as much as humanly possible. No wonder he drives the latest Maserati, yet seems to be missing out.

  It’s not about the possessions, it’s about the connections.

  And I had a real one with Matteo, only for my past experience to bubble up and make me freak out for no reason.