Mr. Mafia Man

Chapter XXXII: The Fake-Out

When I say that the explosion was loud, I mean that it was loud. Nicolas and the crew didn't look shaken or stunned at all, and merely continued doing their work, if not a little bit faster. As for me, I had to sit down and take a second to process that I was basically in the middle of a war zone. How in the hell is no one going to notice this thing going on in a nice if spacious, suburban environment?

Nicolas taps me on the shoulder and hands me some plastic safety goggles while I am curled up on the floor in a fetal position like it's nothing. Pray tell, what the fuck is a single pair of plastic safety googles supposed to do against literal bombs?

Nicolas then walks off, allowing me to have my mental break down alone. How did I ever get myself into this situation? Oh yeah, by wanting to fuck a hot, rich guy. Ladies if you ever want to bag someone out of your league, here's a pro-tip, make sure he's not in the goddamn mafia first. And if he is, think long and hard about if you are willing to risk your life for one lay, even if that one lay is exceptionally good.

I groan and pull myself off of the ground after I realize that I wouldn't want to die while I was acting like a crybaby. I made sure to remove my flimsy plastic safety goggles because if I am really going to die today, I want to go out like a badass and not like a fucking moron who thought that some 3M glasses were going to protect me from a goddamn charge.

I wasn't sure where to go first so I just wandered over to where Dmitry is watching a large screen and chewing on a fingernail while a small, geeky looking guy trembles in his ergonomic office chair. When he realizes that Dmitry is focusing hardcore on the image, the small guy attempts to roll away from his desk and computer screen. I know an opportunity to make a friend when I see one.

I lightly stop his rolling office chair as he passes by me. This is obviously very stressful for the computer nerd as he lets out an audible squeak when his chair suddenly stops moving. Seeing the opportunity for some charity work, I passed the small, stressed man my plastic safety glasses that I had removed not thirty seconds ago and patted him lightly on the shoulder in what I hoped was a comforting gesture.

Realizing that the computer man did not want to be my friend judging by the way he nervously clutched my charitable donation and scooted his chair further away, I turned my attention back to the alluring Nicolas.

"Say, uh, why are the police not coming? These bombs must be registering on some earthquake chart somewhere." I asked, bobbing and weaving to make room for the little computer guys just like the one I just terrified. Somewhere above our bomb-safe bunker, another charge goes off.

"Bribes," Nicolas states concisely. He switches the fingernail he is biting to his thumbnail and for a brief second, I am entranced by his lips. Even taking into account how absolutely stunning Nicolas is, I cannot seem to shake the feeling that something was wrong with this whole bomb situation. Here's a tip ladies: if something feels off, do not ignore that shit. Another pro-tip: never accept one-word answers.

"Oh really?" I pop my hip out and cross my arms, no longer bothering to move out of the way for the little gremlins still rushing around. "What about the noise complaints from your very rich neighbors? Isn't the HOA going to have something to say about this? And, uh, here's a fun fact, I don't think you can bribe the FBI shithead. So what's really going on?"

There's no answer from Nicolas, god sometimes I really hate him. But try as I might, I can't seem to shake the feeling that something is off but I couldn't tell exactly what it was. At least when I was getting kidnapped, I knew exactly what was happening and what was wrong, but here the enemy was less clear, and I couldn't stomach that the problem was just that bombs were literally raining down from the heavens and that someone was actively trying to kill me (can you believe that? A whole twenty some odd years and this is my first and only murder attempt! What a way to pop the attempted assassination cherry.)