MAFIA SHADOW

I wake up in some unknown man’s basement. My hands and feet are tied up. I drank too much last night. Or did I do some coke? Either way, I hear a six feet eight, three hundred and forty pound man ordering his henchmen:

— Load the bitch on the trunk. Move it!

— Right away, boss — his tiny henchman answers

— Help me load up the stuff. Can I bum a cigarette? — another helper asks the shorty.

— Again? Go buy your own pack! — the first one dismisses, while lighting up the coveted tobacco.

I raise my voice. The big boss prepares to snap at me.

— I have a pack here. Do you like Lucky Strike? — I ask him with my sad eyes.

— Love them. Can I at least get a lighter, Louie? — Says the man in work boots.

— Whatever. Here you go. — Louie yells.

The giant in charge of the operation stares at me for a full minute. After that, he nods the man whose name I do not know.

— You can go on the helm, Louie. In the meantime, Jack will be driving — The stoic enormity concludes.

Ok. Now I know we are heading out to sea. Why do I always hang around the wrong crowd? That’s the question that has haunted me like a shadow for roughly 24 hours.

Since I have no hope of getting out of this conundrum alive, I’m gonna introduce myself while I can. My name is Iris Marvin, I attend a community college in London and my biggest love is to party. A little more than what is reasonable, I guess.

Before finding myself in that basement, I used to go out every night. It’s all over now, I figure, looking at the boss’ grin.

— Don’t worry, you’re going on Vincezo’s plane. Treat it as a holiday — the colossus whispers in my ear.

The truck starts and Jack is smoking my whole packet. Louie looks at him with a frowning eye.

— We need to stop. I must get some smokes — Jack yells.

— You cannot be serious. Do you want me to explain your cigarette habit to the boss, while we fail to arrive on time at a harbour, carrying 2 million bucks worth of blow? — Louie snaps.

— Will the wire taps care about my smoking habit? — Jack says, while holding a smile on his face.

— Let’s stop. I want you in the truck in five minutes — Says the unfathomably large man.

Jack grins at Louie and we stop at a tobacconist, right besides a pristine sand and blue ocean beach. Jack takes his time and returns, holding a packet of Lucky Strikes in each hand. We travel the remaiming distance.

All three of them leave and I stay on the truck boot, trying to hear some whispers of their conversation. I assume we are in Marbella, seeing the yachts and the mansions. I notice they are speaking to a very unassuming, yet definitely attractive man.

That discreet impression is thrown out the window when he waves them goodbye and enters a Porsche 911 and I notice the logo on his polo shirt: Phillip Plein. He speeds away and drifts through Marbella’s tight streets. I see Jack returning to our truck.

— We’re going to the airfield. You’re the mule — he grins, holding a Lucky Strike in his right hand.

I’m really starting to question my decisions and reminiscing my father, who used to tell me partying was “useless”, while holding a cigarette and a beer bottle in each hand. Too late now, Papa.

I haven ’t shown up to class and it is a Tuesday afternoon. But then again, it ’s been two months since the last time I put my foot in there. I don ’t think those suits and ties mind my absence. I can see my eigth grade math book slipping through my eyes. I Then see my math teacher. I realize I ’m in a deep sleep, when I see an equation in front of me and manage to solve it.

— Wake up. We ’re at the airport — Louie whispers.

He picks up some duct tape, some glue and some clothing. I am stunned. And we are at a small airfield, in a little Spanish city.

— The pilot ’s name is Robero Tullón. He ’ll be flying an orange plane. Its wings are a bit crooked. Take the suitcase — he orders.

Louie smirks and drives the van out of sight. I ’m on my own now. Gosh, how much I wish I could see my dad one last time, hand him my school books and have myself a night reading alongside him.

— Thanks, short king — I grin.

I walk through the airfield as if I ’m no hurry at all but, in reality, I just want to deliver this bag, fly home and live on the streets for the rest of my life. Seems better than prison, either way. Eventually, I notice an Orange plane with a crooked wing.

— Are you Robero Tullón? — I ask the pilot.

— Yes, who are you? — he asks me while frowning his eyebrows.

— Your drug mule — I reluctantly utter.

I enter the plane, we hit the sky and we can hear the engines running on that thing. Eventually, I gather up the courage to ask him a question.

— Where are we going? — I mumble.

— New York — he replies.

— Seems like they caught their Lucky Strike with me. Who is that Vincenzo guy, anyway? — I ask, in a normal tone.

— He ’s the boss. You have a blanket over there, if you want to nap. It ’s gonna be a long flight. Our next fuel stop should be in France. You have some time, until we get there — he concludes.

I fall asleep and, before I know it, we land in France. I hear Robero ’s phone ringning, Robero answers it and I hear an Italian voice speaking.

— As planned, Vincenzo — the Spaniard whispers.

I notice the wind tilting the plane wing and think to myself: “Just let me die right now. They ’ll find my body and it will be the end of the story. But the plane gets its fuel and we hop back on.

He stinks of some unknown food, and I pick up the blanket once more. I light a cigarette and the wing tilts even further. After the final toke, I fall asleep for the rest of the trip.

