The Order

11

Little Italy, our tiny slice of the boot shaped country in Florida. Where the Italian food was subpar and the service notoriously dreadful. It was a small corner of Italian restaurants located a few minutes from the white sand beaches.

Charlie's was one of the most lavish and expensive restaurants in town, and was located right in the heart of Little Italy. Its dress code was almost as strict as its guest list, and I had to buy an entire outfit at the last moment. During these months of hiding, I never bothered to get ready. I nearly forgot how to do my own makeup and being this dressed up felt... strange. Uncomfortable even. My heels clinked against the pavement as I held onto my clutch, gripping onto the gun underneath the thin fabric.

Crowds of tourists brought the narrow street to life as the glow from the fairy lights above us illuminated the bustling road below. I lowered my head, hiding my face underneath my long hair as I maneuvered cautiously though the typical rambunctious crowds of a Friday night.

As I stepped through the crowd, I felt someone grip my wrist roughly. I quickly lifted my knee up, opening the slit in my dress and revealing the knife that was strapped to my thigh. With my free hand, I quickly grabbed the knife as I pivoted my foot and turned around to see a woman launching a knife towards my stomach. I quickly rotated my hips, dodging her attack before gracefully pulling her into a nearby alley. I quickly yanked on her arm, pulling her towards me and away from the unaware civilians nearby. I quickly brought my hand up and stabbed her once in the stomach while I covered her mouth before I brought my hand up and slit her throat. The woman's blood slightly sprayed onto me, and I rotated my body to avoid getting it onto my white dress.

"Shit." I breathed as her body fell to the floor. This is why I usually wear black. Damn me for trying something new.

I quickly pulled her body behind a dumpster, hiding her from the unsuspecting crowd of people before quickly lowering my head and continuing down the street.

Charlie's was packed, and as I neared the door, a young man opened it for me. He was wearing a black tuxedo, and smiled politely as he nodded his head towards me.

"Thank you." I said as I returned the smile. I quickly walked inside to see a restaurant filled with lavishly dress patrons. The ambiance was dim, and intimate. The ornate artwork lined the walls, and lights were placed above them to accentuate the details held within them. Candles were lit in the center of every table, and a skilled musician was in the corner of the room playing smooth jazz on a baby grand piano.

"You must be Mila." The hostess said as she looked at me with a menu in hand. "Right this way." She said as she gave me a warm smile before turning around and walking into the sea of tables. I followed her as we maneuvered through the patrons. In the center of the room was a man who stuck out to me, and piqued my curiosity.

His back was turned to me, and he was wearing a black button up shirt, and was dressed somewhat casually for the luxurious restaurant. His grey hair was disheveled, as if he spent hour running his hands through it. In front of the man was a plate of pasta with meatballs, and he dabbed his mouth with a napkin as he put down his fork. Behind him stood two large men, both dressed in suits with their hands behind their backs.

"Here's you are, ma'am." The hostess said as she motioned to the table. The two guards moved slightly to the side as the man looked up at me. He was a middle-aged man, and his blue eyes and crow's feet made him look somewhat tired. His square face was neatly shaved, and his pointed nose was slightly downturned at the tip. He wasn't a very muscular man, but he was tall and stood at about six feet. He quickly stood up from his seat and gave me a friendly smile.

"Mila, Monroe has told me so much about you." He said as he held out his hand.

"Nice to meet you..." I began as I shook his hand and tilted my head slightly.