Cosa Nostra (Our Thing)
an excerpt

Chapter 1

6th of April, 2007. 14:23
I turned 20, and got the shock of my life.

The reason for that entry in my diary was the simple fact that it was true. What happened today was something I hadn't imagined even in my wildest dreams…or nightmares.

My day had begun alarmingly enough – I knew from the moment I opened my eyes that the day would suck. As a novelist, I had flexible working days. I can wake up at noon, stay in my pj's unless someone important came to visit, I can stay up the nights writing stuff I like and eating junk food I ordered from either McDonalds or a pizzeria nearby. Unhealthy, but damn nice. Too bad the occasional interruptions had the destruction-rate of eleven in a scale of one to ten.

New York was and still is one of a kind. One can find everything and anything here. You want booze? Left and right and in the centre without even squinting. You want money? Jobs for every call; no profession, no problem! You want to house a horse in an apartment? Just pay enough and you'll find a place for that. New York has different faces for different people. You can't 'not belong'.

The family I come from is quite ordinary. I have a big brother and a big sister, and my parents are annoyingly normal. This time, the source of the shock and trouble came in the form of my sister, Helene, whose life has been a bit hectic…and still is. Alcohol, cigs, drugs…you know the jazz. But no matter what she did, Helene was always radiant. Even in her plain SoHo-clerk uniform she looked fabulous.

Both she and I were dark-haired, with brown eyes. Helene was taller than me, though, and thinner. She's cool, but sometimes she just goes over the top with some stuff. Like lip-gloss. Or diet coke. Or clothes.

Anyway. Back to the topic.

On this fine morning, my doorbell rang at 7 am, give or take few minutes. A time during which I'd normally be asleep. Dragging myself up, I made my way to the door, and while trying to see who was there I smashed my face against the woody obstacle.

It hurt. A lot.

It was Helene, armed with a bundle and a big bag. Frowning, I opened the door.

"My God, Reggie, you look awful!" she gasped and strutted past me into the apartment. I sighed, closed the door and follower her to the living room. Still half-asleep, I just sat down on the nearest chair and waited for her to start speaking. I didn't have to wait for long.

"I'm moving in with Brad, but the temporary place he got for us is not for families," she said and sighed. I stared at the mirror behind her with disinterest and resisted the urge to burp, scratch my stomach or do anything unladylike. While Mom let it slide every now and then, Helene would shoot me down with the critic.

"In other words," she said and put the bundle down on my sofa, "I can't raise any babies there."

"Then don't get pregnant and your problem will be solved," I sighed, and she glared at me.

"Reggie…I had a baby five months ago," she said patiently. I frowned.

"What?" At her venomous glare I racked my memory, and remembered vaguely a suspicious phone-call at six am from her few months ago…and before it on few occasions a rather obvious stomach of a pregnant woman. Oh dear. I think I need coffee. I thought I had been hallucinating. Or, well, hoped.

"So, you're my only hope. In this bag is everything you might need for the first week." Well, that made me wake up.

"Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait!" I leaned forward, and pointed at the bundle.

"That's…?"

"Yes. That's my daughter. Please take care of her for few months; I'll reward you greatly as soon as I…know how. I'm short on money right now," Helene sighed, and straightened her jacket. "You still look awful, by the way," she said.

"I just woke up," I muttered. And I think I need some strong whiskey instead of just coffee, although I didn't say that aloud.

"That's obvious," she said absentmindedly while flicking off inexistent dust from her skirt.

"Why can't you take it to mom and dad?" I asked.

"They have their own lives now. I wouldn't want to disrupt their harmony."

"So it's okay to disrupt my life's harmony?"

"Reggie, you don't have a life," she sneered.

"I do too!" I protested. As if on cue to emphasis my words, the baby started to cry.

"No you don't. You don't have any friends, you're always home and no one visits you anyway. Your job needs you to meet the agent once in few months and you have no hobbies," Helene said, and stood up. "I'll be going now. Thanks for the help, I seriously appreciate it."

"No! Wait!" I stood up too, and stared at her with wide eyes.

"What?"

"What? You ask what? Get real woman, I have never raised a kid before! It's five months old, right? I can't do this! Go and find someone else!"

"Regina Millis," Helene growled. "This once when I ask you help for a serious matter, you refuse? What would you do anyway? Besides, I'll take the brat back from you as soon as I get settled down in another house."

"The kid might die with me. I know nothing about babies! I have had only one pet in my life, and you know how that ended," I said.

"Dead. Yes, I remember. It starved to death. But still, this is a human baby, not a bird. Please Reggie! Take it at least for a week, during which I'll try to arrange something else for it!" Helene said and scowled, while scurrying past me to the door.

"Wait! You can't go! You can't do this to me!" I yelled, grabbed the screeching bundle from the sofa and hurried after Helene.

"You can. I have faith in you."

"Please don't!"

"I need to go now, Brad's waiting outside," she zipped out of the door, and hurried to where a black car was waiting. The door slammed shut, and the window opened.

"Her name is Mary-Ann! Mary-Ann Jones! Thanks Reggie, you're a doll!"

And this is why this day sucks.

I returned to the apartment with the bundle still in my arms. I looked down at it with various degrees of disgust. It was pink and wrinkly and it smelled funny. And how do I silence the thing?

6th of April, 2007. 17:48
I fed it some of the mush in the bottles I found in the bag. It fell asleep soon after. Now it's awake again.

It…I mean, she. Her. Whatever; the baby. Is glaring at me.

"Don't shit," I told it seriously. "Please don’t. I don't know how to change diapers." Frowning, I returned to stare at my diary. This stunt will put my whole life into a mess, my career into jeopardy, my sanity to the hills… I hate babies. I really hate babies and kids. Anything younger than ten years and smaller than a mule goes immediately to my hate-list. And they hate me in return. All my young cousins were always like 'mommy, what's that?' or 'nooo! I don't want to sit next to that or…yeah. Like that.

"What I'm supposed to do with you?" I asked. "I need help. I'll call mom." Deciding to do just that, I dialled the number, I waited for my mother to answer.

"Millis."

"Mom, what do you know about babies?" I asked.

"Babies? What do you…ah, Helene's Mannie!"

"What?"

"Mary-Ann. Helene's daughter. Why is she with you?"

"I'm supposed to take care of her," I said making my voice miserable.

"I see. Good luck. It's not a wise decision, but then again Helene was never exactly wise, now was she?"

"Mom…"

"Yes, anyway. What is it?"

"I know nothing about babies."

"Go and buy a book. They're usually useful," mom said mercilessly.

"Mom! Please! Anything! I need you!"

"Hm. Fine. How old is she? Six months?"

"Five."

"Well, babies at that age don't eat solid food, so stick with the formula. If it seems to leave her hungry, she may have been eating some cereal already. From two to four tablespoons twice a day will be plenty, mix it with water or formula, and offer as much in bottles as she'll drink."

"No solid food, ok."

"Some babies do eat rice cereal. Star with very watery and work up the consistency if the baby does ok. Spoon feed though, not in a bottle."

"Spoon feeding, ok."

"Are you taking notes?"

"Yes."

"Good. I highly recommend avocado for proteins that promote brain development. Just a tablespoon per day should do it at that age. The book Super Baby Food is an amazingly comprehensive guide to nutrition for infants and toddlers."

"Super Baby Food from the library, ok."

"You'll need to find her pediatrician, although it sounds like Helene may not have been keeping up well with baby checkups…at one, two, and four, and the next is at six months old. She will need shots; you'll need to know what she's already had."

"Right. Ok."

"And the most important thing: trust your gut feeling. If you think that something's wrong to the baby, don't do it," mom said with an unusually soft tone. I felt like crying.

"I'll try my best," I said.

"I know, baby, I know. Call me if you need anything else."

"Alright. Thanks." Saying the goodbyes I hung up just in time for the baby to start wailing.

"What's your problem?" I snapped and leaned forward; when certain kind of…smell…hit my nostrils.

"No shit!" I groaned. I glared at the baby with disgust. "You did that on purpose, right?" I asked, and stood up. The damn thing had released the brown bomb. I reached for a diaper, and tried to not to breathe.

6th of April, 2007. 21:00
Life is full of surprises and adventures. Even an old dog can learn new tricks. As long as I'm alive, I have hope. AARGH!! Who am I kidding!? This baby is killing me…

Chapter 2

7th of April, 2007. 14:23
Mothers are true every-day heroes. I have new respect for my mother now. And to think that she went through this thrice!

"Just eat it you goddamned menace!" I screeched and caused the baby to screech with me. Dude, we make a good duo. Hollywood, anyone? This sounds like Britney Spears in a good day. I never thought that feeding a baby would be this difficult. I mean, come on, I'm sure I wasn't that troublesome. I was annoyed, irritated and angry. For the hundredth time I was regretting agreeing to this. No, wait, I didn't agree to this!

Right then, the doorbell rang. Regardless of what Helene said, I do have friends. Two of them. And according to the message I had gotten few minutes ago they were both coming here, to see The Baby. I picked Mannie up from the table, and armed with a dirty spoon, went to welcome the guests.

"I don't recall telling you about this mess," I said dryly after opening the door, not bothering to greet them.

"You mum called us. Or well, called Myra," said the taller of the two, Delly Joseph while pushing past me. Rude, sarcastic and a bit of a pessimist, Delly was one heck of a personality, disregarding completely the blonde-jokes. She was either unbelievably bossy or amazingly lazy, and had been my friend since middle school. Also, she works as a cook in a posh restaurant nearby. Yes, even though she was a blue-eyed blonde.

"Hi Reggie," a timid voice said and I turned to face Myra, who was as usual dressed like a grandmother at the 70's.

"Come in," I smiled and made way for her to enter. Delly and I got to know Myra Wylie when the High School started. She was shy, timid, loves kids and wants desperately to get married. She works as a waitress in a bar; a job I think is so totally not for her.

I closed the door and went to the kitchen, where Delly had begun cleaning up the mess.

"What were you doing?" she asked, her blue eyes full of mirth.

"I was trying to feed this," I said and put the screaming Mannie on the table. "But it spits the food out!"

"Maybe it doesn't like it?" Delly suggested.

"What should I do then!? It ate shit like that yesterday!"

"Give it something else!"

"Like? I don't have much stuff here for babies!" It was tiring to yell over the menace's screams. Suddenly a pair of hands tugged Mannie and Myra picked the baby up. Miraculously, it fell silent.

"What the…Why did she quiet down with you?" I exclaimed.

"Maybe she doesn't like your face," Delly smirked.

"Or maybe I'm going to smash your face in?" I shot back. Myra coughed, gaining our attention.

"She's hungry," she said.

"But it spat out all the food I tried to give her! At me, no less!" I informed, pointing at my dirty self. Myra smiled and shook her head.

"That's the so called 'tongue-thrust reflex'. It's normal for young babies. Try again in a few weeks, with very watery consistency rice cereal on a spoon. Meanwhile keep her on bottles only." Both Delly and I stared at her with silent feelings of respect and awe.

"I knew that we kept her around for a reason," my blonde friend said and smiled triumphantly.

"Stuff it," I said and went to prepare the bottle. "It's all thanks to Myra, so don't act as if you won a Puh-lit-zero or something."

"Pulitzer," Myra corrected, "but what does that have to do with anything?" I waved my hand in dismissal.

"So, Delly, quit shooting off your rude remarks and make something for us to eat. Something damn expensive that I wouldn't be able to afford in a restaurant, so I won't feel like a pauper anymore," I said.

"For a while at least," Delly muttered and dodged the dirty spoon I had been holding till now. "Besides you wouldn't be able to afford even the ingredients!"

"I make more money than you!" I yelled.

"Yeah, so?" Sighing I sat down on a chair, next to Myra who was still holding Mannie.

"I'm depressed," I admitted, and she smiled patiently.

"I would be too in your situation!" Delly sang from the kitchen. "I'm happy it's not me stuck like that!"

"Can I shoot her?" I asked, and Myra just smiled again and shook her head. The baby was focusing on the bottle full of milk that had appeared out of nowhere.

"From where did you get that?" I asked, frowning.

"It was in the bag," my friend replied, gesturing towards the…horrid pink bag-like thingie that Helene had brought with the baby yesterday.

"For the record," I hurried to say. "That's not mine. It's Helene's!" I should have hid the monstrosity before these two came. Then again, who can blame me for not remembering such a trivial thing?

"By the way," Delly shouted from the kitchen. "I have something I need to tell you!"

"Do tell," I yelled in response, and the baby opened its mouth – I think it wanted to cry or something. But Myra – God bless her! – was quicker and thrust that bottle in front of the red, wrinkly, monkey-like face.

