File 2
~The following short story series is based off the Mafia Tik Tok trend. Majority of mafia characters portrayed in these stories were brought into existence by their creators, therefore, all credit goes to them. Special thanks to those who gave me permission to incorporate your characters in the stories, I hope to do your characters justice~
Alice Denton sat at her desk at The National Herald working on her latest assignment while listening to a crime podcast. Annoyed, she typed away trying to make the reduction of trash pandas in an insignificant suburb engaging. It’s like they don’t even try to find interesting news anymore. Still, she typed away diligently, flipping through her notes, ignoring the various voices around her cubicle.
“Hey Denton,” called Kaminski (the pain in her ass since she was hired onto the team)“You don’t look busy, can you do me a favor and take on this assignment Chief gave me?”
Alice didn’t stop her typing pace. “You know Kaminski, that paycheck you get every two weeks is from a thing called a job. Maybe you should try actually earning it since, you know, you work here.”
“You wound me, Denton, you really do.”
Alice ignored him still standing at the entrance to her cubicle and continued working, but when she felt breathing down her neck, she let out an audible sigh.
“You sure you don’t want my assignment? It’s got to be better than this trash,” Kaminski commented as he read her draft over her shoulder. “Mines at least about investigating a series of auto thefts in the Loop.”
“Stop breathing down my neck,” Alice ordered shooing him away by half-heartedly swinging her notebook at his face. Even if I did take the assignment, the Chief would just credit it to him.
“Listen Denton,” started the guy as he plopped his ass on top of her pile of paperwork on her desk. “You and I both know the assignments the Chief is giving you is bullshit meant for the intern who doesn’t know his head from his ass in common sense.”
Both look over at Eugene, an overly eager kid fresh out of college who was currently hovering in front of the copier, pushing various buttons trying to get it to work. Alice watched him struggle for a few moments more before turning back to her computer.
Kaminski groaned as if the daily back and forth of their usual conversation was slowly killing him, and secretly, she really hoped it was. “Alright, how about this? You do the story and I buy us a nice dinner on the pier. I know a guy that can get us on one of those cruises.”
“And you’ve lost me completely. Nothing you offer, Kaminski, will be good enough to go on a date with you.”
“Woman, your heart is ice. When you first started working here all you did was take my assignments without so much as a peep. The hell happened?”
“You started annoying me.” A hundred percent true. Being new and wet behind the ears in the Herald had had her trying to make a good first impression. If she did the work, she’d get recognized, simple logic. What it actually did, however, was have everyone think she’d do their work for free. Kaminski’s overly confident, goofy personality was what actually snapped Alice into the habit of telling him to go pound sand. His ability to annoy was endless.
Alice felt his stare bore into the back of her head while she forced herself to keep working on her article. She heard the annoying thrum of fingers against an old metal filing cabinet, but the source of it had yet to remove itself from her presence.
“DENTON!”
Alice jumped in her seat before slowly rising from it to peak over her cubicle wall to see the Chief editor, red-faced with fury scanning the office for her. Biting her lip, she began to slowly sink back down into her chair and maybe even to the floor if she moved quiet enough. Kaminski ducked back to his own desk while the Chief shouted her name again.
“DENTON! ASS IN MY OFFICE! NOW.”
Alice winced as she heard his door slam shut after his belting decree and debated on going on break to avoid the problem all together. What a pain in the ass. Steeling herself for the wrath to come, Alice stood, straightening her shirt and pants before calmly walking to the chief editor’s office of Don Mancini.
Knocking twice, she entered, blankly staring down the small furious man before her. When she refused to say anything, Don grabbed a manila folder and carelessly tossed it to the floor at her feet. He pointed to it, “What, the fuck, is this?”
She stayed silent.
“Pick it up and read it. Then tell me what it is.” Don spoke each word as if he were the parent and she were the child. Alice gave a displeased look before bending down to pick up the folder and its contents. Upon opening it, she quickly recognized the words at the heading. And here we go.
Alice slowly closed the folder and carefully slid it back on the Chief’s desk. “It’s an investigative article on the mayor.”
“I SEE THAT what I want to know is why your name is on this article.” Don’s face seemed to turn redder by the minute. Alice shrugged and attempted to appear indifferent.
Don’s face went blank as if he had just given up on everything. He rubbed his hands over his face and reached for his last shred of patience.
“Denton, I assigned this story to Morrison, did I fire Morrison?”
“No,” Alice said.
“Did Morrison die or call out on me that day?”
“No.,” Alice replied as she caught a glimpse of Morrison heading to the breakroom.
She tried to remain undaunted from Don’s keen gaze, one built through years of investigative reporting, as he loaded up another question, “Was there some freak accident that took out both the guy’s hands?”
