Mafiosa

6

VALENTINA LUCCHESE

Table for two, please." I tell the lady in front of me. Her long black hair was pinned straight into a bun, matching her baggy black shirt which read 'Nancy' on a red badge.

She leads me to a nearby table which faces a window. "Thank you, Nancy." I smile at her, sitting down at the table and grabbing the menu placed in front of me. Don told me he wanted to meet me at a coffee shop today, to talk about a highly important matter.

My eyes scan over the shop which was bustling with customers at eleven in the morning.

"Are you ready to order?" Nancy comes back into view. This time she held a small lined notebook and ballpoint pen in her hands.

"Yes. Can I have one Americano and Espresso, with a few sugary biscuits on the side?" I ordered for me and Don, already knowing his order. Don used to take me to this coffee shop all the time when I was little. He would always ask the workers to add a happy face with small marshmallows in my hot chocolate.

After thanking her, Nancy walks away.

"Hello, Valentina." Don greets me, sliding into the booth across from me. Don never called me his daughter, even when he introduced me to his associates. He always called me by my name, the same way he tells me to call him Don instead of 'dad' or 'father'. He claims that it was much more respectable for his important status as a mafia boss. "Have you ordered yet?' He asks, looking at the menu.

'Yes, I ordered for both of us." I reply, reading a notification from my phone, before putting it flat down on the table. "So what did you want to talk about?"

"Well-" He begins, resting his elbows on the table. "You know that as my heir, you will be the next mafia boss."

I nod my head, signalling for him to continue.

"Well something has come up and I need you to be the boss very soon." He said, before saying thank you to Nancy who was setting down our order in front of us.

"What do you mean? Are you okay? Is something wrong?" My tone became anxious as I began to think of the worst.

He sighs, pulling his hands towards mine. He uses his thumb to draw circles on my skin, making me feel a sense of comfort.

"I'm sick." He states, dipping a biscuit into his expresso.

"Sick? As in, will you get better? or sick, sick?" I feel like I'm nine years old again for some reason right now.

The next couple of words that come out of his mouth absolutely destroy me.

"Sick, Sick. I have prostate cancer." He answers, biting into his biscuit.

"Can't you get treatments? We have money. We can get you the best fucking doctor in the world."

He shakes his head at my response. "I've always told myself that if I die, I will die one of two ways. Either I die by the mafia or I die a natural death. Shockingly, it seems like it's going to be the latter. God obviously thinks that it's my time to leave this world and how can I argue with that?"

An overwhelming sense of sadness takes over my body, and I try to push my tears back.

"You will be the mafia boss in a month. I know you will do well, you always have." He continues, wiping his hands with a napkin. "I've got business to attend to now, but don't worry, I'm not gone yet." He smiles, trying to lift the atmosphere.

I smile back, even though, on the inside I felt nothing but pain. I stay still in the booth minutes after Don leaves, full of sadness and shock. Tears threaten to escape my eyes but I manage to push them back with my sleeve.

"Your father ordered this for you before he left." Nancy comes to my table, breaking me from my thoughts. She places a cup of a hot beverage directly in front of me. It was a hot chocolate with small marshmallows floating on the surface, forming a happy face.

I can't hold it anymore. Tears come rushing down and I hurry out of the coffee shop.

Overwhelmed with sadness, I drove to one of our clubs, desperate to escape reality for a while.

I can't deal with this shit while I'm sober.

***

As soon as I enter the club, I greet the bartender first, Lenny. Lenny is an old man who always spotted a bright bowtie with his suits. He is extremely loyal to my father, and had worked at this club for almost two decades.

I met him when I was seven years old, which was also the first time I got drunk.

"Hello Mister!" I yelled at the bartender, with a cheeky smile present on my face. I had to stand on my tippy toes to get my head over the bar table. Don said he had to do business somewhere so he left me here.

"What are you doing in here! Where's your parents?" He asked, shocked to see a child casually walk in.

"My mummy is dead and my dad is busy." His eyebrows raised up in shock, before he walked over to me and plopped my tiny figure onto a bar chair next to him.

"You know you shouldn't be here, this is a place for grown ups."

"Oh." Sadness was evident in my tone.

"What's your name?" He asked me.

"Valentina Lucchese." I proudly announced.

His stature immediately changed when he heard the words that came out of my mouth.

"You can stay here, don't touch anything, ok?" He told me, before he walked off to serve another customer,

Instead of listening, little Valentina grabbed a bottle with a clear liquid and snuck off, deciding to have some fun to herself.

Funny enough, not much had changed when I grew up. Except for the fact that drugs weren't consumed for fun anymore, they were now a source of comfort. A comfort from my sins and the love-hate relationship I have with my lifestyle.

After I said hello to Lenny and a few others, I entered one of the private rooms. These types of rooms were typically reserved for high end figures in the mafia, usually made men.

Members were sitting at a small lavish table in the centre, lining up a white substance with their credit cards and then proceeding to snort it. In the far right corner, there were another cluster of members holding clear bags of unknown substances, while passing around cigars and joints.

A small smile etches on my face at the view and I walk over to the nearest table.

***

"Want another hit?" Tony asks me with one arm draped over my shoulder and the other holding a joint. Within the span of at least an hour, I have bonded with a middle aged man named Tony. I now know his entire fucking life story and he even showed me pictures of his kids at their high school.

I shake my head in response to his question. Bottles of half-filled tequila and whiskey surrounded us, accompanied by solid substances in bags.

Attempting to stand up, Tony removes his arm from my shoulder. "I gotta-gotta, I gotta go" I stutter, waving goodbye to my newfound friend.

I'm so out of it. Completely fucking out of it.

I leave the room, stumbling on the way, and enter the next one which seemed empty. My eyes scan around the room, trying to make out the blurry objects that surround me.

Something or someone catches my eye, "Niccolo?"