"I hate Helene," I grunted, and resisted the urge to start screaming. It wouldn't benefit anyone anyway. Delly then came to set the plates in front of us. Some weird orange mush lay alone and abandoned on the plate.

"And that's supposed to tame my hunger?" I asked, appalled. Something resembling a shocked giggle came from Myra's direction, and she pushed her share towards me.

"I'm not hungry," she said, and I laughed nervously.

"If you don't want to eat, then let it be!" Delly growled, coming again with her own share of food, and sat down.

"I didn't say that I won't eat it!" I said, and swatted her hands away from the two plates.

"You don't even know what it is," the blonde said and I saw the signs of sulking surfacing.

"Anyway," Myra interrupted. "There was something you wanted to say, Del?"

"Oh yeah," the blonde's expression morphed into that of mischievous glee. "There's a possibility that I'll get a promotion! The head chief will be leaving his post in a month, and all of us cooks got an invitation for a week-long conference in New Jersey's Atlantic City!"

"So you'll be going?" I asked. "Whoa! Congrats! I see where my luck ran away to."

"However, I need few favours," Delly said, and leaned forward, staring at me intently. "Yesterday my grandmother from father's side-"

"Scary-Stella!?" I shrieked, knowing exactly whom she was talking about.

"Who?" Myra asked, and I turned to explain.

"Back in our freshman year of middle school, Delly and I were forced to spend a weekend at her grandma's place. I swear – I still have the emotional scars left! Scary-Stella has a reputation!"

"Remember when she added laxative to the cookies she was baking, fully knowing that we'd steal and eat them later?" Delly shivered. "I thought I'd die!"

"She seems…interesting," Myra chuckled. I grimaced and turned back to our resident blonde.

"So? What about her?"

"Called mom," the woman mourned. "And mom called me. She needs someone to help with cleaning the house."

"Sorry," I said immediately, snatching Mannie – who started immediately crying again – from Myra. "I have a baby to take care of."

"A baby who hates your face and guts," Delly said, before taking a deep breath. "Actually, I'd like to ask the both of you to go. You can take turns in cleaning the house and taking care of the brat."

"It won't be like that!" I protested. "Scary-Stella will let Myra just take care of Mannie, and I will have to work like a goddamned slave!"

"Grandma likes you," Delly sighed. "She wouldn't have let me associate with you otherwise. You impressed her."

"How?" Myra asked with curiosity. "She doesn't seem to be like an easy to impress person."

"She isn't," I muttered awkwardly.

"Yeah," Delly agreed. "But you see, even if it's hard to believe, Reggie saved my life once. I was being threatened by a snake – how could we have known that it's just a harmless garden snake? – and almost died with fear."

"Seriously? How did she save you? And why haven't heard about this before?" Myra wondered.

"Because it's damn embarrassing," I said as Delly's grin almost split her face.

"Reggie barged in, tripped and fell on the snake, and smashed it under her!" the blonde declared. "It was crushed. Totally. And Reggie's clothes were dirty with snake-guts!"

The disgusted expression Myra had told me all about her opinions regarding my heroism.

"Yeah, okay," I said. "But I'm still not going. Mannie needs to live in a safe environment!"

"You call your dump-like apartment safe!?" Delly exclaimed. "It's a danger zone!"

"It's not," I said and avoided to look at the axe that hung above the front door – a souvenir from my dad after he came back from yet another escapade in a far-away country. Too bad both Myra and Delly were staring at it with apprehension. Right at that moment, Mannie seemed to realize where the general attention was, and pointed at the axe…before she started to wail.

"See?" Delly smirked.

"Choke on your spit," I replied pleasantly, before returning the baby back to Myra.

"I won't go all the way to Philadelphia just to help Scary-Stella to clean her house! And that's final!"

9th of April, 2007. 06:02
How did this happen? Often we ask ourselves things like that. "Why didn't I stop this or avoid this in the beginning?", "Why was I so careless?", "Why do I have such freaks for friends?".
Why's everyone against me? Do I not have a personal opinion? Human rights?

"Atlantic City is quite near, yes?" Myra said, and Delly nodded.

"Yeah, by car – or well, taxi – it's just two hours from here to there. And one hour from there to Philadelphia, so I'll visit if I have some free time and a car to use," Delly said.

"We're not going there now, are we?" I pressed. "I haven't packed, and Del wouldn't be coming!"

"Relax, Reggie," the insufferable blonde said leisurely from front seat. "Myra brought the baby's stuff, and hers too. I packed your rags while you were showering."

"And is it absolutely necessary to go there at this time?" I snarled. "It's still night!"

"Ten past six is hardly night, pea-brain," Delly scoffed.

"Too early anyway," I complained. "And besides, why are you here!?"

"I'll be dropping you off," the blonde said, and caused me to scowl at her smug expression.

"Drop yourself off the planet while you're at it," I muttered, and got an odd stare from Myra.

"Reggie, that wasn't necessary," she said, and I nodded wisely.

"Yeah, but I said it anyway."

"Oh, just go to sleep if you're going to be like that!" Delly suddenly yelled and threw her hat at me.

"You'll wake the baby," I said, and settled comfortably in the backseat, closing my eyes. I didn't sleep, though.

"Say, Del," Myra spoke quietly. "What kind of place is your grandmother's house?"

"Villa Stella is big," the blonde replied. "Reggie will go through Hell while cleaning it. Oh well, it'll do her no harm."

"I'll do my best too!"

"Ah, no need. Just take care of the baby and watch out for some guys there. If my memory serves me right, there are few ladies' men there, ready to chew on innocent city girls," Delly said, and I snorted.

"Yeah, because many hearts were broken thanks to a blonde 'innocent' city girl."

"You didn't!" Myra gasped, and jabbed Delly's shoulder with her finger.

"I'm sorry," the culprit said. "I just sort of happened. But I blame Reggie."

"What!?" I exclaimed. "What the…How is it my fault!?"

"Well," Delly sniffed. "You more often than not ditched me for the sake of tailing another cake or cookie-box that caught your attention, and I was left to try and entertain myself." I groaned and turned my back to the two. Why did I befriend them again? Oh yeah, I didn't have a choice…

Chapter 3

9th of April, 2007. 08:09
We return to a place we never want to see again and think 'will I survive this?'. But I swear…I'll live through this, and when I go back home I'll buy the biggest chocolate cake and eat like a pig.

"We're here," Delly said loudly, waking me up. Villa Stella was as scary as ever. It wasn't actually in Philadelphia… It was few miles outside it in an almost-but-not-really countryside. I always found it odd – the place, I mean. It was like a small village, populated by old grandparents and occasionally their spawns.

"So this is Villa Stella," Myra muttered, and observed the mansion. It was big, Victorian-styled, dark and the knowledge of who lived in it made the situation even worse.

"Why do the place and your grandmother have the same name?" Myra asked then. "This seems too old to be named after her."

"I wouldn't bet on it," I said. "Beca-AUGH!" Have you ever been hit by a purse? On your head? It hurts – more so than one would expect.

"It seems that the manners Regina wasn't born with are yet to develop," a dry voice said, and I turned to see Scary-Stella. She was a tall woman with iron-grey hair and steely green eyes.

"Grandmother!" Delly chirped nervously, and shuffled towards the waiting taxi – the driver had put our entire luggage next to the car already. Scary-Stella ignored her, and focused on Myra and the baby.

"A third ape to add into the mix?" she snapped. "What's your name, girl?"

"M-myra Wylie," my poor friend squeaked.

"Occupation?" Delly's grandma pressed.

"I work as a waitress…and study language arts in the university." Unlike Delly and I, Myra had decided on pursuing a higher degree of education. I kinda envy her a bit, but she's so nice that I can't help but be happy for her also. By the time Scary-Stella's gaze slid to rest on the baby, Delly interrupted.

"It's Helene's," she said helpfully.

"I could have guessed," her grandmother replied. "While the child has some of Regina's features, there's no way it could be her child. So the next best option is her foolish sister."

"What do you mean there's no way it could be mine?" I gritted.

"When was the last time you dated anyone?" Delly smirked ever-so-helpfully. "Oh wait, you've always been single!"

"Shouldn't you get going to that stupid conference of yours!?" I snapped. "I hope you'll get a demotion or choke on whatever dish you're gonna make!" In response, Delly just flashed the victory sign before slamming the door of the car shut, and urging the driver to speed off.

"Now, you two," the mean voice that belonged the only woman I have ever feared, said. "Take your bags to the room I have assigned for you – the usual place, Regina – and then come to the kitchen to get the list."

List?

What list!?!?

Ten minutes later found us all gathered in the big kitchen that held the painful memories of laxative-cookies in it. After a sharp order from the old hag, I spilled the beans about Helene, Mannie and my situation. Then I told her about how Delly had recruited me here and told her that I'm stressed out.

"Young women like you are energetic enough," she snapped. "It's soon nine already, so I'll be quick with this. You two will take turns in cleaning and taking care of your sister's offspring. These lists include your daily schedules during the week and what you are supposed to do." While saying that, Scary-Stella gave Myra and I our own lists, and I stared at mine with apprehension.

"Why are we cleaning anyway?" I muttered. "The house isn't messy!"

"My house is never messy – something a person like you might find hard to imagine," the old hag said snidely, shutting me up. "Now get to work! There's not time to waste!"

Few hours later my back was killing me, and I was hungry – I hadn't been give breakfast earlier – and my headache was almost splitting my face. That old, demon-hag had sent me to bring the toolbox from the shed. I if she seriously thinks that I'm capable of using a hammer or something, she'd dead wrong. When I came back, I decided to tell her my exact opinion about the job (fix-the-chair) she had given me.

"I cant'-"

"If you want to eat, you'll have to work," she deadpanned before letting me finish.

Well, sometimes 'no' isn't an option…

9th of April, 2007. 22:17
I hardly have the power to write. Myra and Mannie are asleep already, and I'll probasjsljsda…

When I woke up the next morning, there was drool all over my diary. That was the first thing I noticed. The second was that I didn't wake up all on my own. A horrid noise that almost broke my eardrums was filling the house. Hmm…how odd. It sounds like…

…fire alarm?

SHIT!!

I shot out of the bed, and ran – in my respectable pyjama – downstairs to check where the others were, since Myra and the baby weren't in the room.

"WHERE'S THE FIRE!?" I howled, barging into the kitchen.

"See? Understand now?" Scary-Stella was telling some guy, while Myra just about died with laughter. Mannie was shrieking and clapping her chubby hands. No fire anywhere. No smoker either.

"What's going on here?" I asked weakly, and fell on the chair nearby.

"That was the wake-up call," Delly's grandmother informed dryly. "I got it installed just for the sake of waking you and my granddaughter up whenever you'd stay here the night. You have been lazing enough already. Get washed up and dressed; it's your turn to take care of your sister's brat today."

"Yeah, yeah," I muttered, standing up. I glanced at the guy curiously, and recognized the scar that went across his nose.

I don't remember his name, but he was Delly's no#8. Boyfriend, I mean. I remember the long hours during which I had to sit and hear about the 'sexy scar' and eyes, and hair, and ass, and legs and basically everything. Three days later my blonde cook of a friend had switched to a redhead, but that's a story for another time.

I turned, and made my way back to the room. Really, waking-up calls like that weren't for my liking. Maybe I should buy earplugs and sleep through the noise just to annoy that stupid hag.

I felt also a bit awkward, since someone beside my close people saw me in my nightwear. I'm not exactly Miss Perfect-Body around here…and while I have big boobs and a waist somewhere, my ass is size Arizona and thighs and arms are too round for my liking and why the HELL none of TV Shop's products ever worked!? I bough this Magical Vibratone that supposedly would let me just lie in some dump and I'd get thinner as long as I have it on. Did it work? NO. Then there was this RHYTHMS-shit mess that didn't work either…

That subject pisses me off!

I went and showered and got dressed – luckily Myra was who packed up my stuff. Had it been Delly I doubt that there'd have been anything decent for me to wear. I checked my cell phone for any messages – nothing there, no one misses me. Not even the pizza-guy – before finally just going downstairs.

I hope they'd have something delicious for breakfast. I sighed, and entered the kitchen for the second time. No#8 was still there, so I sat quietly next to Myra.

"What's for breakfast?" I hissed.

"Porridge," she replied, and I frowned. That wouldn't do. According to Enid Blyton's The Five-series, countryside people ate big, fantastic meals all the time. Delicious food done by a homely matriarch of the house, who'd be like 'are you sure you can't eat more?', to which I'd say in response: 'I'm sorry, madam, but I'm honestly full. That was my sixth plate of this delicious food, you see…'. That would be the breakfast…two hours later would be th-

"Stop drooling," Myra hissed, and jabbed my side with her sharp, bony fingers, interrupting my daydreams. Ah, my friend, so much like a scrawny bird.

