Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 106953 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 535(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106953 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 535(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
“This is it,” he says, and again, it seems like he’s telling himself something important. But I pay attention.
Inside, the smells of spaghetti sauce and cooked meat fill my nose. My stomach grumbles in appreciation.
Leka gives my hand a squeeze. “We’ll get you something to eat, but first, let me introduce you to—oh shit.” He stops walking and talking.
I peek around his leg to see the place is empty but for one table in the middle of the wall. There is a man sitting in the booth. His eyebrows are dark and look like wings at the end. His hair is slicked back and his shirt is open. I see a glint of something—gold or maybe brass—at his neck.
It’s darker in Marjory’s. None of the sunlight from outside can be seen and the green lamps are all low, but I still make out that the man at the table is someone important.
I think it’s because of how everyone around him is acting. A really big guy with no neck stands arrow straight on the right. There’s a pretty woman, prettier than even Nina, sitting next to the seated man. She has a hand on his shoulder and her boobies are pressed into his arm.
There are two other men wearing dark clothes, their hands hanging at their sides, their feet shoulder-width apart. The seated man gestures for us to come forward.
Leka does another one of those inhale and exhales before walking slowly toward the table. I follow behind, clutching the bunny for reassurance.
“Leka, come in. Beefer was giving me a report on your heroics last night. Apparently, without you, we would have lost the shipment. Now who is this?” the seated man says. He curls his fingers, gesturing for me to come closer.
I look up at Leka for permission. He gives me a short nod. I creep forward. The man frowns. “You don’t look much alike. Different mothers or different fathers?”
“Yes,” Leka replies.
Yes, what? I wonder, but the man grunts as if Leka fully answered the question. “She’s not much to look at, is she?”
I glance around. Is he talking about me? I’m a fully-grown girl. I draw myself up and take another step forward. Maybe it’s the light. He can’t see me because of the light.
The pretty lady scratches her nails against the man’s shoulder. “I told you. God gave all the good looks in the family to your soldier. What a shame.”
“What’s your sister’s name?”
“Elizabeth.”
He doesn’t share my nickname. I decide then and there that I won’t either. Bit and Bitsy are for just Leka and me. It’s too bad I told Nina. If I see her again, I’ll have to give her the news that she can’t use Leka’s nickname.
“Grand name for someone like her.”
Leka doesn’t like these comments. I don’t really understand what they all mean, but I get the feel of it. The man doesn’t think I’m worthy of being Leka’s family. I hug my bunny close as I press myself tight against his leg.
The man gives me another once-over before turning to Leka. “Beefer says you’re doing a good job for him.”
“I hope so. I’m trying.”
“That’s all we can ask for. Now that we’ve lost Cotton, we’ll need you to step up.”
“Whatever you need.” Leka’s stiff as a board.
“Good. I like that attitude. Beefer says you want the family to take care of Elizabeth here if something happens to you.”
“Yessir.”
“As long as you keep doing the kind of work you’ve been doing, that won’t be a problem,” the man says. “We take care of our own here at the business. Right, Beefer?”
The tall man with no neck nods stiffly.
“All right. Why don’t you take the girl into the kitchen while I get to know this young woman better. Mary, isn’t it?”
The pretty lady flips a hank of her hair over her shoulder. “It’s whatever you want to call me,” she purrs like a kitty.
The man’s eyes grow dark. “Another good attitude.” He flicks his hand, waving us toward the back.
Leka grabs my hand and starts walking quickly in that direction. I can’t resist a peek behind me, but all I see is the man’s head. The pretty lady has disappeared.
“Where’d she go?” I ask.
“On her knees,” the no-neck man mutters as he slaps the door open.
Leka closes the door and leans against it. “What’s going on, Beefer? I didn’t know the boss knew Mary.”
“He didn’t. Walked in and Mary couldn’t get her underwear off fast enough,” the one called Beefer replies.
“Damn, I’m sorry, man.”
There’s a cry in the outer room followed by a smack. Then I hear Mary’s voice. “Yes, God, yes.”
Leka claps his palms over my ears. Sadness briefly flashes across Beefer’s face before it hardens into one of those masks like the big dolls at Macy’s. I’ve heard these sounds before. Mommy used to make them in the bed above me where I hid with the bunny slipper. The mattress would squeak squeak squeak as she bounced on top of it with some man. Or men.