Maid for the Mafia
Columbian Penis

**ROMANY**

I followed Damien and Alex into the meeting room, despite that I didn't want to. The moment I stepped inside I felt nauseous. My eyes went straight for the right and left sides of the room. To the couches that had been shrouded in darkness last night. Today the dim overhead lighting was turned on and the seats were empty. Still, it was like I could hear the groans of invisible men and see their shadows moving along the cushions. Although I knew there wasn't anyone physically there... I couldn't shake the feeling of them watching me.

Ripping my eyes away, I noted Alex and Mickey arguing in one corner and Damien and Tiny setting up a tarp to the right of the table.

That's when I saw her. *Stella.* She was seated in the wheelchair that Father Mateas had been tied to a couple of weeks ago. She wasn't tied up like he was, but she certainly didn't look comfortable sitting there. *What the fuck are they planning to do with her? Why is she in that thing?*

I've seen it a couple times now and it always comes out of this room bloody. *They wouldn't... right? She's a woman.* There are four men in this room and if any one of them thinks that I'm going to sit here and watch them *torture* her, I'll leave today. And I won't go alone either, I roll that cunt Stella out with me just to make a point. I won't take her any farther than the driveway, but I won't leave her for them to butcher either.

Facing forward, my eyes caught on the armchair directly across the table - Alex's seat. The seat he was in last night when I... when he... ugh!

Again, I shook myself, clamping my eyes shut to chase the memory of that horrible thirst away, but it just wasn't going. With a curse on my lips and a glare in Alex's direction, I stomped over to the water dispenser next to the cabinet and grabbed a glass from the shelf, filling it to the brim.*Fucking bastards!* As I drank it down it occurred to me, in twenty-three years I'd never even smoked a joint. Not a *cigarette*, not a bowl! I drank, but that was it. I hardly even did that! They *destroyed* that for me. They fucked off God knows how many of my brain cells by doping me up with that liquid fire! It was my sobriety, *my* life drug free and they took* it from me! But that's not all they took! *Fuck!*

I filled another glass and began drinking again, freezing when I noticed Alex staring at me. *Oh! So he does remember what I look like. Nice.* For a moment, I can't decipher the expression on his face. He almost looks stunned, or... ashamed. Mickey is still talking to him and he clearly isn't present. But half a second later he makes the quickest recovery known to man. Not only does he manage to stare through me, but he does it with fire in his eyes, angrily turning his back on me to snap at his cousin.

The tomblike echo of the heavy wooden doors being shut and locked, tolls through the room and an eerie silence drenches the space. It's like we're all suddenly underwater and nobody's breathing. I notice Stella is now positioned over the center of the tarp, illuminated in a circle of white light coming from the panel in the ceiling. The rest of them are seated around the table staring at her. Alex in his seat, Damien directly across, then Mickey and Tiny on one side. There's an empty chair between Tiny and Damien at the end of the table and I wonder if it's supposed to be for me. Alex lights a cigar while Mickey lights a cigarette and I suddenly need another glass of water. "We can begin when everyone is seated," Alex said, taking a long drag of the Columbian penis he was smoking. "Or we can stay here until we all die waiting on the woman."

*The woman? Seriously? Oh you motherfff... let me take a seat because I want to get this over with.* The *minute* we finished in this room, I was going to find out just what crawled up Alex's ass.

I made an enormous amount of noise pulling out the chair then slamming my glass of water on the table. Then again after I'd sat down, scooting the seat back and forth a few times to try and fuck up Alex's wooden floor. Each time I succeeded in honking the wood, Alex flinched, a muscle working in his jaw.

*Come on Alex... yell at me.*

"Are you chewing on that cigar, or smoking it?" I snapped, crossing my legs and my arms in irritation.

Mickey chuckled, smiling widely as he finished his cigarette then laughing again when Alex glared at him.

"The woman is seated!" I announced, just in case he missed it, because he still wasn't doing anything.

More laughter erupted around the table from everyone, but Alex. I even thought I saw Stella crack a tiny little smile.

But all that died quickly when Alex slammed a gun down on the table, then spun it like a top, before stopping it when it was pointed at Stella.

"I'm going to give you a minute to take inventory of every single thing you have ever done in my employ, Stella. Then you are going to name each and every instance that you went behind my back. You will have only one opportunity to come clean, and if you choose not to? Not only will your pain begin, but you will live a lot longer than you'll want to."

"A-Alex!" Stella stuttered, tears spewing from her eyes. "P-please!"

"Goddamnit with the begging," Alex snapped, leaping out of his chair to get in Stella's face. He began shouting in a voice so loud I had to cover my ears, "Do not call my name! Do not beg me!!! All I want you to do is tell me what the fuck you have been up to, Stella! Nothing else! Is that understood?!"

*Jesus Christ. Alex DeMarco really is a psychopath. And nuts too.*

"Y-yes. O-okay," she stammered and I couldn't help but feel sorry for her.

A coil of rage was building inside of me and I snatched my glass of water off the table, emptied it, and then closed my hand around it, just in case I needed something to throw.

"Good," Alex said, backing away from her to sit back in his chair. "Now, if you're having trouble deciding on which of your treacheries to start with, I'll make a suggestion. Why don't you tell me about... Santos." *Oh shit.*

*This is my fault...*