"And what's that guy doing here?" I asked quietly.

"You know him?"

"Delly's number eight."

"Ah. I see. He's here to fix the chair you were supposed to fix. Apparently it hadn't gone according to the plans."

"That's one way to put it," I huffed. "It's not my fault that I can't fix the thing! You know we used to skip the wood-work lessons."

"Yeah, and only your credits in sewing and such made you pass the handwork-course," Myra giggled, and I scowled at her. So I didn't know which edge of the hammer was used for hitting nails and which was for taking them off, but who friggin cares?

"I can't be prefect in all aspects," I said, just as Scary-Stella led No#8 to where What-Once-Had-Been-A-Chair was. I used the chance to make a decent breakfast, stuffing it into a basket, and dragging both Myra and Mannie elsewhere. I knew the places around here, and if my memory served me right, there was a small opening behind the garden.

"Let's eat here!" I declared when we arrived.

"But I have to go and work," Myra said, looking worried. I shrugged, and took one of the quickly made sandwiches out of the basked, with a small bottle of milk.

"Just don't tell her where I went, then!"

"You have Mannie with you," my darling friend pointed out flatly, turning to leave. "I don't think that she'll care."

"All the better!" declared, and turned to the baby. It stared at me with big eyes, and was oddly silent.

"You know," I told her. "You're a cute thing when you don't cry. Like you usually do. But if anyone asks, I didn't say that." I sighed contently, and fed the baby some mush I had remembered to grab. It smelled nice, kinda like mango.

These days have been rather hectic, every since Helene ditched her spawn for me to take care of. I know, in the beginning I complained and whined and basically acted like a brat, but the situation should pardon the behaviour. But last nigh I had done some thinking. I dunno if it's just that I finally saw The Light or something like that, but when I had looked at Mannie and Myra last night, I couldn't help but feel a bit guilty.

Here I had not only made the easily affected (according to the books, babies are surprisingly easily affected) thing feel unwelcome, but I had also dragged poor Myra into the mess with me. I am no better than Delly who had forced us to this Hell while fleeing to her personal paradise.

But I'll change! I won't be like Delly!

"I swear, God! I'll give my all to help the next person who needs me! It doesn't matter who they are or what kind of situation they are in!" I declared aloud, and Mannie giggled and clapped with…awe, I think. At least she seemed to enjoy the weather, if nothing else.

I was so fired up regarding my will to help the next needing person, it seemed that the Powers-To-Be heard me and sent the biggest trouble in my life to cross my path. Just as I was reaching for another sandwich, I heard some noise coming from the bushes behind us. Before I could even turn to see, a bloodied man stumbled in, and fell between Mannie and I with a crash.

"Help…" he said hoarsely, before passing out.

Well shit. So that's my project?

10th of April, 2007. 11:52
You know, sometimes you find yourself in a bad situation, and can't tell when the downfall started. In my case, I can pinpoint it exactly. I know when my world began to change.

I closed my diary and looked up…er…down, on the man unconscious man lying in a messy heap with my breakfast. Mannie had decided to climb on him, and I decided to check his pockets. I mean…maybe I'd find a driving license or something else so I could know who he is, before I would drag him to Scary-Stella or the hospital.

Hmm…this guy has lots of pockets…and a ring in his finger, I see…

"Wa!" Mannie yelled cheerfully and threw a gun at me.

"Don’t do that," I said absently. "Guns are dange…"

Wait.

What?

GUNS!?!?!?

"Okay, kid," I said and grabbed Mannie. "We're going back home. We didn't see anything, and my promise to God was a mistake. Let's go."

"WAA!" was Mannie's loud protest, and I seriously feared that if someone heard her and came to check, we'd be in trouble. Especially since my breakfast was still down with the guy. You know what cops will call it? Evidence – that's what. Then they'll tell me that I killed him.

So I knelt down and tried to put most of the food back into the basket – not caring even if the milk was upside down and soaking up the rest of my breakfast that had been in there – and when I was finished, I realized that not only was there food stains on the man's clothes, but more than likely my fingerprints too. And Mannie's on the gun…and now when I think about it, didn't I grab that gun there?

God.

Why must You send such big problems to an amateur like me? Though Saint Regina does have a nice ring… Anyway, I need to hide this guy, right? I can't drag a gun-wielding, bloody man to the hospital or the cops…and Scary-Stella isn't a gangster…I think.

I hope she isn't.

Because if she is, then I really don't want to know what Delly is. And the latter is someone I have trusted for years, so…yeah. Anyway, I could drag him to the shed, but someone will eventually find him from there…I wonder if there's anything useful in that basket?

"A rope?" I muttered, and bit my lip. My gaze slid up to the old trees with thick, strong branches. Well, he is unconscious so if I tie him up there… But how will I get him there? Should I just dump him into some river nearby? Or just take him to the cops and…get arrested for something I didn't do?

Decisions, decisions.

Wait!

Aha!

It took time, it took effort, and I had to pause from time to time for various reasons…like feeding Manny, changing Manny's diapers, showing Manny to Myra so she wouldn't worry too much, change Manny's clothes after she dirtied them…and oh yeah, I ate a bit too. Anyway, the hard work of more than eight hours was done. I had dug a big hole, and basically buried the man – after dressing his wounds – up to his neck. Then I just put the basket on his head. Now he was unconscious, silent and hidden.

And Manny was delighted.

"We'll come tomorrow to check on him," I said, scooping her up. "If he's alive, then it's fate and I'll see what his problem is. If he's dead, then I'll finish burying him and forget this ever happened."

For the record: I should have just buried him.

Chapter 4

12th of April, 2007. 00:08
I couldn't go to check on him during the day, because Scary-Stella kept giving me more and more work. So I'll go as soon as everyone's asleep. Which is soon. Very soon.

I sneaked out after making sure that both Myra and Mannie would stay asleep even without my watchful eye. I headed to the man and the basket immediately, and approached it with caution. It was still there, but I wonder if the dude's breathing. So, I kneeled down, and pressed my ear to it.

"Whoever it is, you better remove this thing, now." Uh, yes he was alive, breathing and talking. Unfortunately. So I took the basket off, and sat down to observe the glaring person. It was funny to see just a head like that, but I guess it is my fault after all. What I don't think would be funny, is what's gonna probably happen to me as soon as I dig this guy out again.

He was rather tall, and obviously from the south. His skin was a darker shade of caramel, and his hair was shiny, black and a bit curly – I'd kill for hair like his! The eyes that were at the moment glaring at me with such venom were deep brown. He had also a white scar running across his left cheek…I wonder what caused that? Overall, the pal was pretty handsome…and that stubble suited him, if I may say so.

"Hi," I said politely.

"Get me out of here," he growled in response.

"Not before you answer some questions," I smiled. "So, what's you name."

"…" Playing difficult, are we?

"Name, or I'll call the cops."

"Devante," he said shortly. Aha, Mexican!

"And I'm sure that Devante has a family name also," I said sweetly, but his glare told me more than enough about the possibility of him telling me his full name. Or anything else for that matter. Oh well.

"How can I help you?" I asked then with a kind smile I usually reserve for my editor when he's in a bad mood.

"Get me out of this hole." Shame to admit, but the way he said those words made my heart almost stop from fear. Maybe he really is from a mafia? Well, now I know that digging people out is easier than digging them into a hole. It didn't take half an hour before My New Friend Devante was standing in front of me, towering about a head taller. The dirty bandages were almost soaked with his blood, and I could see the obvious signs of fatigue on him. The unhealthy paleness and the way he had to support his weight on the tree behind him.

"You need a doctor," I deadpanned, and he shot another glare at me. Gee, does he ever stop?

"I cannot give any clues of my current location," he said. "But if you'll help me, I'll pay you for it."

"How much?" I asked. Any help for paying my bills is welcomed.

"I don't know for how long I'll need your help," Devante said calmly. "But I'll pay you six thousand dollars a month."

"DEAL!" I said, eyes widening. So much money! I hope that we'll be working together for a long time! "We can start by booking you into the hospital using my brother's ID."

"Why do you carry your brother's ID-card around?" Devante asked with a weird expression. I shrugged.

"Because the bastard stole my PizzaHut-club card. It's used for discount and other stuff. So I took this as a revenge and I hope that he'll be caught for something embarrassing and problematic and-"

"Alright," he cut me off. "I get the picture."

"Oh…"

"But I don't think that we'd pass as siblings," he said then. "We look nothing alike."

"Step-siblings," I said immediately, and after a moment of consideration, my idea was accepted graciously.

"We'll need to go immediately, then," he said, and I nodded.

"Sure. The hospitals are open 24/7, and there must be several doctors on duty tonight!"

12th of April, 2007. 01:46
The guy I wrote about is now being checked up by a doctor. Turns out that his full name is Devante Castel – and I mean the guy, not the doctor. He's also Mexican, and obviously stinking rich – the guy offered me 6000 a month for my help! I see that this is what God intended to happen, and I should have had more faith in Him. I asked him if he was from a mafia, but he didn't answer. I'm seriously starting to suspect here…

I looked up when the door opened, and Devante appeared with the doctor, who gave me a reassuring smile.

"Worry not, Miss Millis," he said. "Your brother needs just few days of rest, and then several weeks of light exercise. There's nothing to worry about."

"Oh, thank you doctor!" I said, beaming. I noticed another odd stare directed at me by Devante, but since I didn't know why I got it, I decided to just ignore it. Luckily, the next day would be just taking care of Mannie, and…oh my God. It's Friday, which marks my fourth day here! And I have seen no head or tail of one Delly Joseph!

"We'll go and book a room in the motel nearby using my name," I said. "But you'll pay. Then we'll eat and you'll tell me exactly about this situation and what's expected of me."

"Very well," Devante said, and followed me to the only motel I knew about. It was rather near the hospital for logical reasons, and we found it pretty quickly. When we were asked about the dinner, I requested it for three – some extra won't hurt anyone – and to be brought up to the room.

"Nice one," I said and glanced around. It was a basic room for two (just for appearances, mind you. He'll be sleeping alone there). Devante sat down on the bed, and it was obvious that he was dead tired. I thought for a moment about postponing the discussion, but then I realized that maybe he'd be a tougher nut to crack if he wasn't so exhausted. So I'm just gonna ask my questions quickly and then leave.

After eating, though. So when I got my delicious dinner in front of my face, I finally started firing my questions.

"What is this about? Why were you hurt? By whom? Who are you avoiding? Why can't you use your name? Are you from a mafia? Why do you need my help? Can't you call a friend of yours or something? Ho-"

"Enough," he snapped, and I shoved a spoonful of white rice to assure him of my temporary silence.

"Before I answer your questions," he said quietly. "I want to make sure you understand the situation you're in. If you betray me, run to…other people and tell about me, or if you don't work properly according to my orders, I'll kill you."

Oh, haha! He'll kill me.

Haha. Hahahaha.

Huh.

God, what did we say about these difficult challenges? Saint Regina isn't ready for THIS!!! I swallowed the mouthful of rice before nodding.

"As long as I don't have to kill any-"

"Of course not," Devante interrupted. "But you'll have to keep a gun for the sake of protecting yourself if when the need comes." So it's 'when', not 'if'?

"I…see…I understand. Totally," I nodded and my heart was beating rather fast. I hope that everything will go alright. "What is my job then?"

"I need to return to Mexico," he stated. "And I want your help. No one must know about it. That is all I ask for. If you succeed, I might hire you permanently as an agent."

"Agent for what?" I asked sourly. "Police? FBI? Mafia? Some friggin' ape-assed cult!?"

"Do you need to even ask?" Devante said calmly, and I swallowed thickly again. God, I think I'm going to cry. My mom didn't raise me to become a Mafioso. And here I thought that Helene was the worse of us two.

"Okay," I said weakly. "I got it."

"Don't misunderstand your situation," the man then said arrogantly. "You're not irreplaceable, so don't even think about crossing. We'll pay you well, and your jobs won't include anything too serious. You're not yet one of us, so there's no important information that I can give for you."

"Go it," I whispered.

"As it turned out, I cannot leave this place for few days – maybe even weeks," he said. "It's your job to take care of my needs during this time."

"Hey!" I protested, momentarily forgetting my fear. "I'm not your goddamned sla-" my eyes widened as the cold texture of something that looked suspiciously like a revolver was pressed against my forehead.

"The Family which heir I am," Devante said coldly. "Is the Castel. The absolute force in Mexico's underground. Think you can stand against me?"

"Okay," I breathed shallowly. "You convinced me."

"Good. Now leave. Be here tomorrow as early as possible. And buy some new clothes for me on your way."

