Vincent

Dinner

Luca brought back my computer, taking the ice with him. I watched a few movies on my computer. As time passed, Luca came back, bringing me back a soup with bread and my pills for the night. I was supposed to take them with meals. I was actually happy I had to take them with dinner, they made me tired so I slept longer and better at night.

"How much longer do I have to take these?" I asked him, swallowing them down with water.

"I think tomorrow's your last day," he said as I dipped the bread in the soup, making it soft.

"This is pretty good," I nodded.

"I'll tell Beatrice you like it," he laughed, "are you in any pain? In your face?"

"No," I answered truthfully, "I think the whole point of the painkillers, with the amount I'm taking, is to get ahead of the pain," I shrugged.

"Your face is still swollen," he noted, "I think Vinny said to ice like two, three times tomorrow and that'd be it," he explained. "Why do you care anyway?" I asked.

He chuckled, "I'm Vinny's right-hand man," he stated, "if he wants to know stuff, I report back. It's basically my job."

I frowned inside but didn't say anything about it.

"I have a question," I started, taking another bite of the bread, "um, a few days ago, I saw Vincent and he had blood on his shirt, what was that about?"

He grinned at me.

"Prying?" he asked, "I don't know if Vinny would appreciate me talking about the business to you," he grinned and I rolled my eyes, "he didn't get shot if that's what you're asking."

I didn't mention anything about shootings...

"Um, shooting?" I mumbled.

"No, not a shootin', a stabbin'," he said.

I blinked.

He stabbed someone? The same man that kissed me, felt up my chest, and fixed my hand after I cut it on glass? Wait- why was I surprised. He was part of the mob, this was a normal thing.

"Oh," I nodded, finishing the meal.

"Let me take that," he stood up, grabbing the plate and bowl, "you need to get some rest," he instructed before he left, not letting me ask him more questions.

As I laid, trying to go to sleep, I was thinking about what problems Vincent was dealing with, yeah, whackings aren't a rare idea in the mob, but it seemed serious. And, Luca told me. Didn't he just say something like 'it's my ass' when it came to me simply getting out of bed? As if I was under a certain set of rules? And, so far, no one, not Vincent or Dante would tell me about anything. If, just say, if I was under a certain set of restraints, and there would be consequences, as Luca said 'it's my ass,' then why would he run the risk of talking to me? Telling me things?

Loyalty was a huge thing in the mafia. Like I mean fucking gargantuan. With the slightest, I mean the most absolute smallest sliver of doubt could get you on the radar. You could get whacked just like that.

I fell asleep to that thought.

I woke up at ten in the morning. I got up, went to the bathroom, carefully brushed my teeth, which sucked because I couldn't spit- it was a gross process- and brushed my hair. I did apply some face moisturizer and I couldn't help but notice how swollen the bottom portion of my face was. It definitely went down compared to yesterday but it was still puffy, my skin slightly pink.

Did Vincent say he had to go out tonight, taking me along?

I groaned to myself. I didn't want my face to look like this with him! Maybe I should just fix my hair? I don't know? So it works around it?