Alice crossed her arms and shifted around in the uncomfortable silence. Swapping assignments wasn’t technically allowed, but as long as everyone kept their mouths shut, it’d be too late to change anything. Don Mancini just liked to be a dick about rules when it was her name on the story. Alice wouldn’t be surprised if he went through the stack of assignments just to look for her signature.
“If I call in Morrison right now, what would he tell me?” Don asked pointing to the door and Alice frowned. “Listen Denton, I admire your...endlessly, persistent ability to write a good story, and I know that everyone swaps their assignments on occasion...but this is the 5th time this week. Did you even do any of the assignments I gave you?”
Alice bit her lip for a moment contemplating her words before opening her mouth. “Don, I want to take on more crime assignments. You’ve seen my work. I don’t understand why you keep handing me the intern’s stories.”
“BECAUSE THE INTERN CAN’T EVEN WORK A DAMN COPY MACHINE AFTER I’VE SHOWED HIM 10 FUCKIN’ TIMES!” Don yelled, raising his arm to point out the imbecile outside the office window still at the copier. “I asked for those copies half a fuckin’ hour ago and yet you still want me to send him out into the world?” Has it really been half an hour?
“Okay so then send me more high stake assignments in between, I can do both.” Alice tried to reason, but Don shook his head.
“You’ve got the determination and a knack for journalism, you really do. But those assignments you’re gunnin’ for are way over your head. I mean, look at you, you’re a twig in heels. I send a woman like you in there and she may not come back in one piece, okay? Just do the assignments I give you,” Don said sternly before waving his hand to his door. “Now get out of here and do a coffee run.”
“What? Tell the intern to get it,” Alice fired back exasperated.
“The intern is occupied and at the rate he’s going, I don’t even know if he’d give the guy at the counter the right name, let alone the right order. Now get out of here.”
“But-”
“Git.”
“Don you can’t-”
“Denton, I’m busy. Go make yourself useful and get the coffee,” he dismissed without so much as looking up from his work.
You son of a-
Alice bit down her anger leaving the office with the slam of his door behind her. She stomped over to the copier, where she shoved the intern out of the way to check the paper and the contents that needed copying then furiously hit the large green “COPY” button. She stopped at her desk to grab her jacket before storming out of the department and to the elevators.
Alice pushed through the rotating doors of the National Herald building, pausing for just a moment to take a deep breath as the Chicago city wind hit her like she was standing right beside a bullet train. She unintentionally made eye contact with the homeless man sticking close to the door to keep warm. Out of the two of them- one looking like an escaped psych convict auditioning to be a scarecrow and the other looking like someone spit in their food- it was the homeless man who gave her a look questioning her sanity. Giving an awkward nod, Alice turned to make her way to a coffee shop on the Magnificent Mile. It was a thirty-minute walk and she really didn’t care. She was being paid hourly, and the short angry Mancini could wait for his coffee.
A woman like me not making it back in one piece? I’ve handled all those past articles just fine without so much as a scratch. Alice weaved her way through the crowded sidewalks, ignoring the men asking for change on the street corners and politely maneuvering through the small clusters of people street performers attracted. Around her, there were groups of suburban kids obnoxiously shoving their way through underpass scaffolding to the front of the crosswalk with the university students, who stood oblivious with their headphones in their ears. Alice waited with her hands in her jacket pockets, one hand on her phone while the other gripped a switchblade, casually eyeing a man just at the corner of a CVS who shifted his weight impatiently as he watched every single person go by until his gaze landed on her. Her unamused stare seemed to startle him before he looked around again and walked away. As the small crowd around her began to move, Alice gave one last glance at the nervous man before stepping out into the street to cross.
One of the CTA trains went running across the tracks above her, the shriek of metal on metal drowning out the sound of a car charging down the street. If it weren’t for Alice catching it out of the corner of her eye, she wouldn’t have stopped in time for it to come to a screeching to a halt in front of her.
“Jesus, the fuck are you doing?!” she shouted at the driver through the window, feeling the release of her pent up anger.
Two men in suits stepped out of the vehicle forcing her attention to them. Alice took a step back, sizing up their cold stares.
“You Alice Denton?” the one closest to her asked, but Alice only looked at him, keeping her face neutral. Around them, horns blared from angry commuters as the light already changed green with various Chicagoans watching the interaction. The man took a step closer toward her, “Are you Alice Denton?”
Not if you’re the one looking for me. Alice bolted away from the men and the car, shoving her way through the small crowd of people to make it back to the safety of the National Herald building. There were shouts behind her but Alice just forced herself to keep looking forward and run, hearing the voice of the past echoing in her head. Looking back slows you down, don’t run in one direction either, make it hard for others to follow.
