Ugly Ronney: mafia romance [English]

Chapter 11-1

In the middle of the park ran a small stream. Sitting on the wooden bridge, I swung my legs over the water. The still celestial vault was gradually disappearing with the light of dawn, gently sweeping the twinkling stars across its dark carpet. It was only seven o'clock, but I was having trouble sleeping. I hadn't heard from Yeraz in two days, but his voice, which I could still hear in my head, continued to persecute me, and the vision of his murderous gaze on me was even worse.

I glanced around before stopping on the parking lot at the far end. Except for the occasional jogger, nothing disturbed the silence of this place.

I tried to focus on my reading. Emily Dickinson's poems soothed my mind. Could a man like Yeraz read such a collection? No way could he feel the power of those words! No way could he feel anything, for that matter.

It was the sound of a car engine in the distance, in the parking lot, that made me look up. Eight o'clock. Most of Sheryl Valley's residents were starting their workday. I followed the shiny black sedan with my eyes. I couldn't see it well from there; it was too far away. The only thing that stood out to me was that cars like that didn't park in the Bakery District. I closed my book and put it in my bag. I had to get to my junkie orthodontist before heading back to the studio.

"If only I could get away from this city."

My voice, which no one could hear, made a strange sound. I turned my Walkman on to start my day with Elvis.

It had been three days since I had been to Asylum. I started to enjoy my newfound freedom a little. My old scooter was shaking and clattering against the pavement. I rode along the tall buildings, past the flashing orange lights, and parked in front of the studio before taking off my helmet. My bun was falling down on one side, but it didn't matter. I would fix it inside the building.

As I turned to leave, my eyes were drawn to a Mercedes parked just across the street from the building entrance. With the car windows rolled down, I recognized the two faces, which I had seen on the profile list Timothy had sent me on Monday night. I was the one who had selected their applications. One had a big beard and long hair pulled back, revealing tattoos all along his neck. The other guy, thinner, with clear eyes, had an emaciated face, hollowed out, and short hair turning grayish black.

An anger inside me soared. Before I could cross the road to take my anger out on Yeraz's men, the Mercedes started. I suddenly realized that I had seen this car yesterday morning in the park. I felt like a hand was grabbing the inside of my stomach. He was following me around. Yeraz was chasing me. It was his way of showing me that he decided everything, when a game started and when it ended.

I let the two men go, following their position with my eyes, and fought against the rage that clenched my throat.

In the early evening, a light rain was falling, making the road slippery. I still hadn't digested the scene from that morning. The urge to call Yeraz burned my fingers. I hurriedly attached my anti-theft system to my scooter, eager to share my misadventure with Alistair and Bergamote. They would probably try to convince me one more time to quit, and in a way, I knew they were right. I was crazy to keep this job.

I stopped dead on the first step in front of the building. Caleb, sitting at the top, was waiting for me, looking sorry.

"Good evening, Ronney."

I bit my tongue. He still had that fine, handsome face and slightly messy hair.

"What are you doing here? Does Carolina know? I don't want to get in trouble."

"No, don't worry. It's over with Carolina. Can we talk?"

A strange feeling of fear, relief, and healing came over me at that moment. I looked around, worried. I felt as if Yeraz had eyes everywhere.

"Come on, let's go in."

Caleb followed me without a word inside the building.