The Mobster's Girl

Chapter Two

Stella smiled in return, and nodded as she took her usual spot in a booth in the corner of the restaurant. It was always the least crowded, and there, she'd be able to look out the window and people watch as she ate.

As she stared out the window, Pete went to work making her favorite, a turkey sandwich on wheat, and a glass of apple juice.

Stella watched a young woman stand in front of one of the department store's windows across the street from her, admiring a light blue gown, with intricate beading that Stella could see from the deli. The woman had one palm up on the glass, the other touching the plain, threadbare frock that she wore, as if imagining herself wearing something as fine as the outfit in the window.

She watched as the woman removed her hand from the window, slightly shook her head, then walked away from the store, appearing crestfallen.

Stella could relate to the girl.

She had grown up never wanting for anything, her parents buying her anything she wanted, as long as they approved of it. Always prudish, they hated the flapper fashion which had become popular, and claimed that anyone who wore the style or acted even remotely like a flapper was a harlot. So, instead of owning any daring evening gowns, Stella lusted after them instead, and longed for the moment that she would own one herself.

The first thing that Stella had done when she moved away from her parents, was buy a gown that they would have disapproved of. It was a black frock, with silver metallic embroidery and beading, and jutted out at the hips, which had been made popular by fashion designer Jeanne Lanvin. Stella had yet to find a place to wear it to, but she frequently took it out of her closet just to try it on and wear around her apartment.

Pete came and set the sandwich on the table in front of Stella, and sat across from her with a sigh. There was a lull in business, and he liked to fill those moments conversing with Stella, who always had something positive to say.

"How has business been?" Stella asked as she reached for her apple juice.

"Good, good," he replied as he looked out the window. He looked concerned, and Stella was nosy and wanted to know more.

"What's got you so worried?"

She took a drink of her juice, then set the glass down and took a bite of her sandwich, which was good as always.

Pete watched her expectantly, always wanting to know her opinion on his food. She ordered the same thing every time she saw him, yet he always asked for her opinion.

Stella nodded in approval, then held up a thumbs up as she chewed, and Pete smiled, then continued speaking.

"My business is coming from a man named Jack Moretti, and all of his cronies. He's not a good man, Stella."

She waited for him to go on. The name sounded familiar to her, but she wasn't certain who he was.

"I don't like associating myself with men like him. Rumor has it that he owns one of the largest bootlegging companies, and supplies Chicago speakeasies with booze. They say he even supplies some in New York as well."

"So tell him that you don't want his business," Stella replied simply, as if it was that easy.

Pete simply chuckled and shook his head.

"Money is money, I suppose, and with men like Mr. Moretti, I'm afraid to stand up to the man. You've heard the stories of mobsters in New York, yeah? Some of them and their tempers are somethin' else. I can't let anything happen to me, and I can't leave my girls orphaned."

Stella was unsure of what to say, as she had never dealt with a man like the one that Pete had described to her.

The older man stood up from the booth with a groan, then smiled down at her.