My Dirty Detour: An Alpha Male Mafia Comedy Romance

by Grace Risata

  “Why are you walking me out? I walked in on my own, and I think I can find my car again. The parking lot’s not that complicated.” Sometimes it’s a bit difficult to locate my car at the grocery store, but in my defense, that’s a way bigger parking lot.

  After he rolled his eyes at me, Rocky replied, “You clearly have no self-preservation skills, or you wouldn’t be here in the first place. Do you want Jerry jumping out from behind a parked car and seeing what else you might have to offer him besides a handshake? I don’t think so.” Shit. I guess I never thought of that.

  “Thanks,” I mumbled and hung my head down. I pressed the lock button as soon as I got behind the wheel and didn’t dare open the car windows. At least I survived day one. Little did I know, day two would be explosive.

  Tuesday

  I could tell that this “working two jobs” deal would get old after a while. After returning home from my normal nine-to-five job, I had to scarf down a quick dinner and get ready to go to my fake non-paying second job. At least I could wear the same clothes since it was pretty much the same type of work at both places.

  My “real” job involved working in the office at Sprozy Custom Cabinets. Harold and Edna Sprozy started the company in 1962 and it hadn’t really grown much over the years. I worked in the office with their daughter Dottie. They took pride in the fact that all their cabinets were hand crafted and made in America. We had eight technicians creating custom cabinets, three salespeople taking orders and selling the products on the show floor, and Dottie and I doing the bookwork for the whole operation.

  I really enjoyed my job, in part because of the camaraderie of my co-workers. When you work at a place with mostly guys, you learn to develop a thick skin. Since Dottie was the owner’s daughter, they were way more respectful of her. The guys also loved her because she stopped by the local bakery to bring them donuts every morning and always celebrated their birthdays and holidays by bringing special treats. Dottie was the sweetest lady you’d ever want to meet. She was extremely classy and the closest she ever came to a curse word was when she let a ‘shitbird’ fly. That was the word she used to describe someone she was really mad at. I loved it!

  Dottie was only fifty-five, but she’d long given up on marriage herself. I asked her about it once, being curious as to why she never settled down with any man, and she told me that it was up to fate. I felt bad because she must have been lonely, but she insisted that she was fine and I shouldn’t worry about her. Regardless, my eyes were always open for any of the cabinet customers who looked halfway decent and might be suitable for her. She never took my suggestions and would always yell at me to quit being her matchmaker.

  She was about five foot two and a bit overweight, but she had the most beautiful face. She didn’t look her age at all, so I asked her where her wrinkles were. She said, “You know what causes wrinkles, dear? It’s called marriage.” She was full of wisdom and I truly wanted her to end up happy. The rest of the technicians in back and the sales people out front were all married, so that didn’t leave me much to work with in my quest to find Dottie her special someone. After my divorce, she told me that I should stick to finding someone for myself and to make that my top priority instead of fixing her up with anyone.

  Dottie did the taxes and purchasing, while I did the billing and payroll. It was lucky that she was the one stuck on the phone all day trying to locate the best types of wood and the hard to find door handles, because I had no patience to deal with people. I did, however, have to answer the phones when people called to place orders and inquire on the status of their orders.

  Todd, the lead technician, liked to make fun of me because I was so sugary sweet on the phone, yet so blunt in person. He walked past my desk today complaining about the music coming from the speakers on the showroom floor with a comment of, “This music sucks.”

  “You suck,” I responded. “Get back to work.” That was how you had to talk to the guys, or they’d have no respect and walk all over you. If you can’t beat them, join them. Or something to that effect. When it came to talking like a truck driver, my language could fit in with the best of them. They were used to me by now since I’ve worked there for fifteen years. I got the job right after high school and worked my way up to a decent salary. It’s enough to pay the bills and it allows me to take a second non-paying job. A second job where I might potentially learn some life-saving combat skills if I could make it through the week.

  I rolled up to work about ten minutes early for my second day. I hit a drive thru on my way in because nothing was thawed out from my freezer and I wasn’t in the mood for another frozen pizza. The last few French fries got eaten and I made sure there were no crumbs on my black t shirt or pinstripe pants before I walked in to work. Of course I carefully scanned the parking lot and tried to park as close to the front door as I could. I was paranoid about someone jumping out at me after Rocky’s comment from last night. Just what I didn’t need: another thing to be paranoid about.

  Rocky was sitting at my desk glaring at his laptop while Sergio stood over his shoulder pointing at the computer screen and scowling. “What did you do? Why does all that shit keep popping up?”

  “If I knew what it was doing, then maybe I’d know how to fix it. Unless you have something useful to say, why don’t you shut the fuck up? You know I have no patience with these things, Sergio. If I can’t fix it pretty soon, I’m smashing it into tiny pieces and setting it on fire.”

  Glad to see everyone was in a good mood today. I walked up to them and stood there waiting to be given my assignment for the night. The door swung open behind me and a very flustered man walked in. In my opinion, he looked like a cowboy. He had on a green flannel shirt, dirty blue jeans, and brown cowboy boots. He seemed pretty clean cut but a bit naïve. His face was white as a ghost and he looked like someone was hunting him down to kill him that very second.