Alice took a sudden right, sprinting down the alleyway before taking a left back toward the magnificent mile. She’d weave around like this a few times before making it back to The National Herald. If she’s lucky, she might be able to catch a break and call the police. But despite her maneuvering, Alice still heard the multiple footsteps chasing her, and even worse, she heard them catching up. The heels she wore were by no means high since they were designed for an ankle boot, but the all-day comfort in walking in them did her no help now in running for her life, putting her at a severe disadvantage.
“GET THE CAR TO SWING AROUND AND CUT HER OFF AT THE CORNER!”
She glanced back out of instinct at the shout from one of the men, not paying attention to what’s in front of her. The alarms of a garage opening barely registered to her ears just as a black BMW pulled out. Alice turned forward too late to stop, went flying over the hood, landing hard on the concrete knocking the wind out of her.
She wheezed as she rolled herself over, willing herself to her hands and knees before stumbling back up to a standing position to continue running. Alice turned down another alley, hoping to start backtracking toward The National Herald until the car her pursuers came in blocked her exit, no doubt the two men chasing her on foot blocking the other end.
“Alice Denton, get in the car and this doesn’t need to get ugly,” spoke one of the men from behind as they calmly came to a stop just within reaching distance. Alice breathed heavily as she considered her situation, the driver of the car now calmly stepping out and coming around to her other side. Again the lessons of the past came back to her; there were no exits and no one near to help or would be willing to in an alley. Three on one and no other choice but to fight.
When she didn’t respond, the driver approached, placing a hand on top of her shoulder. Alice moved, knocking her elbow back hard into his face not once but twice before grabbing his arm and twisting it behind him then turning it at a hard angle to break it. The man screamed in pain as Alice released the arm and shoved him hard toward his friends. The other two ignored the driver and went for her. She caught one reaching back behind his jacket and pulled her switchblade from her pocket, moving in to cut the arm most likely reaching for a weapon then kicking her leg out hard for a classic crotch shot bringing her opponent instantly to the ground. Next. Alice turned and froze as the barrel of a gun was aimed directly at her face. She glared, releasing a shaky breath as she raised her hands in surrender, dropping the knife to the ground.
I messed up.
An hour later, Alice was driven to a business building just at the very edges of the city, where newly built condos and factories intertwined with each other just outside the Metra tracks and the highway. As soon as they had pulled the car up to the front entrance, the men yanked her out of the vehicle and violently urged her up the steps and through the building. Everyone cleared out of the elevator for their small group as they shuffled in, the one uninjured man pushing the button to the top floor. Subtly Alice looked at each of the men surrounding her, all wearing the same suit, but the harden looks and gruff appearances contrasted any effort to come across as inconspicuous. She noticed one wearing gold rings on his hands and another with tattoos peeking out from the sleeves of the dress shirt and jacket. That same instinctive thought that came when she met the man at the casino popped up once more in her head. Mafia. Alice refocused her attention forward as a final ding to their destination sounded in the elevator. The doors opened to reveal an elaborate office floor with two secretaries stationed on either end of a waiting area set in the center of the room. More men in suits loitered around, eyeing her as she passed with the three men who brought her. They made their way to a set of frosted glass doors at the end of one hall, stopping to knock and entering when a voice from the other end called them in. Only one way in and one way out, no sign of a set of stairs. There were four other men in that waiting area, plus these three, that makes seven. I’d need some kind of weapon to buy me time to get out and wait for an elevator.
Then Alice was forced through the doorway and ushered into the middle of the room where her escorts left her staring surprised at the man before her.
“Ms. Leona, it’s good to see you again,” spoke her host who stood in front of his desk, twisting the various rings on his fingers while a silver cross earring glinted in the setting sun coming in from the back window. He gave her a calm knowing look as he watched her. “Or should I call you Alice? Honestly, you look more like an Alice than a Leona. Giving me a fake name was smart, it took some time finding you, had to rely on facial recognition from the security tapes at the casino.”
Alice didn’t answer, her eyes landing on the window. How many floors up are we? 10? 20? No never mind; I don’t have the skill to even survive 3. I can try taking this guy on, one on one and make a break for it. Alice bit her lip; it was too risky. Instead, Alice rolled back her shoulders to straighten up as she stared at the man confidently and unafraid.
“Do you remember me?” he suddenly asked as he approached her. She had to crane her neck to look up at him as he got real close, close enough where the smell of his cologne surrounded her. Damn you for smelling good.
