disclaimer: i do not own scarface, only bianca.
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"BIANCA!" Montana's voice boomed behind my skull, and I jumped, and ended up whacking my head on the sink.
"OH-OW!" I squealed, biting my lip, tears stinging my eyes as I removed myself from the cupboard, balancing on my knees, clutching my head. I looked over my shoulder. "Yes?"
"What the fuck you doin', chico? That ain't no job for a woman." he gripped my forearm and hauled me to my feet.
"The-- the sink is busted, Mr Montana--" he waved me off.
"I'll fix it myself." the short Cuban waved me back, getting down on his knees. "It's just a lil' drip, Bianca. You're over-reacting." He stood up and twisted the faucet. It rattled and shrieked, and I watched as a stream of black sewage slopped into the crystal clean white sink. "Esos bastardos baratos fontanerí!" He yelled, rounding on me. "Call up those plumbing fuckers and tell them to get down here." he ordered, and then walked out of the bathroom. "But take a break first. You look beat, girl." he went back down the hall and into a room, where I heard the stupid giggling of an even stupider bimbo. I brushed a loose lock of hair from my head and made a rude gesture at his back. God-damn prick... I don't know why I don't just quit. Oh yeah, that's right, he won't let me quit.
I sighed, and walked into the kitchen. I had been working in this mansion for two years, Tony Montana's personal maid and clean-up lady, go-to for advice. Ever since Elvira left him, it had been bad-- he was grouchy and depressed, and he was feeling lethal. Lots of women passed in and out of his room. It annoyed me immensely, mostly because I had to change his sheets and sometimes I found things... things.... things that were never meant to be seen by my virgin eyes, let's just say. Montana said I could keep all the lingerie I found but I never did. Most of it went into the garbage but there were a few articles of clothing that I washed maniacally and I kept them. I had a coffee and made myself a sandwhich, and then settled down at the phone to call the plumber. I was flipping through the phonebook when Manny Ray entered, in a silk bathrobe.
"Morning, sunshine." he said cheerfully, pouring himself some coffee. "Whatcha doing, chica?"
"Looking for a plumber. Your knot is coming undone." I pointed out dryly, and he redid it. "You just come from the jacuzzi?" he nodded, sitting down beside me.
"Yeah, there's a coupla stuff you can clean when ya got the chance, sweetheart." he said. "Well, I'm off, Ciao, Bianca."
"Bye..." he left and I got a hold of the plumber, made an appointment and then went outside for a cigarette. You see, there are three maids-- Griselda, Kelly and me, Bianca. One butler (Bailey), and one cook (Tina). Griselda and Kelly came on the weekends, which are my days off, although I do live here. I lived in the attic, and the room is rather small but it is manageable. It is not an irregular occurence for Montana to barge in around two or three in the morning, absolutely wrecked, and demand that I make him something to eat 'cause his hands were shaking so bad, or he was going out and he needed someone to help pick out his suit. I'll admit it, he is a nice man when he chooses to be; he once told me when he was wasted that he never fucked over anyone that didn't deserve to be fucked, and the worst thing he's ever done to me is call me a bitch. Otherwise, my pay was fine and although I sometimes put up with a lot of bullshit, I stayed.
I was vaccuuming the stairs when Montana came out, chugging on one of those ghastly Cuban cigars, a flushed blonde babe hanging off his arm. I couldn't hear what they were saying, but they stood at the top of the stairs for a moment, then she bounded down and ignored me. I ignored her. I turned off the vaccuum and looked up at my boss. "So."
"Yeah, it got a li'l messy. Just mop up all the syrop with a cloth, or something." I stared at him as he walked down the stairs, and by me. "Call that fuckin' cheap-ass plumber?"
"Yes, he should be here tomorrow at ten AM."
"Alright. You let him do whatever he needs." He paused at the bottom of the stairs and then turned to look at me. "Whatcha doin' tonight, chico?"
"I have plans." he raised an eyebrow.
"Plans?" he repeated. He frowned. "I don't like it when you have plans. What happens if I need you?"
"Call me, Mr Montana."
"You fuckin' live here! Am I supposed to call my own house?" I rolled my eyes. I got away with little things like that. He didn't mind, he told me he liked them feisty... ooh, bad mental images. "Er. Well I'm havin' a li'l party tonight, jus' some big-shot cockroaches. I need a beautiful girl for the night." he grinned at me.
"Me?" I asked, flattered. He laughed.
"No, no, I need you to call up some of my ex-girlfriends. Just the nicest one. Maybe that li'l chica Chloe. She rocked the bed." he laughed again. "But I want you to be there, Bianca. You're the only woman I trust in this dirty town. Only girl I know that don't have teeth in her pussy." Coming from Montana, that was the biggest compliment I had ever recieved and I flushed with pleasure a little. He saw me as someone to trust, and everyone knows that Montana doesn't trust. I didn't have feelings for my boss. He was my boss, and that's the way I liked it. I was a little afraid of his dangerous life-- a little too mature for my tastes. I've done cocaine with Manny before, and I love to smoke marijuana, I'll admit, but sometimes I got scared.
"Okay. No problem, Mr Montana."
"Just grab one of Elvira's dresses. I still have some." his voice had a touch of yearning. I nodded.
"Of course." he turned and walked away and I returned to my vaccuuming.
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RR please