i don't really like this chapter but we hit 700 votes and i got really happy so here's a lame update. i love u all thank u for being so nice with every comment. if ur reading this we r in a gang now. welcome.
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"I heard about the Italians."
To be holding her own pistol in her hands again felt good, Florence thought, in some twisted fucking way. The feeling of self-protection, the feeling of power, specifically, felt good to her. It felt as though that she was useful in some way; that she didn't need anyone's protection, that she was capable of protecting herself and anyone she loved.
The last thing Florence wanted was to be babysat. If anything, she wanted to be the babysitter.
Michael lit his cigarette. "Yeah?"
At least he could sit up on his own without a wince, now. The two cousins were seated at the round table in Michael's hospital room, a pack of cigarette's being chain-smoked between them. A thin layer of smoke partially covered every inch of the room, clinging to the air like an addictive fog.
"Yeah," Florence said, inhaling from her own cigarette. "Dad told me they came in here yesterday, but the gun jammed. Some fucking luck you've got, huh?"
Michael could only nod, making the strange feeling in Florence's chest only grow bigger. She was sure that there was no way one man could be so lucky. And Luca Changretta didn't seem like a man who ran away from people; especially the very people he was hellbent on killing. So what had really transpired in Michael's hospital room the day previous was a mystery to Florence, who was keen on finding out.
Michael's eyes flashed up to hers. "Yeah, some fucking luck."
They stared at each other for a moment, narrowed eyes drilling into each other's, trying to dissect the secrecy in each iris. It was Michael who looked away first, his cousin's interrogating eye too much to handle.
"So, how's the boy you've been seeing?" Florence's eyes widened accusingly. "Mum has been filling me in. Says you really like him."
"Polly told you that?" Michael nodded with a small smile, hiding his amusement behind a cigarette. "Well, she needs to mind her business."
Michael snorted. "When have you ever thought my mother to be the type of person who minds their business?"
Florence thought for a moment before shaking her head. She couldn't have been upset with Polly; it was virtually impossible to be. Everybody close to her soon found out that everything she did had acute reasoning behind it.
"How much longer do you need to be in here?" Florence asked, quickly changing the subject, which Michael noticed but didn't comment on. "I do miss you, Mickey. It's not the same without you around. You made everything so much more interesting."
"Thanks," Michael muttered sarcastically, stabbing his cigarette into the ash tray and plucking up another one. "Doctor said I should be out soon, maybe a week or two. No strenuous activity for a long time, though."
Florence waved her hand. "Once the Italians are done with, the most strenuous thing you'll be doing is lifting your pen to sign cheques."
And together, they laughed between cigarettes, making jokes about Tommy's square head and Arthur's funny accent. While their laughter was genuine, each of them felt a newfound caution around each other that's never been felt before. It was off-putting; from the moment they met, Michael and Florence had been excellent friends. The fact that they each felt that something was off with the other just didn't make any sense.
"I've got to go," Florence said finally, putting out her cigarette and taking out a tin of mints, popping two in her mouth before offering them to Michael, who took three silently. "Dad asked me to meet him at the ring, but I've got to pick up Charlie first."
Michael lifted his brows. "The boxing ring?" Florence nodded innocently. "What, to see your man?"
"Shut up, Michael."
"C'mon, Flo," Michael whined, hitting his hand against the table. "I'm going mad cooped up in here. Tell me a bit about him, please. Would we get along?"
Florence thought for a moment before shaking her head. "Nah," she said finally, picking up her purse and tucking her pistol inside. "He's too nice, but he's also apparently got a bad temper. You'd piss him off too quick."
Michael gave her a crooked grin as she put her hand on the doorknob. "Noted."
Once Charlie was picked up, he and Florence walked their way over to Maine's boxing ring, being escorted by Gregor, who looked as though he wanted to say something but was refraining from doing so.
Florence stopped walking once they reached the entrance, turning back to face Gregor. "Alright, spit it out."
Gregor looked startled. "Spit what out?"
"Whatever it is you want to say; spit it out." Gregor glanced down at Charlie. Charlie looked up at Florence. Florence eyed down Gregor. "I'm waiting."
Gregor paused, removing his hat. The tips of his ears were bright pink as he finally met Florence's eyes.
"Would you like to go to the pictures?" Florence stared at him. "With-with me?"
Everybody was quiet for a moment. Charlie looked back up at his sister, who seemed to be frozen where she stood. She hadn't actually expected Gregor to flat-out ask her out, but it seemed that she had brought this onto herself at this point.
"Um," she said blankly, hand going slack in Charlie's. "I would love to, but um,—" She helplessly jerked her head in the direction of the gym, hoping that Gregor picked up the hint. His eyes widened. "Yeah, I'm sorry 'bout that."
"You're dating Bonnie Gold?"
"Um." Florence was truly at a loss for words. "Yes?"
The words shouldn't have come out as a question, but they did. Florence wasn't actually sure what to describe their relationship as. And now was not the time to figure it out.
To avoid any further questions, Florence pried open the gym doors and dragged Charlie inside, closing the doors shut before Gregor could follow after them. The second she lay eyes on Aberama, Mr. Maine and Tommy, she beelined over.
Tommy gave her a strange look as she approached. "What happened to you?"
"Gregor asked her to the pictures," Charlie informed, dancing in his place. "But she said no, 'cuz she's dating Bonnie Gold."
Aberama laughed as Mr. Maine remained concentrated on the fight, Tommy's brows lifting in accusation. Florence's face turned bright red, and she looked down at her little brother with a glare. He covered his mouth with his hand.
"I did not fucking say that." Florence covered her own mouth as she cussed by accident, Tommy's sharp sigh of frustration making her wince.
"Watch your fucking language around him," Tommy hissed, while Aberama watched with an amused grin. "Anyways, you're not allowed to date."
Florence scoffed. "Says fucking who?"
"Florence."
"Sorry." She wasn't really sorry. "But it's true. I'm eighteen; you can't stop me from dating anymore, dad. I'll step out with whoever I please, and you can't do anything about it."
Tommy nodded. Florence took back her words immediately.
"We'll fucking see about that."
