Mafia High
The girl climbed half into my lap again, refusing to accept my rude no.
“Someone get this bitch off me,” I said to the group at large.
They were my crew, the guys who, through sweat and blood, proved they had my back. These friendships and pacts would serve me when I was the Brambilla.
“Come over here, sweetheart, and put that mouth where it’s needed,” Marino said with his legs splayed and a slight tap to his lap.
He blew smoke, then handed me his vape pen.
“She bites,” I told him with a lazy grin, inhaling deeply, then blowing out the smoke.