My Tragic Mafia Life | ✔️

42

Camillo leaned against the wall, sparing the briefest seconds to study Josephine and give an all-too-well known smile. In return, she pretended that he wasn't there. And she fished through her locker and wished him gone.

"Come on, darling," Camillo purred. "What's going on inside that pretty head of yours?"

Josephine said nothing, looking for her books.

"How cold," Camillo said, though she could hear his smile.

Josephine wasn't one to like a boy. And yet, there was always one trailing her. To her, success rose before love. But what even was love? A need of attention to fill the bodiless warmth humans craved? If that was to be the case, then sex was the answer. A pleasurable act that formed two beings into one, though some claimed that marriage did the same. Josephine did not.

"You're breaking my heart," Whined Camillo.

Josephine felt the corners of her lips twitch but still said nothing.

She had never forgotten boys, but they were always there. In once a millenia when loneliness would strike, she'd find a partner. Sometimes she went out of her way to prove she could get one, have him, then discover she was bored. He was boring. Whatever their relationship was it was boring. So she'd end it. Then the cycle continued. Josephine wondered if Camillo was the same.

If he was, instead of feeding in the desire, she'd hunger him. But it would be indeed difficult to train his lecherous eyes to only be on her when there were plenty of females bustling around the hallways to distract him.

Camillo stretched his arms as if the early morning hour had made him a bit groggy. Then he said softly, "Josephine, I need to talk to you about 'you know what' and it's pretty hard when you keep ignoring me like this."

Straight to business, then. She slammed the locker and Camillo jumped. "You're acting way too calm for being suspected as a murder."

It took a second to recollect himself. "I'm calm because I know it wasn't me."

"And if it was one of your friends?" She turned. "Luca? Lucia? Maybe even your sister?"

"Unlikely. But even if it was true, they'd be turned in by my family and killed for treason." He admitted, then sighed.

Josephine's throat burned with the idea. "Just like that? They don't even get a trial or something?"

"Maybe in the real world, probably," He said, eyes firm enough to realize that he was speaking the absolute truth. "But most mobster families tend to avoid war. If one life of their own can save a hundred, then they'd sell out anyone. Even me."

"Don't be dumb. You know that's a lie."

Josephine was still flushed from the time they had returned to school and trudged through another school day as if their lunch break hadn't happened. Though on the outside, the wheels kept spinning, they entirely stopped inside school. Camillo was still a player. Dante was still icy. And Josephine was still Josephine. She'd taken a bit of pride to see the faculty frown at her presence, and students expel at her sight. There were some things that were still in her control.

"Speaking of that," Josephine searched throughout the books she had pulled, counting the pink spines and black calligraphy she herself had adorned with hearts and stars, and organized them in her hands. From most meaningful to outright a distraction. "What's the get-go with this entire operation of yours? You figure out who the killer is, you find the killer, you trap the killer..."

Camillo tapped the tip of her pert nose. "We take the killer, and he goes bye-bye into the next world."

She shoved him with her shoulder, still balancing the pile of books in her hands, and sashayed through the halls. Camillo followed. "So you're actually just gonna turn them in where they'll be killed."