Maid for the Mafia

**TINY**

*Do you have any idea how many people ignore what you say on a day to day basis?*

They play their little roles, nodding and taking notes so they can run a word or two back your way in hopes of appearing attentive. Thinking that for all intents and purposes, they have their bases covered and you won't catch on to that fact. They wouldn't' even know what to do if you found out that while you were here* and present - probably even answering an *imposed* question - *they* were ten minutes down the road, sailing around that curve toward whatever self indulgence they were currently obsessing over. Because ninety percent of what all *'regular'* people talk about is either about themselves or about what they are *wanting*.

And I'm not talking about during emotional exchanges - although I'd bet ten years of my Friday Night Tap money that *that* number is pretty high too, *and* if you don't know what tap money is, then you shouldn't be listening to the thoughts of an Eastside, Fourth Street Captain - I'm talking about everyday exchanges. Conversations you have with friends, or with acquaintances - or with people you've just met. Give these people a set of instructions and a warning and watch them fucking bumble around in the dark too afraid to admit they should have paid attention to your words.

Wanting never really did much to get you anything. Which is why while those *regular* people continue to *want* - there are a few of us that decide talking is cheap and getting is better.

So that's what I'm doing now. *Getting.*

A few days ago Mickey received a phone call from one of Santos' men. The dude was angry and feeling slighted, so he made the mistake of calling the enemy and blowing said enemy's mind. What he had to say had Mickey smiling from ear to ear with excitement, but not me. Why? Because the guy was acting on impulse and despite the supreme fuckery that he had already committed by calling his boss' enemy - I knew he would not be showing up. And I was right...he didn't. What the dude probably *did not* anticipate was Mickey sending *me* out to fetch the sorry little fuck. An understandable misconception of course, after all, the secret has already been shared. Why make matters worse by fulfilling your promise and bearing the proof of your claims? He must have been thinking the information alone would be enough, but he thought wrong. The guy had no idea just how motivated Mickey would be to collect on his original promise. And for that matter I have to admit...I'm feeling pretty motivated myself.

I want to please her. Romany. I want her to look at me the way she did in the restaurant when I offered to kill Romano for her like he was nothing more than a cockroach scurrying through the kitchen. I haven't been able to think straight since I had her mouth on my dick and her sweet pussy wrapped around my shaft. I even went to the strip club intent on fucking her from my mind, but all that I got from that was an even *stronger* desire to see her again.

I'm becoming obsessed and if Mickey knew *how* obsessed he'd probably try to take me out. He doesn't like that she's attracted to me because I'm the type of guy she would more than likely end up with. I don't have any blood ties to this business and I get to move about without the mafia's scope shoved up my ass. I don't get watched unless there's a war going on and when I do something final I never have to answer for it. I'm free to marry and date whomever I please and I think that's the part that upsets him the most. That I could ask her one day and not have to get her approved for purchase *drives him up the fucking wall.* He wants her *that* badly. Even more so now that he's had himself a taste. He'd marry her in a heartbeat if he was able, but he can't and he *knows he can't, so he's pissed. Even now he's out on a date with the 'not so late' Paul Romano's daughter, their courtship having been decided long ago. Even though Paul's dead, the contract between the Romanos and Scavos must continue because nobody *knows* he's dead. Well...nobody that didn't kill him that is.

Her name is Ana Romano and she's *not* a bad looking girl. Her eyes and ears are all in the right place, she's got a great rack, a little chubby in the middle like her Pa, but not to the point of revulsion, and she appears to have a good head on her shoulders. She doesn't even *look* like the guy, so *that's* a definite plus. Mickey could have done way worse for sure. But if I was asked to describe what his face looked like when he greeted her at the restaurant, I'd have only one word. *'Murderous'.* He honestly looked like he was thinking about killing her and ending the contract *that* way.

To be honest, I was happy to see that she was as pretty as she was, because I *thought* that meant she stood a shot with him. But the moment I turned around to gage his reaction, I knew that poor girl is about to have the *worst* lunch she has ever had to endure.

I've done my best to hide my new obsession from Mickey and I *believe* I've hidden it well, but there's always that one person you can never hide anything from. That one person that still knows that it exists. Me.

I know.

What I don't know is how much worse it can get.

And I also know thanks to the dude that I'm about to abduct...

...that Ruby is in fact alive.

I've been instructed to lift this rat from the hole and deliver him to Mickey, but I know he's busy with his lunch date so I've decided to become one of those *regular* people just for the day and do what *I* want to do, instead.

I sit across the street from 'Flanningan's' in a slate gray, late model CTS coupe. Every one of its windows are so dark a black they shine almost purple and have their very own temperature control system. *Among other things.* The thing gets its regular use during the hottest months of summer, but even so, touching one of these tar glazed panes without gloves on in July, tends to leave more than a lasting impression on the flesh.

I'm invisible to Miguel Arroyo as he attempts to stumble past my vehicle, drunk as a skunk and looking like yesterday's corner whore. So I know he's well and truly shocked when I throw the door open hard enough to break his nose and he goes tumbling backward onto the pavement.

He's still conscious when I step out and smile down at him which is good, so I smile at him and say, "Hey there Miguel. Time to take a ride."