"Uh…what about the money?" I asked, and got a glare shot at me again.

"You'll be paid after the job," he told me, and before I could ask anything else, I found myself outside, and the door slammed in front of me.

"Sucker," I muttered, and left to sleep the remaining few hours of the night.

12th of April, 2007. 05:22
I couldn't sleep at all. Around five (twenty or so minutes ago) I was just about falling asleep, when Mannie woke up. I have spent this whole time thinking about my current situation. It doesn't look that bad, when I think of it. Dangerous, yes, but I feel as if I was in a novel or something! It's an Adventure, and I hope that – like The Five – I'll be able to survive. Besides, the pay is good.

A bit before six, I decided to take a shower, change my clothes and prepare for the coming day. I'll need to buy clothes for that baboon in the motel. Honestly…'I'm the heir of the whatsitsname family and blah blah blah'. Well, I have been a Speedy-Pizza-Eating-champion of this annual contest for three years in a row and no one sees me bragging about it!

Okay, so maybe being a pizza-eating monster isn't exactly flattering – especially since I'm a woman – but still. I put on my shoes, checked that I had my cell phone, my wallet and everything necessary, before grabbing a half-asleep Mannie and dressing her into a cute (I can't believe I just said that) lion-costume, and then heading out.

It was rather early, but I'll need to see which shops were open at this time. Speaking of which, what was Devante's size of clothes again? But hey…this would be like those dress-up games I simply LOVE!

"Right, lioness?" I asked, but Mannie didn't even make a sound. Since I didn't have a baby carriage, I had to carry her – not that I minded. She was so small and light. Mannie was also asleep now, leaning on my shoulder without squirming so it was easy to carry her around. In a bout of alien-like motherly instinct I didn't know I owned, I hugged the baby closer. So cute. The growling of my stomach brought me back to reality from my baby-induced pastel-coloured world, and led my feet to the nearest cafeteria.

"Closed," I muttered with dismay, and moved forward. It would have been nice to eat a delicious, sweet breakfast outside, while planning my dress-up game. Hmm…Devante seemed to be the type of person who wears suits a lot…if I remember correctly, the rags he'd been wearing had once been a proper suit… So I'll buy at least one. Though I can't afford buying anything too expensive. I'm a poor novelist, after all. Okay, not exactly 'poor', but I'm not rich by any standards either.

I finally found a café that would open soon enough, and settled to wait outside. Mannie moved slightly, and I could feel the drool on my jacket. Damn it. An old woman walked nearby, and saw Mannie, who was now waking up.

"Oh, how cute! Is she your first?" she asked cheerfully.

"Yes," I lied pleasantly, too lazy to explain. "Her name is Mary-Ann, but we call her Mannie for short."

"Oh, such a cute name," the woman cooed. "I'm Sophie Matthews," she said then.

"Regina Millis," I introduced myself. "It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Matthews." Now at this point she should have said something like 'oh please, call me Sophie'. But no.

"Don't you look a bit too young to be a mother?" Mrs. Matthews said with the lack of shame and courtesy that so belongs to the elder generations.

"Really?" I muttered, and was about to say something, when Mannie woke up. That was such a shame too, since my response would have been really witty too.

"WAAA!!" The brat's good morning-call was loud. Very loud. I cringed, and was happy when the café finally opened. At least I could feed the baby and keep her quiet like that. But wait, I wonder if they have any baby-food here? I was supposed to stick with the formula even outdoors. Then again, Mannie's bottle is in the bag here…Hmm…

"Hello," the clerk greeted, and I smiled in response.

"Hi. I'd like a cup of tea and a piece of that raspberry chocolate cake. Also, if it wouldn't be too much trouble, could you please warm this a bit for me?" I asked, holding the bottle of milk up.

"Sure," the girl smiled. "Is that all?"

"Yes."

"8.50$," she announced. "Please choose a seat – I'll bring your food in a moment." I paid, thanked, and chose the comfy chairs in the far corner, near the window. Mannie stared at everything with big, confused eyes, and looked basically as adorable as any baby could.

For now, I enjoyed myself.

Chapter 5

12th of April, 2007. 08:03
Time flies when we're having fun. But it flies faster when we are having fun with the knowledge that soon Hell will become reality. I forgot that Devante had told me to come as early as possible. Then again, in my opinion, eight in the morning IS early. I miss my regular life…

"You're late," Devante said, obviously in a bad mood.

"Good morning," I replied flatly, and hoisted Mannie up once again. I felt oddly satisfied at the fleeting – but obvious – surprised expression he had. He didn't, however, ask questions. I don't care if he thinks that I'm Mannie's mom or something.

I can't believe I just said that!

"Here," Devante suddenly said, and handed me a…credit card?

"What's this for?" I asked.

"From now on when I ask you to buy something for me, use that," he said shortly.

"Ah, how nice!" I chirped happily. Maybe he wasn't such a selfish ass then!

"I don't want to owe something like you anything," he clarified, and went to change. Ahhaa. I see. He doesn't want to owe something like me anything. That… that… ass.

"Wa!" Mannie called loudly, and tugged my hair painfully. It must be nice to be a baby… ignorant of all the pain around her. Not caring about anything but food, warmth, and how far she can crawl before being noticed. I wish I could return to my baby-days. Ah…

"Order for breakfast to brought here," my new boss said, appearing again. A second breakfast! Such a lovely idea! I put Mannie on the bed to lie, and practically skipped to the phone. And after eating, we moved to business.

"This is for you," he said, and handed me a gun. It was rather old-looking, and had a wooden handle, but it looked very pretty. I recall it to be one of the three guns I found from his clothes when I…er…buried him for the first time.

"I don't know how to use it," I said, and he nodded.

"You'll manage." Pardon? As in I will eventually teach myself after shooting half dozen targets? Who does he think I am? A gun-wielding heroine?

"There are limits to what a pizza-eating champion can do," I told him seriously, and put the gun down. Once again I got an odd stare from him, and I really am starting to think that he's some kind of freak weirdo.

"That gun doesn't have a license," Devante then said. "It's illegal. So don't show it to anyone."

"Can't I just give it back to you!?" I insisted, but my resolve crumbled against his glares. The unsaid words 'shut up' hung heavily in front of me. Is this telepathy or just silent communication?

"WA!" Mannie agreed with me, and I hugged her closer. Devante's gaze slid onto the baby, before he looked at me with yet another type of weird expression.

"Hopefully that… hm, baby… won't hinder your work," he said, and I glowered at the pause surrounding the word 'baby'. Was he indicating that something was perhaps wrong with Mannie?

"Don't worry," I said, and stood up. "Can I go now?"

"Not yet," he said, and handed me a paper and a pen. "Give me your full name, phone number, current place of residence and occupation."

"I'm here for a holiday…" I muttered. "I live in New York…"

"Then give me the both addresses," Devante ordered, and I complied. I wonder if my home will turn into a mafia HQ soon. Ah…how I miss my apartment…I really should have kicked Delly out of my house before she got me into this. Why did this even happen? Why did I help this guy? Couldn't I have just let him be? Or even better: finish burying him while I was at it?

"Also write down your bank account number. You'll get three thousand twice a month," the man said, and I remembered the reason for my obedience.

"Which days?" I asked curiously.

"The 16th and 30th," he replied, and wrote something down for himself. I finished writing my information, and handed him the paper. Then I grabbed the gun, and inspected it.

"I don't want to kill anyone, you know," I said seriously.

"Then aim somewhere that doesn't kill, but hinders," Devante said simply, not even looking at me from the paper.

"Good idea," I sighed. "Like the crotch. That hurts. I'd really like to see the man who stands after being shot there."

Why does this guy stare at me oddly so much? Did I say or do something weird?? Or is it my face? I mean… he doesn't have to look at my face if it's so bothersome…

12th of April, 2007. 16:11
Huh… I'm back at Villa Stella now. Mannie is napping, and Myra seems to be getting awfully chummy with Delly's number eight… Please, I hope that no one will misunderstand… but Myra's such an innocent person and if my memory serves me correctly, then he's a player of sorts…

I gnawed at my pen, and watched as #8 leaned closer to Myra, who just blushed and laughed. I shook my head with pity. Should I interfere?

"Sometimes the best option is to just let the youngsters suffer through experience," Scary-Stella said, appearing from nowhere and startling me in the progress. She had a calculating expression with oozing smugness or satisfaction about something, and in a moment of some kind of brilliance, I understood.

"You want to see her hurt," I said, and she looked at me with a blank face. "You want to see someone hurt." The short stare that followed my statement confirmed my suspicions. Right, so I have been living with a sadist… Though didn't I know that already? I heard Manny crying, so I stood up.

"I'll go and bathe the baby," I told nobody in particular before leaving. I took off my wristwatch before hoisting the crying brat up and going to let the warm water fill the bathtub. Then I went back to the room to get the soap, flannel, towel and lotion, as well as the absorbent cotton for nose and ears when necessary. I also grabbed the nappy and a tiger-costume. Mannie clutched the nappy like no tomorrow; I guess she likes her nappies.

"At least that's clean," I muttered, and closed the bathroom's door behind me. When I was there, bathing my sister's child, the said sister came into my mind. I wonder what Helene is doing now. It feels like ages since the last time we met… And it has been a while since I have talked with mom or dad or my brother… Especially my big brother, Kevin. He's the co-CEO of some fancy corporation with a friend of his, and always travels all over the globe for one reason or another. Last time I heard of him – more than six months ago – he was in Germany.

Does he even know that Mannie is with me? Would he care to know? Heck, does he even know that Helene was pregnant in the first place?

"REGGIE!" Delly's voice called from downstairs. Wait… Delly? I groaned, and opened the door to yell at her.

"I'm bathing Mannie! Will come down there later!"

"I'll come there!" was her response, and soon the blonde chef had appeared. She pushed me back to the bathroom, and sat next to where I was resettling Mannie into the tub.

"What?" I asked.

"What the hell is going on here?" she demanded to know. "Why's Cody here?"

"Who?" I frowned, before it clicked. "You mean number eight!"

"Who else?" she hissed. "And why is he hitting on Myra of all people! She's not his type!"

"That's what I have been worrying about too," I said. "We better warn Myra before he breaks her heart!"

"Like we could," Delly muttered. "She'll just accuse me of wanting him back, and think that you're siding with me because we've known each other longer than we've known her."

"That's illogical," I grumbled. "And when she's hurt and realizes that we've known that she'll be hurt all this time, she'll accuse us of not caring about her and other complicated stuff."

"But we can't just let her be!" Delly exclaimed. "She's our dear friend!"

"As if I don't know that!" I snapped. "But what are you planning on doing? Going there and saying 'yo, Myra, nice hat. By the way, this dude – who's also my ex-boyfriend – is a player. You better stay away from him'?? Is that it?"

"I can choose my words better," she growled, irritation clear in her voice.

"You're about as considerate as the weather," I said dryly. "Which is none at all."

"And you're any better?" Delly argued. "You've got to be kidding me!"

"And what's that supposed to mean!?" I snarled, and was about to give her a piece of my mind, but I knew that if I really went on like this, I'd tell her some really bad stuff – I haven't slept for ages, and I feel as if I haven't eaten for the past five months. So I just picked up Mannie to dry and dress and then feed. I walked past Delly, not even looking at her, and she ignored me as well.

Between bath time and dinner, Mannie fell asleep, and I sighed contently at the idea of rest, but then decided to wait until after dinner. Hopefully Mannie won't wake me up during night. I didn't want to go downstairs quite yet, so I decided to clean my stuff, organize it in the suitcase – Scary-Stella didn't permit us the use of any of the locked closets, so we kept our stuff in our bags. That hag.

"DINNER!" Delly's voice echoed in the house, and for a moment I feared that she'd wake Mannie up. But a miracle happened, and the baby kept sleeping. So I went downstairs to finally eat. To say that the atmosphere there was tense would be an understatement. Number eight had left already, so there were only Scary-Stella, Myra, Delly and I. And it was obvious that even the two who didn't know a thing about the argument between Delly and I sensed that something was wrong.

"When will you have to go back again?" Myra asked.

"Tomorrow noon," the blonde annoyance replied, and I could hardly restrain my snort. So I'll have to suffer her that long, huh? Well, the only positive things that comes to mind now is that she'll probably get her own room. She is, after all, Scary-Stella's granddaughter. And God do I see their similarities!

"And since I came so suddenly, there's apparently no room prepared for me," she continued, and I seriously don't like to where this was going.

"So you'll be sharing with us?" Myra smiled, but I saw the wary glance she shot at me. Tsch…what did she think I'll do? Jump and scream that no way in hell? Myra can be so stupid sometimes.

