My Tragic Mafia Life | ✔️

60

Josephine, half-amused, did as she was told. In the small lounge of a dressing room, magazines fluttered open in uneven piles. Someone had been running through them, getting inspiration for this or that. She went to see what they were about. Surprisingly, three of them were opened for hair.

She bridged the connection instantly. "What are you planning on doing?"

Beatriz turned another page. "I don't know." Then, chewing the inside of her cheek, she viewed herself in the mirror. "What do you recommend?"

Josephine paused. "Can I touch your hair?"

Beatriz looked thunderstruck at the act of permission, then grumbled. "Go ahead."

She did. As she coarse along the ends of her hair, Beatriz went stiff. No doubt alien to any act of warmth from her part. She threaded it within her fingers, tsking. "You don't have enough time to do braids if Dante's pressing for time." Then a haughty grin. "You should let it out naturally, like I said before. Maybe an afro."

"To make myself look slim?" She spoke sarcastically.

"Exactly." Josephine did not.

She didn't know if Beatriz understood the advice or not, but she rose nonetheless. Ideas full of quiet contempt, Beatriz took her next option from the pile of gowns had brought in. It's fabric shimmered like a sea of diamonds dyed the color of cat-vomit.

Josephine pursed her pink lips."That color will look bad on you."

Beatriz studied her selection. "I think I know what I like."

Josephine replied, "Yeah, but apparently not what will look good." She snatched the dress Beatriz was cradling in her hands and gave her something from her own choices. Then another. Then another. "Try these on instead." For safe measure, she added one more.

Beatriz looked at the outfits as if they were a corpse. "You're serious."

"Yes, betty-boo, now go." She pushed her into a dressing room then went into her own.

She heard some angry stomps outside the fitting room, no doubt Beatriz who chose the best option out of what was handed to her and went to view it. Then gone off for another option where Houston's laugh echoed outside. Isla was saying something she couldn't quite hear. Josephine couldn't understand the point of asking those males for their opinion, not when she was here and they couldn't care less.

Alone in the dressing room, she was left to cater to her never-ending thoughts.

Her mind gave her a presence. Somedays, it was more comforting than none. A thin voice that was her own was more familiar than a thousand others. Some days, she feared that those eight she'd met this year and the four outside would become something more in her mind.

Because she wouldn't know how to say goodbye.

One of them, she still was unsure who, was going to die. A part of herself had already begun blocking Valentina from that warm grasp, but it was hard to convince herself to be true. Valentina was a liar. But did that make her a murderer? She wished she knew. There had to be a reason why the bracelet was there, but if there was another possibility, she couldn't think of one. All that emerged within her was something clawing at her heart and telling her that the culprit was there. The trail was there.

And it was all from Valentina.

Still, that wasn't meant to be the focus of today. And yet it was. She was adorning herself with the most luxurious fabrics ever seen by hand, highly illegal, and yet she was preoccupied with other matters. Even meeting Dante's mother seemed bland. She felt lost on what to do. She didn't want to be afraid.