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The Boss
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2024-10-29 19:42:56“I am telling you what she said.”
“And I am telling you that it is not good enough.”
The yells wake me from my sleep and I sit up, alarm pulsating through me. I swing my legs out from under the blanket and make my way to the living room, intent on yelling at the pair of men, whoever they may be. When I reach the threshold my bravado drops and I stare at Domenico and his father, each staring at the other with anger curled into their body language.
“What is going on?” I ask and Domenico runs his hand through his hair. “The whole neighborhood can hear you two yelling.”
Maritzio smoked a cigar and stares at me as though I am nothing more than a speck of dust on a mantlepiece. “Go back to bed.” He tells me before he turns his attention back to his son. Domenico looks at me with sympathetic eyes and for a moment I think about doing it. But, there is something in Domenico’s
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I approach the dilapidated looking building with caution, wishing that my heels did not click so loudly on the street stones. Domenico sits behind the wheel of the car, a cigarette in his hand as he watched me walk. He had briefed me on the way over what to do and who to talk to, a small mission that was no doubt less about being successful at something and more about proving I am willing to do what I am told. After the conversation with his father I am afraid we are on thin ice and at any moment I may fall through. There are two men waiting near the doorway and when I approach they look me over. I am no threat and they know it.“Who are you here for?” One asks, his voice hoarse as though he has been yelling all night. He has a scar that splits his lip and I try not to stare as I answer. I will not be rude to these people. They are the only people keeping my family safe.“I am here for William,” My voice wavers and they stare at me,
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I am drowning in my own tears. I have created a lake of salty droplets fallen from my eyes and I drown in it. My bones drag me to the bottom under their weight and nobody comes to save me. I am alone. So deeply alone. My husband stares at me, without concern, without love. He is just a warm body sitting at the same table, watching me drown. He eats a biscuit slowly as he stares, like he is enjoying the entertainment of a lifetime.I do not understand his disdain for me. Four months have passed since we were joined, and each day passes slower than the last. Our nights are filled with luxurious dinners and small talk with everyone but each other and then we return to this apartment and go our separate ways. His brothers appear for business during the week, but I have not seen Lilliana since that night. I find myself yearning for her company. At least she spoke to me.“We are going to a dinner party tonight.” He says suddenly, ripping me from my th
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“I am telling you what she said.”“And I am telling you that it is not good enough.”The yells wake me from my sleep and I sit up, alarm pulsating through me. I swing my legs out from under the blanket and make my way to the living room, intent on yelling at the pair of men, whoever they may be. When I reach the threshold my bravado drops and I stare at Domenico and his father, each staring at the other with anger curled into their body language.“What is going on?” I ask and Domenico runs his hand through his hair. “The whole neighborhood can hear you two yelling.”Maritzio smoked a cigar and stares at me as though I am nothing more than a speck of dust on a mantlepiece. “Go back to bed.” He tells me before he turns his attention back to his son. Domenico looks at me with sympathetic eyes and for a moment I think about doing it. But, there is something in Domenico’s
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There is a thousand crystals on the chandelier that hovers above the ballroom floor of the Governor’s house. The light is reflected everywhere and I take a moment to drink it all in. Everywhere is illuminated and so very beautiful. The women stand around laughing and drinking, blatantly ignoring the prohibition regulations. There are no laws for the ones who create them. There is only laws for those who cannot afford the price to be above them. The men stand away, their Cuban cigars lit and sending spirals of smoke into the air. The jazz plays on behind everyone but nobody is dancing. Everything is beautiful because it is art. It is a painting. There is no movement, but there is colors and fabrics, and feeling. It invokes something within me. Makes me feel. I do not know what the emotion is, maybe envy that they all have a role in this meusuem quality production. Or maybe it is anxiousness because I have a role as well- the collector.Domenico squeezes my hand lig
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I am drowning in my own tears. I have created a lake of salty droplets fallen from my eyes and I drown in it. My bones drag me to the bottom under their weight and nobody comes to save me. I am alone. So deeply alone. My husband stares at me, without concern, without love. He is just a warm body sitting at the same table, watching me drown. He eats a biscuit slowly as he stares, like he is enjoying the entertainment of a lifetime.I do not understand his disdain for me. Four months have passed since we were joined, and each day passes slower than the last. Our nights are filled with luxurious dinners and small talk with everyone but each other and then we return to this apartment and go our separate ways. His brothers appear for business during the week, but I have not seen Lilliana since that night. I find myself yearning for her company. At least she spoke to me.“We are going to a dinner party tonight.” He says suddenly, ripping me from my th
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Home is an apartment on Park Avenue. The walls are white with gilded golden lights fixed to them. The curtains are a sky blue and they are blowing inward with a night breeze. I am in love. The furniture is large and tufted, and they screamed of class and comfort. I stifle a delighted giggle. It was not horribly large, but it was cozy. The kitchen was cramped with the stove taking up most of the space, and a small table was tucked away in the corner of the room. Given the business that was required of the two of us, I doubted much use would come to it. Their nights would be filled with business meetings or parties. A luxury not afforded to me until recently. I had no head for the business. My father’s business would go to my husband now. As would his fathers. One day my husband would be the most powerful man in New York and I would be the girl who turned a blind eye to his affairs and raised children he did not care about. He wore his own shackles in this, but his were crested
