Page 5 of My Mafia King

We had some clothes on our backs and not much food.

A car is a big deal, and it wouldn’t have happened had I stayed home and not worked this past summer.

I only drove my father’s old car.

Mostly when he was too drunk and needed a ride home from wherever he had been stranded.

Or when I had to buy groceries.

Other than that, I caught a ride. Beau picked me up a few times. If not him, then it was Jen, my only friend.

Buying a car was part of my plan. I needed to be able to move and, basically, reach my destination.

I also needed a place to sleep until I got my first paycheck and rented a room at a motel or something.

And hopefully, that first paycheck will come fast, as the money I still have after paying for my car is nowhere close to what I need to survive.

“It’s okay,” I say, talking about my car.

“What color is it?”

“Navy.”

We chat about it, mostly to forget that I’m about to leave.

This is probably the most important thing that’s happened to us.

We’ve never been apart.

Since my mother brought her home from the hospital after giving birth, I’ve always been by her side.

She was a tiny baby—I was too when I was born, my mother said––and quite happy.

Less moody than I was, my mother had also said. But then my mother passed, and I’ve been my little sister’s solely support since she was six.

I helped her with her homework and tried to make things better for her.

It didn’t always work, but now it will.

Things will be different.

I will make this work even if it’s the last thing I do on this earth.

She scrunches up her nose.

“You don’t like the color?” I murmur.

“I like red more.”

“Red is not a good color if you want to blend in,” I say, smiling.

“Is it an old model?”

“It’s a cheap model. And it runs. Hopefully, it will get me there. We’ll see what happens after that.”

“Okay,” she concedes, pushing to her feet.

I rise, too, proud of the strength she shows in this difficult situation.

---