Page 54 of Labria

“You better get the fuck out of my house!” He had to know I meant business.

“You boyfriend took my girlfriend. Now I’m going to take his.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about your fucking boyfriend coming here and taking over.”

“That has nothing to do with me.” While on my knees, I started inching my way over to the edge of the bed. The bed was the last place I wanted to be if he came charging toward me.

“I say it does. He thinks he can get rid of me and I’m going to show him. I’m going to fuck his dark meat.”

“I’m not going to let you assault me.” Baby no.

“Spook, you don’t have no choice.”

“Gianni, listen, if you leave now. I will not tell Lord.”

“When I leave here, you won’t be able to tell him shit after I cut your tongue out.”

I slowly stood. He didn’t move. He just glared at me while he stood at the foot of the bed.

“I don’t have all night. Take your fucking clothes off.”

“That’s not an option.” I thought about my cell phone plugged in behind me on the nightstand.

“Over here in this Bregoli family. We share everything.”

“My last name is Harris. I’m not a Bregoli, so this has nothing to do with me. Your problem is with Lord and he isn’t here.”

Gianni spit, and it landed on my bed. Gross. He sucked his teeth, too. Why? All the other Bregoli’s were cold killers, but still refined gentlemen. This guy looked like a greasy slime ball.

He patted the top of his head with the palm of his hand. “Lord, Lord, Lord.” He sang. “If only that cocky bastard would have left me alone. He’s the second in command for two minutes and he thinks he’s the king of the world. He fucking loves being a Bregoli even though that Irish bastard didn’t earn any of it.”

I noticed he was slurring some of his words. The smell of alcohol had breached the distance between us. I was praying I could get away from him. Intoxicated people had brute strength but feeble coordination. I wanted the latter to work in my favor.

“Listen, I can talk Lord into going back to Chicago.” I lied, but this was the longest conversation in history with a man who broke into a house to cause me harm. I was willing to talk him to death to stop him from harming me.

“That ship has sailed. I have a way to send him packing. Listen to this.” Gianni strolled over to my side of the bed. He stood only about ten feet away from me.

I didn’t have enough time to run to the open bedroom door. I couldn’t run past him. I would have to jump on the bed and jump back down on the floor. I would probably get tangled in the bedsheets and fall on my ass. I wouldn’t be able to dart across the floor to make it to the bathroom, either.

“What am I listening to?” I scooted back until I bumped into the end table.

“If I kill you, Lordes will be so devastated. He will pack up and leave town. If killing you isn’t enough to send him on his way.” He shrugged with his shoulders and his hands. “I will kill the old bitch that raised him. With both of you bitches gone, he will be so grief stricken he’ll get out of this racket for good.”

This man clearly didn’t know Lord. He wasn’t that type of man that would let something go. I saw him kill to strangers and then sleep like a baby that same night.

I raised my hands and pressed the air in front of me. “There’s no need to kill anyone. I can just talk to him. We can leave your town.”

“You black bitches think you’re so smart. You’re nothing but a black hole to be used over and over for a man’s pleasure. You’re fucking around with Lordes and now you’re about to die for him. He can’t even marry you. All bosses have to wed Sicilian Italian women. You’re just another disposablemoulinyanbitch, plain and simple.”

I didn’t have anything clever or sassy to say. My goal was to keep my composure and figure a way out of this home invasion, sexual assault, and potential murder.

Gianni removed a hefty sized semi-automatic handgun from his back that was probably tucked into his waistband. This gun only reinforced my need to shut my mouth. He didn’t point the gun at me, but he was close enough to put a bullet in my brain if he knew how to aim.

I didn’t want to take my eyes off of him, but I needed to dial 911. I was already backed against the nightstand. I slowly reached back to feel for my phone. My fingertips bumped the cell. I grabbed it into the palm of my hand. I didn’t know what I was going to do.

My first thought was to threaten him with calling the police. It was a fleeting thought. I could throw the phone at him, but it would only do minimal damage. The phone idea wouldn’t work. My fingers moved around the table and bumped into the book that was on the bedside table.

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