Mobster's Angel (Mobster Series)

This book is dedicated to all the Mobster’s Girls out there that fell in love with Antonio and swooned over Vi
to.

I hope you enjoy
this story.

I jump people in alleys for fun.

I say shit I don’t mean.

Yeah, I’m an asshole…always been one, always will be.

The way I grew up, nice
got you fuckin’ nothin’ but stepped on. The mob life is brutal; a hazy, volatile run of survival. I don’t like it, but I’m proud of my heritage and my friends.

One thing I admire is the loyalty
in the Mafia. I come from a long line of mobsters. The Rossi’s have been here in New Jersey since the thirties, tommy guns, and zoot suits.

My Pop has been gone on business for the Palmetto Mob
Boss for over a year now. His loyalty is unwavering. Mom and I see him on holidays, and he calls a lot. It’s not the same as having him here.

B
ut Pop being away isn’t what’s wrong with me.

Erin
, this kid - I can’t get her out of my head. Well, I guess she’s not a kid. No… no… she’s a kid. She’s fourteen… I’m seventeen.

Holy shit! I
could go to jail. Well, it wouldn’t be the first time - and she’d be worth it.  I wouldn’t have even found out she was that young if I hadn’t overheard her sister, Megan, telling my best friend, Antonio.

Ugh, shit!

It’s not so bad. She’s turning fifteen - tomorrow.

I’m trying, I really am. I just have to keep repeating
to myself,
she’s a freshman, you’re a senior
. She has three more years of high school left; I’m going to college next year. Well, I will if I get my head out of my ass.

Every time I see her
, she seems to be having the time of her life. She thrives on laughter and fun. Her happiness is contagious. That’s probably why everyone likes her. Erin is way more outgoing than Megan.

She’s smart like her sister. I bet she’ll get an early acceptance to the college of her choice
, too.

What would she want with a stupid ass like me?

That damn red hair! And that slim little body. I know that this has to have something to do with Antonio going out with Red…I mean Megan. Yeah, that’s definitely what it is. The hair. The O’Neill girls are different... Irish, not Italian. Forbidden.

Antonio’s father, the Mob Boss of Palmetto, New Jersey, warned all of us years ago
to stay away from Megan. But Antonio Rinaldo Delisi, Sr. never mentioned Megan’s little sister, Erin. He probably figured she was too young to be of interest to us.

I heard some chooches talking about her after school the other day while
I was walking down the hallway near the science wing.  Typical guy shit. But I wanted to slam their faces into the lockers. I had it all planned out in my head. I was going to take each of them by the scruff of the neck, one by one, and
SMASH.
I’m familiar with the sound of flesh hitting metal. Then I would’ve taken them into the fuckin’ bathroom and washed their mouths out with anti-bacterial soap. But I held back…

And that shows that I’ve been paying way too much attention to someone that doesn’t even know I’m alive. I’m a chooch
when it comes to getting attention. I just act like the asshole I am.

Like the time
I hit on her sister in church. And did I mention that Erin didn’t even look my way? That was just me being stupid. I do stupid shit all the time because
I don’t think, I just do.
It’s an important motto in the Mafia. Thinking can be very bad for your health. No one wants cement shoes and lungs full of water.

She’s got a boyfriend. I’ve seen him. He’s a scrawny little guy. His mother
picked Erin up from school one day: I saw the mini-van pull up. The door slid open and she hopped in. Her face said it all; she was happy and excited to see her pansy little boyfriend.

The guy is in the same grade as her, but he goes to another school. Lucky
for him…he doesn’t have to see her every day. That is, if that pansy kid could really be as attracted to her as I am. And it’s good because if he were around, I’d consider beating him up every once in a while just for shits and giggles.

Like a chooch,
I’m on high alert, constantly looking for her in the hallways. I know every class she’s in. I’ve actually cut a few classes to wait outside her classroom like a stalker.

This cannot be normal. I know its not. Maybe I need a shrink. Some intense therapy
might beat it out of me.

That’s it! A good beating!

I
pull a brush through my hair and force the thick red locks back into a clip. I’m standing in front of the mirror in the bathroom of our dorm suite and any minute Clarissa is going to knock. She needs a least an hour before a party to get ready. I adjust my top, black with spaghetti straps - one of the many things Vito bought for me for my fifteenth birthday last winter while we were all at Clarissa’s Father’s Casino in Chicago. It’s perfect for the weather here in California.

I slip on my heels. They are spikey and high because I’m short. I like to at least be in the same atmosphere as everyone else,
not eye level with the shrubbery.

A knock
sounds at the door, and I roll my eyes at myself in the mirror.

“Come on, Erin!” Cla
rissa calls out. “I need to get in there!”

“Okay! I’m coming
,” I say, annoyed. “Sheesh, keep your Italian hair on!”

“I will, if you get your Irish butt out here!”

