The Immortal Mobster

1

Chapter 1: Alice

"I don't care!" She yelled.

Alice was fed up with her shitty diner job. The customers were rude and the tips were lousy, her boss was the worst, and none of her co-workers pulled their weight. If she had to smile at one more ungrateful man that undressed her with his eyes, she was going to smack someone.

She threw her apron at the cash register, "I quit. I could care less if that lousy tipper you call a valued customer,"  throwing her hands up creating air quotes with her fingers, " doesn't like the amount of ice I put in his cup!"

"And you," she pointed at the woman who was sipping on her coke, "control your children. You are in public. It's not okay for them to throw food all over the ground." 

The woman stared blankly at her, "And you know someone has to clean that up. This nice lady right here," Alice pointed at the waitress next to her, "She's going to have to clean it up, and I know for damn sure you won't be tipping ever 20%."

Alice continued her ranting, turning on different customers in the packed diner.

Her boss stood there like the mouth-breather he was, at the complete scene Alice was making. She didn't hold back. Everything she'd wanted to say for the last 6 months came pouring out of her mouth. She was wheeling around and screaming like a madwoman.

When she was done she was slightly breathless. She smoothed out her blouse, gave one last disgusted glare and left.

The diner was silent, other than the manager apologizing profusely for Alice's outburst. Through the glass, Alice could see the restaurant settling back into its dysfunctional chaos. 

Alice stormed down the street. Passing dark ally ways and fancy restaurants, homeless beggars and well-dressed professionals. With her head down she walked quickly, replaying her actions.  She walked through the bustling streets until what she had done set in. Alice realized she had made a complete fool out of herself and on top of that, she was now jobless.

She stopped walking as she cursed herself for being so stupid. Why couldn't she have just sucked it up for 20 more minutes until her shift was over? Why?

Alice paced in an alleyway as she weighed her options. She could go back... no. No, she couldn't go back. Her boss- well ex-boss- would either call the police or humiliate her. That place wasn't worth her time anyway. 

Checking the time, Alice sighed. It was 2:00 am, working at a 24/7 diner left her up at odd hours. She needed to get home, sleep this nightmare- that her life had become- off, and then decide what her next step would be. Decide what the hell she was going to do. 

After a 30 minute walk, Alice made it to her apartment. It was on the third floor of a sketchy neighborhood, but the rent was cheap and the inside was liveable. She twisted the key into her door. As the door opened it revealed her apartment, everything had been turned over and ransacked. Her pillows were ripped open as if the intruders believed she had stowed money in them. The books that had been neatly stacked were strewn across the floor. Ceramic plates and glass cups were now shards on the floor.

Alice just stared at the mess. She didn't even know what to do. She couldn't believe the odds of how unlucky she could be. The door was locked. How could they even get in? 

Closing her door, Alice slid her back down the solid wood and settling on the one spot without anything broken on it. Alice let her head fall into her hands. 

She pulled her phone out of her purse and called 9-1-1. The operator answered and she gave her address and told them that her apartment had been invaded. The 9-1-1 operator then asked, "Are the intruder's still there?" 

"I don't think so," Alice said nervously. Till the man on the other end asked she hadn't even thought about it. Slowly she made her way around the apartment seeing no one. They probably left when they realized there were no valuables to be found. 

She heard some police sirens pulling onto the street below. The police offices came to the door and called. Alice came back to the front door and hung up the phone. 

"Hello, yes this is my apartment," Alice said opening the door for the officers. 

There were two men one had his gun out the other had a clipboard. The officer with the gun checked the apartment and gave the other the all-clear. The second officer asked Alice multiple questions about stolen items, when she had left the house, and when she had gotten back. 

The officers took down notes and a few pictures before leaving. Alice thanked them, even though they barely did anything, and closed her door. 

After a few moments of silent frustration, Alice stood, walked carefully through the debris that had been her furniture and crawled into her bed. She just curled up into her bed and fell asleep.

The next morning Alice got up and threw out everything in her apartment that had been damaged. From broken furniture to multiple bags of shattered cups and plates. 

Sitting down she pulled out her laptop.

It had funnily enough not been stolen. She had tucked it under her bed at the bottom of a bin of books that had been untouched by the thieves.

Alice began to search for a new job. Her apartment was sparse now so she sat on the floor using a torn pillow as a seat.

Scrolling through multiple job sites and local ads, she wrote down multiple addresses and then went out to see what job she could get.

There were plenty of jobs open, but that meant nothing. She went from store to store, being rejected one after another.

After her seventh bust, she rounded the last address written on her paper. It was a small family-owned bakery. Alice walked in which creating a musical tinkle as the door hit the bell above.

An older man stepped out from the back and smiled, "Hello. How may I help you?"

"Actually I was wondering if I could help you," she pointed to the Help Wanted sign sitting in the corner of the large bay window.

"Oh! Yes."

The walls were beige and there were accent colors of navy blues and whites.

Adjacent to the counter that spanned the length of the bakery, were four small circular cafe tables. Their tops were all glass with metal bases. The large counter had a beautiful display a case full of pastries. Pretty much what you'd picture a small family-owned business.

Alice smiled, but before she could say anything three men walked into the bakery. All three were dressed nicely. One stood out. The man who walked in first. The other two flanked him like guard dogs.

The first man pulled off his sunglasses and turned to the old man behind the counter, ignoring me completely, "Hello there Mr. Polkes."

Mr. Polkes flinched at his name. The old man's demeanor. He looked frightened. Alice noticed this at the same time she noticed that two of the men had guns. The one man, closest to her, had let his arm swing which had moved his jacket, exposing a gun, that was tucked into his waistband.

Alice backed up bumping into a chair. The chair screeched against the floors and the man with the sunglasses turned. His smile widened.

"Hello there, I don't think we've met," He thrust his hand out for Alice to shake. She hesitantly shook it.

"My name is Griffin Eton."