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1

Jce_WritingPrompts t1_j25kx5a wrote

    James stared at the $100,000 in cash on the desk in front of him, and then back at the piece of art. The offer didn't make any sense. In his ten years as an art dealer he had never sold anything worth more than $5,000 until he married his wife and now he had twenty times that sitting on his desk for a large yellow square by an unknown artist. His father-in-law Tony had wanted $200,000 for it and this was the fourth time in as many months he's listed something for an outrageous price and it sold.

    "Tony dropped this off yesterday to sell, right?" said the buyer, an older man flanked by two younger men.

    "Yes that's right, he told me to hold it for you. I'm not sure I can sell this to you though, Tony said it was worth double that amount," James said to the man.

    "I'm good for it, I just need a couple more days," the man said, clearly nervous.

    "I'm sorry, Tony is very particular about these things sometimes, he said $200,000 and I know he wouldn't be happy with me if I sold it for half and a promise," James said. He wasn't sure why the man was getting so worked up over some art, "Listen, if you don't want the art for that price, I'm sure you could talk to Tony personally and he'd set you straight." The man stared at James for a moment, sizing him up.

    "Don't you threaten me you weasel," the man said.

    "I'm not threatening you, I can call Tony if you want. He's just down the street at Artie's restaurant," said James, picking up the phone.

    "Let's not do that. Mikey, " the man snapped, "go get the other bag," he said to one of his cohorts. He turned back to James and said, "You're getting a bit of a reputation kid, keep shaking people down and you'll find out." James wondered why Tony's friends always acted like he was forcing the art on them. He shrugged and started loading up the safe.

1,580

Sammo909 t1_j260p1h wrote

I had never driven a Lexus before, or a Mercedes, or anything expensive really. My history of cars was a short string of second-hand sedans that I eventually sold to a wrecker when the cost of repair surpassed the cost of buying a new one. I could feel the small smile on my face as I rounded the corner to my father in law's study, the keys jingling merrily as I spun them on my right index finger. A brief knock, a 1-2-3-4 rap I had picked up from watching Doctor Who on repeat, there was a brief moment of silence before the man of the house responded with a clear "Come in".

As the polished wood opened it revealed a small room decorated well with bookshelves, framed photographs of family and landscapes of what my extended family fondly referred to as 'the old country', and opposite the door and seated in front of a windowless wall sat a heavy mahogany desk where he did most of his work at home. "Good afternoon, Father. I'm just dropping off the car keys." And elderly man, his face marked well with age lines nodded in greeting as I moved past the room's other occupants - two of the house guards, large and serious men wearing well-fitted suits that though not as fine as Father tended to wear were still of obvious quality; as well as a smaller man with short dark hair seated between the two as they stood stoically as ever.

"Thank you, Vinny." I had given up trying to convince anyone in the family to use the full Vincent, but at least they didn't partake in the done to death 'My cousin' jokes. "Filled up and cleaned, of course." I placed the keys in his upturned hand as his expression grew slightly less frosty, never one for overt displays of emotion myself, I was pleasantly surprised when my then fiancé introduced the two of us that we got along so well.

Turning to leave, I finally realised that the smaller man was not doing so well, which was a polite way to say he looked like had gone a few rounds with Tyson in his prime. "Oh, what happened there, buddy?" The man flinched, mottled purples and yellow writhed across his face as he moved to speak, only to be cut off as my father in law spoke in his usual no-nonsense tone. "He made a mistake." The man gave a small, shaky nod but said nothing further. Shrugging internally, I tried to think of something appropriate to say.

"Well, they say the burned hand teaches best." And thanking the elder gent for his generosity I took my leave, greeting the two guards by name as I did so. The heavy wooden door closed securely, taking care not to slam or make unnecessary noise I slowed down inches before the latch made contact, just in time to hear him speak once more. "That was my son in law, Vinny. You could learn a lot from him."

What a guy, really knows how to make a man feel welcome.

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AltharaD t1_j26s1x0 wrote

It was damned hard to figure out the socially acceptable response to walking in on a bloodstained settee. Does one ignore it politely? Or does one make a light comment on pale fabrics on furniture just being an absolute disaster waiting to happen - especially when one has women visiting on the regular.

I couldn’t quite come up with a quip and my husband and his grandfather seemed to be eyeing me with some trepidation, so I decided to opt for ignoring it. “Nonno!” I said smilingly, putting my arms out for a hug and requisites cheek kisses. “Darling!” I gave my handsome husband his own kiss. It was a required ritual - otherwise Nonno would interrogate me to make sure everything was good between us and that I wasn’t annoyed with either him or his grandson.

