Angel With A Shotgun | 18+

seven

ALEC ROMANO 

We arrived at Amara's house at eight fifty eight. I was waiting for the right time to knock.

I could briefly see shadows through the white curtains that hadn't been drawn to a close yet. They lay half open so anybody could see right in.

"Can you just knock? It's fucking cold out here and I don't want this girl to see my nipples through my shirt." Giovanni mumbled and I glanced at my watch, eight fifty nine.

"Wait."

We waited in silence until my watch beeped, nine pm.

I raised my fist and knocked three times, hearing shuffling footsteps at the door. Amara opened the door looking flustered, her rosy cheeks on full display.

She was wearing black leggings and a grey hoodie, the drawstrings tied loosely in a bow. Her feet were clad in light pink fuzzy socks, "Right on nine, please come in." She stumbled over her words slightly, parting way for us to enter her home.

I walked inside wordlessly, admiring the small interior of the home. My hair brushed the ceiling and I stood with my hands in my pocket, "I just put the boys to bed, does anyone want some tea or coffee?" She asked.

Giovanni nodded, "Black coffee, if you have it." He grinned cheekily. Amara smiled, relaxing a bit, "I'm sorry I seem a bit hostile, it's a bit strange having three mafia members in your home wanting to speak to me about my dead family." She blurted out, standing on her tippy toes to reach two mugs.

It was funny to watch her try and reach the cups before she realised she couldn't.

I briskly made my way over to her, grabbing them and place them on the counter, "Thank you." She stumbled.

"So, where should we sit?" Marco asked rudely.

Amara shrugged, "Anywhere. This is the house, upstairs is Finn and mines room and through there is the bathroom and Joey's room." Amara said, nodding to a small hallway with two doors connected to it.

She took a seat in the single recliner while I sat on the leather couch. Marco sat at the arm chair while Giovanni sat next to me, swirling his coffee with his finger before making a popping noise with his mouth.

"You are so infuriating." Marco hissed, "You guys are so weird! I'm trying to ease the tension, Amara is obviously uncomfortable. God, stop being so serious." He rolled his eyes and glanced around the room.

"Are you uncomfortable?" I spoke.

Amara looked directly at me, "A little." 

"Right, better get onto it then."

+ + + 

I watched Amara fiddle with the single gold chain that hung around her tanned neck. She rubbed it between her thumb and index finger, her eyes never leaving Marco as he explained the backstory and history of the Cabot family.

"So, my family were royalty because they were drug dealers?" He eyes widened to the size of saucers before she calmed down again. I nodded, "The most notorious. I think they partied with El Chapo and Pablo Escobar." 

Amara scoffed, "No kidding." She said, like she'd come to a realisation.

"What?" I questioned.

She stood up, "My mother gave this to me a couple weeks before she died and- I don't know. The scripture on the box doesn't really sit right with me." She shrugged her shoulders, stretching her arm to the top of the wooden bookshelf and pulled out a box.