Mobster's Girl by Amy Rachiele Read Free Book Online

knuckles. They’re really sore.
The ointment shit stinks but feels good.
    Alessandra gave me Megan’s number. I’m so
tempted to text or call her. I have no fuckin’ clue what I would
say though -‘hey, how’s it going? I think you’re beautiful. I
wish I could see you tomorrow but I have to beat the shit out of
people. Bye.’
    She doesn’t even know I have her number
besides the fact that she’s scared shitless of me. The haunting
images of her with that chooch Troy invade my mind. I try and
concentrate on last Sunday at church and the red dress.
    I need to get out of the hotel room. I have a
grand burning a hole in my pocket and pent up energy from the
adrenaline rushes I’ve had over the past three days beating the
shit out of people. Donny’s lying on his bed watching the news.
    “Don, I’m gonna go shopping.”
    “Shopping? What the fuck for?”
    “I don’t know. I gotta get outta here.”
    “Okay, Tonio. Don’t be gone long.”
    I take Donny’s keys off the bedside table and
head out the door. I drive down the main drag until I come to a
huge indoor mall. I park at Nordstrom’s. I decide that I’m going to
pick up some of my mother’s favorite perfume.
    I am immediately accosted by sales
clerks-some holding bottles of spray cologne. A pretty petite girl
with blonde streaked brown hair and perfect make-up comes up to
me.
    “May I help you?”
    “Uh, yeah. I need a bottle of Chanel.”
    “For men or women?” she asks.
    “Women.” I say and follow her to a sales
counter covered in jewelry, perfume bottles, and scarves for
sale.
    “I have the 5 oz or the 8 oz spray
bottle.”
    “I’ll take the biggest one,” I tell her. She
slides the counter door shut and places the shiny box on the glass
top.
    “That’ll be eighty-five dollars, please.”
    I grab a hundred out of my pants pocket and
clerk is smiling a little differently at me-playfully. She takes
the hundred from me and asks.
    “Is this for your girlfriend?” I see the look
in her eye. I know that look. I get it a lot.
    “No, my mom,” I say then instantly feel
despair. I would take every dime I had and spend it on Megan. I
wouldn’t even flinch. In fact, I wish I could. It would make me
happy. “What is the most popular perfume for a girl?”
    “How old of a girl?”
    “Your age, eighteen or so.” I say.
    “Oh, that would be Juicy Couture or Coach
Poppy.”
    “Can I see those?” I ask getting excited.
    She sprays some stuff on a little piece of
white paper and hands it to me. I bring it to my nose. It smells
good, feminine. She hands me the next one. It smells even better.
But I ask her, “Which one do you like?”
    “Oh, I’m a Juicy girl.” She says smiling
provocatively.
    “I’ll take that one then.”
    “That will be another eighty-five dollars
please.” She’s still smiling and her mouth is getting wider and
wider. I toss another hundred on the counter and she hands me my
change. The clerk starts to wrap the perfumes and puts them in the
same bag.
    “Can I have those in separate bags
please?”
    She laughs lightly and says, “Sure.” I’m not
positive but I think this girl believes I am buying her perfume.
She puts them in pretty bags and ties each one with a ribbon that
has the name Nordstrom running along it. “Will that be all?”
    “Yes. Thank you.” And I snatch the bags off
the counter. Her face falls, and I book it to the entrance of the
mall.
    I wander around for awhile and pass all sorts
of stores-clothing, make-up, shoes. I pass Ralph Lauren. I pick up
some pants for myself. Then I walk by a jewelry store. The display
in the window has all sorts of silver necklaces. I decide to go in.
I slowly peruse the necklaces and bracelets.
    “Can I help you?” A tall woman in a business
suit asks. She has a bracelet of keys dangling from her wrist.
    “I’m just looking.” I say still peering down
into the glass.
    “Is it for someone special?” she asks.
    What am I doing exactly? Why would I