I had a feeling I was the favourite granddaughter in law. The others were just so shy and reserved when the old man was around - well, not that I couldn’t be, but I’d learned fairly well how to mimic being a normal, well adjusted human who didn’t flinch away from social contact.

I cast my eyes over the two remaining men in the room. One of them, shame faced and shaking, was refusing to meet Nonno’s eyes. He was likely the companion of the unfortunate woman who’d bled on the settee. Probably trying to work out the cost of a replacement - that’s what I would do in that situation. The other man was absolutely stone faced, standing just behind the first man and to the right. I caught Nonno’s gaze and flicked my own towards the two strangers.

He sighed dramatically. “I suppose it is only polite, as you would say, to introduce you to these guests of mine. Grigori, make your bow to my granddaughter,” the stone faced man did, in fact, literally bow in my direction, murmuring something too low for my hearing that sounded vaguely polite and welcoming. “Grigori has recently come over from the old country to help me take care of some particularly hairy problems.”

I smiled at Grigori and mentally filed him under “grandfather’s business employees”. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

A car backfired noisily outside and I saw the unnamed man flinch violently. I could sympathise. It happened so regularly near this office that I had half a mind to find the car’s owner and get them to fix the damn thing. “Don’t worry,” I told him sympathetically. “If you come here often enough you’ll soon get used to the sound.”

Nonno chuckled softly. He seemed to enjoy it whenever I spoke to his guests. It was probably why he kept inviting me round to the office. “I’m sure Emidio will take your words to heart, though hopefully he doesn’t have to come back here too often.”

I smiled reassuringly at Emidio but he seemed to be lost to his own misery. I’d have to say something about the couch or he’d agonise over it all day. God knows Nonno would be far too happy to let him squirm about it.

“I hope I’m not interrupting,” I said to the guests, knowing that even if it were important Nonno would make me speak anyway. He was very big on power plays and emphasising his whole “family first” ethos. “I just wanted to let you know, I had a look around the dealership and I picked up the one I thought would be best for your purposes. Hybrid, very pretty, very fast. I checked everything and brought it straight here. Pauli has it stashed underground for you until you’re ready to play with it.” I vaguely noticed that both the guests were suddenly very pale and very still. Weird. I wondered with familiar paranoia if I’d said something strange. I ruthlessly brushed the thought to the side and decided to beat a strategic retreat. “If you’ve got no other jobs for me, I’ll be at home plotting my next campaign. You know how to contact me if you require my services. Ciao!”

I gave them all a little wave as I went to the door and then paused long enough to say over my shoulder “you know, Nonno, I’ve always avoided white furniture for the same reason I’ve avoided white clothes - blood is terribly hard to get out of them and always inevitably gets on them, no matter how careful you are. I’d go with black leather next time - much easier to clean.”

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AltharaD t1_j26sp4s wrote

Replying to AutoModerator (#1,151,011)

For the record, this prompt made me instantly think of the character Tremaine Valliarde, daughter of infamous criminal mastermind Nicholas Valliarde.

Upon being asked by a forger if she were there representing her father, she stopped, overthought, realised her silence was more intimidating than anything else she could have come up with and said “I’m here representing myself”.

Martha Wells is a fantastic writer and I think I’m going to go reread that series.

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ribnag t1_j27auc0 wrote

Replying to AltharaD (#1,165,952)

Love it - I don't quite get the bit about the car, though (the hybrid, not the "backfire") - Can someone 'splain it to me? Maybe it's a movie reference, I'm bad with those.

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IlikethequietZeppo t1_j27bnmx wrote

I sat in my new black dress, my husband had bought for me to wear tonight. I felt both under and over dressed at the same time. It was just a family dinner, but I could never be as elegant, as the supermodel beauties his brothers had married, or have the natural confidence of his sisters. I could just be me.

"That's what I love about you baby, you're you. You're unique."

Instead of the formal dining area, where we had our usual Sunday dinners, we turned into the ballroom. Antonio's already huge family of 9, plus partners, had grown 10 fold.

"I thought it was just family tonight." I whispered

"It is. The full, extended family."

"Oh of course."

"This is Uncle Tommy" he said, as a large man grabbed my hand pulling me close and kissing my cheeks. I searched my memory for a fact about him.

"You have the Tommy gun tattoos on your arms right? As in Tommy's guns. Very fitting. I look forward to seeing them in action in the summer Tommy."

Tommy smiled and moved off to greet someone else.

"And this is Uncle Saul"

"Oh yes, Sawing Saul? Are you the carpenter?"

Before he could answer, I corrected myself. Bone saw Saul, of course he was the butcher.

"That would be Harry the Hammer. Who works with Charlie the Coffin maker. Very talented, he should train a new apprentice. It's a dying skill." I laughed at my little joke. Coffin maker, dying skill.

