Conquered by the Mafia Boss

The man who was always patient with me looks at me, his hand outstretched. He mouths something: Run.

Dad looks at him in disbelief. It was an accident. He didn’t mean to.

My face screws up in pain. “You fucking bastard.”

The gun aims toward me.

He meant to kill me.

I get up to my feet and I burst out of the clubhouse, sprinting so hard that I can’t hear anything but my breathing. I head for those tall iron gates. Julien mans them, and he stiffens when I slide to a halt in front of him.

“What happened? I heard-”

“Let me the fuck out!” I bang my elbows on the gate. Any second my dad’s going to come flying out of the clubhouse and fire into my back.

“I can’t just-”

“OPEN THE FUCKING GATE!”

I don’t bother to wipe the tears running down my face. I just smash the bars over and over again. If only I had the strength to rip them down for good. These fucking bars have kept me in for too long.

“All right. Jesus.”

He rolls the gate open. It seems to take an eternity for it to open wide enough for me to squeeze through the narrow opening.

“MAYA!”

My father’s voice hits me like a spear to my knees, and I fall down. My knee slams into the concrete and I feel the grit digging into my flesh.

Get up, damn it.

Shit, I’m so exposed here. Nothing but sheer adrenaline makes me sprint down the road until my lungs and legs burn. I reach town after a quarter of an hour, my lungs so tight that I can’t draw any more breath. Crippling nausea hits me and I retch on the side of the road.

I need a payphone, but I don’t have a dime on me. All I have is Johnny’s phone number because I carry that folded piece of paper everywhere I go.

And I have nowhere to go now. No wallet. No money. Nothing.

Calling him is the last thing I want to do. I wanted to be on my own for a little while, but now that my father’s gone psycho-

Pain clenches my heart and my chest shakes as I desperately draw in breath. I don’t know if Chuck is alive, but if he’s dead it’s my fault. I goaded my father, and all Chuck ever did was protect me. Hold my hand when we crossed the street. He wiped more than a few tears from my cheek.

Fuck no. I can’t think about this shit.

A glint of metal catches my attention, and I bend over to scrape the shiny coin from the pavement. Nickel. It pings on the street as I drop it and walk down the sidewalk of the industrial town built around the fortress. The houses here are all low income, or they were before they were abandoned to rot. Crumbling streets. I stub my toes on the uneven sidewalks and keep my eyes peeled for a fucking telephone booth, or a diner, or something. Then a see a grubby little sports bar, and it’s open. I stumble inside the dark room and my nostrils wrinkle at the faint smell of piss.

“Can I use your phone?”

The bartender takes one look at my disheveled appearance and shakes his wizened head.

“Non.”

I can’t believe this.

“It’s an emergency!”

“I don’t serve biker bitches. Va chier.” Go shit yourself.

I summon all the energy in my chest. “Maybe I’ll tell my father to come to this bar and shove that rifle up your ass.”

I see him angling toward the rifle behind his bar, and he freezes.

“His name is Carlos. Have you heard of him?”Property © of NôvelDrama.Org.

The bartender relents. The threat of my father is too much for him to ignore. He grabs an ancient telephone and slams it on the counter.

“There. Mange d’la marde.”

Fuck you, too.

I pick the phone off the hook and dig into my jeans for Johnny’s card. It’s been folded so many times that I can barely make out the black text. It rings, and I release a shaky sigh.

“Johnny.”

“I-it’s me. I really need your help.”

Arrogance slides into his smooth voice. “You called a lot sooner than I thought.”

“I’m in deep shit.”

“What happened?”

“He found out-he knows. I barely managed to get out.”

“Where are you?”

“I don’t know. I’m in some shitty bar down the hill from the fortress.”

“I’m coming to get you. Don’t move.”

My nails dig into the plastic as I watch the door. “What if he finds me? He tried to kill me-”

“He what?”

Static crackles between us. My mouth opens, but I can’t force out a single word. Vivid images flash in front of my face. My mom-what’s going to happen to her?

“Just fucking stay put. I’m leaving now.”

As soon as the comfort of his voice fades to a dull dial tone, panic ramps up behind my chest. I walk deep inside the bar and then I consider just hiding in the bathroom stall to wait for him. Yeah, that’s what I’ll do.