Page 17 of Pretty Little Disaster

“You do realize, sir, that most of these books will contain the same information?” She holds up the Pregnancy For The First Time Parent beside The Pregnancy for Dummies books.

“I get that.” I nod back, flicking through the bills in my wallet and slamming a wad on the counter.

“Just checking.” She holds up her hands in defeat and continues to ring up the twelve books that are in front of her.

“So, when’s she due?” she smiles.

“Oh, I don’t know if it’s a boy or a girl, yet,” I explain, getting progressively uncomfortable. I didn’t come here to make small talk, just to buy some books.

“I meant your partner.” I can see that she’s amused by my misunderstanding.

“Oh…She’s six weeks.”

“Feeling like she can’t keep anything down, I expect.” The woman raises her eyebrows like she’s talking from experience.

“Yes… and that's why I need the books. I Googled what to feed a pregnant woman for breakfast earlier, and so much came up that I didn’t know where to start.” I don’t know why I’m suddenly confiding in this stranger. Maybe it’sbecauseshe’s a stranger. With her, I don’t have to pretend that I’ve got it all together. I don’t have to disguise the fact that I’m freaking the fuck out.

“Well, I’m sure your partner will be very impressed with your commitment to research,” she adds.

“She’s not my partner, in fact, up until yesterday she was just my little sister’s annoying best friend.” I slide my hand through my hair while she piles my purchases into a brown paper bag.

“I see.” The cashier nods, not knowing quite what to say.

“Now, she’s going to be the mother of my child.A child.” I repeat in case she didn’t hear me the first time. “She’s acting like she’s okay with all this, but she can’t be. She hates me, the baby’s making her sick, and she’s got a degree to finish. I just feel like ifI can grasp an idea of what we’re dealing with, I might be able to handle it better.”

“What’s she studying, dear?” A gentle voice comes from behind me and I turn around to see a tiny, old lady waiting in line behind me.

“I couldn’t tell you. And that’s another thing, I don’t know anything about her. I never took the time to find out because I never envisioned being in a situation like this.”

“Well, the fact you're here, buying these books is a good start,” the cashier tells me, handing the two bags containing the books over the counter to me.

“She’s right.” The old lady nods her agreement.

“Though, there is something my husband could teach you about managing a pregnant woman that those books won’t.” She looks across to the Chesterfield couch where a smartly-dressed old man is carefully sitting himself down.

“Just remember, she’s always right.” She rests her hand on my arm and winks.

“I second that.” The woman behind the counter adds.

“I appreciate the advice.” I look between them both before taking my books, and heading out the door to explain to the Lombardi boys how I intend to kill the man who ripped off their uncle.

“That's a long range, Conte, are you sure you won’t miss?” The older brother looks unconvinced as he sips from the tiny espresso cup in his hand.

“I never miss,” I assure him.

If there was one thing my father could be proud of me for, it was my shooting skills. His father was a sniper in the Italianspecial forces, and although he never quite followed in his footsteps, his brother, my uncle, did. He was a trained killer and a very skilled marksman before he died. I spent many summers with Uncle Demetri, and he taught me from a young age how to shoot, then as I got older he taught me how to kill.

My father wanted me to be able to protect our district, but in the end, it was Thadeo DeMarco’s politics that destroyed us. No skills I learned from my uncle could protect us from that. After the district got taken from us, and my father died, I started putting my talents to good use. I could earn big from the jobs I was prepared to do, and when my sister’s husband found out, not only was he furious, but he decided to hire me for himself. What my sister or her friend don’t know, and can never find out, is that for the past year, I have been Dario Demarco’s private enforcer.

He took a leap of faith in me after he took over from his father, he trusts me to help protect his name, his family, and his reputation. I’m the man who always gets his hands dirty. I torture men. Some, I slice open, some I look in the eyes as I pull the trigger, and some I sneak up behind. All that matters is that I get the job done.

“This can’t come back on us, Dario has assured us–”

“Jacopo has pissed off enough people in his lifetime.” I save them their breath. “This will not look like your average, mafia execution. The weapon I will be using and the distance it will be fired from will make this appear to be a professional hit. There will be many suspects, celebrities, politicians, all of which would have motives to hire that kind of assassin,” I point out.

“Your talents seem endless, Mr Conte,” The brother with the angry scar on his left cheek stares through me.

“We all have our talents.” I scoop up the envelope that's on the table. “I assume this is a down payment.” I flick through the cash, wondering when I became a sub-contracted killer. Up untilnow, the only men I’ve killed for Dario are the ones who have wronged him. But, I’ve learned it does not do well to question Dario’s motives, so I will take the Lombardi brothers' money and I will kill the man that they want dead.

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