When The Sun Goes Down - A Midnight Mafia Novel

Six

In the weeks since I came "down under" as I liked to refer to it, I had learned several very important life lessons.

First I had learned that I hated high heels. Seriously, from the very first week my feet were sore and blistered and if I ever got out of here I would never be wearing heels again. Sneakers for life.

Secondly, I learned that everyone was predictable.

I knew that in Alessio's world these men were the best of the crop. High class and important big shots and yet...they were all pigs.

Every trip to the table was the same thing, they would glance at me with little interest, upon recognizing a face they hadn't seen before they would look at me again. Scan my body up and down, lean back on their chair casually, and grin. A disgusting, smug grin. Like they thought I was just going to fall at their feet with that stupid ass smile. They would search my wrists and ankles for the magic bracelet that granted them access and their face would fall momentarily when they saw I had none. Moments later they'd get a second wind and glance for a pair of earrings or ring, and again, their face would falter.

"You new here baby?" They would always ask and I would always glance to their waist, soak up the image of their gun attached firmly to it, fantasize about smashing a glass over their head, know that there were a few dozen other with the same shiny revolver and instead I would force a big smile and nod.

Thirdly, I learned that everyone has a price.

I had a price. If you would have asked me if I would ever put on a pair of lingerie and walked around in front of roomful after roomful of strange men and criminals I think the answer would have been obvious.

My price was my life. But as I caught clips of conversations here and there as I worked I realized that people would sell their soul to the devil for much less. Alessio taught me this very valuable lesson. Everyone can be bought. And he proved it. He bought his friends, bought off friends of his enemies, and even bought off more legal administrators than I would have been able to track.

And lastly, I learned that maybe I wouldn't do anything for the story.

I was leaning over the bar, collecting the napkins that I had forgotten when I'd gotten the drinks. I wasn't the best at this whole waitress thing. I had admittedly tried it when I was in college but I'm not very coordinated and as it turns out I'm not too great with customers either. I had ended up instead managing to score a job in the library at the school and had spent most of my working hours with my nose between old newspapers.

I felt a pair of hands on my waist. I jumped at the surprise and then sighed. Not another one.

"Thirsty?" I asked turning around and holding a drink out to him with a nice big, likely unconvincing fake smile. Apparently the idea of tips hadn't been worth a pleasant attitude with my previous serving experience, but the idea of my life being on the line was an entirely different story.

I vaguely recognized the offender. He'd been at a table with Alessio and a few of his other Mafiosi's on a few occasions.

He was, well, actually very good looking. The complete epitome of tall, dark, and handsome. Built with perfect teeth too. He had amazingly dark eyes that twinkled as he looked me up and down. Under different circumstances, say, if I were out with some girl friends and I caught sight of him in a bar I could drool over him all night. However, tonight was not any other night, this was not any old bar, I wasn't hanging out with my girlfriends, and I was certainly not drooling.

He put his hands back on my hips. "I'll say."

"Oh, I'm, erm, not, what is it? Pink?"

"That's okay baby." He said.