mostly mobsters

victoria | 6

By the time the dance has inaugurated, I expect about half the dancing couples to be making out like a school of tuna fish, judging by how close many of them appear to be. I watch a group of gruff middle-aged men exit, laughing about some sort of arrangement or whatnot. I smooth down my dress's creases with my hands delicately and begin to fiddle with one of my rings, taking it off and on my fingers. I peer out the nearest window and observe the crescent-shaped moon float up in the night's sky, rising over the London skyline. Many cars are still driving about in the distance and house lights are blazing, along with the fluorescent street lights that never get turned off at night, to lull the civilians into a sense of false safety. I start to move onwards towards the doors, but I get cut short when two lines are being formed in the heart of the large ballroom, one line of women, and one of men, which suggests another dance is about to start, where most people are what the elders like to say obligated, but mean forced, to join. My insides panic for a second as my brain quickly pans through numerous escape plans, when I'm jolted aside into the end of the line by a passerby. I attempt to find my way out of the heap of congregating dancers when Eric hastily approaches me, looking concerned. I let out a growl at him and tell him to go away, but he persists. The music stops, and he holds out his hand, looking at me hopefully. I promptly bat it away.

"Don't even try." I mutter, but Eric forcefully grabs my hand and waist as if he was dancing with me, and I squirm, uncomfortably. I use my free arm and jab him in the side, which he winces at, but carries on swaying around. He leans in closer to whisper something in my ear.

"I don't want to hurt you, I promise, I need to tell you something. It's important. Please just pretend that you're having fun dancing." 

I swallow my pride and roll my eyes, relaxing my tense limbs, and place my hand on his shoulder, which makes me cringe. He holds out his free hand, and I take it reluctantly. He grimaces slightly at my grip.

"You're so tense." He mutters, as we begin to dance.

"No shit." I reply.

"Look, I know it was bad of me to just grab you, but I knew you wouldn't listen to me."

"Damn right I wouldn't have. Now what do you want?" He pulls me closer then spins me out, and we move around in a slow waltz.

"Your father was just talking to me an-"

"Congratulations, but whatever he says is mostly bull shit about me."

"I, I know. It's just, I mean, he called you a bitch and I-"

"So what? If you expected us to have a more lovey and caring relationship you were wrong."

He gulps and slightly nods. I try to swallow my pride for a few minutes just so he can spit out whatever he wants to say.

"Oh, well, he, um, was talking about looking for like a potential match? To rein you in or something." 

I scoff.

"He's always doing that, but I scare all of his quote on quote "matches" away"

"I think he's found a newer one though?"

"Oh well. Most of his stupid suitors run away the second after they see a woman with more than they do. It un-nerves most of them. And the ones who do survive that don't usually survive me."

"You kill them?" He exclaims in a high pitched voice, a look of shock plastering over his face. 

"No, you dip-shit. I mostly injure them, if they need it. If i killed them my dad would have my head." Eric stirs for a moment, then looks aside.

"This guy stopped me earlier, an American. He had a thick bronxs accent i think?" He says, looking around the area, and dips me to the side. I come up, and smile snarkly at him. 

"Good for you."

"He never told me his name, but he's around 6'3, his quite buff, and looks roughly in his early 30's?"

"Wow, he sounds cute," I reply sarcastically.  "Try not to blush too much when speaking about him, it looks like you have a little crush on him." I giggle slightly at my small joke, but he looks serious. He pushes me out to spin me, but i let go and step aside. 

"What are you doing?" He questions, as i move away from him.

"Going away." I say, but I'm stopped by an approaching man, who might be the one Eric just mentioned- he has slicked back hair with an anstronomical amount of gross smelling gell, and has blue eyes that seem dead inside. He smiles at me slightly, at me and offers his hand. I turn around to Eric quickly and smile sarcastically, and take this mans hand out of spite, just to annoy Eric, who seems bothered at my actions. The American man is much more stronger in his grip than Eric, and i try to press my ring's crystal's sharp side against his palm. He holds my waist tightly and  moves around much more roughly than Eric. His movements are much more tensed and tight, and not as flowly too. He dances like a block that's just been chiseled with a tool or something. I try to step on his feet purposefully, and play it off as an accident, to try and get him to relax his hands. He finally speaks, looking down at me.

"My name is Xavier."

"Is that so?"

"Yes."

God, he already seems like such a bore. He commences speaking again.

"Your father has told me a lot about you."

"Well, that's lovely." 

"He told me you could be overbearing, proud and cynical, but I didn't believe it."  Xavier continues, and I jeer.

"It's an easy mistake," I let go and squirm out of his grasp. "Now I must go, but I really do appreciate the introduction." I say, twisting back around and grinning at Eric, who's hand I seize this time, moving him elsewhere.

"That's the guy you were talking about, I presume?" I ask and he puts his hand gingerly back on my waist and goes back to dancing, as a cover up. His hand on my middle makes me want to completely vomit, yet again. He bends around and then back to me swiftly, and nods.

"Yeah." He responds, slowly twirling us around in a circle. The interest of the room is gradually disappearing, as more and more people are retiring for the night, and the band is slowing down to their last few pieces.

"He's no big deal, I'll give him a couple of weeks." I say to him, actually trying my hardest not the step on his feet with my heels.

"He's tall." Eric points out, looking towards him. I roll my eyes, and use my hand to move his chin back to me, to not cause anyone to assume that we might be plotting.

"Everyone's tall to you, you arse."

"Did you get his name? And 5'8 is a pretty adequate, average height for a man." 

I chuckle. "Of course it is, you keep telling yourself that. And yes i did, He's named Xavier. Don't know his last name, however." He gives a panicked retort, more of an incoherent mumble, andI can't understand him. The words' danger and severe was thrown about there, but I don't know. I give out an exasperated sigh, and look below to the polished ballroom floor. I determine that now might be an opportunity for me to leave the room since everything is becoming a bit too boring, and less people are in here. Most have already travelled home since it's 1.46 am currently, but some have decided to stay longer, to hash out over excruciatingly dull and tiresome deals.  I check my phone to see if I have missed any news, but luckily I haven't yet. I thoughtfully pack all my things up and start leaving, without telling Eric. I immediately let go of him, and move out of the dance. Without missing a beat, he starts to frantically pursue me, which just makes me require to fasten my pace. He attempts to call out to me a couple times, but I disregard him since I have done rather enough socialising with that ignorant shit head for at least 7 moons. 

I slower my walking once I lose him and are approaching  the doors, which are already pulled back, held open by workers. I give a precise nod as a thank you, and exit the building, the London skyline growing into view, as a blast of fresh, crisp night air hits me.

Finally, the night is over, and I head home.