12th of April, 2007. 21:32
I'm pissed off. At Delly. And maybe at Myra too. Not to mention Devante, Helene, mom, my brother, Scary-Stella… So yeah, I have this righteous anger towards every single person whom I blame for leading me into this point of my life. Dad is not on the list, since he's always away and had no say or whatsoever in the way I was brought up.

I was alone in the bedroom, with only Mannie sleeping next to me on the bed, when Delly came in.

"We need to finish our discussion," she said and sat on Myra's bed, facing me.

"About what?" I snapped. "About whether or not we should warn our chicken of a friend about your ex-boyfriend's possible heart-breaking plans?"

"Exactly," she said and scowled at me. "Fix your attitude regarding this matter. Why are you so pissed off??"

"Well I just am!" I growled. "The one whose attitude needs fixing is you."

"Listen, Regina Millis," Delly growled. "I will not tolerate being talked to in that way!"

"You will not tolerate!?" I exclaimed. "So what about me!? Am I now one of your fucking moronic sidekicks at every other bar you go to? I'm your friend with equal rights – not a goddamned servant of lower standing!"

"I never said that!" Delly replied, scowling and glaring at me. "Only a paranoid moron like you would put words into my mouth like tha-"

"Paranoid moron?" I interrupted. "So I'm now a mentally challenged vegetable or something!? That coming from a drunkard blonde wi-"

"Shut your trap you fat-assed bitch!" Delly roared, standing up.

"Bitch!? That coming from the queen of whores!?" I shot back, just as the door opened, and Myra stepped in.

"Girls, you should really calm do-" she was saying, but Delly didn't bother to wait for her to finish, and opted to interrupt her instead.

"What? Afraid that we'll scare my ex-boyfriend away from you? It'd be only the best! He's a player and will end up hurting you!" she yelled, and I had to restrain the urge to kick her.

"Kind words coming from the person who accused me of not being considerate enough!"

"Oh yeah, Miss Right Etiquette!?" Delly turned to glare at me, when Myra took a deep breath before speaking.

"This is about me befriending Cody, isn't it?" she asked, and I had to scoff.

"First name basis, are we?"

"Oh, stuff it, the both of you!" Myra exclaimed. "Can't you be happy for me when I finally find someone who actually looks at me!?"

"Not if it's that player!" Delly yelled, and I grabbed the now awake, crying Mannie, to try and soothe her a little.

"Well you had him once, didn't you!?" Myra shot at her, and the blonde scowled.

"It was a mistake!"

"So why can't I try my luck!? Do you know how difficult it has been for me, to be with you two!?" the usually quiet girl shouted. "It was always – ever since school – Del and Reg and their new friend! Do you know how that felt!? When I was nothing compared to you two!? You," she pointed at Delly. "You are pretty and smart and had always people around you – especially during home economics! People admired you and wanted to be your friends! And you!" she then rounded to glare at me. "You were always the creative pet of literature and art teachers! People found you cool and fun and wanted to be around you to hear what you have to say! And then there was me." Myra took a deep breath, before continuing.

"Yes, me. Poor little old me! Myra, the third wheel in the Del and Reg-team! The one who is sent to buy lunch! The one who is-"

"So you think of us like that!?" Delly screeched. I closed my eyes, trying to control the possibly destructive rage I was feeling.

"Well, it's not like a person like Regina would ever understand!?"

"AND WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY THAT!?" I bellowed, all attempts at control forgotten. "SO I'M NOW A TOMATO-HUMANOID WITH A TAIL OR SOMETHING!?"

"Re-" Myra started, but I was too pissed off to heed her words anymore.

"You prance around talking about how much you love this guy – how much do you know about him!? You think just a day is enough for you to fall in love with him or something!?"

"Yo-"

"No! I don't want to hear it! Screw you both!" I shouted. In less then a minute I had grabbed Mannie, our shared suitcase, pushed past Myra and left Villa Stella. I was damn pissed off, and knew that so were they. I half-waited for at least Myra to come running to ask me to listen or stop or something, but no.

They didn't even call after me.

Chapter 6

12th of April, 2007. 22:23
I barged into Devante's room with my suitcase and Mannie, and told him that I'd stay the night, before collapsing on his bed. He didn't say anything, so I just thought that it'd be okay. It took me quite the while to wake up again.

When I opened my eyes, I heard laughing. Or more like, giggling. And I knew it was Mannie. I slowly turned to look at where I hoped she was, and got the shock of my life. She was sitting on Devante's stomach, and he was tickling her. My God I have never met anyone who could be so out of character regarding their usual moody selves. So what was going on? Fatherly or brotherly instincts? Or aliens? Or am I just hallucinating?

It seems that Devante is more than I thought of him to be. I'm yet to figure it out. He seems so rude and threatening – which he is – but he's also nice from time to time. I mean, he could have just shot me or thrown me outside, or simply woken me up. Not mention that he could have ignored Mannie or chucked her out of the window. But no.

"I had a horrible fight with my friends," I sniffed. "I want to go back to my apartment and eat chocolate."

"I see you're awake," Devante said, sitting up and bringing Mannie to me. "If you want to go to your apartment, I'll be going with you. I think I have stayed here long enough – it's a wonder that they haven't tracked me yet."

"When do you want to leave?" I asked, and felt a bit cheered up at the prospect of going back home.

"As soon as you call the taxi and carry the luggage down," the man said, and I could hardly believe my ears. Why the hell should it be me to carry the heavy shit!? Especially since he had during my absence bought some stuff for himself!

"How many credit cards do you have anyway?" I muttered while packing up his stuff into the new suitcase he had bought.

"I don't see the significance of that question," Devante replied while putting on his tie. I finished the packing and turned to change Mannie's nappies and dress her in a cute dog-costume, that got me another long, odd stare from Devante.

"What is it with you and those costumes?" he finally asked. I scowled at him through the mirror.

"They're cute. Something a man cannot possibly understand." After that I went to the reception and asked for them to call a taxi. The woman there just smiled politely and told me that the taxi station is right outside the motel. Dude, did I feel ridiculous, dragging two suitcases and a baby, looking uglier than ever, while ever so handsome Devante in an obviously expensive suit followed. The taxi-driver was a nice young man, who talked a lot.

"So, is this your wife?" he asked Devante.

"No," I answered instead from the backseat. "We're step-siblings."

"Oh, I see! And which one of you is the married one?" the man asked, and it was obvious that my boss didn't appreciate his chattering or questions.

"He is," I said with a smile, and saw my remaining 'friend' shooting a quick glance at me. What the heck? Did he seriously think that I'm married? Why'd he think something like that? I sighed, and shook my head. Some things I'll never understand.

"So you, miss, aint married?" the driver asked with a big grin, and I could clearly see the yellow – almost brown – teeth. I hid a grimace, and returned the smile.

"No."

"Or in a relationship?" What the hell was wrong with this guy? Isn't that kind of question a bit too… personal? My smile dropped and I gave him a long stare.

"I fell in love three times," I lied with a serious face. "My first love broke up with me after he found out that I can't tell the difference between onion rings and octopus rings. My second love heard about it and being the chivalrous hero-type of person he was, went off to beat up my first love for me. But then – I don't know how it happened – they fell in love. With each other. So when my third love heard that I had turned all of my ex-boyfriends gay, he didn't even ask me out. Then I swore off love and decided to live for my career."

"I…I see…" the driver said weakly, and concentrated on the road. I saw Devante biting his lip, and I felt happy for making him smile. And as soon as I realized the source of my happiness, I decided to focus on something else. It seems that someone Up There remembered Saint Regina when she was in a pinch, since my cell phone started to ring. What would I do if it was Myra or Delly? I glanced at the screed, and my eyes widened when I saw the name. I felt myself paling, starting to sweat, and my heart started to beat faster. It seems that someone Up There has something against me.

Lou Rowan

My editor.

"Regina," I answered hesitantly this unavoidable call.

"Indeed," a pissed off male voice said from the other side. "And where has Regina been, since she was too busy to contact her agents and editors for the sake of her new material? Perhaps you found something more important than money to your life? A new dish, perhaps?"

Is this guy mocking me?

"Listen, Lou," I sighed. "Sorry for not contacting you. My life has been a-"

"Mess," his dry voice finished for me. "Are we talking about your life or your kitchen here, Regina? That, of course, assuming that they are separate entities."

"Hey!" I protested. "That's plain rude!"

"I didn't notice."

"Like hell you didn't!" I exclaimed. Lou Rowan was my first editor ever. I owe him a lot, even if he can be such an ass sometimes. When my first book was rejected few years back, it was him who contacted me about it, and helped me to rewrite it and publish it. He's a 31 year old man with the attitude of a 60 year old grandma. While he was one of the best editors I knew of, many people disliked him for it. I personally like his dry humour, sarcasm and wit – as long as it's not directed at me. That sharp tongue is not only poisonous, but full of thorns too.

"Language, Regina," Lou said. "And tell me, didn't we agree that the deadline of your newest novel was yesterday?"

"Lou," I said. "Thanks for reminding me. But at the moment, I ca-"

"Don't!" he suddenly interrupted sharply. "Don't tell me that you can't give it to me. You can. Writing is your soul, words flow from your fingertips! Literature is breathing and poetry is eating. You're a novelist who lives alone! Very few can support themselves via writing, you know! It's a wonder that you have managed to do it so far. You're balancing on a sharp edge, and your lack of responsibility will lead to your destruction!"

"I can't stomach drama so early," I admitted. "But that part about poetry and eating made me hungry."

"You're unbelievable!" the man bellowed from the other side. "I'll be over tomorrow to get the papers! In what condition are they!?"

"I haven't printed anything," I exclaimed. "And the thanks and disclaimers about all the facts are yet to be added. But I'm too busy, Lou! Please, I swear that my next novel will be on time, before the red deadline, if you help me with this now!"

"Fine," the man huffed. "Put the information into a floppy disk and I'll come personally and get it tomorrow from you."

"Yes, thank you," said. Relief flooded my veins and I felt as if I just ran a mile. "We'll meet tomorrow, then. Briefly." I added the last word after I saw Devante giving me a warning glare.

"Yes, yes," Lou grunted. "Just stay at home! And remember the disk!" He then hung up, not waiting for my response. I sighed, and put the phone back into my pocket. I can't believe I survived!

"A friend of yours?" the driver spoke again.

"My editor," I said, before clarifying. "I'm a novelist."

"Really?" a quick curious glance was directed at me. "What have you written?"

"Three historical fictions," I said, before Mannie suddenly let out a wailing scream.

"Aww… you thought I didn't pay attention to you, didn't you?" I cooed, and the vice grip that grasped my hair and tugged told me more than enough about her mood. I reached for the bottle again, and pushed it in front of her.

"I should soon move to cereals and baby food," I muttered absently. She'll soon be six months, and that's a lot. She has survived Helene and I, and survived. Maybe I should ask for permanent custody?

"We're here!" the driver suddenly said, and I looked up recognizing the familiar buildings.

"Great," I said, and let Devante handle the paying. He was the one with more money, after all.

13th of April, 2007. 12:17
Now we are back at my apartment, and Devante's looking around with a disgusted expression. Well, pardon me if my house isn't worth millions! We can't all be stinking rich mafia-heirs!

Only now, with Devante and Mannie with me, did I realize how small my apartment was. It was bigger than a regular studio apartment, and thus had always seemed to be spacious, but back then I had been living alone. I had a bathroom, a bedroom, a kitchen and a living room, and no balcony.

"You'll be sleeping there," I pointed at the couch. "It's actually pretty comfortable, and I have the blankets reserved for guests somewhere. You can use them."

"Someone actually lives in a place like this," I heard him mutter, and I had half a mind of grabbing the revolver and shooting his crotch. I opted instead to call Pizza Hut and ordered a lunch for us.

"Do rich people eat pizza?" I asked sourly, and he glanced at me with irritation.

"I have eaten pizza before." So he says, but let's just wait until I show him what eating pizza really is. I'm a champion, after all. I changed my clothes to ones more suitable for staying at home, and changed Mannie's clothes too – it was too hot to be in a costume indoors. And after a while I forced my newest roommate to change into the homiest things I could find from his suitcase – those being black Benetton shorts and a white Lacoste shirt. A screaming difference compared to my no-brand clothes.

"What are you planning on doing from this point?" I asked curiously. "Even though you should be resting, you're up an about like a healthy person!"

"I'm not ill, just injured," he muttered. "But I plan on keeping low profile here for few days."

"You're welcome," I said and yawned. "But your credit card stays with me."

"It's just one of many," he said dismissively, and I couldn't do anything but hate him for it. To dismiss money with such ease!

"When will I get my salary?"

