"So," I shift uncomfortably in my leather chair while holding the phone against my ear, "What's the damage?"
"S-sir, I think we should discuss this another time. Maybe once this whole situation dies down a little, the team gets a chance to look at what kind of problems we are assessing."
"Don't tell me what you think because I don't give a fuck. Tell me what we're looking at or, you're fired," I spit at the phone.
Sometimes, Antonio gets on my last fucking nerve.
"One hundred and forty million dollars," He almost whispers, "S-sir."
Goddamn it. I clench my fists and feel the cuts from the other night splitting open. I thought that meeting a few nights ago went well. I guess I was wrong. I hate admitting I'm wrong. That's because I'm always right.
Here's what happened;
I sat down with the Spanish mafia boss: Mathias Garcia, and reasoned with him. I explained that it wasn't my men's fault that all of his drug supply was destroyed in a fire. It was. The thing is, Italian men, love to boast.
And the only thing they love more than bragging is getting drunk.
And it so happens that my men got drunk after setting the drugs on fire. They felt the need to go out and tell everyone that they were single-handedly responsible for costing the Spanish mafia one hundred and forty million dollars worth of cocaine.
As you can tell, they're a real smart bunch. So I was forced to meet Mathias in an attempt to reverse the situation. It didn't help that he and I don't exactly have the smoothest relationship.
You see, he believes that I am at fault for his father's death, and I believe he is behind my father's disappearance. I haven't seen my father in ten years. I suspect that the Spanish mafia kidnapped him in an attempt to slow down their competition and get ahead in the game.
Mostly everyone assumes he is dead. Until I see his cold and lifeless body, I still have a reason to look for him and, I'm not giving up anytime soon.
"Are we going to compensate them?" Antonio questions through the phone.
"Hell no. They deserve to suffer. And if we did decide to pay them that would be admitting that we had a part in the fire."
Do I have to spell it out for him?
"Then what should we do sir?"
"We need to get ready for a shootout. Prepare all the guys and make sure that they have the right weapons. I want the base on high-security alert at all times. Bring in the big guns if you have to."
"Is that all?"
"Yes, you fucking dumbass," I hang up the phone.
Any longer talking to that idiot, I would have pulled my hair out. I stare down at my desk. It's covered with papers varying from license agreements to shipment statements. I glance at them and become frustrated so, I push them to the ground.
I'm so tired.
My eyes drift to the corner of my bedroom, where there is a large window. Out of it, I see snow coming down and covering the ground. It looks like something out of a movie. I wish I could be as carefree and calm as those snowflakes are.
I put my head down on my desk and allow myself to watch the snowfall. I think about how to handle this situation.
I wish I could forget about all of this stupid stuff and be a normal teenager. I want to focus on school and becoming a doctor, not how I am going to prepare a group of idiots for a mafia shootout.
I've been stretching myself too thin, and it's causing my work to be sloppy in both work, and school. Like a few nights ago, I ran into Brynne Foster.
The tiny little thing just happened to run into me twice in one day. We almost got caught by the fucking cops. If they had caught us, we would be facing extensive jail time, and she would've been considered an accomplice to my mafia.
I would be responsible for yet another Foster kid going down the wrong path. I promised myself that I was going to stay away from that girl. It's for her own good.
I already messed up Grant. It angers me to think about the fight we had a few years ago.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I had been in charge of the mafia for six years.
We were both fourteen years old at the time.
It was a warm summer day and, we were sitting in Grant's room playing video games.
That month, I had been having trouble making money because the drug shipment had come in stale. It was the first time that had ever happened and, we were losing seventy percent of revenue.
I had never before told Grant about the mafia and my role in it but, I was struggling to make ends meet and were desperate for some help.
So, I decided to go out on a limb and ask him to assist me in distributing the bad drugs to our junky classmates.
He had a giant fit.
He told me to get out of his house and never speak to him again.
Before I walked out of his bedroom, he told me to stay away from his family, especially his sister.
I nodded silently and left.
That day I not only lost two hundred million dollars, I also lost my best friend.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I fuck up every relationship I've ever had. The only person I can talk to is my mom. But she doesn't like to hear about my mafia problems because she's never agreed with what we do.
When my father was still around, he made sure to keep her out of all mafia affairs. I have managed to do the same even though she's one of the only mafia wives who isn't involved in the scheming.
She wants me to go to college and live a normal life.
We both want that. It's just not possible. If we were to leave the mafia, our heads would be chopped off.
Literally.
It's just how it is. There's no way out of it.I get up from my chair and walk over to the window so I can get a better view of the snow falling.
It is beautiful.
I take a deep breath and relax my tense shoulders. My stomach grumbles.
I thought I had already eaten lunch. I take a look at my watch and realize that four hours have passed since I hung up on Antonio.
