Crybaby Boy

Preview - Apparently I've Been Kidnapped by the Mafia

-Apparently I've Been Kidnapped by the Mafia-

He was thrown to the floor, coughing, his bloody nose dripping all over the Persian rug. "What do you want wib me?" he asked, pinching his broken nose with careful fingers, trying to halt the flow of blood.

"You're the Blackbird, aren't you?" the man in the pinstriped suit, looking much like a fat candy cane said, loosening his polka dotted bowtie. He wore a bowler hat on his shiny, bald head, round shades placed on the edge of his crooked nose. His gnarly hands were clasped around the head of a bejeweled cane.

"I work at 'he Blackbird," the man on the floor said, surprisingly clear for having a broken nose. Apparently, it wasn't too badly broken after all, he figured, squeezing tighter, cringing a little. "I'b not 'he Blackbird," he held his nose in both hands, straightening it with a loud crack, throwing his head back in disgust, causing him to choke on his blood.

He hacked up more blood, his shirt and vest already stained beyond the point his mother had once called "the point of no return," her way of saying he was shit out of luck and would have to toss something.

"I'b Kaite," he said, holding his nose, wiping a trickle of blood from his mouth with the back of the hand that was not holding his nose, smudging it across his face.

"Please don't get more blood on my rug," the pinstriped (and most likely also colorblind) man frowned down at Kaite, glancing over at his henchman, the man whom had captured Kaite as he was on his way to work; a tall, burly, dark skinned man, dressed in a dark, snazzy suit, wearing sunglasses as well.

The short pinstriped man with the bulging beer gut grinned, revealing a mouthful of golden teeth. He brushed out a few wrinkles in is suit.

"Oww," Kaite made a face, digging around in the pockets of his cargo pants, pulling a neatly folded, white handkerchief from his pocket, shaking it out and holding it up to his nose, a red stain quickly spreading. "Why'd 'oo break my nobe?"

"You struggled," the black man said, sticking his arm down the front of his suit, pulling out a concealed pistol, aiming it at Kaite with a dangerous nonchalance.

"No need to argue," said the colorblind man. "Be nice to our guest Robe. He can't help not knowing our rules yet," he said, looking Kaite up and down, shooting Robe a look, which made him replace the gun in the hidden holster, and straighten his tie, as if nothing had happened.

"Whab?" Kaite asked, still holding his nose. He looked up at Robe, watching the man casually cross his arms. "I'be got to be at work at...." Kaite fell silent when Robe stepped forward, grabbed him, lifting him up to his feet, towering over him.

"Silence," Robe ordered. "Let Meester Dwhite speak, or I'll shut you up," his lip curled back in something between disgust and annoyance.

"Be nice Robe, there's plenty of time to be nasty later," Meester Dwhite flashed Kaite another golden grin, hammering his cane down into the floor, the Persian rug muffling its sound.

"Well then Blackbird," Meester Dwhite said, clearing his throat with a somewhat girly--yet somehow still menacing--cough. "You shall hear all you need to hear at dinner. Until then, Robe is there to bring you what you need."

"Where are we?" Kaite piped up, cringing when Robe shot him a look. Kaite shrank back, reaching up to his right ear, fingering the three small silver hoops on his earlobe; the ones he had had since he had gotten his ears pierced by his coworker, and close friend, Gage Lovelace.

"Just a little place where we can all rest, and prepare for dinner. Courtesy of the mafia." Meester Dwhite puffed out his beer gut, seeming pleased with himself. "Off you are now, dinner is at six-thirty sharp," he coughed again. "Toodle-oo," he raised a hand and gave a little wave.

Kaite was ushered out of the room by Robe, his handkerchief now ruined, and led down a well lit hallway he might have recognized had he been brought there on better terms.

But, as it were, Kaite's luck was never the best, and especially now, after being kidnapped on his way to work, his head shoved into a potato sack and then carried around like a bag of potatoes himself.... Needless to say, he did not feel safe around Robe, who was making low growling noises, like a dog who feared somebody might take his bone away, even though one was at the other end of the room, his lips curled back in a doglike manner, too.

"Where are we going?" Kaite asked, pushing his nose a bit more, making sure it was in its proper position, snorting out the last bit of blood, holding his handkerchief at arm's length.

"There, you get cleaned up," Robe pointed at the next door, pushing Kaite towards it. "Your suit size?"

"What? How would I know? I'm a barber, not some Mockingbird!" Kaite exclaimed, staring at the number on the door. 4108. He swallowed hard. Add those together and you get... thirteen, he forced a smile.

"You're the Blackbird. Now go in. And what is your suit size?"

"I don't know," Kaite caught himself, before raising his voice. "Look, I'll be a good boy and go get cleaned up now, see," he smiled, reaching for the doorknob and frowning when it wouldn't turn.

"Well whaddya know, it's lo-" Kaite let out a little cry when the door clicked open, and he fell forward, right into a dark haired girl, who grabbed his shoulders and prevented him from falling forward.

"I'll wait in the hall. Get him cleaned up Kristin," Robe said.

Kristin grinned, shoving her glasses up her nose, holding her right hand up in salute. "Aye, aye Robester," she smirked, shaking her dark bangs from her face. The rest of her messy hair was gathered in a loose braid behind her, and her clothes were much more casual than what Kaite would expect a person working for the mafia would wear, but then it occurred to him, that they were trying to keep a low profile.

Robe flinched. "Don't call me that," he sneered.

Kristin's blue eyes laughed. She grabbed Kaite's wrists, stepping backwards, stumbling a little with her platform shoes. "This way," she said, winking. "Let's get your face all cleaned up," she beamed, kicking the door closed in Robe's face.

"Wait, what're you doing?" Kaite exclaimed, pulling free, backing away from the very nerdy looking woman, who, underneath her thick glasses was actually quite pretty.

"Getting you cleaned up," Kristin smiled, rolling up her sleeves. "Now, get out of those clothes," she said, rolling up her sleeves. "Take any possessions out of your pockets and leave them on the bathroom counter for my review," she said, pausing a moment, tapping her chin to think.

"Oh, but give me your phone now," she smiled, holding out her hand, her accent thick, a European undertone to it.

"It already got taken," Kaite made a face. "By Robe."

"Oh, the Robester?" Kristin smiled, pushing the bathroom door of the hotel room--Kaite assumed it was--open, and pushing him inside. "I'll dispose of your clothes as well," she added, standing in the doorway, watching him expectantly.

Kaite turned around and stared. They stood in complete silence.

"You waiting for me to strip or something?" Kaite asked, flipping the lights on, dropping the bloody rag in the tin garbage bin on the floor.

Kristin shrugged. "I don't mind," she said, smirking. "It's not like it's something I haven't seen before."

Katie slammed the door in her face, locking it, taking deep, rattling breaths.

"What have I gotten myself into?" he asked himself.

"The mafia," Kristin answered from the other side of the door. "What's wrong Blackbird?"

"I'm not the Blackbird!" Kaite exclaimed, hitting the switch to turn on the fan, the loud whirring hopefully preventing her form hearing anything more.