Ugly Ronney: mafia romance [English]

Chapter 2-1

The atmosphere of the living room was charged with the very volatile cologne of my roommate. I left the mail on the small table at the entrance before looking at Bergamote, comfortably installed on the old sofa in front of her favorite show. Her many wrinkles were digging into her sweet little face, still well-powdered. At eighty-six years old, this old lady with beautiful white hair, well combed, liked to take care of herself.

"How was your hellish day?" she asked, feeling my gaze on her.

Bergamote didn't bother to look away from the screen, too focused on her show.

"It was horrible, but something strange happened. I was hired as a personal assistant to a very wealthy businessman."

There was one important word in that sentence that got Bergamote to look up from her TV show.

"Did you say 'wealthy'?"

Still standing, I adjusted my glasses and shoved my hands down the back of my pants. Then I shook my head.

"You know the dare we do in my family when we turn twenty-five? Well, mine was to show up at the gates of a villa in Asylum, at the Khans'."

"The Khans'?"

Alistair's voice came from behind me. My second roommate appeared, newspaper in hand, looking both frightened and surprised. His slim but sturdy figure arched under the pressure of the large suspenders holding up his pants. His bright blue eyes gave his weathered face an impression of austerity. Most of the time, he was in his corner at the kitchen table tinkering or reading.

"I start tomorrow morning. At first, I didn't want the job Mrs. Khan offered me. I turned it down several times, but when she told me about the twelve-thousand-dollars-a-month salary, I didn't hesitate. I really need the money."

"Twelve thousand dollars!" murmured Bergamote, who now completely ignored the television set.

Alistair closed his newspaper and ran his hand over his bald head before adding, "This Saudi family doesn't have a good reputation, Ronney. They're part of the mafia. They're part of the Mitaras Almawt."

"Camilia Khan seems completely normal. I can quit at any time, and the newspapers say a lot of things."

I felt compelled to justify myself to them in the face of their sudden concern.

"Elio's medical care costs are outrageous," I continued. "My parents wouldn't have to work themselves to death to pay for it."

Alistair, bothered by this news, went to sit down beside Bergamote. He rubbed his chin with his finger and said, "It won't change the fact that the Rosa Negra will still be after your father's restaurant. He'll still get extorted every month. What will he think of your new job with the Khan family when he is the victim of a powerful mafia in his neighborhood?"

I adjusted my glasses and began to pace the small room, thinking. Everything was mixed up in my head: the hurtful remarks of my family members, my father's tired features, Elio and his many chemo treatments... Caleb. As I stopped walking, a now-familiar pain awoke in me. I needed something else in my life.

"I don't have to tell them about this new job. The studio gave me more hours and that's it."

I shrugged and continued, "Yeraz is a very discreet businessman. The paparazzi aren't after him."

"That's mostly because they're scared of him. And what is the business of this Yeraz?"

Bergamote had raised her voice for the last words. Someone else would have told her to get lost, but I couldn't. I wasn't like that, and all her questions had a good intention: to protect me. My two crazy roommates had become, over time, important people in my life. And with them, I felt normal.

I ran my tongue over my lips.

"He is an entrepreneur. The eldest Khan son owns the Dream Diamond nightclub and is also in the construction and real estate business."

My two interlocutors exchanged a glance heavy with meaning, then Alistair stood up abruptly.

"Ronney, just take care of yourself. We don't want you to put yourself in a situation you can't get out of."

He lowered his eyes and searched for words. Bergamote stood up as well and said, with a smile on her face, "Ali repaired your scooter's fuel pump. You will be able to use it again tomorrow."

"Thank you. It will come in handy this weekend to get to the studio. Mrs. Khan prefers that I use Uber for my weekday commute. All expenses will be paid by her."

My roommate cleared his throat and clapped his hands to end this discussion.

"Well, I guess all we have to do is celebrate! You got a job that's going to pay for that damn rent. I hope you're not planning on kicking us out."

Bergamote started laughing before walking towards the kitchen.

"I'll heat up the lasagna and open a good bottle for dinner."

I was about to follow her into the kitchen when Alistair grabbed my arm and pulled me into the middle of the room.

"A little Twist, Ronney."

I complained in a low voice to dissuade him from turning on the record player, "No, Ali. I'm exhausted and I only dance the Rock. You know that."

In vain, Alistair pulled a twelve-inch from his vinyl collection and placed the record on the turntable. Chubby Checker's voice echoed against the walls of the entire apartment.

"Look, Ronney. It's all in the hip. Try it!"

I couldn't hide my smile any longer, seeing my friend's good mood and his disjointed shimmy. At eighty-two years old, Alistair was a dancer who liked to take risks. I adjusted my glasses and let myself be led by the song "Let's Twist Again." Even though my dance steps were shaky, I was enjoying finally relaxing from my crazy day. Bergamote joined us to dance too, wearing her pink apron and with a wooden spoon in hand.