  He shouted, “I’ve really done it now. She’s going to kill me!”

  Wow, that was a good call on my part. Although I would have guessed that the murderer was a ‘he’ and not a ‘she’ because this guy looked built. He was about six feet tall with broad shoulders and looked like he could stop a truck. I couldn’t imagine who he’d be afraid of.

  “What did you do now, dumbshit?” Sergio asked, not seeming too concerned about what the answer might be.

  “I broke her best china. I was carrying a plate to the sink and it fell and shattered into seventeen different pieces. She hates me now and kicked me out. I have it with me to see if I can glue it or something. It was her grandma’s china and now I’m screwed.”

  “Yeah, well my computer’s more expensive than a plate,” Rocky interrupted, “No one gives a fuck about your dishes. Tell her to get over it. You’re a giant pussy, Vasily. The way you let Irina treat you is totally shameful. Man up and take charge over there. Does she wipe your ass too?”

  Vasily’s face turned red and he began to clench his fists. It was becoming evident that no one here knew how to control a temper or solve the slightest little dilemma. Maybe I could help. “Vasily, what if we found another plate to replace the one that you broke?”

  He turned to me and blurted, “Who the hell are you? And how are you going to replace priceless antique Slavic china?”

  “Well, we could look and see if it’s on Ebay. It’s worth a try. Usually you can find anything on Ebay. If you can show me a picture of the plate and if Rocky lets me use his computer then we could check.”

  I hadn’t even finished the sentence before Vasily ran out to his car to get the plate. He returned and explained that Irina threw the biggest piece at him after he broke it. He caught it, not wanting to make the situation any worse. He really planned on trying to glue it back together. Even though it broke into seventeen pieces and he only had twelve of them. Maybe he wasn’t the smartest cookie out there.

  “Pay attention. You’re not using my computer to look up anything…my computer DOES NOT WORK,” Rocky growled.

  �
�Could I try to fix it?” I asked. “If you’re getting pop-ups, then it’s probably a virus. Do you have an anti-virus program on it? When did the pop-ups start? The more you can tell me, the better the odds of me fixing it.” I’ve solved computer problems at work, how difficult could it be?

  Vasily brought the plate in with such a hopeful puppy dog look on his face, I knew he wouldn’t have the patience to wait until I fixed Rocky’s computer to check for it. I pulled out my cell phone, loaded the Ebay app, and tried to find the plate. My job was made easier by a partial name on the back of the plate. After doing a search for “Lomonosov,” I was pleased to see 342 listings. It turns out that the priceless china was not priceless at all. I was able to score him a plate for $18.92, buy-it-now. He begged me to get the fastest shipping possible, so we added overnight delivery for an extra thirty dollars. I think if he was able to, he would have sold his soul to get it here faster.

  “Who are you and why are you willing to help me?” Vasily asked.

  “Vasily, this is Violet. She’s the new hire, here to do my bookkeeping. She’ll also be the newest terminated employee if she can’t fix my computer. Violet, meet Vasily. He works here driving the truck to make gin deliveries a few times a week. He’s the pussy-whipped husband of Irina, the plate thrower.” I wonder if Rocky actually liked anyone or if his whole entire world revolved around hurling insults at people.

  “Nice to meet you, Vasily. I’m glad I could solve your problem. I was willing to help because, why not? It was an easy five minute solution. If I would have ignored you and not offered an answer even though I had one, that would make me an asshole. I’m not an asshole.” Speaking of assholes, though…”Let me see your computer, Rocky, and we’ll find out if I can be two for two and straighten out the world’s problems in one night. ”

  “By the way,” I asked, “how come there are so many Russian names around here? Dmitry was the welder guy and now there’s Vasily and Irina. I didn’t know there was any sizable Russian Community in this town. “

  Rocky replied, “Because we can’t all be named after flowers, Violet, now can we?”

  “I’m named after the COLOR. Get it straight.” I really wasn’t, I just didn’t want him to think he was right. “Now let me see your computer.”

  “You better not mess it up any worse than it already is,” he warned as he slowly removed himself from the chair and frowned at me. “There are very important files on this computer and I don’t want them lost.” Um, what kind of very important files? Maps to the lost city of Atlantis or shortcuts to all his favorite fetish websites? There was only one way to find out. I really hoped I could do this, or I’d end up looking like a moron. I was beginning to believe that the only way to get respect from these guys was to look semi-competent.

  “No problem, I’ve got this covered.”

  I sat down in the chair that Rocky had just vacated. It was still warm. I bet it smelled like him too. There couldn’t be another sniffing incident or I’d start to get a reputation, so I focused all my concentration on the computer screen. I clicked on the control panel, programs and features, sort programs by install date…and BAM. There were a bunch of new programs that appeared to have been installed that morning. They had bizarre names that I’d never heard of so they were bound to be the cause of the infection. Rocky stood over my shoulder to watch what I was doing and I showed him, “You just have to get rid of these.” I hit “delete” on the programs and then the shit hit the fan.

