Page 90 of Working for the Mob

Art stared at me with those beautiful mocha eyes of his, with panic creeping out from behind them.

“He doesn’t know that we slept together,” I said. “Twice.”

The man continued to stand there, unaffected by the cold. What was going through his head?

“Are you going to say anything?”

Art swore and swung his head down the alley and back, fidgeting. “It’s not that. Genevieve, I …”

“Yes?”

“I’ve got something I need to ask you.”

“What?” I demanded. Even with the sun, it wasn’t comfortable out here.

“I need to meet with the owner of a speakeasy in the city. Lance and I are thinking of bootlegging some whiskey for a few extra dollars.”

“I can manage the café myself. I can even do a few more books if you leave me a key to your office.”

Art swore again and shoved his hands in his pockets. “I’m doing this wrong.”

“Doing what wrong?”

“I …” He searched the back of the store behind me and scratched the back of his head. “I need to go this weekend.”

“And … what? You need my permission,” I said, annoyed with his vague details.

“I thought you might want to come along,” he said, and turned away from me. “Like a date.”

My stomach flipped into my throat. Did he meanme? Did Art Necci plan on bringingmeto the city? Apparently, the great Art Necci cannot ask out a girl and look them in the eye. I didn’t mind. It gave me the opportunity to think without going goo-goo eyes.

“Are you planning on asking me?”

“Dammit, Genevieve. Are you going to make me say it?”

He turned back to me, red in the face, his jaw set.

I wasn’t going to let him off easy. Not when I had him on hook like this. Ineededto hear him say it. I stepped in until I felt his breath upon my lips. I threw my arms around his neck, smirking, and his rigid body melted into mine.

“Yes.”

“Will you come to New York with me for an illegal liquor sale?” he asked.

I focused on his lips and I leaned in closer. “What would I wear?” I whispered.

“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.”

???

“Dad! What are you doing?”

I walked in the kitchen to find my dad rearranging the display case. He didn’t even have the dignity to look guilty. I even forgot that I had spent the last five minutes making out with Art in the alley.

“Genevieve, I assure you that this will increase sales by twenty per cent. People want to see the product displayed before they buy it.”

“Earlier you said ten per cent,” I said, and crossed my arms.

“I also lowered your prices,” he said, unabashed.

---