The Waitress Is Actually A Mafia Queen

bar, my hands trembling.

n your toes and burns its way up unti

idn't park the car. I left it blocking the

demanded," the bartender muttered, sliding a

as happening was wrong, but he was shackled by

d up th

cold, but my

en had moved there, claiming a booth

er phone, la

said to whoever was on the other en

ed at t

he drin

rink,"

. She waved her hand

back,"

t," I replied,

ing," she said.

rty seconds. Th

Her eyes scanned me,

int under my fingernails from the studio, a

"Rough as sandpaper. Connor likes so

ock 19 when I was twelve. She didn't know these hands

r drink," I said, re

wanted to walk away with my dignity

moved

pped th

e silver rim. The martini glass

he martini that

of hot tea si

lashed across the

immediate a

had pressed a brandin

It clattered to the floor,

n la

pitched sound that gr

said. "Look what y

n't a dro

in was already turning a furious, angr

rom the shadows

pened?" h

d, pointing a perfectly manicure

t was so obvious

en, dry and smirking. He looked at me, clu

w the

injury on h

d, his voice low.

my hand was throbbing, puls

ned me,"

Mark barked. "And apol

ath of least resistance because he was afraid

was de

s no Family. There were jus

rized his face. I memori

" I

ark stepp

cold. It sounded like my father.

ned a

one!" Mark shouted after me.

t wal

raight for

is job. I didn't

d a rec

lculate the price of