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29
-Kyle?- I muttered yawning. -What are you doing here?
-I was looking for you. He didn't take his eyes off the screen- I imagined you were nervous and wanted to calm you down a bit.
Didn't Kyle have a heart of stone?
-I could not sleep- I got up and sat next to him, stretching my arms.
–It happened to me at the time too and I felt like you. I figured it would reassure you to talk to someone and that someone had to be me.
-Thanks. –I couldn't help it and I ended up hugging him.
In the end, it was going to turn out not to be so bad.
I ended up resting my head on his shoulder and falling asleep again, feeling a little better and more sure of myself. If I had gotten Kyle to behave like an ordinary human being, I could do anything, including surviving my first day on the job.
And day zero arrived, as it was called in the corridors. The day the "new" was rel
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The mobster and the writer 30
The best started when our "mission" ended if you could call that. I hadn't done anything except get in trouble, but nobody knew that last, nor was anyone going to know. How could I explain to anyone that I already knew Hunter from before and not connect with his mob? And they had marked me as innocent and I was not going to discover myself. It was better than this episode was forgotten. If she started thinking about Hunter, she would end up returning to the topic she was trying to avoid anyway.Johnny seemed to have completely forgotten that another man had been with me. He was busy enough watching the islets of the slot machines move. I was almost hypnotized. He defended himself saying that the money was given to him by the mafia and that we could do whatever we wanted with it. As long as it was free, he didn't care at all. He was a man with a physique and personality that reminded me so much of G. Why couldn't I get it out of my head without any remorse? Many women dated me
The mobster and the writer 31
After all the paraphernalia put out for the mission, the atmosphere seemed dull. Each person was depressed from lack of action. The only one who was relieved that it was over was me. Johnny disappeared as soon as we got to "The lair", as he had ended up calling the place where they held me semi-prisoner. Mike went back to his chaperone-counselor-shoulder position to cry on. I spent a bit of it. I didn't trust him too much after his false promise that he would protect me when they gave me a nice beating later. He wasn't very trustworthy. He took my silences as spaces that he had to fill with his insubstantial monologues that to me, personally speaking, could not matter less. It was a continuous stream of words that flowed in and out of my ears without even being registered by my brain. - ... Then Kyle started laughing while Paul scooped up all the beer he had spilled when they made a touchdown. It was fun to see him on his knees with a napkin trying to dry the floor. When he
The mobster and the writer 32
-Take a deep breath and speak like a normal human being, Sam- He instructed me from his bed, without removing the brown book he always read. It had to be the never-ending story because I'd swear I never changed books.-Derek follows me. They have me under surveillance. –I whispered in case the aforementioned was in the vicinity listening. I couldn't risk him finding out that I knew.-Derek? I don't believe it- He didn't even deign to look at me.And the worst thing was that I considered him my best friend in the hole he was in.–Well, don't believe me. I am telling you the truth- I crossed my arms angrily. Why was it so hard to believe me? He wasn't going to lie to her about something like that. It would not benefit me to invent it. I was being an unbeliever.-So, according to you, Derek wants to kill you and that's why he follows you everywhere, to catch you when you least expect them and annihilate you. That would mean that you are hi
The mobster and the writer 33
I yawned and tried to get out of my room without making a noise. Kyle had expressly asked me to go to the gym without anyone noticing. Derek had something planned for both of them and no one could find out. I figured Johnny was one of the reasons. He was a little more protective of me lately. We had started to be "something". None of them had raised the subject for conversation, but we knew that we had started some kind of relationship, the problem was that it was not clear what he wanted. I changed into my black leggings and a long gray sweatshirt. He didn't know why it was so cold in the Den at night. They used to keep my room at a more or less stable temperature, but it was going out into the hall and feeling the cold digging like knives into your skin. It seemed that he had reached the Arctic Circle. I looked to the right and left. I saw no one. Maybe they were, but the lack of light didn't help me to see if someone was following my steps. My march was light and fast. He
The mobster and the writer The end
I don't know what I expected to find when I got to that party. Something more hidden, I suppose, but not in my stupidest dreams did I expect a giant hotel with a red carpet to be the hangout for the bad guys in the mob. It was not logical. They were in the crosshairs of the police. If something was clear to him, it was that they liked to live on the edge, letting themselves be seen but being untouchable by nothing or anyone. It was part of the adrenaline of work, the one that seemed to like so much to all the men of that world. I got out of that overly ostentatious limo on Derek's arm. There was nothing that disgusted me more at the time. I'd rather have dated Kyle, but unfortunately, he wasn't my date tonight. I wish it had been. He had to be content with watching our backs as we walked towards the entrance. Although I had to keep a bright smile, I could barely force myself to stretch the muscles around my lips. That gesture bothered me. It was a fucking lie. He couldn't pr
The mobster and the writer Epilogue
-Get off you heavy- I pushed his shoulder, but he didn't move his head from the crook of my neck. I was trying to read the laptop screen that I greedily kept covered as much as possible with my hands, which isn't much. -I want to see what blasphemies you are putting on me- He answered and caught my hands in his. I made the feint to fight, but I knew it was impossible, he always got what he wanted, especially if it was from me- Let's see ...- He began to read and I amused myself looking at his gestures. He knew from each of them what he was reading. I knew him too well- You are an exaggeration!- He widened his eyes - That was not what happened. –He protested. He always had a complaint between his lips. -Tell me. Tell me what I have written that is a lie. All that happened and you know it- I narrowed my eyes and crossed my arms under my chest, leaning back against my desk chair. My supposedly scary attitude only made him smile in amusement. -Many things are tru
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9 hours and she still hadn't finished her work. Sam sighed cleaning her desk as she looked at the clock on the opposite wall. She was trapped in the room. Why did she have to cover for her brother? She frowned and snorted. She now herself she could she be outside with the rest of the people celebrating.What were they celebrating again?- It's quiet tonight, isn't it?- Sandra asked as she opened the door.- I don't know, I'm not even meant to be here right now, but I said I'd cover for it after he did me a favor last night.- What a mistake, why didn't you take any of the other shifts he has?- I couldn't, he doesn't have any convenient shift and so I can't write- she sighed, frowning at the clock again, she should have fun tonight.- Is everyone out tonight?- So it seems- she pouted and dropped the manuscript he was holding.- Do you want a neck massage?- Ple
The mobster and the writer Special chapter 2
-Please!-Not.-Please!.-Not.-Come on mom. Please.-I have said no.-You're boring.-YesSamantha frowns at the two dwarfs who shoot her hateful glances.-I do not care. You can look at me however you want.-Papa would let us go.-Yes.-Well, it's too bad that dad isn't there -announces she looking out the window with concern.-It's just a little snow- says her eldest five-year-old son, pulling her out of the window. She is not going to happen anything. Stop worrying and let us come out and play.Sam looks at him annoyed. The damn brat could read her like an open book, just like her father.-Now he is falling very hard. In a little while, when it stops snowing.-When it stops snowing the snow will disappear! The boy growls.-Bored- the girl shouts again.-Yes. A horrible and hateful boring –Sam answers, taking the little over a two-year-old girl in he
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