"And what do you do Elizabeth?" Asked Saul.

"Me, oh a little bit of everything. I'm mostly behind the scenes, administration, logistics, ad hoc duties, etc. I work for a special care facility. That's how I met Antonio. He brought in his uncle Mikey into my facility, tongue cancer, I was told. Do you remember him? His tongue was surgically removed."

I turned to Antonio "I hope they revoked that doctor's medical licence."

I turned back to Saul,

"Absolute hack job. I could have done a better job with my sewing scissors."

"Of course Saul remembers him. They were very close. He won't forget what happened to Mikey." Added Antonio

"Oh and his knee caps. Couldn't walk a step" I continued. I was rambling a little.

"Our doctor's couldn't understand how they had deteriorated so badly. Sporting injury supposedly, but the doctor's said it was like they'd been crushed into powder"

Saul started to sweat. I could understand crowds made me anxious too.

"Oh sorry let's not talk shop. Let's enjoy dinner."

I searched my mind for a change of topic. He probably didn't want to think about his family in such a state. I saw Charlie in the crowd.

"Charlie is doing well for himself. I've sent a lot of business Charlie's way."

Antonio chuckled

"He never knew he could make so much money legitimately, making coffins" Added Antonio. Saul had gone quiet and pale. It was a little warm in here.

"We'll all need one, one day my love. Hopefully not too soon for us. Oh Saul. You have blood on your collar. It looks set, apply glycerine with a cotton ball, to either side of the stain. Rub in circles from the outside to the inside, until it starts to shift. Then wash it in cold water. You learn a lot about cleaning out blood in my line of work"

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Jacob6er t1_j27fxmd wrote

I really don't like social interactions with other people, I've always had a lot of difficulties when it came to meeting and talking with new people. It got even worse when I came out to as gay to my parents, I didn't talk to almost anyone for a long time. That's why I liked working on cars so much, I could just put on my headphones and stay in my own world. It wasn't until Ryan brought his car in one day that I even considered talking with anyone. He was really patient and really kind to me, but also persistent enough to push me to do things. It took a long time for me to adjust to even calling him my boyfriend, but I was honestly so happy when he asked me to marry him.

When I first went to family events with him I was so nervous, and parts of his family did take some time to accept us, but he always stood up for me and they all eventually came around. They all even came to the wedding while none of my family even acknowledged me when I tried to talk to them about it. I never really knew that much about what Ryan did, he didn't talk about it but he always said he was a "Union guy" which I didn't really understand but I didn't really question it either. I was just happy to be with him.

A lot of people he worked with would come to big events, and he would introduce me to them, I still don't really talk much around other people but Ryan said they all seemed to like me which is good I guess. After awhile a lot of them started showing up at my garage when they needed any work done on their cars. It did seem a little weird and I was kind of confused when they all kept insisting on overpaying me, but the extra work was nice at least.

But today one of them came in with bullet holes all over his car and he was bleeding, I was really scared and I wasn't even sure what to do. He kept yelling at me to call some doctor but then all these gunshots started going off outside and I just ran into the supply closet and locked the door, I called the only person I could think of.

"Jamie? Jamie! Hey are you okay? You're spacing out on me again babe! I'm here now! We took care of those guys! Come on talk to me!"

"Wh...what? Oh! I'm sorry I um... Ryan I don't..."

He was right, I was completely spacing out. Running over everything that brought me to this moment. I tried to talk but it was so hard to get the words out. Ryan being around always helped me, but now having just seen him and his friends show up and shoot all those guys, it just put me in a state. I'm scared. I feel like I'm drowning in fear and anxiety, and now I'm worried the only hand to ever help pull me out is about to start holding me under. I don't know if this is like the movies, but looking back it all makes sense now. I can't believe I was so blind, maybe I just didn't want to see it. I didn't want to see that the only person who ever actually cared for me being involved in something so brutal. In the end I could only work out one thing.

"Do you have to kill me now?"

I didn't want him to answer, because I was pretty sure I already knew. But it was all I could think to say in the moment. Then I looked up and he had a mortified look on his face and he quickly wrapped his arms around me tightly, he was even choking up when he spoke.

"I could never do that to you, you didn't do anything wrong. I'm so sorry Jamie, I should have told you about all of this. I love you, I promise I would never do anything like that to you. I am so sorry."

As he spoke all I could do was hug him back. I was scared and I didn't know what was going on, but even through all this, his voice was still like the light at the end of a tunnel. I want to believe him, maybe because I don't know what else I can do. But all I know is that I still want to love him.

"I don't I know if I can handle this Ryan, this is too much. I don't understand what is happening."

"You don't have handle this, never again. I swear to you. I'm leaving this behind. Let's go somewhere far away, somewhere nice. We'll get you a new garage, just you and me."

