Maid for the Mafia by Jaylee

Regular People

**TINY**

*Do you have any idea how many people ignore what you say on a day to day basis?*

They play their little roles, nodding and taking notes so they can run a word or two back your way in hopes of appearing attentive. Thinking that for all intents and purposes, they have their bases covered and you won't catch on to that fact. They wouldn't' even know what to do if you found out that while you were here* and present - probably even answering an *imposed* question - *they* were ten minutes down the road, sailing around that curve toward whatever self indulgence they were currently obsessing over. Because ninety percent of what all *'regular'* people talk about is either about themselves or about what they are *wanting*.

And I'm not talking about during emotional exchanges - although I'd bet ten years of my Friday Night Tap money that *that* number is pretty high too, *and* if you don't know what tap money is, then you shouldn't be listening to the thoughts of an Eastside, Fourth Street Captain - I'm talking about everyday exchanges. Conversations you have with friends, or with acquaintances - or with people you've just met. Give these people a set of instructions and a warning and watch them fucking bumble around in the dark too afraid to admit they should have paid attention to your words.

Wanting never really did much to get you anything. Which is why while those *regular* people continue to *want* - there are a few of us that decide talking is cheap and getting is better.

So that's what I'm doing now. *Getting.*

ago Mickey received a phone call from one of Santos' men. The dude was angry and feeling slighted, so he made the mistake of calling the enemy and blowing said enemy's mind. What he had to say had Mickey smiling from ear to ear with excitement, but not me. Why? Because the guy was acting on impulse and despite the supreme fuckery that he had already committed by calling his boss' enemy - I knew he would not be showing up. And I was right...he didn't. What the dude probably *did not* anticipate was Mickey sending *me* out to fetch the sorry little fuck. An understandable misconception of course, after all, the secret has already been shared. Why make matters worse by fulfilling your promise and bearing the proof of your claims? He must have been thinking the information alone would be enough, but he thought wrong. The guy had no idea just how motivated Mickey would be to collect on his original promise. And for that matter I have to admit...I'm feeling

her. Romany. I want her to look at me the way she did in the restaurant when I offered to kill Romano for her like he was nothing more than a cockroach scurrying through the kitchen. I haven't been able to think straight since I had her mouth on my dick and her sweet

that's the part that upsets him the most. That I could ask her one day and not have to get her approved for purchase *drives him up the fucking wall.* He wants her *that* badly. Even more so now that he's had himself a taste. He'd marry her in a heartbeat if he was able, but he can't and he *knows he can't,

and she's *not* a bad looking girl. Her eyes and ears are all in the right place, she's got a great rack, a little chubby in the middle like her Pa, but not to the point of revulsion, and she appears to have a good head on her shoulders. She doesn't even *look* like the guy, so *that's* a definite plus. Mickey could

stood a shot with him. But the moment I turned around to gage his reaction, I knew that poor girl is about to have the *worst* lunch she has ever had to

well, but there's always that one person you can

I know.

I don't know is how much worse

thanks to the dude that