Rafaela chuckles. “Yeah, like you wouldn’t be snuggled up under a blanket back in Riverdale right now if you had the option.”
“True,” I admit, sighing. “I wish I was home right now. Watching TV, painting my nails, sipping some tea… ugh, now you’ve just killed the last measly dregs of my willpower today. If I can manage to get through the afternoon without calling it quits, it’ll be a miracle.”
“I feel you there, girl. I literally almost fell asleep on the subway this morning.”
I burst out laughing, picturing my friend with her long, curly black hair and signature scarlet lipstick nodding off on the train, falling over into the lap of some scruffy homeless guy. Then I can’t help but picture the guy who came into the shop a few days ago. My mystery man. He’d looked pretty scruffy, himself. What is his story? Who is he?
I shake the thought away and reply, “Yeah, that would’ve been pretty bad.”
“I swear, between classes and the bar and studying and trying to still be a good girlfriend to Nico, the grind is about to put me out of commission for good,” she laments. “And yeah, I know it’s all good for my future or whatever, but really, I’m just tired. You know?”
“Oh, trust me, I know,” I agree. “You and me both. We haven’t even had a proper girls’ night in, like, months. I miss being roommates with you. Are you sure you don’t want to move into my empty old house with me and my mom? I’m only half-joking here,” I add with a laugh.
“Hmm, tempting offer, but I don’t think Mama De Laurentis would be too pleased to have me and Nico move into that old manor. She’s a little old for our antics, I think.”
I try to visualize what our household would look like—and it is not a pretty picture. My mom is a very private person these days, having retreated into a quiet loneliness to lick her wounds after losing everything years ago when Dad died. Vivacious, quick-talking Rafaela would be the opposite of a calming presence for my mom, even though for me, she’s been a lifesaver in the past couple of years. Rafaela and I met in college, when I was studying business and she was a psychology Master’s student. Somehow, we ended up having lunch together in the courtyard almost every week, and our friendship blossomed from there. I’m done with school after earning my Bachelor’s, but Rafaela is still chiseling away at a PhD. She’s six years older than me, but every bit as determined and ambitious, and for a while we even lived together. It was never a permanent situation, as I was still paying for the mortgage on my family home in Riverdale, but during exam times it just made more sense to crash at Rafaela and Nico’s apartment rather than wasting time going back and forth all the time.
Living with Rafaela gave me a taste of freedom and independence I still crave, but my duty to keep the family home running and afloat, as well as take care of my mom, keeps me where I am. Sure, it’s frustrating sometimes, but my dad taught me that family is the most important thing in the world. And I know he would want me to look after mom and the old house, so I do it for him.
“I’m working at the bar tonight if you want to come by!” Rafaela says brightly. She runs a bar called Room With A View alongside her boyfriend Nico, and when I was a student I spent a lot of time there. In fact, I wrote most of my reports and term papers sitting at the corner table of the bar. It was a cozy, homey atmosphere, and I missed it.
“I’ll see what I can do. So, is your next class the one with the hot professor?” I ask, quickly changing the subject. But before I can hear Rafaela’s response, my attention is distracted by the flash of a shiny black car pulling up to the street parking outside the shop. My heart sinks, my instincts going on high alert. Something feels off, and I realize it’s because that car looks like a mobster’s ride.
“Nah, unfortunately this is the class with that weird lady who looks like Danny Devito’s cousin or something,” Rafaela is saying through the speakerphone. With a shaking hand, I quickly snatch up the phone and turn off the speaker, pressing the receiver to my face.
“Rafaela, um, I gotta go, babe. I-I’ll talk to you later, okay?” I manage to mumble, staring at the front door with my heart hammering away in my chest.
“Wait, what? What’s wrong? You sound weird. Is everything okay, Serena?”
“Uh, y-yeah. It’s fine. I’m fine. I just—I gotta go. Love you. Bye,” I reply quickly, ending the call before she can even respond. I glance down at the phone and shakily type in 9-1-1 before tucking the phone into my pocket. I want to have that number ready to go just in case things go sour. Of course, I realize with a sinking feeling, involving the police would probably only make the situation worse when it comes to the mafia. They’ve got cops on the take. I know what it’s like. I learned just enough from eavesdropping on my dad’s conversations years ago to know that I have to tread carefully here. One misstep, and I could lose everything. Hell, I could lose my life.
Just as expected, three skulking figures come through the front door a moment later, led by the same asshole who threatened me before: Lorenzo. And this time, there’s no attempt at disarming me with charm or subtlety. The three of them come marching toward me with glowering expressions. I look around quickly, wondering if there’s any way I can get out of this, any escape route I can take. But I know it’s pointless. These guys are smarter than they look, I’m sure, and they’re faster and stronger by far. No. The only thing I can do is stand my ground and take my beating.
I gulp back my fear and try not to let my eyes fill with tears as I face the wrath of the mob.
“Miss De Laurentis, you’ve been warned,” Lorenzo snarls, cornering me behind the counter just like he did the other day. This time, he doesn’t mince words. “Maybe I didn’t make myself clear enough the last time we spoke, but you better cough up the money. Now. This isn’t a negotiation, sweetheart, this is a shakedown. Do you wanna fuckin’ die?”
“I-I’m sorry,” I murmur. “Business has been slow. I’m barely breaking even as it is.”
Lorenzo’s eyebrows perk upward and he glances back over his shoulder at the two goons behind him. “You hear that, boys? Hmm, sounds like an excuse to me. And a shitty one, too. Don’t you lie to me, you little bitch. We know what kinda money is sunk into this place. Your daddy bankrolled you good, didn’t he? You think you can hide that shit from us?”
“No, I swear. That money—it’s all run out. I’m not lying. If I-I had the money I would pay you, I promise. It’s just… it’s not there anymore,” I blurt out, feeling my whole body shake. Lorenzo glares at me so hard I wonder if he might be able to bore a hole in my face.