I can barely stand up, when Robero tells me we’re in New York. At the airfield, we meet Jack and Louie yet again, and Vincenzo introduces himself to me with a hand kiss. I notice his diamond encrusted necklace.

A short, fat man munches on a burger as he drives us over to the boss’ boss house. He orders Jack and Louie to meet their distributors, and we walk into Vincenzo’s house. I go over to the bathroom, take off my clothes and enter the hot tub. I was soaking sweat the day prior, and now, I’m freezing in a bikini and rushing towards a hot tub.

Vincenzo smirks as he looks at my belly button piercing.

— Do you want a cigar? Straight out of Cuba. I smuggle them here — he asks me.

— Yeah, sure — I reply.

He lights up two cigars, pours two glasses of whisky and proposes a toast. I notice the lavish limo parked besides the townhouse.

— To your brilliant future. As a Don. In about a year, I can see you taking your blood oath — he remarks.

— Blood what? — I ask.

— Oath. As in you being sworn into my group.

I nod my head and take a toke on the cigar. I really miss my dad right now. I wish I could hug him and tell him how great his advice was. Vincenzo leans for a kiss.

Not gonna lie, he’s a good looking man. Muscular, tanned and about six feet four, I swoon over him while he smokes that cigar and then reality sets in.

He’s a gangster, a drug dealer and probably a murderer. Still, as he chews on that tobacco, I receive the best french kiss I have ever tasted. Then, his parents arrive. His mother leans over to greet me.

— Nice to meet you, Miss…? — she asks.

— Iris. Iris Marvin — I reply.

She notices my red hair and looks at it for a full minute.

— Your hair is amazing. Long, wavy and thick — she remarks.

— Careful mum. I like this girl — Vincenzo replies.

— Dinner will be in about an hour — his father concludes.

— Get dressed, Iris. My father doesn’t like it when girls stay in the hot tub too long — he orders me.

I go over to the bathroom and change into my previous day attire. A sweaty pair of short shorts, a stinking denim jacket and a t-shirt. His father frowns his eyebrow while staring at me. The maid signals us.

— Dinner’s ready — she yells.

I immediately sit down at the table. His father looks at me. During dinner, I see bowl after bowl of pasta and meatballs. I can’t eat anymore. But then, Vincenzo’s father looks at me with another pasta dish and I have no choice but to keep eating.

— Do you wanna go to our city hall meeting in that outfit?

— I was kidnapped and ordered to transport 2 million bucks worth of cocaine from London. Pardon me if the perfume and elegance elements aren’t in check.

His father nods his head and lights up one of my Lucky Strikes. The last one on my jacket. After that, he signals me to head upstairs and points me to a dressing room. Once I get there, I see the best clothing, jewelry, watches and perfumes. I pick a lovely long linen dress, some high heels and spray some perfume.

— We’re late, Rivaldo — his wife snaps.

— We’re coming. Ready, Vincenzo? — Rivaldo inquires.

Vincenzo approaches us in a tailored suit and a pair of loafers My heart starts pounding. I’m on the verge of puking, my stomach is at its peak capacity and I need a smoke.

A massive SUV awaits us at the door. Vincenzo is tthe first one to enter, followed by Rivaldo, Vincenzo’s mother and, finally, me. Then, I see six massive armed guards. They are certainly bigger than the man who tied me up. My legs start shaking and Vincezo is sitting beside me. The door opens up and I can’t believe my eyes when I see a bowling alley. Nevertheless, we enter it and are greeted by men in suits and ties.

— How are you doing, Vincenzo? What about you, Don Rivaldo? — one of them greets.

— Still beautiful, Caterina. I haven’t seen you in a while — another one declares, while kissing Vincenzo’s mother’s hand, to the Don’s disgust.

— Shall we toss some balls? — asks the Don.

— Go ahead. — says the first one.

After tossing the ball, Don Rivaldo turns to the man who kissed Caterina’s hand.

— So, how is the concrete business doing? Are the numbers doing all right? — he smirks.

— Fortunately, they are— says the concrete entrepreneur.

— Wanna try out for a Lucky Strike? —the Don asks.

— Let’s see. If I achieve it, will I get a better deal on that building? — the working class boss inquires.

— Ten percent off the purchase price. — Rivaldo grins.

— It’s a bet — the building man replies, while delivering a flawless Lucky Strike.

Don Rivaldo lowers his head and shakes his frenemy’s hand. I wanna buy some cigarettes, after hearing those words, but we have armed guards and they have closed the bowling alley just for us. It would be rude on my behalf, and the Don is already angry enough. I decide to suck it up.

— Are you gonna work out tomorrow morning, Vincenzo? — the Don asks.

— Sure. Wanna join me, Iris? — Vincenzo asks me.

I wanna sleep, but that hunk doesn’t seem to be easy to please.

— Yeah, sure. What time? — I inquire.

— Six thirty a.m. — He replies.

I nod my head and my heart pounds. I turn to one of the armed guards.

— Can I go get some Red Bull? — I ask him.

— I’ll escort you — he replies.

