Badly Misunderstood

Chapter 4 (edited)

I go home for a quick change of clothes and the keys to my bike. Once I get on, I head towards my destination. I love my Ducati, its an all-white motorcycle with black rims. I got it as soon as I passed my driving exam and it is my pride and joy. The only time I drive it is when I'm out running errands. Which I already know if Paul is calling me I have some work to do.

Paul has always been a father figure to me since my parents died when I was eleven. He took me in and introduced me to the world of drugs and I started making deliveries for him. As I got older, I learned of his other business pimping out prostitutes. It made me lose all respect for a man I once adored. But he is my boss and he taught me many things. That I will always be thankful for.

My jobs are usually simple drop off a package here and collect money there. See, simple. I have even sold my own product on the side every once in a while to have extra money. I don't ever feel bad for selling to junkies. They're going find it somewhere from someone, that someone might as well be me.

I pull up an abandoned restaurant and park my bike in the back where nobody can see it. The rundown brick-walled building used to be a thriving Italian restaurant back in the day but I believe it caught fire. The owners just abandoned the place and it's been our meet up a spot since then.

I walk in the back door, "Lucy I'm home!" I shout as loudly as possible. I kick off my boots and observe my surroundings. Memories flood of the whole gang sitting around the big table in the center of the dining area, the guys would play cards while a couple of the wives and I made food for all of us. The women taught me how to cook and how to do my hair and make-up. Some of the guys even taught me how to fight, it was important that I knew how to defend myself at an early age.

We were like a family, but that all changed when the boss' wife was murdered by a rival gang. He's cold now, ruthless and unforgiving, but I guess that's what happens when you lose the one you love. You become dead inside, void of emotion, like a shell of the person you once were.

"What took you so long," a voice boomed being me, "I specifically ordered you to be here in twenty minutes. I won't tolerate tardiness, Livia."

Paul is six feet of pure muscle. His overwhelming presence commanded the room. He has a powerful aura that put fear in the biggest of men. The gray that was starting to pepper his dark brown hair only made him more intimidating.

I shrug my shoulders nonchalantly, "I was at the coffee shop studying when you called me. I had to go home and get my bike."

His expression falters and I can see his face softening up a little. Somewhere in that icy cold heart, he's reserved a soft spot for me, despite me being so difficult and rebellious. He sees me as a daughter, having no children of his own. If anybody else disrespected him the way I do, let's just say they would be six feet under. You don't question Paul Sortos, you simply follow orders and do it right.

"Sometimes I forget your only 16, niña," he says softly, "but don't let it happen again."

"Yes sir," I give him a mock salute. Maybe I imagined it but I saw a faint smile on his lips.

"Right, back to business," he commands in a stern tone, "I need you to retrieve some money that is owed to me. Ricky has not paid me yet and my patience is wearing thin."

"So why can't you get one of your big strong men to do it?" I ask quizzically, "Isn't that what they are around for."

"Yes, but I want you to handle it," his tone leaving no room for refusal, "You made the drop, you get the money. By any means necessary."