I was so happy to hear him say that, I wanted that to happen. I wanted to be with him, I wanted to run away. Part of me always felt locked away staying in the same city as my parents anyway. I was so happy when he said that, I wanted it to be true. But when I opened my eyes all I could see was the gun barrel from behind him.

As I lay on the ground fading I could hear him yelling and shooting at his friends. Part of me knew this was coming, a bigger part of me didn't want to belive it. But at least in my final moments I could see that he truly did mean what he said. He really did want to run away with me. I'm so tired and cold now. It was nice experiencing true happiness for once though, even if it was for only a short time. I still love him.

(Sorry that got pretty dark at the end there. But let me know what y'all think of the story!)

60

A_Very_StrangeQuark t1_j27n1bz wrote

A year had passed, and it was, once again, time for the annual dinner with Giorgia's family. Meiling always enjoyed these get-togethers - her own extended family lived all the way across the globe, so meeting up with them was much rarer than she'd have liked. And with more and more people preferring small, nuclear families nowadays, she had lucked out with her wife's huge family. And the Mancinis valued togetherness so much, too: it was always 'Family this, Family that' with them - why, it felt just like home!

But back to the get-together, ah, Meiling thought as she carefully wrapped tin foil over the dish she'd cooked for the dinner. The Mancinis rarely met up all at once - it seemed like a family tradition to never stick to a predictable routine, something that Meiling's wife had inherited in full, from never becoming a regular at shops or restaurants to randomly switching up the route she took to work every day. Such an adventurous life! Meiling could respect that - change was good for the brain; it kept your neurons firing. She'd even begun picking up the habit herself at Giorgia's insistence - her wife was so caring, making sure she stayed mentally healthy!

And speaking of the devil, in Giorgia walked in her designer clothes and doubly designer briefcase.

"Ready to go, cara mia?"

Aiya, so stylish and professional, this wife of hers! Never going anywhere without that briefcase. One would think she's married to her work if she wasn't such a kind, considerate partner all the time. Regardless, Meiling quickly picked up the dish and went to tug on her shoes before they left.

The couple only got a block away from their house, though, before they were stopped by a few towering figures in their path.

"Well, well, if it isn't Giorgia Mancini. What a coincidence! We haven't seen each other in so long - if I didn't know better, I'd think you were avoiding us!"

Giorgia's hand tightened around Meiling's. Ah, one of her little romantic gestures - Meiling squeezed back with a smile.

"Are these friends of yours from work, Giorgia? Tch, you never introduce me to any of your colleagues, how am I supposed to recognise them?"

"You're not." Giorgia gritted out.

Meiling sighed. Aiyo, no, that sounds so rude! What will your poor coworkers think? Really, Giorgia would accidentally hurt someone with that attitude - they didn't know what a sweet person she really was under the sharp, fashionable exterior.

"Ah, this must be the infamous wife. She has a point, why don't you introduce her? She should join our... conversation."

Saying this, all four of Giorgia's colleagues hands drifted to their belt. Huh, thought Meiling. People seemed to do that a lot around her nowadays - were loose pants in fashion or something?

"Ms. Mancini - you see, I've had a hypothetical scenario in my mind recently," the one in the middle began again, with his eyes fixed on Meiling. Was he talking to her or her wife? Meiling hadn't taken the Mancini family name, despite the many offers from her wife's family before Giorgia cut them off with a look, but others could be forgiven for getting it wrong.

"Now, hypothetically, if I knew where someone's house was, knew where they and their civilian wife lived, if I could - hypothetically, of course - walk in when I knew they were out, go into that kitchen where their wife who so loves cooking would be, pick up a kitchen knife..." The man prowled forward, razor-sharp smile bared, as Giorgia's grip became bruising.

"I wonder how long I could make them bleed out for?"

Meiling grinned. Finally, something she knew in this conversation! She loved trying to break down the science of hypothetical scenarios from books, it was a little hobby of hers. And Giorgia had never introduced her to such a like mind? How rude! Her wife knew she wasn't the best at social situations, so that made people interested in the same things as her all the more valuable!

"Ooh, well, let's see, it really depends on how you'd go about it. Quickest I'd say would be decapitation, just chopping their head off clean and simple - or maybe a cut to their femoral artery - or actually, it'd take a bit more effort but torn limbs would result in bleeding out quicker than clean wounds - no vasoconstriction, you know. On the opposite end of the spectrum, you have Lingchi-style 'death by a thousand cuts', to draw on a historical example...

...and really, you would have a better success at targetting a specific bleeding rate if you have good control over as many control variables as possible, na, so picking up someone's kitchen knife when you don't know how sharp it would be is quite inefficient.