"The bank account linked to that card with you has several thousand dollars," Devante said, not even looking at me. "Live with it until I get back to Mexico and can pay you properly.

"And after you go there?" I asked. "Will you stop being my boss or something?"

"There's no stopping in this business," the man turned to look at me with a bored expression. "You stop when you die."

"So?" I pressed on. "What will be my job then?"

"You'll be a part of the Castel Family," he told me. "And as long as I pay you your money, you'll have to obey my orders. It might be information gathering, spying or running light errands. Also be prepared to house other agents since you're the only Castel in New York."

"You're Mexican," started. "But why are you here in US now? And how can you speak like a native?"

"I was tutored in several languages since I was a child," Devante said, and something in his expression told me that that was the end of our discussion. I shrugged, and went to wait at the door for that slow pizza delivery to come.

13th of April, 2007. 14:03
I'll never forget Devante's face after he saw me eating pizza. I'm proud of making him turn green. I'm sure that he'll never look at a pizza with the same attitude he had done up until now.

"Are you a female?" he chocked, avoiding looking at me. I grinned with pride and satisfaction.

"Yep."

"Then why can't you act like one?" he asked with desperation. I shrugged.

"I do outdoors," I said. "But when you enter my house – well, that's a domain wherein I refuse to be anything but myself!" I hoisted up a sleeping, drooling Mannie and carried her to my bedroom. I'm sure that since she's sleeping now; she'll keep me up the whole night but no can do. I just hope that Lou won't be banging on the door before sunrise. Or before noon, for that matter.

"Say," the man suddenly spoke, looking around. "Won't your husband question my presence here?" I blinked once or twice at that, before responding.

"I don't have a husband."

"But… the baby's father…?" It was actually very cute, seeing a big, bad mafia boss-to-be all flustered like that. It was oddly satisfying to see old-fashioned people like him. Or maybe he was just a gentleman at heart, and felt awkward about discussing that kind of stuff with a woman.

"Mannie's father is with his wife somewhere," said uncaringly, knowing the implications of what I just said. Since he still thinks that Mannie is my baby, he'll also think that her father knocked me up, before leaving to his own wife. But who cares; I think I'm about as much of a mother to Mannie as Helene has been – if not more.

"So you're raising that child alone?" he inquired. Raising Mannie? It's not like she'll stay here forever but...

"Yes," I said. "I don't see a problem in that. I have a steady – well, kinda – income and I'm still young. I can manage rebuilding my life with Mannie in it."

"How old are you?" Devante asked suddenly.

"Twenty," I replied. "Though I'll be twentyone soon enough."

"You're just a child…," Devante said, and it was obvious that he hadn't meant to say those words aloud. Had it been anyone else, I would have kicked them to the next week. Too bad this guy is my boss.

"I'm not a child," I snapped. "I have survived on my own for more than two years in this house. I never asked any help regarding money and such from my parents."

"So that's why you live in this dump?"

"It's not a dump!" I protested loudly, and turned on the TV, before choosing one of many DVD's that I have gotten or bought during my life, and was just about to start watching, when I remembered Lou's 'request' again about putting my novel into a disk so I can give it to him tomorrow.

Ah, my life is difficult. So very, very difficult…

Chapter 7

14th of April, 2007. 07:01
Lou is a danger with bells. And I'm the frozen rabbit. I know that the danger is coming but I can't flee. The danger knows that too, and doesn't bother with even trying to hide its presence.

The bell rang very early in the morning, but I could smell the coffee, which indicated that Devante had been awake at least. Damn early riser. I got an eerie sense of dejavu when I scrambled towards the door. Only it wasn't Helene who stood there when I opened it.

"You're disgusting to look at," Lou said sourly and pushed past me.

"Wait!" I yelled, and scrambled after him. Seriously, not even a 'good morning'!

"Ahha!" My editor's victorious exclaim made me grimace, as I came into the kitchen, greeting the sight of Devanter and Lou staring at each other with apprehension. I tried to think up and excuse, and by the time I realized that there really wasn't a need for one, Lou had already made up his conclusions.

Thank God Mannie was still asleep – though she did wake up once during the night, but that's not the point. I wouldn't want to see Lou's reaction or hear his conclusions regarding her.

"I see," Lou muttered. "I see. So this is your new… ah… 'dish', am I correct?"

"Um, no," I said. "But I haven't eaten breakfast yet." For some reason, my editor and my boss both stared at me oddly for a moment, before the former shrugged.

"I didn't know that you had gotten a lover," my newest guest stated calmly, and I almost chocked on Noting In Particular.

"I haven't," I said. "That's…um…" My new boss? Who's also from the mafia? Meaning that I'm now in the mafia too? There was no chance that I'd be telling that to anyone!

"He's Kevin's friend!" I suddenly said, in a strike of brilliance. "And Kevin asked me to help him out since he was robbed and didn't have the money for a hotel!"

"I'm your editor, my dear, I know when you're lying" Lou said boldly, and glided closer to Devante, who was still just standing there, one eyebrow raised in the 'cool guy' way. And well, I understand him. Whenever, wherever Lou Rowan was, everyone stopped to stare. Regardless of his age (a bit over thirty) he looked rather young. His spiky short hair was white-blonde, and he dressed rather extravagantly. Big sun-glasses, a flashy cowboy hat and a fur-rimmed coat were just the beginning. And the worst thing was that the hideous clothes he used looked great on him.

"Don't go near him!" I screamed. "He's a mental patient and thinks he's a rabid dog! He bites!"

"Good try, I approve," Lou said. "I just want to know what his intentions towards you are."

"Lou…," I said, eyes widening. So he really… he thinks himself as a father to me, huh? I felt tears gathering, and ducked my head to hide them.

"I mean," my editor continued softly. "If you get her pregnant, she'll have to stay at home and maybe I'll get her next novel before the deadline. So go for it. Drink a lot and you'll stand it."

"You… animal," I hissed, tears vanishing. "You cross-dressing gorilla!"

"Hey!" the hat-wearing, cross-dressing gorilla exclaimed. I turned, and rushed to get the disk and give it to this man. The sooner he'd leave the better.

"Here," I said and slapped the small object into his hand. "Here. Now go, please." And of course, as God would have it, Mannie started to wail.

"Reg-… My heavens… Is that a baby I hear crying?" Lou gasped, as I pushed him towards the door. "Regina! Wha-"

"Dev! Go to Mannie!" I shouted over the noise and kicked my editor's ass to get him moving.

"Is he your husband!? Did you get married!? Why didn't you tell me!? How come you have a baby already?? Wha- HEY! Regina Louisiana Millis! Let go of me!"

"Don't say my middle name!" I screamed. "It's Miss Millis for you from now on!" Basically the situation was as chaotic as it could be.

"Just wait until I tell this to everyone!" he crowed gleefully, and was as out of character as a person like him could be. Hopefully he'll trip right before the stairs and choke on his scarf or something.

"You won't be telling it to anyone!" I screeched after him, and closed the door with more force than needed. I turned to and came face-to-face with Devante holding Mannie.

"Louisiana?"

"Shut up!"

14th of April, 2007. 08:07
I can't believe the nerve of… well, dad, mom, Lou and that priest-dude who accepted the stupid middle names. I blame dad for coming up with them, and I blame mom for not stopping him. Well, at least mine is relatively okay. Regina Louisiana Millis does sound a bit better than Kevin Kansas Millis and Helene Michigan Millis. Dad loves traveling, and unfortunately, it shows. And now HE knows about it too.

Devante was lying on the sofa, watching the news. I hate watching the news. Wars, murders, scandals and all other kind of depressing shit. So I decided to take Mannie out for lunch… well… second breakfast.

"Don't go out," my boss said just as I was putting my coat on.

"Why not?" I asked with a frown, and he turned to stare at me blankly.

"Just because." Now, if anyone else had given me that attitude, I'd just have told them to shove it up their asses. But this guy was not only my money-paying-boss but also a Mafioso. And now when I think about it… I wouldn't really need to go outside anyway, yeah? This wasn't because I'd be, like, afraid of him or anything ridiculous like that, yeah? So just because I decided right then that maybe I just wanted to play with Mannie indoors, doesn't mean that I obeyed Devante.

Only now did I suddenly realize that I had hardly anything for babies in my house. I hadn't bough any toys, and I'd need to buy new diapers too… in short, everything that had anything to do with babies was what had been brought in by Helene – and that wasn't much.

"I'll have to go shopping soon," I said aloud, lying on the floor with the baby on my stomach, giggling and playing with the only stuffed toy she had. "Mannie needs lots of things."

"We can go in few days," Devante said, not even looking at me. "But into another town. We can't afford being seen in NYC."

"There's a new shopping centre in Danbury," I said. "We can go there."

"Hn," was his response, gaze still glued to the TV, where apparently something big was happening. Not that I cared. I watched as he – still staring at the TV screen – reached for his cell phone. After a while he was talking a lot with someone in a fancy language… Was it Italian? Spanish? What language do they speak in Mexico anyway??

14th of April, 2007. 09:16
At that time, I didn't know the significance of that call. If I had, Mexico's language would have been the least of my worries.

Few days later, we went to Danbury's shopping centre; Genie Mall. It was big, and clean and shiny… and I saw everywhere cute, comfy-looking cafeterias that had this inviting aura around them.

"Stop drooling," Devante said blandly. "Remember why we're here." I scowled at him, and adjusted my hold on Mannie, before moving forward.

"I won't forget, so shut up," was my response, as I made my way towards the nearest baby-shop. With full intentions of proving my femininity, I was dressed in the only non-formal dress I owned. I liked it, since the design showed that I actually do have a waist. In other words, I was feeling pretty and confident, so I just strolled into the shop, Mannie in my arms and Devante following us. It didn't take long for me to locate the baby carriages, and to push past some ladies to get there.

"That one looks nice," I said and pointed at a rather big, black carriage designed with yellow clouds. It looked very warm and comfortable.

"It won't do," Devante deadpanned.

"What would you know!?" I growled. "When did you become, ah, baby-carriage-expert!? Huh??"

"It's depressing," he simply said, which pissed me off even more.

"Fine," I retorted. "You pick one, since you're so good at it!" He looked at me blankly for a moment, before pointing at one. It was smaller than my choice, but quite comfortable looking too. It was light green and had dark green frogs drawn cutely on it.

So cute!

"I respect you," I told Devante and gestured for the clerk to come. Soon the burden on my arms was in her carriage, making moving around much less tiring.

"Next: stuffed toys!" I cheered.

"Why stuffed?" my Mexican boss frowned.

"So she wouldn't accidentally hurt or hit herself," I explained kindly and stopped by a booth full of baby clothes. "So cute," I cooed.

"Weren't we supposed to buy toys?" Devante asked. I didn't know it back then that it was the first time for him to be out shopping like that. Usually all he wanted would be bought by a servant, and when he, himself had to go and buy necessities, it was always with the objective of finishing as soon as possible. I couldn't know at that time, that this was his first experience regarding the act of 'shopping with someone for someone else'. I think that's why he actually took an active part in it.

By the time we went to drop all what we had bought back to the car I had rented, my feet were killing me. I put Mannie in the back, positioning her cutely into the baby-chair we had bought. Or well, I had bought using Devante's money. I organized the bags and decided to sit next to the baby, when a bullet hit the door.

Haha, imagine that. A bullet hit the car's door!

…

A FREAKING BULLET HIT THE CAR'S DOOR!!!

"Get in the car! Now!" Devante shouted, and before I even realized what I was doing, I had already jumped in, and closed the door. My boss was already inside, and starting the car.

"Take the baby off that chair and get down! You might be hit otherwise," he ordered, and again I could do nothing but obey. And as I sat there leaning my head on the chair, with a wailing Mannie pressed against my chest, I couldn't help but realize that I was in danger. The bullet. Someone was shooting us. Why would anyone do that? Unless they recognized Devante… but why would they shoot him?

'Hello? Mafia?' a small voice in the back of my head said, and I swallowed thickly. Was mafia always like this? I felt like I was in a rip-off scene from a movie or something.

"I can't believe this," I said.

"I see," Devante replied, eyes on the road. "I thought that you were just taking this exceptionally well, but it seems like you're just in denial."

"It's not that," I protested. "I'm a novelist with a flexible mind! I do comprehend the situaAAAH!! SOMEONE SHOT THE DOOR AGAIN!" I wailed almost as loudly as Mannie. "SOMEONE IS SHOOTING US!! I HEARD THE BULLETS!!"

"So now you get it," Devante said, but I couldn't really focus on his words.

"CALL THE POLICE! CRIMINALS ARE AFTER US!!"

"Technically," he stated. "I'm a criminal too." His words shut me up, and I stared at the back of his head.

"And technically," he continued. "You are a criminal as well."

