Chapter 29 – Flora
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Flora
I’m helping Peter with my first official job for the family.
I begged Michael not to be a dick about this and to let me help.
I liked Aricia the first time I saw her and I’m still kinda mad that Peter could even think I would have drugged him and his fancy lawyer lady.
I’m nothing like Cosima. I spent my late teen years married. I crave freedom.
The best way to get freedom in this family is earning it.
I won’t make the same mistakes that Cosima made.
This time, I’m going on a trip to Miami with my cousin Gino and my brother so we can complete this mission.
I don’t want to be crass by giving you all the gory details, but I’ll tell you what I need to know.
Peter gets me some delicious strawberry kiwi vape refills to help me calm down before the flight.
That makes me feel a lot better about the whole mess.
I’m dressed to head straight downtown to this nightclub called Elevate in Miami.
My job will be getting Inessa to believe that I’m taking her to a famous rapper’s condominium.
Peter’s going to pretend to be the rapper’s driver.
Once she’s in the back of the car, Gino will come out of hiding and drug her.
Then, we’re going to take her to a second location and chop her up into little bits to feed her to the fish.
I don’t know if we’re literally going to chop her up because I don’t want to know all the details beforehand.
I know enough right now. I’m going to kill someone for my brother.
I wish I felt more like the villain. The nicotine helps calm me down.
I know it’s a shitty addiction and any teenager holding a vape should throw it away, but unfortunately I started smoking cigarettes pretty much the second I landed in Italy.
My mother-in-law gave me one to make it easier for my twelve-year-old self to accept that I was married to a fat old man who would only wait two years before consummating our marriage.
Smoking became an important part of my survival in Italy and kicking the habit has been too difficult. My brothers won’t let me smoke real cigarettes, so I developed a special taste for fruit flavored vapes. Relaxing and delicious.
I lean against Peter’s car, taking my last few hits before we check in for the flight. We’ll be up all night taking care of Aricia’s problem and back on the American Airlines flight to Buffalo at 6:15 a.m.
“Hurry,” he says. “We’re running out of time.”
“Chill out, airport dad. We’re two hours early and it’s domestic.”
Gino has headphones on and doesn’t seem to care about our argument. He’s just going with the flow. And probably trying to stay calm since he’s the one carrying illegal substances in his luggage.
“You’re an addict, Flora. You know you can’t hit that shit in the bathroom, right? If you end up on the no fly list, I will personally canoe your ass back to Italy.”
“I won’t be stupid. I want to help, Peter. I’m not a baby. I’m only three years younger than Gino and I know how to wipe my ass properly.”
Gino bops his head and mouths some Eminem lyrics. I can’t actually tell what the lyrics are, but he always listens to Eminem when he’s nervous. It’s a cheap shot, but it gets Peter off my back by entertaining the demonic side of him.
We land in Miami drunk off our asses already from having too many shots on the plane.
It’s a family weakness. I suspect Peter is the most sober person around.
He rents a black Escalade with tinted windows for tonight.
We drive about forty minutes away from the airport and Peter arranges Gino’s body in the backseat, so he’s out of sight.
We change our clothes and hide our suitcases. The big SUV has plenty of room.
“It’s too hot out here.”
“Thankfully you brought a belt.”
“This is my dress, Peter.”
He’s annoying. Peter guards the SUV while I change inside. Gino can’t see anything, not like I worry about my cousins creeping on me. We might be a weird family, but we’re not that kind of weird. I always felt protected by my brothers and cousins, unlike the shitty men in my dad’s generation.
When I step out of the Escalade, I look at Peter with a demanding, sullen expression. I really don’t want him to criticize my outfit.
“Can I have my vape yet?”
“You look like you’re on sale.”
“Can you avoid being a misogynist for ten minutes?”
“I’m not a misogynist, but that dress will certainly have all of them flocking.”
“I have to convince some dumb skank that I’m sleeping with a rapper. I did a lot of research for this assignment.”
