Daughter of the Mob (Sample)

21 | Return To Me

PAMELA TREMBLED WITH JOHNNY'S automobile as it lurched to a jarring stop.

Instead of opening the door, Johnny turned towards her, his eyes blackened by the night. The streetlights had come on, though that night they seemed less beautiful than they had before. The neon sign above the apartment across from them made Johnny look like a ghost.

"You sure you don't want me to go back to Albright Trimmings for anything?" Johnny asked for the umpteenth time.

Pamela shook her head, not wanting him to say another word. She wished he would just let her off and never speak to her again, but she knew that wasn't possible. The turmoil within her bizarre life would not subside until Johnny had manipulated her father into a business deal and accomplished whatever else he had in mind.

"What about all your stuff? Your clothes?" Johnny persisted, making Pamela wonder why he cared so much about her belongings. She had little energy left to care about her possessions. She didn't want to think about Albright Trimmings just yet—not until it had faded into the long-ago stretch of time behind her—like an unwinding road in the rearview mirror of an automobile.

"I don't need them," Pamela said. She had enough frocks and cardigans within the sanctuary of her childhood bedroom to rival a princesses wardrobe. Despite failing to provide her with love or affection, her mother had ensured she never wanted for anything of the material variety.

Johnny shrugged, hoping to look apathetic, though lines of concern stippled his face.

"You might wanna wipe that thing off before you go in." He gestured to the fine trickle of blood on the bodice of her gown as if it was just a bothersome dash of ketchup she had gained from eating French fries. "Or I can help you."

He extended a hand to assist her in removing the blemish. But Pamela jerked away at the last moment. "My mother will be asleep. So will my father. I'll go to my room and freshen up before they know I've returned. You should really get going, Johnny. Bring Caterina home and see to it she has something to eat, or she'll feel terrible tomorrow morning."

The two turned to look at the backseat passenger, still comfortably asleep with shallow snores escaping her half-open mouth.

"I guess I'll come back tomorrow morning for brunch. You'll tell your folks about me before then?" Johnny said, his tone a mixture of hopeful and excited. Either he was an excellent actor or he sincerely believed that he was about to meet his future in-laws.

"Sure." Pamela grappled in the dark for the drawstrings of her purse, but found Johnny's arm instead. Pulling away in embarrassment, she saw his eyes soften with a wounded look.

Before she could take her leave and dispel the unpleasantness of the evening from her mind, Johnny placed a palm on her shoulder innocently, as a brother would do, to comfort his sister. "Are you truly swell?"

Pamela wanted to scream NO so badly that her chest hurt.

Instead, she whispered something of the same sentiment. "How do you expect me to be swell at a time like this, Johnny? You've forced me into an engagement with you to appease your bloodthirsty gang and needle an illegal business deal out of my father. They could have shot me tonight, thanks to you. And yet you expect me to pretend that I like you?"

Johnny stammered a half-hearted apology, but Pamela couldn't hear it as she made a beeline for the place she had grown up in.

~~~

Pamela stood outside of the apartment door for a few minutes, praying for some kind of divine intervention. Maybe her parents were vacationing in the Hamptons, or Havana, as they often did during the winter. Maybe then she could explain to Johnny that they had moved, and he would release her, freeing her to sail to captivating Australia or disappear into the quaint Midwest.