17th of April, 2007. 16:47
I really, really should have just finished burying him.

"Do you even know where you're driving?" I asked.

"At the moment I just want to get rid of whoever is following us," he said. "We'll return to your apartment later."

"I can't read maps!" I informed him.

"Yes, I could have guessed that much."

17th of April, 2007. 16:50
Or better yet – I should have just finished the job of his enemies. He'd deserve it.

"Regina, is your gun with you?" Whoa! He said my name! It might very well be the first time he referred to me as something else beside 'it' or 'you'!!

"No," I said. "I didn't think that I'd need it, so I left it at h-"

"From now on," Devante interrupted harshly. "Keep it with you. Always." I opened my mouth to ask him why, but really, was there a need for that question? I understand. I'm a part of a mafia. Of course I'd have to keep a gun. It's just… I didn't really think much of it… I mean, I never actually expected to… you know… be a Mafioso.

"Helene…," I whimpered. "I'm sorry! Your little sister is the worst after all." Seriously. I had always sneered at her adventurous messes and thought of her as a cheap person – especially after she dumped Mannie on me – but she never strayed this far into the criminal world!

"Say," I spoke up. "Who is after you? What did you do? Is a rivalling mafia or something like that?"

"Something like that," he repeated my words, and it took me a moment to realize that that was his actual answer.

"Tell me!" I pressed. "Since I'm neck deep in this matter! Or I'll be soon anyway."

"Someone is after me," he said shortly.

"Who?" I asked, irritation clear in my voice.

"Regina," he said, and I could sense that discussion was being steered into another direction. "I'll have to leave New York as soon as possible, so handle that."

"Okay," I muttered. "But the first thing I'm gonna say now, is that a direct route to Mexico is not suitable."

"I know that," he snapped. "And all I need for you to do, is to-" his speech was interrupted when a terrible strike hit the car.

"That wasn't a bullet!" I screamed, and held Mannie tightly. "I swear to God that wasn't a bullet!"

"Calm down!"

"It was cannon!"

"There's no way it could be a cannon so shut up!"

"I KNOW IT WAS A CANNON SHOT! I can feel it!!"

"There's no time for panicking!" Devante shouted. "Listen closely! Strap that kid back into its seat and set it between my seat and the shotgun. Then take my revolver from my jacket and look up to see by whom we're being followed."

"They'll shoot my head off!" I protested, but still put a crying Mannie into the baby-seat, pushed the warmish bottle to her, and climbed to sit in the actual backseat.

"There's a light blue car following, but it doesn't have any special equipments," I said, peeking up. "And it's slowing down anyway."

"It's probably not it," Devante said. "And since the bullets and… the other hits… came all from the left side, check the cars there."

"There are two," I said. "One red and one green."

"It must be one of those two. There's a small round, black thing that looks like a ball in your purse."

"How did it get there?" I frowned, and found the object quickly.

"I put it there. It's a smoke bomb that takes five seconds to activate. Open the window, push the only button in the thing and throw it at the two cars immediately. It'll be our chance to escape them."

"Okay," I said, heart thumping. The initial fear and panic had left, and at the moment I was feeling just nervous. I followed the orders, and the smoke screen that covered for us, somehow scared me also.

"This is so screwed up," I said. "I should have never moved away from my parents' place!"

"Locate the nearest place from where we can rent a car," he ordered.

"But we have to return this one! I rented it using my name, you know!" I protested, and he shrugged.

"They can't possibly know from which car rental agency we got this from… especially if we destroy it."

"Des-… as in make it EXPLODE!?" I shrieked.

18th of April, 2007. 04:33
We arrived back home few minutes ago. Mannie fell asleep before we came. It took a while, but we got another car and moved what we had bought into it. Then Devante drove it right beside a cliff, got off, and pushed it down into the sea. By then I had calculated that we were between New York and New Jersey, in the east. It took us quite the time to get back to my apartment, though. And Devante looked rather paranoid during the whole thing… I admit that I'm worried. I admit that I'm scared. But I can't back down. He told me that mafia doesn't work that way. You stop when you die. And I don't want to die. Therefore I can't stop.

Chapter 8

I woke up rather early, due to Mannie crying. For Pete's sake, it wasn't even eight yet! Don't babies sleep!? I groaned, as I moved to hoist her up and warm some milk for her. I went past the living-room, where Devante was sitting on the floor, under an opened window, smoking.

"Good morning," I said after I emerged from the kitchen, this time holding a bottle for Mannie in my hands.

"Hn."

"You got something planned?" I asked, and sat on the sofa.

"I'll be leaving New York as soon as possible, Regina," he said. I nodded, understanding.

"You need my help to get out?"

"No," he scowled. "However, there's something you'll have to do. Count it as your first job."

"I'm counting saving you as my first job," I barked. "And digging you up after burying you as the second. Then I booked your hotel, looked for clothes, he-"

"Shut it," Devante's glare worsened, and I swallowed the rest of what I could have said. "And listen to what I'm going to say."

"Shoot," I said, before realizing the actual meaning of the word, and hurried to correct it before he took it literally. "I mean, do tell, please."

"Take this," he said, and handed me a small box. It was made of black stone, and had some small scribbles and a picture of a castle engraved in it. I opened it to see the ring he had been wearing most of the time.

"What's this about?" I asked, closing the box again.

"A few days – maybe even a week – from now on, a man I have sent will come here," he said. "He's of Japanese yakuza, and the current second heir to a branch there."

"What does he look like?" I asked. "And why can't you give it to him personally? How old is he? Oh yeah, what's his name?"

"Slow down," he ordered flatly, before lighting up yet another cigarette. "His name Akihito, from the Himeyasha Family. He's around my age. And as to why I can't give it to him personally… Meeting him now would be too risky. If I get killed but the ring is safe, there will be no big losses."

"What!?" I exclaimed crossly. "You're saying that your death won't be a big loss!? What are you – a freaking chess piece!?"

"Isn't everyone?" he snapped.

"Damn well isn't!" I yelled, startling Mannie. "Just because we belong to a bigger family, play as a team and have to take others into account, does not mean that we cannot make individual decisions and live well! Do you think that your death will make your family happy?"

"As long as the ring is safe."

"YOU ASS!" I howled. "If you had the gall to force-recruit me into mafia while holding to beliefs such as that, I swear I'll shoot off your balls!!"

"Hey-"

"I haven't yet gotten even my first paycheck so don't you dare to go off and die!" I shouted. "Besides, no matter what, family is the most precious thing. Do you seriously believe that no one will mourn for you as a person if you died?" Devante didn't answer me, but I hope that he will one day.

"Go and make some breakfast for me," he just said, and I handed Mannie to him and left to do ask he asked. He'll be leaving soon, so might as well make him something worth eating. Not that I could ever reach Delly's level…

…Delly… and Myra. Neither of them has contacted me. Were they still fighting too or did they make up after I left? Is our 'dream team' now broken or something? I could call them, but the ugly head of pride was high even now. It wasn't me who wronged them. The fault wasn't mine totally. So it damn well won't be me calling them first!

Also, I haven't talked with mom, dad, Helene or Kevin for ages. Do you even remember me anymore? My life changed. It was chaotic enough when Mannie was dumped on me, but ever since Devante entered the scene, I can say that my whole life took a turn to a path completely unexpected. I bid my lazy novelist –days a bitter farewell, and became a freaking Mafioso. But it was oddly delighting to say "I belong to the Castel Family". I'm feeling like a gang-member during high school!

"Here you go," I said and set the omelets I had made on the table, and Devante moved to sit there, after handing Mannie to me.

"Hn," was the response, and I guess that's the only thanks I'll get. I sat nearby, and finally voice the question that has been running in my mind for quite a while now.

"Say," I started. "What is my official position in the Castel Family?" My question gained me a raised eyebrow and a long stare, before Devante bothered to reply.

"You're a 'socio', in other words 'an associate'. You're a member of the lowest rank, with a role most similar to that of an errand boy," he finally said.

"What other ranks are there?" I asked, and he sighed in a suffering manner, before starting to explain.

"A step above the socio, there are the soldiers, the 'soldado'. Basically they're associates who have proven themselves. When there's an opening in the ranks, a socio can be promoted to a soldado. Sometimes a soldier is called a button man, because, in theory, when a capo presses a button, someone dies. They are also called made men, who have made their bones, by committing a murder in front of Mafia witnesses. This ensures the soldier's reliability: he will never testify against a man who could testify against him. In the case that there is only one slot and multiple recommendations, the Boss will decide. The newbie becomes joins the division that belongs to the Capo that recommended him."

"Huh… a capo?"

"The actual title is 'Caporegime'. The Capos are in charge of a division. Usually there are about six divisions in each Family, but the biggest ones have more. The Castel have nine. Each division can consist of up to ten soldiers, and they're run as if individual small families. They must, however, pay the boss his cut of their profits, and follow the guidelines he has set for them. Capos are nominated by the Underboss, but typically chosen by the Boss himself."

"Wow," I muttered. "So complicated! That's like an own society or something! Who are above the capos?"

"The Consigliere. They're the chosen advisors to the Family. There are usually two of them. One known, and the other unknown. The known one is the advisor of the actual boss, and the unknown is the advisor of the underboss, until he takes over and forces his consigliere become known. Usually their jobs entail being representatives or aides in meetings with other Families, as well as calming down disputes and settle fights within the ranks. They often keep the Family looking as legitimate as possible… They do not have crews of their own, but still wield great power in the Family."

"And then?" I asked eagerly, and noting inwardly that Devante was a lot like an encyclopedia. At least he talked as if he was reading one. I bet this information was drilled for hours into his head as a kid!

"Then comes the second in command… The underboss, who's the heir who'll be taking over the boss's position. The Underboss is in charge of all of the Capos, who are controlled by the Boss. The underboss answers to God, his own mother, and the boss – that's the saying."

"And I guess that the last one is the highest-up?" I said. "The boss himself?"

"Yes," Devante said. "The head of the family, and the one with the absolute power there. The Boss receives a cut of every operation taken on by every member of his family."

"I see," I muttered. "So what's you position there?"

"I'm the underboss."

"Whoa!" I applauded. "And the dude who'll be coming here is…?"

"Himeyasha is my consigliere. As of now you, him and I are the only ones who know of his actual position."

"But isn't he a heir to another yakuza?"

"It's not uncommon for a second heir to become the consigliere of a boss, or underboss of another Family, to strengthen the ties between the two groups."

"And I'm now… an associate in your family," I muttered, readjusting my grip on Mannie.

"You know," Devante said, suddenly looking at me with dead seriousness. "Being one of us isn't as bad as you might think. Many people don't regard our men as criminals, but as role models and protectors, given that the state appeared to offer no protection for the poor and weak in the times of chaos. It's a saying that 'Mafia is the consciousness of one's own worth, the exaggerated concept of individual force as the sole arbiter of every conflict, of every clash of interests or ideas'."

"Yeah, okay," I said. "I'm okay with all that jazz as long as I don't have to hurt someone who doesn't deserve it, you know."

"…"

"But," I sighed then, standing up. "I think I need something refreshing after this long, dry lecture."

"You asked for it."

"And I'll forget most of it soon, probably," I admitted lightly, moving to sit in front of the TV. "So is the boss your father?"

"Grandfather, actually," Devante said, and once again I got the feeling that I better not ask anymore about his blood related family. Geez, the guy sure was testy sometimes.

"What kind of suitcase are you going to take with you?" I asked. "Better not be something big. I can send the rest of your stuff later on with that Aikido-dude."

"Akihito," Devante said. "But you're right. I'll let you handle the packing."

Dude!

18th of April, 2007. 09:12
I just finished packing Devante's bag. He's showering now. I can't believe that he's actually leaving. Or, well… I knew all along that he'll go, but I did get used to his presence. And now when I think about it… Mannie is going to leave soon too, right? And then I'll be alone again. Me and my pizza. And deadlines. Not even Delly or Myra to come and visit. Maybe I should buy a cat or something…

I snapped my diary shut, and rolled over to check on Mannie, who was ever so focused on the giraffe stuffed toy she had picked personally. On my floor I have a baby playing. A baby that wasn't mine. In my bathroom I have a man showering. A man who wasn't mine.

Not that I'd want to have that Mexican moron as mine!

Totally laughable! Ha, ha, ha!

"You're blocking the way," the aforementioned Mexican moron said, and pushed me lightly aside. I scowled at him, but had to admit inwardly that he looked damn good. He was wearing a dark grey suit, a black button-up underneath and a light grey tie. The small, black suitcase I had packed for him was leaning against the door. I felt so… sad at the fact of him leaving. I always become like this when someone who has spent days with me is leaving.

