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.*

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

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 pussy wrapped around my shaft.

to marry and date whomever I please and I think 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

even *look* like the guy, so *that's* a definite plus. Mickey could have done way worse for sure. But if I was asked to describe what his face looked like when he greeted her at the restaurant, I'd have only one word.

as she was, because I *thought* that meant she stood a shot with him. But the moment I turned around to gage his reaction, I knew

it well, but there's always that one person you can never hide anything from. That one person that

I know.

is how much worse it can

to the dude that I'm about to