I tremble at the sight of that giant, muscular guy. Still, we go over to a nearby convenience store.

— A can of Red Bull, please — I ask the shop keeper.

My bodyguard stares at him while holding his phone in his right hand. I notice the shop keeper has a gun in his cash register. Still, he’s completely shaken, while the can passes through the scanner.

— Free for you, ma’am — he says, with a shy, nervous grin.

We return to the bowling alley and I notice some papers on the table. I approach Vincenzo’s family, while sipping on my Red Bull. I see faces in those pieces of paper. Some of them say “TO WHACK” and others have nothing but “ALIVE” written on them.

I lean against Vincenzo and he shows me a photo of a short, fat man. I recognize him: — He drove us to their house.

— Whack him or let him live? — he asks me, with a diamond encrusted handgun between his fingers.

— What did he do? — I ask him, holding on to dear life not to pull my precious red hair.

— I saw him chatting with an enemy of ours. My family will decide his fate through our hitmen tomorrow afternoon— he grins.

I really wish I had opened the books at school right now. I have one hunk of a man in front of me, and he’s planning a massacre for a piece of chit-chat. Rivaldo gets up and turns to my acidental date.

— Let’s go home. We’ll decide it in our meeting room — he says, while my bodyguard grabs our SUV keys.

That Red Bull really struck me, and, while I lay on the bed, I find it hard to fall asleep. Was it the drink or the company?

Either way, I look at the watch and it is six twenty five a.m. Time to head off to the gym. I go downstairs and open a door.

I thought it was the street door, but it turns out, it led me to the gym. I start by disastrously trying to turn on the elliptical.

Five minutes pass, I accidentaly turn the TV on and Vincezo arrives. He looks gobsmacked, but I think he is as hot and dangerous as he has ever been.

He turns my elliptical on and I bump my knee while trying to take the first step. He stares at me and frolicks my hair.

— Let’s head over to the bench press — he orders.

— Your say, boss — I joke, while grinning and looking at the TV.

We head over to this bar with lots of discs in it. There’s a bench and I turn my head towards the ceiling. He shows me a set, I look at him once again and I’m smitten by his strength. After that, he takes all the weight off and looks at me.

— Do a set. Then we’ll talk— he commands.

I pick up the bar and it titls to one side. He adjust my hand positioning and I lift it with his help.

— Ten more — he grins.

I finish the set and start puking. He grabs the keys to his car. I had never seen that logo but, when I entered it, I felt like I was on the moon. Then gravity, if that is the correct word (I can’t remember exactly, I slept through Physics class), brought me back to Earth.

— Ouch — I uttered, while his bodyguard leaned against me to change the TV channel.

We entered a hotel. Vincenzo stepped out of the car first, then Rivaldo, then Caterina and finally, I got out.

I trembled as I entered that skyscraper and stepped on the elevator. Caterina leaned against me.

— You had your fun yesterday. Today, you start working — she uttered into my ear.

We were awaited by men in suits and ties, and, when we entered, I had a little ace up my sleeve.

The doorman led us into the office. I had my phone’s recording on, and I was about to take note of every single word being declared in that boardroom.

— Are we in a steelmaker’s office? — I asked as I noticed the plaque on the walnut wood desk.

— Oh, curiousity. That will take you really far, in this business. But that’s a front. We mix money from our comercial operations with the steelmaker’s revenue. Both of them operate, but only one of them is legally incorporated. But let’s get to practical subjects, shall we? — Mr. Olin orders.

— Indeed. She’s our acidental apprentice. About the Zork Towers, how much do you estimate the building to cost? — Rivaldo asks.

— A hundred and fifty million bucks. I expect it to be done in six years— Mr. Olin responds.

— Perfect. I have a concrete supplier, if you want to get the job done quicker. Let me just calh him. You can hear it, Mr. Olin —Rivaldo replies, as he phones up Caterina’s suitor.

— Hello, Darth. I have you on speaker. I’m here with Mr. Olin, the guy in charge of the Zork Towers. Heard about the project? — Rivaldo informs.

— Hello, Rivaldo. How’s Caterina doing? What is your quote? — Darth replies.

— He wants some cement. My quote is fifteen million bucks, as a finder’s fee. I’ll lock that deal in right now — Rivaldo grins, his yellow teeth gnawing at the cement mogul’s voice.

— Do you accept it, Mr. Olin? — Darth concludes.

— Seems fantastic. When can we sign? — Mr. Olin extends.

— Next Thursday. I’ll be free by then — Darth finishes.

Mr. Olin nods his head and greets us all. I have recorded everything. Our bodyguards open the door. All of them think brute strength solves everything. My phone will prove a different point. We get back in the car. Vincenzo shows me the photo.

— Remember him? — He asks.

— I do — is my reply.

— Look at this — he orders, while showing me a capsule.

— What is that? Viagra? — I question, my eyes looking at it indiferently.

— Cyanide. We´re gonna pay a café maid to put this in his coffee.

After that, there will be no witnesses. — he smirks, while placing his hand in my neck.

I almost puke. The security guard’s pistol warns me against it.