Page 1 of Kidnapped By the Mafia

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EMILY

“Sit the fuck down and shut the fuck up.”

I do as I’m told, my shoulders sagging. I know what’s about to happen but that doesn’t make this any easier.

Vince’s office is as grim as the rest of the call center, blinds drawn tight and the stench of sweat clinging to everything.

“You know why you’re in here?” he asks, his voice deceptively calm.

My stomach churns with anger and fear as I think of the bills piling up at home. “I’m sorry, Vince,” I say, the words bitter. I hate this job. Collecting debts from people who can’t afford to pay. “I’ll try harder.”

“No, you fucking won’t,” he continues, leaning forward, his eyes narrowing. “You think you can be employed a week and not collect a penny?” His chuckle is dark, humorless. “You’re done here. Get out.”

He pulls an envelope from his desk drawer. “Greg gets your pay check. He knows how to get money from these scumbags, unlike you.”

He whistles and Greg appears in the doorway, a gleeful grin stretching across his rat-like face.

“Yes, boss?” he says.

“Here’s some bonus pay for the week,” Vince says with a smirk. “Enjoy it. You’ve earned it.”

“Thanks, boss.”

Vince glares at me. “Are you still here? Fuck off.”

I stand slowly, my legs heavy with the weight of defeat, and head for the door. In the last six months, I’ve lost three jobs. Now it’s four. I’m beginning to think I might be cursed.

The door clicks shut behind me. I can hear the two of them laughing as I walk away.

The fluorescent lights overhead buzz louder than ever, mocking me as I head past my cubicle, not bothering to gather my things.

What’s the point? There’s nothing there worth keeping. I step out of the office into the corridor. My mind is spinning, replaying the last half hour over and over.

Fired for trying to have a conscience in a place that seems to thrive on crushing people under its heel. I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself, but it’s like trying to stop a ship from sinking with a bucket.

My phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out, and Mia’s name flashes on the screen. For a split second, I consider not answering. But I can’t do that to her. She’s the only person in this city who gives a damn whether I come home at night.

I swipe to answer, pressing the phone to my ear. “Hey,” I manage to say, trying to sound normal, like my world hasn’t just crumbled at my feet.

“Em, I thought you were at work.” Mia’s voice is tight, and I can hear the panic in it, the kind that comes when you’re desperately trying to hold it together but failing. “I was going to leave a message. Can you talk?”

“I’m on my way home,” I say, starting to walk again. “What’s wrong?”

There’s a pause on the other end, and when Mia speaks again, her voice cracks. “We’ve been robbed.”

For a moment, I don’t understand. Robbed? Us? Our apartment is a dump; what could anyone possibly want from us?

“What do you mean, robbed?” I ask, though I’m already picturing it: our door kicked in, the little we have thrown around like garbage, someone’s dirty hands rifling through our things.

“They took the TV,” Mia says, her words coming out in a rush now. “And… and your mom’s necklace, Em. It’s gone. I’m sorry.”

My heart stops. The TV I can live without, but the necklace… I stop walking, my hand clutching the phone so tightly my knuckles turn white. “No, no, that can’t be right. Maybe you missed it. Maybe it’s somewhere else, in the kitchen or?—”

“I looked everywhere, Em,” Mia cuts in, her voice small and defeated. “I’m so sorry.”

It feels like someone’s punched me in the gut. The necklace was the only thing I had left of my mom, the last piece of her I could hold onto.

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