Mafia Queen by Rusty Kontos

Author:Rusty Kontos [Kontos, Rusty]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: mafia, noir, serial killer, italian mob, pulp fiction
Publisher: Urban Diamond Publishing
Published: 2018-05-13T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHT

Everyone liked Mary’s mother, Mama Mannellio, in her neighborhood. She was like most of all, by Nick. He loved her like his own mother. Mama Mannellio was a typical, old-fashioned Italian lady. She was short and on the plump side, with large breasts and wide hips. She had large, olive-shaped eyes. They were black as onyx and always seemed to have a twinkle in them. She kept her black, slightly graying hair, pulled straight back into a neatly tied bun. She spoke with a thick Italian accent. Nick always brought Mama flowers when he came. They were yellow roses, her favorite kind of flower. At night, after Mama would go to bed, Nick and Mary would go up to the roof top of Mary’s apartment building. Nick would hold Mary in his arms and together they would stare out at the city, with its bright lights, motor cars, and people. Nick would talk about his future plans with Mary. He was like a little boy dreaming of something he really wanted, as he gazed at the city.

“Mary, someday all of this will be mine out there. The city, all of its people, money and its power, it will all be mine someday. When I do get it, I am going to give it to you as a wedding present. What do you think of that?”

Mary giggled at Nick, as she answered in a joking way, “What are you going to do, run for mayor?”

Nick gripped hard on Mary’s shoulders and spun her around to face him. Mary became a little frightened of Nick’s cold, deadly stare, like that of a cobra snake before it strikes. Then in an angry voice, he said, “Goddammit, don’t laugh at me, Not ever.”

“I wasn’t laughing at you, Nick. I was only kidding with you. I didn’t mean anything by it, Nick.” Tears started to well up in Mary’s eyes.

Then Nick’s anger left his voice as he put his arms around her, kissing her forehead and cheeks. “I’m sorry, Mary. It’s just that I don’t like to have anyone laugh at me. Most of all, you. Believe me, when I tell you that one day I will run this city and the people in it, I mean it! I am not joking. I am dead serious Mary. Mary, haven’t you ever wondered about where my money comes from and what kind of work I do to get it?”

“Yes I have, Nick. Nevertheless, I have always felt that it wasn’t my place to ask you. If and when you

wanted me to know, you would tell me.”

“Well, Mary, I think now is the time, although I can’t tell you everything, at least not in detail. Like certain

people’s names. I cannot reveal too much of anything

to you, except that you must trust and believe in me as I do in you. Mary, before I tell you anything, do you promise on your Father’s grave that you will never breathe a word of what I’m about to tell you to anyone? Not even Mama?”

“Of course, Nick, if that’s the way you want it.

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