“Remember my face, I intend to see you again.” The memory of those words at the casino paired with that haunting smile. No doubt the man who stood before her was Dean, the man from the mafia she had met the other night. That confirmed all her thoughts from that night and today.
“You look like you do. I did tell you to remember me, didn’t I?”
“What do you want with me?” A sensible question, direct and to the point while not giving the arrogant ass what he wanted and for some reason, it made him chuckle.
Dean wrapped an arm casually around her shoulders, a shiny, silver Rolex adding a little extra weight on his wrist, guided her to one of the black leather chairs just at the front of the large mahogany desk. He pushed down on her shoulders, forcing her to sit before retaking his place leaning against the wood of the desk. Alice watched him intently, a dangerous aura surrounding him despite the smile he wore. Neither of them spoke, the silence making Alice uncomfortable. She wouldn’t give away anything. Instead, she crossed her arms then her legs before leaning back comfortably in the chair. She didn’t have a means of escape now, but if she played the game then she might find one sooner or later.
“I knew you’d be interesting,” spoke Dean before reaching back to hand her a cellphone and business card. “You’re going to keep these two things on you at all times. When I call, you’re going to answer. If I send someone to get you, you’re going to obey them at all costs. If you decide to be disagreeable...well...I’m sure you know how these things go.”
Alice stared at the phone in his hand refusing to move. It was one of the latest iPhones, no doubt coded and untraceable. The business card showed just a primary number, one she assumed she was to put into the phone. “No thanks.”
“What?”
“I said no thanks.”
“But I’m giving this to you.”
“And I don’t want it.”
“You don’t have a choice.” He laughed, but Alice kept her face the same as it had been.
“I don’t listen to you.” She answered calmly, noticing the smile on Dean’s face beginning to disappear at her refusal to comply. They had a staredown for a few minutes more, neither of them giving into the other. “What do you want with me?”
“At the moment, nothing.” He said, as he grabbed her wrist from her crossed arms and forcefully placed the phone and card in her hand. “I’m always looking for a new piece to play with and unfortunately for you, you grabbed my attention.”
“I’m not a call girl. I’m sure there are plenty of women you can buy for entertainment that are more cooperative.” Alice set the phone and card down on a little table beside the chair, with no intention of retaking it.
Dean raised his eyebrows in surprise. “I have no idea what you mean. From what I know, you work for the National Herald, a major news outlet in the country. That kind of link could be useful for me.”
Not as useful as you think. Alice stood from her seat. She was leaving, even if she had to fight her way out of here and the look she gave Dean made it clear. “I don’t know who gave you what information, but despite me being an official journalist for the Herald, I might as well be the intern. Believe me, I won’t be any use to you. I’m leaving now. I have to make sure I still have a job after being kidnapped.”
With that, she turned, leaving Dean behind without giving him a chance to stop her as she exited the office and made her way down the hall. When she reached the waiting room, she came to an abrupt stop as everyone paused in what they were doing to watch her. Quickly and cautiously, she went to the elevator pushing the button to call for a ride down. Alice tried to keep her breathing even while the rest of her was wound up like a spring as all the stares bore into her back as the elevator took its sweet time reaching her floor.
When it opened, a sigh of relief escaped her lips as she entered, pushing the button for the ground floor. Just as the doors were about to close, Alice saw Dean standing with his hands in the pockets of his pants, the silver Rolex shining across his wrist matching that cross earring of his. He raised his hand to blow her a kiss with two fingers as the elevator doors shut.
It was 7pm by the time Alice walked through the front door of her condo, Don Mancini still screaming in her ear about leaving halfway through the day despite her efforts to tell him what happened. She had already hung her keys and jacket when she finally managed to voice some excuse, not that he’d let her give a real reason, and that she’d be at the office first thing in the morning before hanging up. Entering her bedroom, Alice went to place the cell on her charger before going to turn on the bedside lamp, intent on showering before making dinner. The single lamp illuminated her space as she walked over toward her bathroom, pausing just in the doorway. Slowly, Alice looked over her shoulder recognizing the latest iPhone in black resting on her pillow with a card next to it.
Alice tightened her grip on the doorframe but made her way over to the bed to pick up the card.
I told you, you don’t have a choice.
-Dean, Boss of the Black Royales
The iPhone vibrated with a text message with the name Dean as the sender. Hesitantly, Alice set aside the card and picked up the phone, automatically unlocking once her face was in view. When did he-
Goodnight Alice.
“Fuck me,” Alice groaned before tossing the phone in a drawer.
***Thanks for reading! If you liked this short story please give it a vote! Don’t forget to comment and share as it means so much to know what my readers think! File 3 is underway! If you’re interested in Dean check out his creator on Tik Tok (@benkro_tv)***
