Mafia Love - DISCONTINUED

Chapter 5

Grace
Mornings.

The root of all evil.

That moment when you hear your alarm clock blaring in your ear.

You then realize that you want to kill yourself. At least you'd get some more sleep.

I managed to fall out of my bed and crawl to my kitchen for breakfast. I pour myself a bowl of cereal and head downstairs to the lobby to watch television. My apartment doesn't have a television. Due to the fact that I couldn't afford buy my own since the apartment costs quiet a lot and the money my grandfather left has been wearing thin for the last year.

I make it downstairs to the little lobby area and sit down with my breakfast-of-champions food. I feel like shit and look like it, too. I still can't believe what happened last night. It was a great evening then the next thing I know, I'm climbing dumpsters and jumping walls.

Since it's early nobody is here so I can eat in peace.
I click on the news.Maybe something good is happening today.

"It is sunny morning here in Manhattan," the news lady chimes on the television. I take a bite of my cereal. "It is currently 7:45 a.m. Monday morning...." I drown out the rest of what she was saying once I realize she said it was Monday. It's Monday, it's 7:45 and I'm sitting her in my onesie with my slippers on my feet and eating cereal. I'm so screwed; I'm supposed to be at a job interview in 15 minutes. Shit!

I quickly jump off the chair I was sitting in and try to get back to my room to change as fast as I can. I'm taking the stairs two at a time while trying to eat my cereal in the process. Not a smart idea by the way.

I make it back to my room and jump into the shower like I was on fire. My shower lasts about three minutes without washing my hair. I throw on a long sleeve olive green dresses shirt and white jeans with black flats; I grab my purse and shut the door. I run downstairs to try and hail a cab in less than five minutes. Shit, I am going to be so late.
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I gave the cab driver the address I was sent for the interview. After about 20 minutes of driving, it is now 8:20 and the cab pulls up at this massive mansion in Uptown Manhattan. This place was probably worth more than I would make in five lifetimes.

We make it to the gate entrance and it's open. The cab driver refuses to drive me up to the house without the owners permission. "Fine," I say. I jump out of the cab and start walking up the driveway to the house.

As I'm walking up the drive, I notice the garden hedges are trimmed neatly, the flowers are brighter than my future, and that there is a long fence surrounding the entire perimeter. With security cameras on almost every corner of the house. In the back yard I can see two large dog houses and a bunch of chewed up toys and shoes.

Either these people are very paranoid, or I just got myself into something very seriously stupid.

I finally make it to the massive wooden door. My feet ache from last night; I had to put about ten band-aids on each foot to keep the cuts from scraping inside my shoes. As for the bruises, well I can always make up an excuse for those it's nothing I haven't done before.

I ring the door bell.
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Holy hell. The inside of this place is absolutely stunning. There are hard wooden floors, polished to where you can see your reflection in them, there's a chandelier in the middle of the room as soon as you walk inside, not to mention that this place has two living rooms, two kitchens, and two staircases that lead to the upstairs.

I'm currently sitting in one of the living rooms with the man who answered the door. Antonio, I think, is is name.

"Look, sir," I begin to say while looking down at the floor. Eye contact is not something I can do with anyone. "I am so terribly sorry I was late this morning. I over slept, which I never, never do, and I promise it will not happen again. Especially since it says I'll be living here in this marvelous mansion and I..." I finally take the time to look up and notice him staring at my boobs. "Hey!" I snap my fingers in front of his face. "What the hell?! My eyes are up here, not down on my hooters, up here," I say while looking at him dead on. "Did you even hear a word I said?"