Lily whispers, “All this over a selfie?”
With a shrug, I say, “I couldn’t protect you if they surrounded you. I had to stop them.”
She pulls me close. “You really care?”
“I take my job seriously.”
I’m still wondering about the black van that followed us out from Kings & McQueen’s.
Chapter Seven
Lily
Back in the safety of my limo, cruising behind the black windows on the Las Vegas Strip, I am really over this town
When I ask him, “What can we do now?” I hate the pouty droop in my voice.
He sounds weary and I don’t blame him.
“Look, if you’re missing your selfies and feed so much, go stand by the big rides or the fountains or the pyramid. Walk around some of the shopping areas. Nobody cares about you taking pictures there.”
I say, “Of course. Why would they? There’s nothing anyone would care about.”
“Don’t you do selfies in malls in L.A.?”
“With stores or brands that I have relationships with, sure.”
“Oh,” he says, “I get it. You only care when they’re comping you valuable swag.”
“Yeah,” I tell him, “You totally don’t get it at all. Breaking news: I’m a mob princess. I can buy whatever the fuck I want, or get people to give it to me.”
“So why…”
“It’s business, roadrunner.” I tell him, “I’m learning while I develop a business.”
“As an influencer.”
He won’t ever take me seriously. My lips are tight. “I’m an influencer for now. It’s only to give me options while I wait for an opportunity in the family business.”
Now he looks surprised. “You want to be a mobster?”
“I was born in the life. I want to be a boss.”
“And in the meantime, you’re uploading selfies?”
“I’m learning business. Planning, setting targets and deadlines, building relationships. Setting customer expectations, solving problems. I’m learning branding and PR, in race conditions.”
His eyes open. “You think any of that matters to a mob family?”
“Of course, even though most of them are still in the dark ages and they don’t know it. It’s business.” I tell him, “If your family and mine compete for a supplier, how will the supplier choose?”
“Who they’re most afraid of.”
I sit back. “That, my friend, is branding.”
He chuckles as he shakes his head. “Selfies as the MBA for a mob boss.”
“You’re getting it.” Now I’m smiling, too. “So. What is it you want?”
“I want the same thing. I want to run the family business.”
“What are you waiting for?”
He thinks for a moment. “I used to think I was ready and why couldn’t I just have it now. Back when I was about nineteen. Now I know I wasn’t. Now I know you never are and you never will be, so don’t take it on until you have to. In the meantime, learn as much as you can for when the time comes.”
I’m impressed. “So, you do think occasionally. Perhaps we’re not so different after all. Maybe I should sign you up for my webinar, Marketing the Mafia Way. Only nine thousand, nine hundred and ninety-nine dollars.”
“But hurry. This offer only stays open for twenty-seven minutes. Tick, tick.”
“Meep meep.”
“But you are joking.”
“Good idea, though. Right?”
Like an infomercial voiceover, he says, “The Mafia: Who knows business better than us?”
I pick it up, “This offer, you can’t refuse!”
He actually smiles for a moment. I tell him, “Hey. You have extra dimples when you smile. I never saw them before.”
“I only let them out for special occasions.”
“Is this a special occasion, roadrunner?”
“You tell me.”
My voice is thickening. “It feels special.”
His eyes burn into me. His chin lifts. “Why?”
Mine does too. I tell him, “It’s special that I want to suck your cock.”
“You hate me.”
“Sure. You hate me. I know you still want to fuck, though.”
I reach for the switch to put up the blind between the front of the car and the back.
He watches the black panel slide up.
I tell him, “It turns the video surveillance off as well. And I’ve checked. It really does.”
He says, “It’s a bad idea.”
But he doesn’t move. The only parts of him that move are his eyes. Oh, no. Another part of him moves, too.
I reach for it. It’s hot. And huge. It’s very hard. And as I’m holding it, under his suit pants, it thickens.
“I want to see you come. You saw me come in the strip club.”
“You want my ‘O’ face on a selfie?” He runs his finger along the edge of my jaw. Looks in my eyes as his fingertip lifts my chin.
I bite my lip.
“I do. But I wouldn’t share it.”
“You wouldn’t have a chance. If you took the pic, I’d kill you.”
I’m drenched and I can’t even tell whether he’s kidding. The evil thrill makes me want to moan. His cock pulses.
His zipper buzzes when I open it. His breath deepens and I feel his eyes burn.
The thickening bulge inside his pants is covered in red silk. It’s absurdly long.