Mr. Mafia Man

Chapter V: The Encounter (Part Two)

Halfway through the trek and I was dying of heat stroke, starvation, exhaustion, suffocation, and crush-ation (at the hands of my duffle bag; it was way to heavy for a duffle bag) all at once. I had face planted twice, collapsed three time, and cried way more than I probably should have. I really need to get into shape.

At the end of the driveway that was way longer than it had any right to be I saw the door to the mansion. I knew that if I could just get inside that door and into the sweet, sweet air conditioning I would be safe for the time being. And the kitchen, oh god the kitchen. My mother always keeps it stocked for me, bless her heart. Once I got the the house I could eat my heart out.

As I was fantasizing about pigging out, I tripped over a piece of gravel and proceeded to face plant for the third time. Getting up I started to swear.

"I feel like a fucking punching bag. What the hell driveway? Do you have a fucking problem with the me or something? Well, I'm fucking done with your bullshit you twat of a driveway. Your mother was right, you'll never amount to anything. Well, joke's on you because this bitch will make it to the fucking door. This," gasp "bitch," gasp "will," gasp "make," gasp "it," gasp "to," gasp "the," gasp "fucking," gasp "door!"

After a few more minutes of criticizing the bastard of the driveway I finally reached the damn door. Not to be dramatic or anything, but it was literally the happiest moment of my entire life. After ecstatically collapsing on the doorstep for five minutes to catch my breath I rolled over to text my mom.

U need to hire a new butler asap

I wrenched the key in the lock and stumbled into the enormous entry way. Dumping my bag by the umbrella stand and coat rack, I made my way into the kitchen to suffocate my sorrows in a slice of cake. Looking back, I should have noted all of the signs that pointed to someone else being there. The coat on the otherwise usually empty coat rack, the good smell coming from the kitchen. But what can I say, I love food so much, I was willing to overlook the obvious signs that there was someone else in the house with me. Still enraptured in my food based fantasies, I walked purposefully into the kitchen. What I saw there immediately purged all of my daydreams from my head and vanished my hunger on the spot.

It was Gang Guy.

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I stared at him for a few minutes while he moseyed on over to the fridge to grab, of all things, a juice box, before my dumbass decided to pipe up. "We meet again Gang Guy."

Now it was his turn to stare. When he noticed that I was waiting for a response he finally spoke.

"Well actually, I'm part of the mafia so if you're going to call me anything, it should be Mafia Man." Draining his juice box in a single pull he turned to the fridge again. I was still thinking about this whole Gang Guy and Mafia Man business.

"Juice box?" His low baritone interrupted my thoughts. Nodding slowly, I accepted it. I took a sip. Grape juice.

"Thank you Gang Guy." I said, sneakily. He groaned.

"I killed one man, I can kill you too."

I scoffed. "Bold of you to assume I want to live."

He made a face that looked like the blinking eye man in that one GIF, except with dark brown hair, black eyes, and a face that looked so chiseled, he could pass as an exceptionally good statue.

In fact, I was so busy admiring his fine features that I almost forgot to question him about why he was present in the house at all.

"Wait why are you even here?" I asked

He turned around, looking almost as confused as I was when I saw him. "Didn't your mother tell you? My uncle allowed me to stay here why he went away on his anniversary vacation."

"My stepfather is your uncle? No way is that even possible." I said, bewildered. I always found John to be pleasant and jovial. Not like this asshat I saw standing before me. It's like John is Santa Claus and Gang Guy is the Grinch.

"You think I'm the Grinch? Oh boy, guess I better prepare to give all the presents I stole last Christmas back. Please, I'm not that bad." He said laughing. I didn't even realize I said that outloud, which is pretty embarrassing.

At this point he is on his third juice box in fifteen minutes. "Do you even know who got these? I really like them." At his words I look down and realize that he's drinking my Capri-Suns. My broke ass can't buy those on the regular but they are like my addiction. I suppose the sight of him in the house overrode my protective instinct over my Capri-Suns. Even my mother concedes the point that they are the only thing in the house Cosmo can't have, other than chocolate.

"Bitchass, those are mine! Get your motherfucking hands off!" I lunge for him, but he sidesteps at the last minute and I end up getting a faceful of fridge, but I won't relent. "I suppose my mother didn't tell you about the rules of this house, Gang Guy, but the number one rule here is that those Capri-Suns," I gesture to the fridge that I just greeted a little too personally with my face moments ago. "Are off limits. Period. End of conversation. Is that clear enough for you, Gang Guy?"

"Crystal." He responds, handing me the bag of juice. "And, please, call me Mr. Mafia Man."

982 Words

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I know I'm not good at getting that word count to hit the levels I want it to, but I figure that I expand on the chapters later with more detailed. Again, this book is super unedited.

But, hey! we got a title mention for the first time in this book. I'm going to need an "OH yeah!"

Don't forget to vote, comment, follow, and all that jazz. Remember, I'm like a machine that turns validation into content.

-3AMmayhem