The Monster In Us

4- he laUghs

"There will be no interview," He tells me, his voice is very raggedy and choppy. I'm surprised that I don't hear an Italian accent but I don't know why because neither me nor my father have Russian accents as we were both born here in America. When Berardi tells me that there will be no interview, I close my eyes and wait for the shot of the bullet being sent into my skull. I don't know what gave me away but he knows who I am and I have failed my father. I couldn't even get in the door.

However, the shot never comes and I open my eyes to see the old man typing again at his computer as if I have just disappeared and I am no longer his problem. Should I just go? Maybe the position has already been filled. "Can I ask why, sir?" I eventually ask him.

"I'm too busy. You've clearly had the experience, you have the know-how, I will not waste our time with an interview. You will start now. We are very big on compartmentalization here, Miss Bonheur, so don't ask questions that do not pertain to your direct duties and you will keep the job, it's that simple," He starts to explain and I start to breathe again. He doesn't know who I am. Not only that, but I got the job. It was a lot easier than I was expecting, I even wore a shirt with cleavage just in case I would have to persuade him which I was almost expecting.

From what I've heard, he's a pervert and a scumbag. Then again, all of the information that I've ever gotten on the man is completely biased considering the Panteras are basically sworn to hate him and everything that he stands for.

"Yes, sir," I confirm with a nod, knowing that when he says that I shouldn't ask questions, he's talking about the fact that this is not only a casino but the headquarters for an Italian mob. I know that but he doesn't know that I know that and so I will pretend like I don't know that. "I won't let you down."

"My son will show you to your desk and get you started," Berardi instructs, reaching for the black landline and he pushes a button before saying, "Get Dante."

There is no response and I don't know what to say to fill the silence. Berardi doesn't look interested in filling the silence either, he just busily continues to type on his computer. He really must be slammed with work, I guess. That, or he's just a dismissive asshole. Probably both.

It feels like hours that I'm sitting there, suffocating in the silent room with this man that I despise, until the door finally opens behind me.

"Yeah, Dad?" A low voice interrupts the silence and I turn around to see a younger version of the man sitting in front of me. Although his hair is not gray like the old man's, he is just as tan, just as tall, and his eyes are just as brown and piercing.

"This is the new tech," Berardi instructs. I stand up from the chair and offer the younger Berardi my hand to shake. Unlike his father, he accepts my handshake but exactly like his father, he does not smile. Touching the hand of a Berardi feels like fire on my skin, it feels like I'm betraying everything that I've ever known. I shouldn't be shaking this man's hand, I should be stabbing him in the throat or breaking his face with my fist. As I've been doing this entire time, I swallow my disgust and put on a polite face. "Show her around, I've got shipments to worry about."

The old man takes a manila folder out of the drawer of his wooden desk and he hands it to the younger one. I assume that it's a folder on me. My resume and probably a background check that I've written in the past few weeks.

"Sure," The young one confirms, walking back toward the door. I think that I should thank Old Berardi for giving me the job but he's already gone back to work at his computer and I don't want to interrupt him so I just silently follow Young Berardi out of the office. He shuts the door behind me and we start walking farther down the hallway. I watch him closely, Young Berardi opens up the manila folder and then his dark, bushy eyebrows furrow and his mouth curls into a thin smile.