Vengeance: DARK MAFIA ROMANCE

Five

Natalia

My stomach aches as I curl into a ball on the couch, my face pressed up against the back cushions. I threw myself here as soon as I arrived home, pausing only to change my stupid audition outfit for my well-worn pink robe. "Nat?" Celeste murmurs. She's been tiptoeing around me all afternoon; I hear the worry laced through her words. Even in a high-end club like the Venice, stripping exposes the girls to some degree of danger. "Are you ok? What happened?"

I can't bring myself to answer with anything more than a grunt, until a knock sounds on the front door. Jumping out of my skin, I pull my robe tighter and scramble backwards on the couch, as far away from the door as I can get. Did that man follow me home? There are even worse possibilities. My hands start to shake. No, that's impossible. I haven't been this paranoid in years; the audition really shook me up.

Celeste waltzes up to the door without concern. As soon as she opens it, the apartment fills with the smell of hot, fresh pizza. Saliva floods my mouth and the pain in my stomach goes crazy. Usually I try to make sure Celeste doesn't notice our food budget discrepancies, but today I am too tired to do anything but stare bug-eyed at the greasy cardboard box in her hand. To my surprise, she sets it on the coffee table next to me.

"You can have half of this—wait." She blocks my hand. "After you tell me what happened." With a sigh, I give in and walk her through the disastrous audition. I'm shocked when I can't quite describe the boss. I remember glimpses of him, but as a whole he sticks out in my memory as a force of nature, a tornado, or a wildfire. Fortunately, Celeste catches on as soon as I say, "scary guy" and hands me a piece of pizza, as if she feels sorry for me.

"You met Savio?" Her voice holds a hint of awe and badly-disguised curiosity.

"I don't know. Is Savio big and terrifying and kind of hot?"

She nods emphatically, wide-eyed, her own mouth full of cheese and pepperoni. After swallowing, she clarifies. "He owns the Venice Club and like a million others. I've heard he's connected to organized crime." She drops her voice to a whisper at the end of the sentence, as if the mob has already bugged our vents. "All the girls know to stay far away from him. No wonder you're traumatized, hon." The way she keeps calling me honey and hon reminds me of how I imagine people's moms talk to them. People whose moms aren't dead.

"Joe said they would be in touch." As much as I never want to see the club again, I can't help but cling to that promise of money and security. If they call me back, I won't be able to stop myself from saying yes.

Celeste shakes her head. "Just make sure to stay away from Savio." Despite her words, I see her lips curving into a mischievous smile. "Is he even hotter close up?"

"Not unless you're into thuggish old men," I lie, turning on the TV before she can interrogate me more. We both shriek with laughter when we find reruns of America's Next Top Model. It feels so good to relax, safe and full, with my only care in the world being the terrible makeovers Tyra is giving the contestants. It's not until bedtime that I realize I have checked my phone about a hundred times, turning the ringer up to make sure I didn't miss anything.

Irritated, I throw the phone on the counter and go to bed, but I can't seem to fall asleep. Listening to Celeste's snoring, I creep down the hall into the kitchen, grab my phone, and tuck it under my pillow. Who am I kidding, anyway?

***

The crumpled piece of notebook paper in my gloved hand flaps wildly in the wind. My too-small coat doesn't do much to shelter me, and my hair has turned into a tangled disaster. The weather pretty much sets the tone for the day I've had so far. I left home this morning with ten businesses listed on my sheet. Now they're all scratched off except for one and my tidy list looks like a used tissue.