Tssss. Veronica Stoppe crushed her then-lit cigarette under the toe of her jet-black stilettos. Taking a deep breath and straightening her small, black skirt, she pulled her Tommy Gun towards her. Sighing, Veronica stood up from the rickety, wooden bench she was perched on. It was time. Sweeping her ginger red hair from her eyes, Veronica stepped inside the bar. She was obviously the picture of confidence.
Some lowlife mob (a rookie, Veronica assumed) had been leaking. Bragging was, of course, strictly frowned upon in the Mafia. Cecil Thomas, however, was guilty of just that.
Holding her gun erect, Veronica shouted rather loudly, "You lot! Pay the fuck attention or I'll shoot your brains out!"
The entire bar went silent, the few patrons turning around, terrified, at Veronica's crisp, firm, English accent.
She assessed the situation. Veronica had a maximum of five seconds to bark another order before giving off the impression that she was an incompetent Muscle. There were seven people, it seemed, in the bar that afternoon: a stunned barkeep, who was pausing with his finger still depressing the button that controlled the drink hose. A large, rotund man, pasty but tainted pink, whose glass was overflowing with seltzer due to the barman's shock. Two cocktail waitresses, both blonde, both trembling, clutching their trays in mild horror. Two more men, construction workers, with their yellow, plastic hard hats set on the bar, their orange vests still on their sweaty backs.
And then there was him.
One last man, with his back to her, that prick. He had silver-white hair, but looked (even from this view) to be strikingly young. A trail of smoke drifted out from his silhouette, presumably from a cigar or cigarette. He as wearing a sleek, black, tuxedo-esque suit, and there was a small handgun on the bar next to him.
This, Veronica conjectured, was the big-mouth. This had to be Cecil Thomas.
Veronica sucked on her teeth, then spat, "You! Turn around."
Cecil Thomas turned around. His face was boyish; he was probably a rookie. He wore neither a look of terror nor one of glib calmness. He was grinning rather largely, in fact, and Veronica noticed that he was not holding a cigarette, but instead had a red sucker that somehow emitted fumes from the stick end. How did that work? A smoking lollipop. What the hell was going on?
"Cecil Thomas?" Veronica inquired roughly.
Cecil Thomas's expression brightened even more, if that was at all humanly possible. "Oi, so you've heard of me?" he asked her eagerly. Veronica remained silent. Cecil Thomas stood up and spread his arms. "Cecil Thomas, oi," he sing-songed haughtily. "Best mobster in England. Been in the mob eleven years, you know, oi!"
Veronica clenched her fist. Not only was this Cecil Thomas incredibly pretentious, but his Cockney accent and gruesome overuse of the interjection "oi" was getting on her nerves.
Cecil Thomas continued to grin cockily at Veronica, looking her super-toned body up and down. "Oi," he said in an exceedingly peevish voice, "you know, mobsters make great lovers."
That was it. Veronica spat again, and took a few steps toward the dunderhead. "Cecil Thomas," she growled through clenched teeth, "you've been found guilty of leaking Mafia secrets." She pointed the bulky Tommy Gun at him, glaring.
Cecil Thomas narrowed his eyes. His grin turned into a scowl and he placed his smoldering lollipop into his mouth. He sucked on it for a few moments, and cherry scented smoke billowed out the end of the stick. He looked at Veronica for a few moments, and then (ever so furtively) at her gigantic weapon. At length, he finally said, "Oi... who the hell are you?"
Veronica peered through the thick, noxiously sweet smoke into Cecil Thomas's muted-yellow eyes. "I'm Veronica Stoppe," she announced. "Senior mob Muscle."
She expected Cecil Thomas to stop glaring and drop his stupid lollipop on the ground. She imagined it would shatter, revealing its inner workings (How did it smoke like that?), and she imagined that Cecil Thomas would quiver with trepidation and turn himself in. Much to Veronica's surprise, none of these things happened, and Cecil Thomas simply took the candy out of his mouth and then cracked a smile. It was not some devilish smirk meant to taunt, but instead, a twinkle of pure and genuine amusement. Cecil Thomas giggled. His giggle then intensified, and turned into a laugh. He was laughing. He, Cecil Thomas, was laughing at Veronica, Tommy Gun and all.
"A girl!" he squealed in delight between guffaws. "A girl! In the Mob!" He laughed some more, then shouted, "Yeah right! Oi!"
Both Veronica's glare and her hatred for this Cecil Thomas intensified with each passing second. He was still giggling. Now, the two construction pigs were chuckling as well. At her.
Dropping her Tommy Gun and taking a step back, Veronica suddenly ran at Cecil Thomas with a flying kick. The heel of Veronica's stiletto connected satisfyingly with Cecil Thomas's stomach, and he was launched backwards in mid-chortle. He flew over the bar and crashed with a loud tinkle of breaking glass into the display of bottles behind the counter. Bits of broken bottles now littered Cecil Thomas's Italian-made suit, and spilled Congac worked its stains into his starchy, white shirt.
The construction workers were no longer laughing.
Neither was Cecil Thomas.
Veronica walked around the bar and toed Cecil Thomas in the head. He groaned. "Come with me," she directed. Cecil Thomas looked up at her. His scalp was bleeding slightly. She bit her lip and looked at him, actually feeling a bit sorry for the kid.
Cecil Thomas squinted at her. "Girl in the Mafia, oi," he said thickly with a bloody grin.
Veronica's sympathy vanished. She grabbed Cecil Thomas by the tie and pulled him up. "Let's go," she commanded. "The Boss wants to see you."
If you're friends with me on facebook (which I think all of you are at this point), you may have read it before. If not, hope you liked it! I have a bunch of never-before-seen short stories I might post in the near future, so keep an eye out!
Oh, and here's another cheesey Photoshop job for you. I do these in between classes with my mouse when I'm bored~
At any rate, I've gotta down this coffee, take a shower, and go to my last class before leaving for a fantastic, fun-filled Spring Break with the man I love! See you in San Antonio, folks!
♥ Rosie xoxo
