The Don's Wife

53 | Until The Cigarette Burns Out

8PM arrived, so has the applicants for Rosalind's bodyguard position at the training facility of Jameson Salvatore's headquarters.

Located underground, the area is spacious, provided with various kinds of amenities necessary to hone his soldiers' skills. From shooting range, gym equipments, boxing rings, to dojo mats, it has it all. And stood by the corner of the place was the owner, alongside his wife, and his most trusted men, observing the crowd of dozens that gathered from afar.

Lorenzo was giving his twin who's currently munching away a large bag of potato chips a stink-eye. "This isn't the movies, dipshit."

"Yeah, I know.–" Andrea tossed a chip into his mouth. "But it sure is gonna be a hell of a show." He said without a care in the world.

After a brief pause of staring contemplatively at the bag of chips, Lorenzo reached out for it.
"Give me some."

Andrea smacked Lorenzo's hand away.
"Get your own!"

Whilst the twins fought over their snacks, Rosalind's sight was fixed on the applicants. "So many candidates.." She uttered to James, then looked up his way. "How do you suppose we choose?"

"Well, as how it's usually done, Micah will be the one conducting the selection." James replied. Micah flashed a smile and waved at Rosalind at the mention of his name. She waved back a small one.

"Micah, you may take it from here." James' order fired Micah up. "Don't have to tell me twice, boss."

Right off the bat, Micah took off his suit jacket, undid his cufflinks, rolled up his sleeves, exposing one of the twelve archangel inked onto his right forearm.

Grinning widely with excitement, he muttered to himself. "Time for some fun."

"Listen up you bunch of fuckers!" Micah's bold voice captured the attention of every pair of eyes within the room. "We all know why you're here tonight, so let us not waste time on prefaces and get straight to it, shall we?"

"Rules are simple ; firstly,– this will be a hand-to-hand combat. Which means no ranged weapons allowed. Secondly,–" Swift and smooth, Micah dug a soft pack of Marlboro out of his pocket, tapped the top of the pack with his fingers, pulled one that popped out and placed it between his lips.

*clink* his lighter opened, a flick of his thumb its flame ignited. Fire to tobacco, the tip lit up with the color of a burning sun as he gently sucked in the poison, collecting its substances inside his mouth, before inhaling it deep into his tainted lungs. *clack* his lighter closed, smoke expelled through his nostrils and mouth as he blew it out slow.

Micah held up his cigarette to show. "– those of you who can land a hit on me before this thing burns out, pass the first test. Any questions?"

Seeing no hands were raised, Micah took it as none. "Good. We start from the fucker with the biggest balls in the room." He ascended and set foot into the boxing ring, put his cigarette onto the ashtray that sat on the corner post nearest to him.

The first one was a lad, probably in his early twenties. Stood tall with a cocky smirk latched on face, brass knuckles in both hands, he got in his fighting stance, whereas Micah was nonchalantly still, wishing him the best of luck.

Unfortunately, the lad did not acquire any luck on putting his weapon, nor his fists to use. Once he swung into action, Micah dodged his attack effortlessly, then quick as a flash, slapped the arrogance off of the lad's face. Literally.