Page 1 of Texting My Mafia Savior

CHAPTER 1

ARRIANA

“I’m just so happy to see you again,” Lilly says, giving me a big kiss on the cheek and throwing her arms around me. We stand in a long line waiting outside another club while the music is pumping from inside and the chilly New York air bites at us. “What’s wrong? Am I being a sloppy drunk?”

I smile at my childhood friend. We’re like opposite sides of the same coin. I’m on the shorter side; she, on the other hand, is tall and thin, and I’m… well, whatever. Lilly is blonde, and my hair is on the darker side.

“No, it’s fine. This is just a lot to get used to after California.”

“I bet,” Lilly says, smiling. “But at least your dad will be making the big bucks now. And you could always move back… it’s not like we’re kids anymore. Do you remember when we used to talk about going to clubs? How old were we—nine, ten?”

“We were silly, weren’t we?” I laugh.

“We stillare.”

I’ve only had one drink, but Lilly has had enough for both of us. I don’t want to be a buzzkill. Lilly's insistence was the only reason I agreed to come out. It’s honestly impressive how close Lilly and I have remained when we’ve lived on opposite sides of the country for over a decade. The last time I was on the East Coast, I was ten. Now, I’m twenty-one. But summer visits, video calls, and texting can take a friendship a long way.

In the club, Lilly buys us drinks. I sip mine slowly, as I'm not a big drinker. People watching, though, and looking across the flashing lights observing the mating rituals is something I'm into. Part of me wishes I had my camera with me, but I might get some funny looks. One day—hopefully soon—I want to travel the world with my camera, and I feel like this is a preview. I’m not in a club. I’m on a safari, only it’s people I’m watching, not animals.

Lilly drags us to the dance floor. Oh,God. I do my best to go along with her party spirit, but it’s like I can feel the awkwardness exuding from me. Is this why people get so wasted in clubs? So they can let go, not constantly think,Am I being a dork?

We dance in our own private corner, but then this guy comes over, around our age, if I had to guess. He’s got slicked-back black hair. He’s taller than Lilly, wearing a gold watch on his wrist. There’s something sleazy about the way he stares at Lilly. It’s like he thinks he owns her, but maybe I’m reading too much into it. Anyway, Lilly seems happy enough to dance with him.

“Do you want another drink?” I yell in her ear to give me something to do. I’ve suddenly turned into a third wheel. She’s got her arms wrapped around the flashy man, and his hands are resting on her waist.

“Yeah, thanks. Vodka and Coke!”

I shuffle through the crowd. It’s getting busier now; the music making my head hurt. As I wait in line, I think about getting another drink. I’ve never seen the appeal of getting wasted and unaware of what’s happening. And since Lilly’s getting drunk, I need to stay sober for her.

“One water and one vodka and Coke, please.”

“Single or double?” the bartender asks me.

“Single,” I yell, even though Lilly’s been having doubles all night. Sue me, I’m the sensible one.

When I return to the dance floor, carefully balancing the drinks, I look around for Lilly and the guy with the slicked-back hair. I’m in the right area, aren’t I? I turn, turn again. Then I spot it. A glint of his gold watch, like it’s winking at me. I only glimpse it because he raises his hand to open a door at the back of the club. He pushes Lilly through. She says something, but then he shoves her again.

What. The. Hell?

I slam the drinks down on a table and move quickly across the room, my heart pounding, my mind filling with a bunch of ugly ideas. There’s no way I’m going to let him take advantage of my friend. I shouldn’t have even gone to get the drinks when I sensed something was off about that guy.

I grab the door handle, but a cold hand grips my wrist. A tall, mean-looking man whose nose looks like it’s been broken a few times stares at me.

“Get your hand off me,” I snap.

“This place is off-limits,” he growls.

“My friend just went in there… and it looked like it was against her will. She’s drunk as hell. She isn’t thinking straight. So, either you let me in there, or I’m calling the cops!”

A pain shoots up my arm as the man tugs on my wrist. I’ve got no choice. Either I move away from the door or let him break my wrist. “Wait here,” he grunts, walking into the room.

I shuffle anxiously from foot to foot. More ugly images stab at my mind, taunting me. Finally, he opens the door. “Come in, then.”

I should probably listen to the warning siren going off in my head. But if I called the cops now, what could I say? Would they even come in time? And what if I misread Lilly’s body language? I was all the way across a dimly lit room.

Quickly, I walk in. The music is quieter here. The man with the slicked-back hair sits at a glass table. There are lines of white powder laid out like albino slugs. No prizes for guessing whattheyare. Lilly sits beside him, shaking her head.

“Come on, baby, just one hit,” the man insists.

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