“You call watching TikTok research?” Peter says with his disbelieving sneer.
My brother is so annoying. A normal brother would have complimented me on my research and given me at least a chance to prove myself.
I dyed my hair for this assignment, ruining the perfect blond I achieved with my stylist in favor of a deep chocolate brown hair color with extensions and a blow out that caused my hair to look like Sofia Vergara’s.
I’m wearing a silver dress from Versace that Megan The Stallion wore on her Instagram page two weeks ago.
A clout goblin like Inessa will at least passively recognize my appearance as being totally on brand with what rappers in Miami might be interested in.
I have on a pair of Bottega Veneta Riva Strap sandals that go with the dress, but are the only uncomfortable part of my outfit I’m not sure I can handle.
My brother has no idea what he’s criticizing since he lets mom order everything he needs from Prada for him.
“I look exactly like a Miami bottle girl,” I tell him with self-assurance that I can handle a task as simple as helping my brothers.
“I created a fake identity and obtained an Instagram profile with a whole backstory created with artificial intelligence so I can bamboozle this woman. Don’t underestimate me. ”
Peter smirks and I can tell just for a second that he is impressed. There’s just some demon inside my older brother that can’t let me get away with feeling too proud.
“Did you have to get a bunch of plastic injected into your lips?”
I scowl at him, trying to ignore the soft throb of the little hole in my upper lip where I got my fillers updated. Yes, my beauty routine was absolutely a part of the plan.
“I also brought that gross Skims bra with the nipple rings,” I inform my very ignorant brother. “Are you going to comment on my body like some creep? We’re in Miami, not at Mar A Lago.”
He grunts and rolls his eyes, not wanting to get me started, which is a good instinct.
“Let’s go to this night club. Are you sure you can handle this on your own?”
“She’s an annoying skank, not a monster truck holding a shotgun. I’ll be fine.”
Peter pats me on the back. “Thank you, sister.”
“Don’t thank me. I would help Aricia for free.”
The more time Peter spends in love with this woman, the less time he will spend pestering me about my future, what I’m doing with his money, and about my various beauty routines. If I do this, I can buy a little silence over my buccal fat removal I have scheduled for around Halloween…
Everything goes according to our initial plan and I’m allowed to enter the club through the VIP section because of my dedication creating my fake celebrity-influencer identity.
The security guards even apologize for not recognizing me and they send a bottle over to my table once I get in the building.
I send my brothers a text to the group chat we have for this little job.
Flora: Checking Inessa’s social media to see where she is, but it’s busy here.
I scan the room, slowly drinking out of the bottle of high end champagne sent over to my table.
I know, I should pour a glass but… who knows how long I’ll be in here tracking Inessa.
My table is on an elevated floor over the dance floor, so I have a full view of everything, but I’m tucked away enough that the music doesn’t deafen me.
Peter: Be cautious.
Downstairs, 360 by CharliXCX blasts on the radio, giving me the darkest craving for some time on the ski slopes. I swig from my bottle of champagne and take my time searching every face in the room and trying to find my target…
“HEY! You got anything?” I look over my shoulder and see a woman who I should recognize from her songs on the radio.
“No, sorry,” I respond with a sweet smile.
With her image, you wouldn’t know she was the type.
When my head snaps back to scanning the dancefloor, luck strikes.
I see a glowing blue hair from the lights on the dance floor and I’m pretty sure it’s Inessa’s platinum blond hair.
I scramble up from my table towards the railing and squint to make sure.
Inessa shakes her hips on the dancefloor, throwing her ass up against a couple tall women who look like they all just met each other and they’re more interested in giving a show and attracting male attention than dancing with each other.
The disjointed movements, overzealous touching, and pursed up injected lips paint a full picture. This is a show…
I watch them for a few minutes until the song changes to an old Aviicii song. They shriek and throw their hands over their head before the dancing gets more… intense. I leave my bottle of champagne behind and sneak downstairs…