You're from South-East of here, right? I know a really nice shop nearby that you could go to - hypothetically, of course - how do I know where you're from? I recognise that dialect, and I know I saw that ring on your necklace at a shop nearby from when Giorgia and I were visiting - oh, no need to look so surprised, ah, it was a very nice piece and I have very good memory that's all, and I love looking at jewellery shops, Giorgia indulges me too much - aiyo, no, why are you hiding it? Is it a wedding ring? Don't shame your partner like that - in fact, you were talking about introductions, no, we should have a get-together, it's been a while since Giorgia and I have been to the South-East, we could visit - I'd even bring my cooking, and wine too, I know how much you Italians love your wine!

Oh no, why are you looking so pale? Are you ill? This weather ah, makes everyone ill, I could get you some medicine-"

Meiling cut off with a laugh of delight. It was so rare to find someone to discuss obscure tidbits of science and logical reasoning with in real life. And, she thought, looking over at Giorgia's friend's wide eyes and slightly dropped jaw, it was even rarer to find someone so interested in what she had to say - most people just rolled their eyes or turned away within the first few seconds.

"Ms Mancini- We- I understand, Senora, we'll just- "

The men hurried away, significantly paler looking than before. Huh, Meiling wondered, did they come down with a sudden bout of illness all together? Stomach upset, maybe - is that why they were holding their pants like that earlier? Well, she could always make dinner plans with them later through Giorgia, when she wasn't running late to a family dinner. She shrugged, turning back to Giorgia, who now looked like she was holding back a laugh.

"Oh, Meiling, cara mia. Never change."

261

Tommygunn504 t1_j27oc0j wrote

(Edit) Damn that was way longer that I wanted it to be, hope you all enjoy my short film screenplay LOL

Tommy met Isabella in his senior year of college. Tommy, the grandson of french immigrants on his dad's side, and native american mixed with Irish-Italian on his mom's side, was blown away when this beautiful, strong Italian woman approached him at a party. Dark, olive skin, legs for days, luscious black hair, she was a smokeshow. What was she doing chatting up a cajun transplant at a boring Syracuse party? It wasn't until later he learned that he unknowingly shows the body language of someone that's essentially bulletproof. The truth is, Tommy's just out of fucks to give.

After a whirlwind romance in college, Isabella brought him home with her to NYC to meet the parents. Her father introduced himself as Don, even though Tommy swore he heard the name Vincenzo just moments before.

"Ah, italians doing italian things. Won't be long before I get a nickname myself" he thought to himself.

Then, in walks Cristina, Isabella's bombshell of a mother.

"Oh my goodness, you found yourself a tall, dark, handsome italian boy, I'm so happy, welcome to the family Tommy, do you need some wine? I NEED WINE"

When she finished squeezing the life, and dignity out of Tommy, the table was set.

Isabella carried the conversation, explaining how they met, telling them Tommy was an accounting/business double major. Don's ears perked up at that notion, Tommy didn't notice a thing. In Don's eyes, this kid had ice in his veins.

Once the night had come to a close, Isabella was about to walk him out the door when Tommy asked for a moment alone with her parents. Right there in the main entrance, he looked Don in the eye and asked for his daughter's hand in marriage.

"I can't afford to fly my family out here, but you two could come down to New Orleans to see the proposal, I can show you around town, you guys can cut loose like you're teenagers again, but I won't make a move without your blessing."

He produced his great grandmother's ring, handmade by his great grandfather.

Don, for the first time in countless years as a crimelord, was dumbstruck. The clueless look on Tommy's face, the blank unblinking stare, the invincible body language, it was too much.

"Kid, you got stones like I've never seen before. I've seen racehorses down at the tracks with a smaller pair than yous. The family needs more men like you. Not only do you have my blessing, how would you like to put that shiny new degree to work? I myself am a businessman, and I have alot of room for improvement in my book keeping. Whaddya say kid?"

Tommy let out a short exhale and closed his eyes, then opened them to meet Don's.

"Sir, I'd be honored to work for you, I'd never turn down a good opportunity like this."

Cristina adjusted his vertebrae with a hug goodbye, and he was out the door.

Weeks later, after a few days of adventuring through his hometown with his soon to be fiance, Tommy got a text from an unknown number.

"We'll be there in 2 days, care to take a glance at something for your future father in law?"

A pdf file was attached.

"No problem, can't wait to see you guys". He replied.

The file was a spreadsheet, deposits, withdrawals, expenses, profits, etc etc. A few glaring issues quickly jumped out at him.

"Whoever was handling your money for this month made more than a few typos. My math is iron-clad here, there's 50k missing here according to these typos."

Don replied "Yeah, clerical errors can be a pain in the ass. I'll double check this one myself. Thanks kid."

