soho, new york
12:00am
A
Jane knocks on the office door twice, shyly poking her head in. She can barely get it cracked open, pushing stuff out of the way with the door. Shay and I have a million Polaroids on the floor, two mannequins we're working off of, and rolls and rolls of fabric littered all over the place. My desk is covered in takeout containers from today's lunch and dinner, coffee mugs and to - go cups. We had to abandon Shay's office because that's where our mood boards and breakfast containers are.
"Amara? There's a call on line two." Jane chirps, trying not to be wide eyed at the state of the office.
"Jane! I said no interruptions!" Shay panics, motioning toward my door that has a handmade DO NOT DISTURB sign taped to it.
"Uh," Jane sighs, shooting me a worried look instead of scurrying away like normal.
"Oh don't look at me. You heard her."
"It's just - it's been ringing off the hook since nine? I was told it was urgent."
"What is more urgent than the collection and the Polaroid book?"
"She said it was about uh, Sam Soprano?" Jane says, reading the name off a post it note with a confused look on her face that matches Shay's.
But I know the name. In a heartbeat, I know it.
"Uh, yeah patch'em through."
"Amara!" Shay scolds.
"I need the room, uh Shay?" I quickly mumble, dusting myself off as I get up off the floor.
"Hello! We've got to turn this in tomorrow!"
"I know. I know. Five minutes." I promise, eagerly heading for my desk.
"Five minutes."
"Not a second more."
"If you're not done by then, I'm cutting the phone line with a pair of fabric scissors." Shay warns, waving said scissors in her hand.
"Please do. Now scram." I nod at the door and watch Jane and Shay file out.
And while I wait for Jane to return to her own desk so she can patch the call through, my heart begins to pound in my chest so hard I start to sweat, feeling my face go flushed in the worst panicky way. Like I'm on the precipice of a fever.
Sam Soprano.
Sam, as in Sam Rothstein from Casino.
Soprano, as in from The Sopranos.
The alias Luke came up with when tasked with it. We'd watch a lot of my favorite movies since I considered it his Italian American education since his lack there of seriously appalling. And just like that, Sam Soprano was created.
He'd use it when we'd want to be extra hidden at hotels and restaurants.
And eventually, rehab.
YOU ARE READING
I'm Not Leaving // lrh
Fanfiction"So, you wanna go another round?" Luke asks. I didn't know what we were talking about anymore. I only knew my answer. "Yes."
