My mind wanders as everyone chatters about classes and the latest Greek life gossip.
I wonder who’s in charge of the Whitman family businesses now? I wonder if they’re looking for me. What if they’ve already found me? Wouldn’t that be a bitch? My stomach lurches when another thought hits me: What if … what if Ozzie was hired by Crypto to find me? What if he’s one of them? What if he knows who I am and was sent here to kill me? Or worse—bring me back to New Jersey to meet my fate? Force me to marry Crypto, or else?
They could try. I’d cut his balls off on our wedding night and disappear again or die trying.
But what if they don’t kill me? What if whoever has ascended to the boss’s role decides to lock me up and throw away the key? They could wear me down and threaten me with much worse than an arranged marriage. I’d instead let them kill me than suffer some of the things I’ve seen the women in the mob world suffer. A complete lack of agency is no life at all. A gilded cage is still a prison. There are not enough diamonds, furs, expensive shoes, or vacation homes to make me want to be a part of any organization that takes away the parents of a little kid.
If Ozzie is a hired goon, that would explain why I never noticed him before the other day. But then my senses take hold, and I realize how ridiculous and paranoid I’m being. Ozzie’s a giant teddy bear.
“Uhhh, hello? Earth to Mila? Do you copy?”
My attention flicks back to where I am and what time it is.
“Shit, I’m sorry.”
When did Crosby and Leela join us? I was so lost in thought that I didn’t even notice their arrival.
“I think I need some air,” I say, grabbing my purse and standing up, promptly knocking over my beverage.
“Ah, fuck!” No one is nearly as upset as I am, though. Cassandra stands up and dabs off the table with a stack of paper napkins. “No worries, honey,” she chirps. Everyone is so nice to me. Too nice.
I remember the time I spilled my juice all over the counter back in Jersey, and Emil’s maid shouted at me…it was only a few months after my parents died and…
Oh shit, I really need some air. I’m overwhelmed with a sense of claustrophobia, and I dash to the bar’s front door.
I have to get out of here.