The proposal was picture perfect. Both families gathered in Jackson Square, Isabella was too busy admiring the cathedral to notice what was going on behind her. When she turned around and her dad was standing there, she gasped in shock. When Don stepped aside, she saw Tommy down on one knee with the box open, with easily 30 familiar faces behind him.

Don paid for the whole wedding, held it on the grounds of his estate, paid for plane tickets and housed all of Tommy's family in his home, all the wine came from his own vineyard, all the food from his own farms and markets. A true self-made man, a man of honor, a man Tommy genuinely looked up to. Isabella was his baby girl, he was going to give her the wedding of her dreams, no question. The icing on the cake was how much of a liking he'd taken to Tommy. Nobody can put a price on knowing their daughter is in good hands with a person of such strong character.

The ceremony went off without a hitch, the reception was lively, all was going well. Until Isabella's uncle Bugsy showed up.

"So, this is the guy eh? This is the guy that called me a thief? The guy that thinks I'd steal from my OWN BROTHER?"

Tommy was the only person in the room too happy to give a damn about this guy.

"Bugsy, you're so close to the line right now, it breaks my heart to imagine what'll happen if you cross it. Of all days, you pick today. Of all times, you pick now." Don said.

Bugsy replied "You'd really let a stranger insult your brother this way? Place me lower than a roach or a rat? Call me a thief? A traitor? I've done bad things for a lot less than that"

Bugsy was all bravado until he turned around only to be face to face with his accuser.

"If you were handling the accounts between May and June of this year, your typos would have this man think he's 50k in the red. Just need to round up all your documentation, receipts, P.O's and invoices, and recount everything and it'll all be flush. I fat-finger my keyboard all the time man, it's not that big of a deal."

Tommy spoke with the confidence of a man with less than nothing to lose.

Bugsy was dumbfounded, temporarily paralyzed in shock at the realization of what was happening. He was caught red handed, everyone in the room saw him for what he was, except for the college graduate standing before him.

Even the countless security guards had to take their shades off and get a second look at what had just occured.

Don nodded at his men, and within seconds Bugsy was surrounded.

"We'll take him to the archives and go over the paperwork immediately sir."

"Yeah, sure, the paperwork...." Don mutered as he waved them off.

Every made man in the room, every underboss and capo, even the consigliore was sweating at this revalation. Any rivals Don had in the room that had even the smallest notion of wanting to screw him over, were now petrified.

"This Tommy fella caught a thief red handed, and had the balls to stand there and wave it off as nothing, knowing damn well it was a death sentence."

"This is some old school, Godfather type stuff here. Same hand that pats you on the cheek can be the hand that drives the icepick into your neck"

The gossip was flying around the room like fireworks. Tommy didn't hear a word of it, he just wanted to get back to dancing with his wife. So he did.....

199

Katze71 t1_j27tru4 wrote

"Jessica, I told you that I'm scared of your dad"! I yelled from the downstairs laundry room.

"I told you, he's just a sweet heart. He's been dying to meet you". Jessica walks down the stairs with a basket of clothes.

Walking over to her to grab the basket. "Still, he just seems like that one bad guy from a heist game".

Jessica groans as she grips the basket. "It's always you and video games! You should really get off that game and come follow along my cooking lessons. Isn't that right chef Dianna".

I chuckle and shake my head. "You know I have my connections in video games. I defeated Satan after all in cod"! I quickly take the basket and put the clothes into the washer. "So hard in fact that he came to me for a job offer"!

She stares at me before turning around to go back up stares. "But when you start cooking for the devil is when I start believing that story"! Jessica would stand at the corner and yell from the top of the stares. "Well just come back up here and you can teach me how to cook"!

After finishing the laundry and setting the basket with the others, I began walking up the stares. Grabbing the remote to the radio and fumbles with it as I find the volume controls. Turning down the music as I walk into the kitchen.

"Soooo, I found out what we are making today"! Jessica slides her tablet across the counter. Stopping just in front of me.

Putting the remote down as I use my free hand to put on my classes. "Gumbo? Southern cooking? Don't think I have ever made that".

"Oh its really good! When I went to a restaurant on a trip to New Orleans and it served me a bowl of it"! She smiled brightly as she looks over me as I read more.

Often made with sausage, chicken and shrimp, Gumbo is very diverse in its selection of ingredients that can be used. This creole style of food is the result of many cultures mixing together in one important southern state

"Well, it seems like a lot of work". I said as I slide the page down to read the directions.

Jessica moved away from behind me and went to the fridge. Pulling out some bags. "Hey Dianna"! She says trying to get my attention.

I look up and sees Jessica with her arms piled with bags of ingredients.

