Old Rasputin

She didn’t used to drink. Lately, she drinks anything she can get a hold of. Last night, she overdid it on a local stout. I am being lenient about her behavior for the time being. After all, it’s not every day you find out you are heir to a Russian mob empire.


– Written for Grammar Ghoul Press Shapeshifting 13 #68. Prompt words were “stout” and “lenient.” WC 52. Photo by Bernt Rostad. “Old Rasputin” won 1st place in this contest.

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The Mobster’s Mistress

Turning to face me, she took a drink and finished, “You deserve better than that.”

“Have a drink,” she said while pouring herself a scotch on the rocks.

She was excessively calm, but I made up for her with my own nervousness. I looked at her reluctantly. “It will take the edge off,” she said encouragingly.

“Look,” I began. “You made some kind of mistake.”

She chuckled, infuriating me.

“Seriously!?” I said raising my voice in a huff that turned into a pout as she reached out to hand me the glass.

“Fine,” I sighed and took it.

I sipped around the ice. “I am not here for your, uh…services.”

“Is that so?” She asked moving uncomfortably close.

I squirmed in my skin, trying to fight the bumps and other things that were involuntarily rising.

“Listen! I uh, I was instructed to um, disappear you, if you know what I mean.”

She grinned and leaned in closer to whisper in my ear. “I know.” Then she ran her tongue across my jawline.

I shivered, but quickly regained my composer, grabbed her arms, and held her at a distance.

“This is not a game,” I spoke firmly. “You really pissed someone off, and now I am supposed to take care of you.”

“Why are you telling me this?” She asked suddenly serious.

I released her, dropping my head. “You know why,” I mumbled.

She stood up straight and looked at me, the smile gone from her face.

“I know. This is a tough spot. You know I care about you, right. We have known each other for a long time. We always looked out for each other.”

I broke in. “Go away with me!” I said enthusiastically. We can get out. We can! I’ve been putting away some money. We can just go. They will give up looking for us eventually.”

She pulled away from me and moved to refill her scotch. “Baby, you know that will never work,” She said over her shoulder. “They won’t stop looking for us. What kind of life can you have on the run?”

Turning to face me, she took a drink and finished, “You deserve better than that.”

I felt defeated and frowned. I took another sip from the glass in my hand. My mind raced.

She sat down on the chaise and patted the seat beside her. I complied. She took my hand, put it on her thigh, and kissed my cheek.

My skin tingled where her lips touched. Suddenly my mind became fuzzy, and I was so tired.

“You deserve better, baby, but I had no choice. I had to choose me.” I heard her say from far away. My eyes closed and I slumped over onto her lap. “They know you got that money from them.”

I could feel her run her hand through my hair and then rub my face. “I am so sorry, baby. I took their deal. It was you or me…” In the darkness of my mind, it all became clear as I had a final thought.

Her hands were so soft.

5980831098_16ea10baab_o– Written for Friday Fiction with Ronavan Writes #31. Prompt was “Have a drink.” WC 500. Photo by Dominick.

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Contingency Plan

I felt his condescension heavy in the confessional.

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I stopped at Sacred Heart again on my way to Ma’s for dinner. I felt the need to confess more often lately.

I kinda had a thing for Ma’s hairdresser, Lorraine. She was sweet as pie and could be feisty as a wet cat. She made me think all domestically, ya know, like settling down and such. Currently, my job wasn’t good for that kinda future.

Father O’Malley knew me since I was a kid. I felt his condescension heavy in the confessional. “Father, forgive me for I have sinned. It has been one week since my last confession.”

It seemed a conflict of interest to tell my sins to a priest whose brother was the mob boss that happened to be my employer, but he said he is bound to no man, only to God.

Once you’re in “The Family,” there’s few ways out that don’t involve a funeral. So, he liked to remind me that I shoulda made better choices in my youth, and doing the right thing was a hard path.

Since getting out required a funeral, I was glad O’Malley wasn’t bound to any man as I confessed my latest sin. I felt kinda guilty telling him that his brother was now swimming with the fishes.

– Written for Microcosms 20 weekly contest. Related to Classic Books with prompts Gangster/Confessions/Romance. WC 210. Photo from Wikimedia Commons. “Contingency Plan” won Judge’s Pick in this contest.