Page 54 of Working for the Mob

“We’re bringing the scones to Jamie’s house, and it’s technically Jamie’s oven. Plus, I want everyone to remember us by something other than second-hand clothes.”

Since it was the day of Jamie’s party and we still didn’t have the clothes from the city, I accepted that whatever I wore tonight would have a couple coffee stains and be covered in flour.

Luckily, the day flew by. I worked the morning shift, with the shiny espresso machine taunting me, and afterwards met Art in his office.

We didn’t talk much, aside from the occasional question. Art spent most of the day on the phone, arguing about shipments and work orders, and I organized an entire month’s worth of paperwork. Art refused to go out to lunch, claiming that he had “too much to do,” and barely touched the sandwich I brought him from the café.

His mood grew more sour as the day went on.

I hoped that Art wouldn’t mind me leaving early. I had left early every day the last couple weeks to help Lucy bake the bread for the café. But since the café would be closed for Jamie’s birthday, no bread needed to be baked, and Art might not allow me to leave.

I didn’t need to worry. Once it was time to join Lucy back at the café, I excused myself, and Art, who probably didn’t know what day it was, barely spared me a wave.

It only took us an hour to bake the scones, but the streetlights were already on by the time we left.

The wind cut the temperature by another ten degrees on our trudge home, making it too cold to talk. We arrived to find Art’s car and another unknown vehicle in front of our house.

“Why do you think they’re here?” Lucy asked, and I shrugged. Art gave no indication that he would see me once we arrived home.

We walked through the front door and a fire already blazed beneath the chimney––Art must have built it. The welcome warmth should have made the entrance much more enjoyable. Footsteps echoed from the back, in our rooms.

“Excuse me,” I yelled out. “What are you doing in our rooms?”

“You don’t think …” Lucy asked, and clapped her hands to her mouth and jumped up and down. She took off down the hall, leaving me perplexed at the door.

“You can hang the rest of them in the front room,” Art said, with another man behind him.

This man knew how to wear a jumpsuit! He was tall and brawny. He winked at me as he walked by, and headed outside with Art.

I jumped at a shrill squeal from the back of the house, and my heart raced. I hurried to Lucy’s room, to see her hugging a closetful of clothes.

“Oh, they’re just gorgeous. Who could imagine such a beautiful sight?” She brought a velvet dress up to her face and pressed it against her cheek with a low moan. “I can’t believe they’re here.”

Lucy’s eyes popped open and found me. “And they’re just in time for the party tonight!”

At the very least, I would have a clean dress to wear.

Lucy sorted through the clothes while I heard Art and studly delivery man deliver my work attire to my room.

Once Art tipped the delivery man and waved him goodbye, I pounced.

“In the future, we would like to be notified before you come over. I know you’re the landlord and that you have the right to check on the premises, but you should schedule a time with us for visits,” I said, and stuck out my chin. “What if you walked in and we were naked?”

“Do you spend a lot of time in the living room naked?” Art asked, pan-faced.

“That’s not the point and you know it!”

Art grinned, satisfied he got under my skin.

“I knew you weren’t home. The lights were still on at the café. And Leonard checked at the office to let me know he had the delivery. I told him I’d meet him here. If I’ve overstayed my welcome, I’d be more than happy to leave.”

“I think you should,” I said, and crossed my arms.

“Fine. But I’m sending Henry in an hour to pick you up for the party.” He opened the door to leave.

“And what makes you think we need a ride?” I shot back.

“You need a ride because two women shouldn’t be out walking by themselves in the dark,” he shouted, and slammed the door before I could respond.

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