Guess it's already time for dinner. I make my way to the kitchen but am stopped halfway, in the living room by a sleeping beauty. The one and only, Brynne Foster.
Her small body is laid out on the red velvet couch.
She looks to be in pain by the way her eyebrows are scrunched and how she tosses every five seconds.
This is the first time I've gotten a good look at her since the eighth grade. She has changed, that's for sure.
The last time I saw her she, had purple glasses and braces. Her hobbies were bike riding, reading Harry Potter, and watching The Titanic nonstop.
Now it looks like her hobbies are breaking into people's houses and looking hot on their couches. I watch her chest move up and down as her breath rate slowly increases.
She's either having a nightmare or one hell of a dream. Her dirty blonde hair lies in a messy bun and, she's wearing sweatpants and a sweatshirt.
Honestly, she looks homeless. I chuckle at my thoughts.
Stop.
I'm supposed to stay away from Brynne Foster. It's her brother's only rule that I have to follow. If I start to like her, there's no telling what trouble I could get her into. But for some reason, I can't seem to peel my eyes off of her.
Then, out of nowhere, her eyes flutter open and, she starts to stretch her arms and legs.
I stay still, frozen by her movements.
Her actions are delicate as she yawns and starts to look around the room. No doubt checking her surroundings. Smart girl. She can sense someone is watching her.
When her eyes meet mine, I can't help but smile. I'm not big on smiling, but I have this warm feeling inside me. It's weird, and I don't like it at all. She looks a bit annoyed but, I don't take it too personally.
I tend to have that effect on people.
She looks me up and down and pauses as she examines the bruises on my face. After the meeting, the Spanish boys caught up to me and roughed me up a bit. Nothing I can't handle.
"You look comfortable," I state, trying to get her to stop analyzing my wounds.
"Shut up," She immediately rebuttals.
Someone's feisty today. Is it just me or, did the room get twenty degrees hotter?
Stop.
As she adjusts herself on the couch, I notice that she's in quite a bit of pain. I act like I don't realize but, it's kind of obvious that she's uncomfortable. I watch her to see if I can pinpoint where the pain is.
What am I doing?
I don't care about anyone. Why am I so worried about this girl?
I don't want anything to do with her. My mom walks into the living room at the perfect time.
I am finally able to lift my eyes off of her and
immediately realize how stupid I am for being such a lovesick puppy.
"Blake, honey, could you take a look at Brynne's back?" My mom asks, "I think she bruised it."
What the fuck. Why is her back bruised?
"Arturo just got excited when I walked through the door and, he knocked me over," She explains, "It's honestly no big deal. I'm fine."
Her voice is softer than I remember it being. She's keeping her composure but, I can tell it's taking a lot of strength for her to be sitting up right now.
"I just want to make sure that you're alright," My mom insists.
As I walk over to her, she slides over, making room for me on the couch. This is a job that requires standing, so I place myself a few feet away from her while waiting for my mom to come back with the first aid kit. I'm trying my hardest not to look at her, because I know she'll put me in a trance again.
My mom walks in with the supplies, "Okay sweetheart. Can you lift your shirt so Blake can take a look at it?"
She hesitates but eventually pulls up her shirt, revealing a large bruise and others surrounding it. It's bad. She may even have a couple of broken ribs. Every breath she takes looks like a pain.
I wish I could take this pain away from her.
I place my fingers along her ribs and make my way to her spine, checking for any fractured or broken ribs.
Everything seems to feel fine.
As I get closer to her bruise, she winces in pain, causing me to lift my fingers immediately. I hurt her.
She clenches her fists and squeezes her eyes shut. Most girls would have passed out by now but, she's a warrior. I can tell she has a high pain tolerance.
I look around the first aid kit for some pain reliever and an ice pack. I want to limit the spreading, and calm down the irritation. That's all I can do for her.
I hate it but, with these types of injuries, you have to wait for it to heal. I drench the cotton pad with some soothing cream, and immediately place it on her spine so I can get this over with.
Apparently, I pushed a little too hard because she instinctively grabs my arm and gives it a tight squeeze.
Damn.
She's got a strong grip.
"I know this hurts but, if you don't let me do this, the bruise will spread," I encourage.
She nods as she relaxes her grip on my arm. I take her tiny hand and squeeze it, so she focuses on something other than her back. The feeling of her skin against mine makes my stomach turn.
Stop.
After I help her get cleaned up, I have to leave.
I don't know how I'm going to spend a whole day with this girl if I can't even go fifteen minutes without her making me feel funny. As soon as I'm done, I put the stuff away and make my way towards the door.
Before I forget, I remind her that she can sleep in the guest bedroom and, then I turn the corner. As soon as I get to my room, I shut the door and place my back against it.
And then, slowly but surely and against my will, a smile creeps its way onto my face.
I can't tell if my night had been completed or ruined but, I know that I haven't felt this way in a long time.