I swing open the door, and Clarissa is standing there in her blue robe and fuzzy hot pink slippers that at one time used to be cute bunnies. Her short dark chestnut hair is standing up in every direction. She clearly just woke up from her nap; she had wanted to be fresh for this evening. I had tried to sleep too, but I couldn’t. Sleep is not something that comes easily these days.

“You look gorgeous!” Clarissa says
, eyeing my outfit from head to toe. “Did Vito buy you that top?” she asks, pointing a finger at me.

I nod my head. For my last birthday, Antonio and Vito took me shopping and bought me enough cloth
es to cover from here to my hometown of Palmetto, New Jersey.

“It
’s hot! Too bad none of the guys will see you in it but Joey. And I won’t be the one to clean up the casino floor after Jake drools all over it just looking at you dressed like that.”

“Hurry u
p,” I tell her, dismissing her comments. “I don’t feel like waiting around for you all night.” I walk to the living room and let Clarissa have the bathroom.

I miss everyone
: Antonio, Troy, Alex, Jake, and most of all, my sister, Megan. The time we spent together was fraught with fear and a few stays in a hospital bed, but we had some great times together too, like a family.

Troy I have known my whol
e life.  He is one of my family’s closest friend’s son.  His brother, Connor, is my ex-boyfriend.  Jake, Troy’s friend from Notre Dame, is really nice and funny. He knew how to make me laugh. Alex is an enforcer for Clarissa’s father’s casino, so he and Joey take turns guarding us.

A
nd Antonio, well; I miss him and my sister the most. Antonio is like a brother to me.

Knock, knock.

Joey is at the door of our suite to pick us up for the party. He came with us to school. The arrangement works out well for him because he’s finishing up his degree by taking online courses. I think he’s having just as much fun as we are.

Joey is like a
brother to us in many ways. He makes us laugh and keeps us safe. He even sneaks us off campus and takes us to clubs. As long as we stay in his sight and keep out of trouble, he lets us dance and have a great time.

I open the door without checking to see who it is. This is a big no-no, but I know that Joey is supposed to be here.

“Delivery for Ms. Erin O’Neill.”

A man is at the door holding a bo
uquet of flowers that would put anything Martha Stewart could whip up to shame. The arrangement is three times the size of the guy’s head. Long stems of pink flowers, baby’s breath, and some other white flower that I have never seen before branch out from a gaudy vase.  I reach my hand out to take them.

“Thank you,” I say cordially and shut the door.

Without ceremony, I walk to our stainless steel sink and tip the vase over it to empty the water out. I’m careful to hold on to the flowers so that they don’t spill into the basin. I place the vase on the counter. I reach in the cabinet for a trash bag. I flick out the plastic and snap it open. It fills up with air like a parachute. I hold the bag open with one hand and drop the entire vase with the flowers into it, pull on the strings, and tie them together. Firmly, I grab the trash bag, making sure it won’t rip open, and carry it to the hall closet. I’ll take it down to the dumpster in the morning.

Knock, knock…

I check the peephole this time, like I’ve been taught to do, not thrilled with my slip-up a few minutes ago. One blurry pale green eye stares back at me. He’s checking to see if I did the checking. I shake my head at the absurdity.

“I know it’s you Joey! I can see your freaky eye color!” I unlock the door and he lets himself in.

“Please tell me she’s ready,” he pleads as he shuts the door.  I point to the bathroom. Joey rubs his hands down his face in annoyance. “Are you serious?”

I take a minute to observe him while he waits with me,
exasperated at Clarissa. He reminds me a lot of Antonio. He’s tall, dark skinned, and muscular. Only his eyes differ from Antonio’s: they’re green instead of chocolate brown. He’s charming and tough all the same, though, like Antonio. It’s a good combination because it makes him friendly, but yet people know not to mess with him.

Vito, on the other hand, is
brutish and unapproachable. I know there is a soft side to him that typically people don’t see. But anyone looking from the outside sees him as the mobster he is.

I hear the click of the bathroom door
. It’s time to grab my purse. When my father dropped us off at the airport a few months ago with Clarissa’s father, Ennio, they gave us a lot of money. I mean a lot of money. Money that I didn’t even know my family had. They gave some to Joey too.

I wanted to open up a checking account when we got here.
A sensible thing to do, as I hated having all this money with me all the time. Joey said that was a bad idea because it would make us traceable. He told me to hide the money instead. I’m so new to all this that I didn’t know I needed to keep it undetectable. But every day is a new learning experience. I try desperately to roll with the punches now like Dr. Howie suggested when I was recovering at Clarissa’s family casino in Chicago from a series of hauntingly frightening episodes.

“
Ready!” Clarissa announces, bouncing with excitement. She comes out dressed as the pixie-like Italian diva she is: expensive, high-end jeans, Louboutin heels, and a flowing silk shirt that shows off her flawless olive skin.