"I already got all the ingredients we need"! She looks at me and gave me a goofy smile.

"Well I hope the devil loves sea food because it seems like we are going to be making more after this". I laugh and look down at the tablet to make plans for tomorrow night.

"Yes! I knew you were going to bring him up. I also got some really spicy seasoned shrimp since hell is meant to be hot". She throws the bag onto the counter. "If you gonna keep up the devil then I'm going to make you eat spicy food".

"Hey! That's unfair! You know I hate spicy foods"! The memories of Jessica tricking me into eating a ghost pepper came back. "There will be a separate pot without the spicy shrimp for later consumption"!

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AltharaD t1_j286m66 wrote

Replying to ribnag (#1,169,834)

The writing prompt said Underworld (capitalised) and that it was an established universe. I wasn’t sure what they were referring to so I thought I might as well chuck in some vampires and werewolves. Hybrid would be some monster mix. Also the hairy problems.

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guandaor t1_j28uelc wrote

Replying to A_Very_StrangeQuark (#1,172,304)

You’ve duplicated the paragraph that begins “Now, hypothetically,” and it confused me a little because the first occurrence of it didn’t make sense.

That aside, I really liked this! They are sweet. “Never change” haha!

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Much_History_8800 t1_j28up9o wrote

"The coldest man I know; it’s criminal what we’re charging folks. They’ll be sleeping with the fishes." Were everyday phrases I heard tossed around a lot among the extended members of Maria's family. I never thought too much  of it, with her parents being in the business of creating and fixing air conditioners, and heating and cooling systems for cars, schools, hospitals, casinos, and homes in the Tri-State Area. I ran on the assumption that it was tossed around as an affectation among repair men. Her familia were a competitive bunch, and a simple game of cornhole could become life and death sometimes. With them inviting rival repair men over to family BBQ’s and having them play a game, where it didn't seem like the guests were having too much fun.

That’s where I liked to pop in and lighten the mood, as the only other outsider at these shindings; I knew what used to make me feel welcome and comfortable; and that was to give it right back. All the shit talk.

A few of her cousins, namely Vinnie, had a hot temper and thin skin when it came to joking around. Sometimes, a gentle elbow nudge after a zinger from me wasn’t enough to lighten his mood and it would take making them one of my patented cocktails to smooth things over.

Oh, I did make the mistake once, and  had used some raspberry liqueur I found by a window in their house and some expired Kahula, which I had no clue went bad on a group of cocktails I handed out to Vinnie, the couple other cousins who were hazing this poor fella, and the local business owner.  I called the cocktail, Blue Balls, and everyone got a good laugh from my naming.

They all fell sick instantly, right around the pool area, and all of them had to be hospitalized. They canceled the party, and I was so ashamed I spent the afternoon cleaning up the mess I was responsible for.

Her father was so impressed with my cleaning that he offered me a contract to work in the city, cleaning up a few of their local businesses after hours. I took up the offer without a second’s notice; how could I not?

 We didn't live in the city, I had never and Maria moved out here to go to college to study photography, I'd always catch her sitting in her car, staring at the architecture of local banks, museums, and police stations. It's actually how she and I first met.

I rapped on her window three times with my knuckles, and she slowly pulled the expensive Nikon camera from her face. The lens was massive on this thing, the kinda camera that when you really focus lets you see for miles, and inside every pour of someone’s face or inside every nook and cranny of any structure.

I’ll never forget the pattern of the Leopard print ascot she was wearing that day, or those cool bug-eyed, don’t tell her i said this, but the lenses of the sunglasses she had were these wide ovals that, to my untrained eye appeared like bugs, like an ant or something. I’ve always been a bug collector of sorts, I like to see the bigger ones in person, I even own a couple'a them fightin’ beatles from Japan. They got loose in my neighborhood one day,and well that’s a story for another time.

My first night out, ah, I can still smell the sanitizer hitting the windows in the corporate offices and an unnamed social media company. It was like all my current jobs have become, never the same location twice, which initially made me feel like I was doing a bad job as a cleaner. And, if I was doing bad I needed to know why.

Because, well, it wasn’t always the same thing, some nights I’d clean spills that one of our–our, listen to me I’ve been working for the family for a few months and I’m already using terms like that. It makes me swell with pride to know I’ve been so welcomed.

Anyways, sometimes when they were doing an install, the spray from the AC and heaters would leave this red stuff on the floor, and I’d need to come in and dissolve it. It was easy, and people would always run away from me in my gas mask, and plate armor.

I was told to wear it because the HVAC units can be contaminated, making it dangerous for anyone around, that’s why they gave me the gun. At first, I thought wow, are there some kinda monsters being created by these HVAC things, like, did I just isekai’d into a low-budget netflix show that gets canceled after one season, where I’m fighting monsters under the cover of being a cleaner.

