Chapter 13 - Fees

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I woke up completely broken. I had a headache and it felt like every muscle in my body was petrified. With a loud sigh, I opened my eyes and looked around the room. The place next to me was spread out.

Holy shit. He'd really slept here. I remember that night vaguely, my memories stuttering at the second drink. And there's more than two...

First, I organized what I know. He slept here, I wanted him to sleep here. I kissed him, he didn't care. And there's something about this story that just doesn't add up.

I got up and looked at myself in the mirror. It was a nicer view yesterday. I put my nightgown on the right way and combed my hair. There was probably no point in trying harder, Vito had seen me in worse shape and after all, we were at my house.

I walked out into the hallway where I heard the radio and Vito on the couch.

"Are you sober yet?" Vito nudged me.

"Yeah, but I feel like someone shot a whole magazine at me," I sighed and sat down next to him.

"Let me guess. Do you remember anything from last night?" he put the newspaper on the coffee table and looked at me. A moment of truth.

"Honestly, not much? You slept next to me, I remember that well, don't I?"

"Ts, yeah, I did. But the rest of it, what was around that?" he laughed and I covered my face with my hands.

"Nooo," I grumbled, laughing a little myself. "What was I doing?"

"If I'm guessing right, you came to me just to get me to sleep in your bed, but you served it all up in a way that made me think you wanted me OTHER than next to you," he laughed, slapping my thigh.

"Oh my god, I'm such a cow," I muttered and laid down on the couch. "I hope you figured that out."

"Of course I figured it out. But to tell you the truth, I haven't been this turned on in a long time," he said in almost a whisper and, to avoid further dissecting his sentence, got up and went into the kitchen. He started making coffee and my mouth was almost open. Did I hear him right?

"Are you crazy?" I called to him, looking in his direction.

"Maybe, I'm just being honest with you," he said half-loudly, and I lay on my back. I guess we've both said some dumb shit.

"Anyway, you won't get much sleep today, we're going to collect the fees this afternoon. Simple job. All you need is a car and a gun if they resist."

Paulie once told me about this, that it's actually a routine thing.

"Mhmm," I got out. "You know, I'm really fucked up," I whimpered.

"I'm making you some coffee, maybe that'll give you a kick."

"Why am I so broken and you're so cool?" I looked at him.

"Because I'm a man and I have more tolerance. And I don't drink as much as you do," he laughed.

"Wait, what did I drink?" I pulled myself up to a sitting position.

"You don't even remember that? Let me list it for you, you went down the menu..."

There were more than those four I remember?

"First that exotic one, then you had a piña colada, two shots of vodka with Joe, a shot of rum with me..."

"Rum? I don't drink rum," I shook my head.

"Do I remember more, or do you? So, rum with me, then you had some martini or whatever it was, then some shots they brought you. That was on the house, as was the drink you went to the bar to get yourself, it was something lemony, then you had another shot of gin with Joe and finished it off with a beer."

"You've got to be kidding me," I looked at him with my mouth open.

"No, I'm really not," he held up his hands in defense. "I'm surprised you didn't throw up on the way."

"What did you have?"

"That first drink with you, a beer and that shot of rum."

Oh... so that's why he was sane. I thought he had more than that. Maybe my memories are fuzzy and he was just tasting from me...

"This can't happen again," I shook my head and lay back down.

"Hey princess, drink your coffee, in this state they'll be the ones collecting the fees, not you," he said sternly and I sat back down. I took a sip of coffee and looked at him sadly. I felt embarrassed for myself, physically I felt like I was going to give up soon and I still had an afternoon of work ahead of me.

He sat down next to me and put his arm around my shoulders. He had his hands elsewhere yesterday.

"Before I went to bed I was wondering if I should get the condoms in the morning, or if I really didn't understand you," he said, and got an angry look from me. I might have some, I don't even know why.

"Then I probably shouldn't have bought them, huh? Looking at you," he laughed and leaned back against the couch.

"Did you really go for them?"

"No, no, I'm kidding," he shook his head. But I guess I didn't really believe him. Things were getting rough between us, and we'd barely exchanged a word in a day until a few days ago.

...

It was about 5:00 in the afternoon, and I'd pulled myself together in a couple of hours. I still wanted to sleep, but I trusted myself to keep the gun in my hand. So off we went. And it was really as routine a job as Paulie always talked about.

Hi, we're going to get the fee. Thank you, sir.

Or:

Hi, we're going for the fee. Do you have any money? At this point, I'm gonna pull out my gun. You got it? Bye.

Or, my favorite case:

Hi. Thanks.

No need for words there. They probably already know what's going on.

But one visit was particularly interesting. The last one.

We walked into a jewelry store, and the clerk was horrified when he saw us.

"We're going to get the fee," I said calmly. Vito let me lead the last visit alone.

"Sure, sure, right away," the man behind the counter got scared and ran to the back. Vito smiled at me and I looked around the store.

The clerk came in with some money and a small box.

"I'm missing a little money, but I can replace it with a ring for the lady," he looked at us. Can we accept this?

"Can we?" I looked at Vito, who nodded and took the money and the box from the counter and put it in his pockets.

"Next time, make it the full amount, okay?" Vito threatened and then we left.

"Let me see the ring," I annoyed him as we got into the car. He pulled the box out of his pocket and opened it.

It was a tiny gold ring with a square gemstone.

"Take it," he urged me. I carefully put it on my finger and contemplated for a moment. I don't have one of those.

"That's your reward for collecting your first fees."

I guess it wasn't the best quality ring because the guy was a few bucks short, but it had sentimental value to me.

roses made of lead | Vito ScalettaWhere stories live. Discover now