Chapter Four

The day that followed, I was at work when Rocco came in, grinning like the Chesire Cat.

"Black?" I asked, grabbing a coffee cup. He shook his head quickly.

"No, I gotta tell you something. It's important."

I sighed and set the cup down. "Lunch break isn't for an hour."

"That doesn't matter, I'll buy you lunch!"

Eat out? I haven't done that in months. "Janice!" I looked at my manager. "Tell Roberta to cover me now. I'm going out to lunch."

My manager looked shocked for a moment before going to find Roberta.

Habit break #2.

Sitting in the small resturaunt that I used to be a regular at, Rocco went on and on about how he was sure that this time-this time -he was going to be promoted. Hardly anyone was there, save for a waitress or two that sat in the back and spoke. It was a little place, maybe circa 1950's. The bar stools needed to be replaced, though, that was a damn fact. This was why Rocco and I chose a booth. Still, those seats had some wear and tear.

"So, they said that you'll become like a thing in the mafia now or what?" I kept my voice low and sipped my Coke.

"Well, they hinted at it." He grinned. "They gave me a gun and everything, this is definitely a promotion, Rhi!"

"What do they want you to do?"

"I can't go that much into detail, but long story short," Rocco leaned forward a little. "There's this Russian crime syndicate. They're all meeting at this real fancy place later on tonight."

"What's gonna happen there?" I picked at the rest of my bacon.

Rocco made his hand into the shape of a gun and pointed it at his. "Boom."

My eyes widened. "You're gonna...!" My words trailed off as he nodded. "Can I come?"

"What?"

"I don't understand why you, of all people, would want to be there." Rocco shut the door to my apartment. I shrugged.

"I've always been interested in this kind of stuff. Remember when Godfather three came out? I went and saw that movie ten times in theaters." I held up a thumbs up and shook it, which was 'ten' in sign language before tossing my blue jacket onto my couch and letting my hair out of the braid.

"I still say it's the worst one." Rocco muttered, lighting a cigarette.

"And I could never join the Italian mafia because, guess what, I'm not Italian. I'm French and Welsh and some other thing." I walked over to him and grabbed his shoulders, shaking them lightly. "Rocco, let's face it. Deep down inside, I'm not who you think I am. I am a butterfly waiting to make it's way out of it's cuccoon. Do you know I've always wanted a tattoo? Have sex?"

"You've never had sex?" His eyebrows shot up.

"And I've always wanted to know what it was like to watch someone get shot. So yeah. I'm a little fucked up in the head. But I'm the good kind of fucked up in the head. Come on, Rocco. What do you say, huh? Can I come with ya? I'll stay out of your way."

"Jesus Christ, girl." He took the cigarette out of his mouth. "I don't know."

"Please, Rocco?" I clasped my hands together. He sighed and shook his head. "Please?"

I snickered over at Rocco's outfit. He furrowed his eyebrows at me.

"What?"

"Jaffar." I laughed.

We were in the elevator of this really fancy place. The Copley Plaza Hotel they called it. Even the elevator had to have gold in it somewhere.

Rocco wore this ridiculous bellboy outfit that I had to giggle at every time I looked over. It was grey with gold buttons and it looked hilarious on him, like something out of an old cartoon. Me, I wore a maid's outfit which, annoyingly, was low cut. I had to keep pulling it up. (Now, this is low cut as in my boobs are too fucking big for the buttons to meet). On my outfit was the name tag "Elle". I sighed. Hooray.

The elevator dinged and we stepped out, making our way to room 701. When we got there, Rocco looked at me.

"Stay back a bit."

"What do you mean, 'stay back'?"

"Exactly what that means. I don't want you getting hurt. Only come if I'm not out in three minutes." I rolled my eyes. "Okay?"

"Alright." I sighed.

"Thank you." Rocco buzzed the door and I walked back a bit, next to the janitor's closet. I stood there, playing with the gold bracelet my mother had given me when I graduated high school. After two minutes a janitor walked over to get into the closet and started to look me up and down.

"Hey, there." He smirked. My eyes widened and I grabbed the gun from my thigh hoslter and pointed it at him.

"Back the fuck up!" I snapped. The man raised his hands up and backed away, hurrying down the hall. I made my way to 701, and the first thing I saw was blood. Fucking tons on blood. Rocco was on the floor looking bewildered and laughing was heard inside the room. With my gun still pointed, I looked in.

"What a fuckin' idiot!" I heard among the laughter.

Oh my God.