THE MAFIA'S BEAUTY

Chapter 32

It was just the three of us running around the kitchen cooking for over about a hundred people, everyone was still in the Vintagè cemetery where it had took a lot of pleading for Rafael to let the man be buried there because apparently we were disrespecting his ancestors which I understood but still.

No one spoke the menu and recipes out on the table for everyone to use but good for me both Tom and Will had a few cooking skills so nothing was burning as of yet but we were running behind schedule  the work too much with little time.

My feet burned wishing I could just chop them off yet there was nothing else than to endure the torture standing and trying to put out a decent meal. The pots steamed on the large stoves Tom cooking Turkey while Will worked on the potatoes just doing simple dishes so everyone could eat.

With the back of my hand I wiped my forehead sweating even with the weather grim outside as if sensing our mood, as if the sun was grieving just as we were. The black dress I wore had stains of flour here and there as I worked on the chicken coating it before dipping it in the hot oil not even measuring anymore but just pouring all the spices hoping it would at least taste or something.

"What is happening here?" The voice came not far away from where I stood so strong and commanding Will quickly going rigid where he stood his jaw on the floor I swear his eyes on the tall man standing by the island watching all that as happening. If not for the situation I would have laughed my heart out. Will looked as if he was just about to faint where he was the spoon he held shaking so bad as if he had just seen the devil.

"Man, its hectic." It was Tom throwing a black apron to Rafael who caught it holding it in his hands staring down at it before looking back up.

"Where are the women who are supposed to be cooking?" He asked rather harshly making me do a three sixty not believing this man.

"They are burying their husbands." I shot out.

"Well not all of them are."

"Rafael if you want to walk to the cemetery dragging the women who are burying their colleagues whom they had grown so fond of so they would come cook please be my guest." I said feeling his eyes on me as if they would dig holes on my skin as I held that stare behind that hoodie not backing down. I was not in the mood for all his drama at this point having had it to the neck and really getting fed up.

He pulled the apron over his head walking around the island picking up the menu his eyes going through it as I turned back to what I was doing my hands hot and shaking with my heart drumming in my chest. With the way I was going I knew it would not be long before I broke down. It was just too much, my shoulders seemed to be carrying the world and at this moment I felt as if I was carrying it all by myself, felt taken advantage of and felt used the feeling from that too hurtful leaving me blinking away my tears. I was in over my head, I could not handle such stress, the death of all the man weighing on me sinking me to the ground.

Could not help feel responsible to some point, we had brought them here and now they had died and it was our fault. I sighed wanting nothing more than to crash the dish I held, wanted to just throw it so hard against the wall letting out the scream that had my chest heavy yet I could not do that, too many people depended on me and I had to be strong.

I took a deep breath blinking back my tears before turning around walking to the fryer avoiding all eyes with my head cast down pretending to be engulfed in what I was doing walking back when done doing the next batch trying to be as fast as possible knowing that the service would be over soon. Could still see the faces eyes cast on me as I had walked in the cemetery knowing that they had expected him there, I did not understand why he had not shown up, his men needed him, they needed assurance, needed to see that he had them just as they had him yet he locked himself away leaving them all alone in their time of need.