Page 21 of Working for the Mob

“And who are you?” the slim woman asked, and drew herself up.

“I bet I know,” the friend said. ”You’re that girl who punched the ticket booth worker.”

“That’s ridiculous. I—”

“You can’t expect us to listen to anything you say,” the slim woman said. “Especially not the sister of someone who does all of her hard work on her back.”

A hush fell over the café. Everyone stared at Lucy, whose shoulders slumped and she hung her head in a very un-Lucy-like look.

“That’s enough!” I shouted, and banged on the counter, eerily similar to Art at the train station. “At least Lucy can enjoy her life. It’s better than spending her time tearing down others. And I’d much rather be Lucy than some uptight, dried-up crone who just lays there while performing her weekly duty for her husband.”

Blood pounded in my ears and I was huffing like I just ran a mile. I couldn’t stop my hands from shaking.

A buzz of whispers spread around the café as Jamie walked in from the back with a blank look. He scratched his head in bewilderment.

My words must have hit home. The hook-nosed lady pulled at her collar while a flush creeped up the friend’s cheek. They were speechless. They wilted under the crowd’s stare as the friend slowly backed toward the doors.

The slim woman held her glare at me, with a mixture of anger and hurt. My stomach clenched in a pool of guilt. I had gone too far. I was supposed to be standing up for Lucy. Not tearing down two middle-aged ladies.

“Come on, Virginia,” the friend said. “I think we should try a café that treats their customers better.”

She tugged the slim woman out by her sleeve, with the buzz of the café growing. I doubt those women would be able to show their faces in the café for at least a week.

I was really growing a reputation for myself. One that I didn’t necessarily want.

“I wouldn’t tell Art about this,” Jamie said, with an uneasy smile.

“Why not?” I asked.

“That was Officer Brighton’s wife.”

Chapter 7 – Genevieve

"Can you flip the sign on the door to ‘Closed’ and start bussing the tables?” Jamie asked me once I returned. The rush had finally ended and only one patron sat at a table, finishing a croissant. “We need to start prepping for lunch.”

“Sure thing, boss,” I said, and shimmied around the counter. I planned on sitting on the chairs while I wiped down the tables––my feet were killing me.

Lucy stood behind the counter in just her stockinged feet, with her heels sitting on a shelf under the counter. She seemed in good spirits after her run in, but I made a mental note to check in on her periodically.

I closed the store, grabbed a washcloth, and took refuge in the seat I sat in the morning I arrived in East Lannington. I wiped down the table and took a minute to concentrate on a particularly tough stain.

Although the rest of the morning flew by, I found myself obsessing more over what I said to Mrs. Brighton than the rest of my schnitzel-covered weekend. I barely thought of the matchmaker, the money I lost, or the rent I couldn’t afford.

I especially didn’t think about my landlord, who definitely worked for the mob. Or led the mob. Definitely something with the mob.

I needed to fix what I had done. And I needed to do it soon.

I looked up when the bells twinkled atop the opening door.

“We’re closed,” I said automatically, but when I looked up my stomach somersaulted. Art stood just inside the threshold, in a trench coat overtop another pristine suit. “Oh, for goodness sake.”

“I thought I’d find you here,” Art said, and stuffed his hands in his pockets. I tried not to imagine the sculpted physique that hid under those layers.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be? I’m sure you could hide under some bridge and gobble up any billy-goats that try to walk over it,” I said. I didn’t have time to exchange pleasantries with this troll while I still needed to bus a handful of tables.

“That’s no way to speak to your new boss,” Art said, and I cursed under my breath. I forgot that Art owned the café. I had considered Jamie my direct, and only, superior.

“Can we keep all of our correspondence through Jamie? I think that would work out better for both of us.”

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