Lorenzo Marroni’s loan shark office is buzzing with activity. It’s twice as busy today than it was when I first visited. There’s a line of people waiting outside, wrapping around the corner of the building. Some bounce impatiently in place. Others distract themselves on their phones. Most look like they’ve had a rough few days. I remember standing in that line not too long ago, and a part of me feels sympathetic. Asking someone for help — especially from a loan shark — isn’t always easy.
There’s another presence here, too. Men in suits. Lots of them, all with mean mugs and intimidating airs. I don’t know what to think of the tense energy lingering in the air. A few of them stand off to the side in a group, talking quietly amongst themselves as they smoke cigarettes and give me the side-eye when I dare approach with a garment bag draped over my arm.
“Where do you think you’re going, little miss?” one of them asks me with a chuckle.
I glare at him. Little miss? What a condescending prick. “I’m here to see Dominic.”
One of the other guys snorts. “The back of the line is over there.”
“I’m not a customer.”
“Oh? A girlfriend, then?”
“I didn’t know Costello had a woman,” the first man comments. “Coming for a lil’ lunchtime quickie, are you?”
My face flushes with heat. “I’m his tailor,” I state firmly.
“No, you’re not,” the second guy says, dropping his cigarette to crush beneath his heel. “We all go to the same tailor, and I guarantee you our guy doesn’t have a fabulous pair of tits like yours.”
Rage boils inside me. Are these the sorts of people Dominic hangs out with? “You’re incredibly rude,” I snap at them, grinding my teeth. “Your mothers clearly didn’t teach you any manners.”
The men laugh, watching me with amused interest. There are four of them, circling me like birds of prey. They’re all taller and bigger, but I see them for what they are — boys playing dress up. They’re trying so hard to exude the command and confidence that Dominic so naturally does. While Dominic is certainly cocky, at least he always treats me with respect.
“Look out, kitty’s got claws.”
“Come on. We were only joking.”
I put a hand on my hip. “Take me to see Dominic.Now.”
“What’s the magic word, toots?”
I huff. “I’m not wasting my manners on people who refuse to show me the same decency.”
“You’re no fun,” the first guy gripes. “Get outta here, babe, you’re startin’ to annoy me.”
“Are youthreateningme?”
“Take the fuckin’ hint and get outta here, ya dumb bitch. You can’t just waltz into our boss’ office.”
“Like hell I can’t.” I attempt to sidestep them, but they’ve got me surrounded.
“Don’t make me manhandle you,” one of the men growls.
“Don’t make me kick you in the balls, asshole,” I snap right back.
“Listen, I’m warnin’ you—”
“What’s going on?” a deep, booming voice slices through the air.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spot a familiar silhouette with broad shoulders and wide chest. I know it by heart by now, especially since I’ve been working with mannequins adjusted to his exact proportions. I’m so attuned to the shape of him that I could probably pick him out of a chaotic crowd, or even at a distance.
“Dolcezza?” Dominic breathes. The men who were busy harassing me suddenly part like the Red Sea as Dominic approaches. “What are you doing here?”
“You haven’t been by the shop in a while,” I tell him softly, holding up the garment bag. “I need you to try these on so I can make adjustments.”
Dominic shoots the men a deathly glare. “Were they bothering you, Marina?”
“We didn’t do nothin’, boss,” the first guy insists. “We didn’t know who she was.” All his bravado has melted away. I’m pretty sure he’s two seconds away from pissing his pants.