No, nothing as exciting as that. Just cleaning up messes, messes that the family’s tech’s don’t have time for.  The gun was to scare away the people crazy enough to stick around during one’a these coolant leaks. I was ordered to fire it into the air, and scream for everyone to get the fuck outta here!

The inspectors for the building code were always late, and due to always being late, always and I mean always needed a police escort. Sometimes, the cops would have a hard time finding where the leak was, so I’d break a window open and scream at the cops to come and get it, it’s right here. One time, my finger slipped on the trigger, sending a burp of bullets out into the parking lot.

I accidently hit one’a the cops, and spent the next week visiting him in the hospital. I prepared one’a my get well cocktails for him, with Kahlua and Raspberry Liqueur of course, but he got sick also. Two bottles of Kahula in a row I’d used that got people sick.

I of course did my best job of cleaning up the mess, and it was then I met a security guard at the hospital, who had his own theories about what was really going on at St.Thomas’ hospital.

“Bodies come in, but don’t go out.” He was convinced, and did a great job of talking me into it. There was a new body racket going on in this hospital. One that was more than just about taking care’a your sick and dying loved ones, but one that was about taking the life outta’em, whether by cash or suckin’ the souls outta their asses.

The conversation turned to what I was doing here, and what I do for work. When I explained my job, and who I work for, the guard, a seemingly good dude, asked me to see my equipment. I agreed and walked him into the parking lot.

He was impressed with the gun and gas mask, and the plate wasn't a plate, he asked if I worked in a kitchen, cause this wasn't a plate it was armor. “Yeah, like a knight, like platemail. I didn’t know what else to say.” 

He told me he’d been investigating my new family for a few years now as an independent bail bondsman, and wanted to make something big of his first case as a private investigator, but in order to take something on, a study on a family.

“Study, like, what? A documentary?” He said, yeah, but more like a candid camera with a badge and a gun. “Like cops?” “No, not like cops. It’s like, you know Dick Tracey.” He snapped his fingers, finding the right reference in his mind. “Knives out.” I had seen that movie, and the sequel, I didn’t know Daniel Craig wasn’t from Alabama or somethin’ till after when Maria had pointed out he was James Bond.

This led to an argument between us, where I, being the ass I am, said there are a lot of James bonds. I didn’t know that she meant the most recent, and in my defense, she never stated anything like that.

Part embarrassed for my lack of ability to make a real cocktail, part of me being a lush; I had been keeping a cooler with what was left of the Raspberry liqueur from Maria’s dad’s place inside a cooler in my trunk. I tried changing out the ice as often as possible, but some days my work was busy, and between cleaning up office buildings, and spending time with Maria; I’d forget about checking the drinks, and cleaning the water up.

I split a cocktail with the security guard, I watched, again after his first sip his eyes swallow into the pit of his skull, his stomach curdle, as the big man toppled over onto me, his fist grabbing my collar, nearly pulling me to the dirt with him, as he had gathered a knife from a sheathe somewhere on his ankle.

I managed to step out of the way, and he fell to his last breath. I sped inside the hospital, letting someone know, through a bit of a fib that I’d found the guard drinking in the parking lot and he collapsed.

They did the finger on the throat thing, I guess there was no pulse, and his face had grown that light blue shade of an icepack. The medic wiped his eyes, he looked tired, I wanted to console him, so I put a hand on his shoulder. He looked up at me, and these are words I’d never forget. “This is the coldest man I’ve ever seen.”

His blood had dropped to below zero, upon inspecting his body for contaminants, I had heard through the grapevine that he had ingested coolant into air conditioning systems. I don’t know how that got into my cocktails, all that was in my trunk was that Liqueur and Kahula from her pop’s bar.

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Tommygunn504 t1_j29c67a wrote

Replying to F84-5 (#1,175,026)

Thanks for the critique, I'm still figuring out what "voice" would be suited for each piece I write, like is it narrated or in first person. I've been told recently I need more detail in my writing, other times too much detail. I'm glad you liked it though

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ArtixViper t1_j29kkr6 wrote

Replying to woofwoof007 (#1,183,406)

Sure they inspire stories and creative writing, but if you're presented a formula that is the basis of the story then thats generally the majority of what you're going to write in this sub, and in this case there is quite literally nothing left of the original story other than a brief two sentence mention of a father. It may as well have been its own story on its own post.

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F84-5 t1_j29pv1x wrote

Replying to Tommygunn504 (#1,185,273)

I think the level of detail is good, at least for this kind of format. I do think it would benefit from a few more scenes with dialog in place of plane narration, but I'm not a writer myself, so do with that as you wish.

6