Lost in the Depth

Mommy Issues

I struggle to keep my eyes open as I glare a hole into the pile of paperwork in front of me. I should've given my mom and dad more credit for the work they put in as the leaders. This shit is just too much. I mean, since when does the mafia worry about service history and receipts?

We buy, we sell, we make deals and we kill those who think they're smarter than us. That's it. Why do we need to go into so much detail when all we have to do is keep the business running and keep it secret from the authorities. Well, the authorities who aren't working for us, anyway.

This isn't new to me, though. I've been dealing with the boring part of our organisation for years now. All of the paperwork lying on my desk didn't come as a surprise to me when I entered my mom's office. No. No, not my mom's.

Mine.

I take a moment to look up and survey my surroundings. The black furniture and walls really does make the room look more menacing. I spin the leather chair to face the window behind me.

Well, not really a window. More like a wall of glass. It stretches from one side of the room to the other. And the view it depicts never fails to take my breath away.

I gaze down at the glimmering lights of New York City. Each light like a star. The city that never sleeps.

Even at 2 in the morning, cars honk and trucks roam the streets as if the sun's only just set. I scoff at the irony of it. While those self-righteous detectives who still have a conscience desperately search all over America for proof of the mafia's existence, we hide in plain sight.

I stare at the view a little longer. I came here after the funeral, to get affairs in order and prepare everything for tomorrow, when I have to go to Brooklyn to make a deal. My first deal as Donna.

Just the thought makes my heart pound.

Deciding, I've done enough work for one night, I grab my coat and head out. It takes a while to exit the actual building because it's so damn big.

Eventually the elevator opens to the ground floor and I walk to the double glass doors at the front of the building.

Before I push them open, I spot a familiar figure outside.

Familiar to me, threatening to any security guards who might see him.

"What the hell are you doing here?!" I whisper yell at Antonio as I quickly grab him and pull him over to an empty alley. "The moment one of them sees you, you're dead Tony! I thought you were smarter than this."

And he is. He knows that, whilst we are just two people who hate each other in our college life, we are more than just enemies in the mafia. Members of the Milieu (french mafia) are killed on sight by Cosa Nostra security.

Something's wrong. Not only can I tell by his stupid decision to come here, but also by the fact that he won't meet my eyes.

"Yea don't overestimate yourself, Ferrari. I'm pretty hard to kill." He mutters, trying to make a joke, but I don't buy it.

"What happened?"

"You know, the usual," He murmurs so quietly I barely hear him above the honking and screeching of tires out on the street.

Sadly for me and luckily for him, I know exactly what 'the usual' is.

I walk him over to my car, making sure to avoid being spotted by anyone, regular citizen or not.

As I drive to my place, Antonio rests his head on the car seat and closes his eyes. He pinches the bridge of his nose before running a hand through his hair and sighing.