I don't exactly know how many days it has been… about a week, anyway, if not more. Enough time for me to have gotten used to him. I handed him the credit card he had given me, but he just pushed it back.

"It's yours now," he said. "Who knows when you'll need it?" So I had thanked him and accepted it. He just told me to take care of the ring and wait until Aki-whatshisface-dude come. I picked Mannie up, and walked him to the door.

"Oi," I started. "I… er… Mannie will cry if you get killed." Oh my God, I can't believe I said something so embarrassingly clichéd. What's next? 'I can go to Hell and back for you'? With an extra 'tee hee' there to perfect it? Devante stopped, and turned quickly to look at me. There was the weird look in his eyes again, but then it vanished.

"Tell Mannie that I won't die," he said calmly, and I sniffed.

"I will, so don’t make a liar out of me."

"You can't seriously be crying," he smirked then with slight amusement. "Are you?"

"No," I muttered. "I'm sweating."

"From your eyeballs?" he asked with disbelief, and I scowled at him. And there, for one small moment, I saw Devante Castel smiling. And boy, did it make him handsome.

And then he left.

Chapter 9

20th of April, 2007. 13:15
It's not like I'm counting or anything, but it has been around 52 hours since Devante left. The house feels awfully empty, though Mannie is doing a mighty job in keeping me occupied. But when she's asleep, I'm alone. How depressing. I haven't even eaten a pizza since he left. I keep thinking things like 'the last time I ate pizza, he was still here' and stuff.

I had decided to start on my next novel now, but I couldn't write much. I know that I should at least write something, but I couldn’t make up anything coherent. I hoped that someone would have called me, but no one did. So I had to occupy myself in other ways: I cleaned. I redecorated a bit too, and used shamelessly the credit card Devante had given me. The fact that I got a couch that turns into a bed is completely unrelated to anything at all.

I also redecorated my room. Now it's half mine, and half Manny's. Her new bed is there and all her toys and clothes and whatnots are there as well. The car seat was tucked above the shelf. The nappy bag was on the table I had set up next to Mannie's bed, as well as many other things. I bought a play-yard too, but I'm yet to find a suitable place for it. Maybe I'll just try to fit it into the living room somewhere.

In short, I had bough many books and decided to fill my life with Mannie and writing. The only thing that really made me look forward, was the knowledge of Devante's buddy – what was the term again? Con… consigliere! – would come to pick up the ring. And after that?

How depressing. I'll just get a new hobby or something, until I'm needed again. What would be nice? Not cooking or sewing, though. And not something expensive. Also, preferable not something with lots of expensive equipments. I think I own a tennis racket… I did at one time, for some weird reason, get a tennis racket as present.

"I know!" I spoke aloud. "I'll buy lots of sweets and junk food, and then we'll watch a movie or something here!" I grabbed Mannie, and proceeded to do as I just said. The baby protested with loud wails against being disturbed while playing, so I just let her take the 'current favorite' stuffed toy with us to the shop.

"Haven't seen you for a while, Reggie," Mrs. Young, the clerk of the store nearby, said. I smiled and shrugged.

"I have been a bit busy… and away too."

"I see," she then smiled at Mannie. "That's yours?"

"Nah," I smiled, but for some reason felt my stomach turn. "Helene's. I'm just taking care of her for a while."

"How nice of you," Mrs. Young sighed. "If you need any help, just come to me! I have gone through that destruction four times already."

"Sure," I replied, thanked, paid and then left. The redecorated house made it seem less empty, and I felt a bit cheered up already. I then set the play-yard, put Mannie in it with all her toys, and started watching Pride and Prejudice after arranging all of my sweets and chips and pizza that I had bought. Yeah, I eat a lot, but who cares anymore?

"If only I'd meet my Mr. Darcy," I sighed, and let my thoughts drift elsewhere… mainly to the food in front of me. I can't believe I have developed a guilty conscience about eating so much! What was this, some underhanded diet tactic!? But speaking of which, I noticed that I had lost a bit of weight during Devante's time here… but that's most likely just because I didn't have time to eat a lot, while being still forced to run everywhere for the sake of his errands.

Damn that demon.

So caught up in my thoughts, it took me a while to realize that the phone was ringing. Groaning, I put the movie on the pause, and answered.

"Regina Millis."

"…" I frowned when I didn't get a response, and maybe a bit scared too. There were lots of freaky criminals and such around here…

"Hello?" I pressed, and heard a subtle cough from the other side, before the caller hung up. You know what they told us at school? That a robber might call the house to check whether or not anyone's there. It was both scary and exciting. What if a robber comes to visit!?

The occasionally appearing little voice in the back of my head was trying to tell me that a visiting robber wasn't anything to be happy about, but I decided to ignore it. Maybe the thief-to-be wouldn't even come! After all, I did answer the phone. Is that good or a bad thing?

Later on that evening, the phone rang again. I figure that it'd be the same caller as earlier today – sadly, it seems that only criminals bother with me nowadays. Sighing, I went to put Mannie to bed – she was half asleep anyway. I was on my way to close the windows in the apartment, when the doorbell rang. I froze in my tracks, before deciding to just take my gun and wait. I was so focused on staring intently at the door, that I didn't hear the window open early enough. I turned, taking an aim and almost shot the figure.

"Peace!" they screamed, and I finally recognized the… freak.

"Kevin," I said flatly. "Why the hell did you sneak in like a goddamned thief? I was just about ready to shoot your balls off."

"I was feeling adventurous," he said. "And why do you have a gun?" Kevin was the oldest of us Millis siblings, and the one Helene had idolized since we were little kids. He was a lady-killer, and as faithful as a cat. Meaning he could easily play with five girls at once. Unlike Helene and I, his hair is rather light colored. He's also the only one of us who has to use glasses.

"I'm a single woman living alone," I replied dryly. "You think I'm going to just stay defenseless? Especially with all kind of freaks trying to get into my house!?"

"Yeah, yeah, sure," Kevin muttered. "I heard my cute goddaughter is with you?"

"I'll not let The Enemy of Women go anywhere near her!" I declared, and he scoffed.

"Now, now, Pudgy. She's my goddaughter, so I have the say in this matter." And so, regardless of my protests, Kevin got to see her. Briefly, though. Very briefly. I wouldn't let the germs of that perverted moron reach Mannie. I dragged him to the kitchen, and made some omelets for him to eat.

"It's night, damn it," I mourned. "I shouldn't be cooking to someone who comes in using my window, after ringing the doorbell and calling me twice!"

"What are you talking about?" Kevin asked. "I didn't call you twice! Only once, a bit before I rang the doorbell.

"Then why didn't you just wait until I opened the goddamned door!?" I barked, but stored the tidbit of information into the back of my mind.

"I told you, I felt adventurous!" Kevin exclaimed. "But forget about that, I'm here to ask your advice about something. It's very important."

"Go on," I said, focusing on making hot chocolate for myself. Trying to make it all go into the cup without dripping any was difficult.

"I met a woman, and I have fallen in love," he said, and I spilled all of my precious hot chocolate on the floor.

"You!? In love!?" I shrieked. "And love advice from me!?" I couldn't help it – I burst out laughing. I just laughed and laughed till I had tears running.

"Cool off," Kevin said blankly, pouring a glass of water on me. The cold substance made me gasp for breath, and I finally calmed down. And then I was forced to sit down and listen for two hours straight about this chick.

She's a Russian woman with a Japanese mother, named Tanya Cyzarine. She's married to some rich guy who doesn't even care about her. She doesn't have children, is beautiful and everything Kevin could hope from a woman. And I was slowly but steadily getting more and more bored out of my mind. Half of what he said went from one ear in and from the other out – nothing stuck to be remembered. Until he thrust is cell phone in front of my face.

"Look at her!" he practically screamed, and pressed the play-button to show me the video. It was short, and showed a beautiful woman. Her skin was pale and flawless, and her body was thin and petite. Her hair was long, and pitch black, and her straight-cut fringe made her look younger than I think she is. She looked like a fairy princess or something.

But there was something off.

"How old is she?" I asked, and Kevin shrugged.

"Around my age."

"How vague."

"You want me to ask a woman her age!? Not directly from her, definitely!" I didn't really focus on his answer, and stared at his woman instead. There was something about her… I know it, but I can't quite put my finger on it.

"Kevin," I said slowly. "Please be careful with this Tanya person."

"Don't worry!" he smiled broadly. "I'll take care of her!"

"I mean… take care of yourself." Kevin's expression darkened, and I was expecting it, when he started shouting about how good and kind and lovely Tanya was. I let him rant for a while, before interrupting.

"Not everyone in this world can be trusted, you know. Even the people you think you know might end up being some sort of criminals." Like you darling sister here, brother o' mine. "This woman might be hiding something from you. Are you sure her feelings are sincere? She loo-"

"What do you think this is? Some freaking detective story!?" Kevin yelled. "You think that you can go around accusing people like that!? Y-… why are you looking at me like that!?"

"Kevin," I snapped. "Don't hate me for caring about you!" Okay, that wasn't what I wanted to say, because sibling-bonding moments were just too awkward, but it was the truth. This Tanya person… reminded me of Devante a bit… I don't know how and in what way…

"You have changed," Kevin finally said quietly. Oh, brother. You have no idea.

"I think I'm stronger now," I stated, and he gave me a tiny smile. Yeah, stronger. And armed. But that's not something I was going to tell him.

"Guess so," he replied, before standing up. "I'm sorry for visiting you at this time selfishly… It's rather late after all."

"Half past twelve," I said. "And here's you ID-card."

"So it was with you?" my brother scowled, before putting his jacket on. "Thanks little sister."

"Don't worry about it," I said. "I always knew that you're a freak."

"I must depart now."

"Use the door, not the window," was my response. He chuckled, and left… using the window. How can he do that? Does he climb down the wall or something? He'll get eventually arrested for that kind of hobbies! Why couldn't my brother be interested in something safer!? Say, cross-dressing?

21st of April, 2007. 14:00
Kevin's visit cheered me up a lot… Though I am a bit worried about his newest relationship with that woman. And he said she's married! What if her husband is a dangerous businessman or something??

I had decided that taking Mannie out to breathe fresh air would be great. Too bad the air in New York wasn't exactly 'fresh', but anyway. So the next morning I dressed her in a really cute strawberry costume that contrasted nicely against the green carriage. It felt like an early Christmas or something! And because of that, I had the tune of 'Jingle Bells' ringing in my head for ages.

"How bothersome," muttered while trying to decide the cafeteria I'd be having a break in. Break from what – I don't really know. Then again I don't care, and no one is asking, so… it doesn't matter.

Heh.

Ruma Café is open. Do you know what I call that? An invitation, that's what.

Armed with Devante's credit card I strutted in. But seriously, how much money did he have in that account? And was it okay for me to spend it like that? Because he did say that it was for his expenses… Then again, he did buy all Mannie's things… Hmm…

Oh well. Who cares? I ordered a piece of chocolate cake with ice cream, and had Mannie's bottle with me. I sat there, enjoying what I was eating, when a sudden memory came to me. Last night… Kevin had said that he had called me only once. Does that mean that someone else was behind the first call? Or was it simply a wrong number?

Or did they track me down because of Devante?

Just why did I save that ass again? He's trouble. A rich trouble, but still… What if there's, say, a hitman after me now!? I shook my head and was simply miserable. But boy, if only I had known what awaited me at home…

21st of April, 2007. 17:58
I want something exciting to happen. My life is just too boring nowadays.

The first thing I noticed, was that the small rug right in front of my door wasn't kicked into the side like usually. So someone must have come in and fixed it. Haha, how nice of them… Just who freaking criminal sneaked into my house this time!?

And why the Hell would they bother with my front-door rug!?

What I found went beyond my expectations. There was a handsome man in my living room. He was wearing a black suit and his long, dark hair… he looked Japanese…

Hmm…

"I assume that you are Regina Millis," he stated with a slight accent.

"Um… yes. I am," I stuttered, and stepped in front of Mannie in what I hoped to be a protective manner.

"I am Akihito Himeyasha," the self-invited guest said. "And I'm here for the Castel Ring."

Chapter 10

After twenty minutes I had managed to make a conclusion: this person was even more of a stoic ass than Devante. And soon I realized that he doesn't show more than one expression: the blank face. Whatever he says or does, it's always without any kind of expression. After he ordered me to get the ring, I, well, I just wanted to be polite, you know! So I had to ask whether or not he was absolutely sure that he can take it to Mexico… and more importantly, to Devante.

"I'm capable," he said. "Unlike some pizza-eating monsters." Imagine my reaction. Later on it turned out that when Devante gave him my address, phone number and name, he hadn't failed to mention my way of eating pizza.

"I meant," I clari