  Rocky bellowed, “What the FUCK are you doing? Are you an idiot? I told you NOT to remove anything from this computer!” and he slammed his fist down on the desk with such force that I thought it was going to crack in half.

  “I’m not deleting important stuff…this was all from today...it’s where your virus and pop-ups are coming from…I swear!” I pointed to the screen and stammered, “These aren’t your programs. Look at their names!” I cowered down waiting to see what would happen next. He just stood there staring at me and I wasn’t sure if he believed it or not.

  “Tell me exactly what you’re doing to my computer and precisely how you plan to fix it. NOW!” he ordered.

  I looked down at the desk not daring to make eye contact, and whispered, “You have to get rid of the programs that cause the pop-ups, install anti-virus software, run the program, it will get rid of the rest of the virus, and your computer will work again.”

  “It better work,” he said and stormed into his office, slamming the door.

  Sergio and Vasily quietly walked away, leaving me to sit there alone while desperately trying to hold back my tears. I didn’t do anything wrong. I was trying to help him. He had no reason to yell at me and erupt with such a fury. No reason at all. I hope he broke his hand. I was literally frozen in shock. All the day dreams about Rocky immediately ceased to exist and he became nothing more than a piece of shit to me. No way could I let myself get treated like that. I took some deep breaths and tried my damnedest to keep it together. I could go one second without spilling tears. Maybe I could go one more. Just stare at the screen, download the program, remove the virus, get the hell out of here, and don’t look back.

  As the minutes ticked by and the program did its thing, I let my mind try to process what happened. I couldn’t believe he screamed at me with such immense rage. He had no control of himself at all.

  Rocky finally emerged from his office and walked over to check the progress of the computer. I meekly told him that it was fixed and he could try it to make sure it was ok. I cautiously got up and stood next to the desk. After a few clicks of the mouse he broke into a huge grin. Evidently my repair had worked.

  He glanced over and told me, “Good job. I guess you do have computer skills after all.”

  The look on my face made him pause. I’m pretty sure it was one of utter humiliation and fear. He should not have treated me the way he had, and I was ashamed about cowering instead of standing my ground. I should have walked out right then and there. Or at least done something. They say hindsight is 20/20 and I was sure to replay this incident repeatedly to find a solution on how I could have handled it better. For now, I only wanted to leave.

  “I just gave you a compliment and you don’t even care? Aren’t you going to throw out some sarcastic remark where you rub it in my face that you knew you could fix it?” he asked.

  I hung my head and said, “No. ”

  He waited a few seconds and asked, “Why not, honey? Why no scathing reply for me?”

  I looked him in the eye and replied quietly so no one else could hear, “Because I’m afraid of you.”

  Rocky paused to consider this and softly said, “You don’t look so well, Violet. I appreciate you fixing my computer. You can leave for the night. I’ll walk you to your car and I will see you back here tomorrow.”

  I didn’t say a word as I gathered up my purse and made my way toward the door. I was extremely proud of the fact that I made it out of the parking lot before I started sobbing uncontrollably.

  Wednesday

  I tried to bury my head in the sand and act like yesterday was merely a bad dream, but any attempts to accomplish that were a complete failure. I must have looked like shit at work, because I got more than a few stares due to the red puffy bags under my eyes. I claimed hay fever, but Dottie knew different. You can’t work together for as long as we have without being able to tell a line of bullshit. She raised her eyebrows at me and said, “Whatever it is, you’ll get over it. If you want to talk about it, you know where I am.” That’s why I love her. She doesn’t pry. She knows when I want to talk and when I want to be left alone.

  I was so grateful when five o’clock rolled around so I could go home, crawl into bed, and throw myself a pity party. I was unable to do that because my phone kept ringing, despite the fact that I was not in the mood to talk to anyone.

  Frankie called after work to ask how it was going with my self-defense lessons. I went to her house to drop off the tractor part last Friday and told her that I signed
up at a new place that offered a free trial. I left out the details of the hunky-looking-turned-evil Rocky, which is a blessing because now I wouldn’t have to explain my sudden hatred of him. My mom was happy about the lessons because her biggest concern in life was my well-being. I managed to get her off the phone after a few minutes by informing her that I hadn’t started lessons yet, but I would let her know as soon as I did. That was not a lie since I really hadn’t gotten any lessons yet.

  Stella called two minutes later, but I didn’t answer and sent the call straight to voicemail. She would be able to tell by the tone of my voice that something was wrong, and I didn’t feel like going into the gruesome details. I just wanted to spend the night sitting in front of my computer and browsing the internet for things I didn’t need. After microwaving some leftover spaghetti with meatballs and throwing on a pair of comfy jeans, I sat down to relax and check out the newest kindle releases.

  A knock on my window startled me out of my aimless web surfing and my jaw dropped when I saw who it was. Rocky. Standing on my front porch peering into the window. I glanced at the clock and noticed it was quarter to seven. I guess my lack of attendance at my non-paying job didn’t slip under the radar after all.

  He walked over to my front door, clearly waiting for me to open it. Fuck. I couldn’t pretend that I wasn’t home because he just saw me through the window. Shit. Well, better get this over with and tell him that he could shove his job up his ass.