3. Josie
Luca’s gone.
Another wasted opportunity.
He’s usually here until the last few barflies try and weasel a few more drinks out of Oscar after midnight. His frame so firmly planted in his seat, he might as well have roots anchoring him to it.
But he’s gone, and I’m left with wasted ambition and burning embarrassment.
Why did he leave early on the night I found my courage?
I’ve got to be the unluckiest person ever. Maybe luck has nothing to do with it.
I’ve played up Luca’s interest in me in my head. That doesn’t mean it’s true. He could be here for a bunch of reasons that don’t involve me. Maybe he’s staking out a new business venture. An inconspicuous little place in the middle of the slums to conduct his nefarious dealings. The Sunken Sailor fits the bill alright. But if the stories I’ve heard about him—that he”s the head of some mafia organization—are true, wouldn’t he have people to do that for him?
Luca’s odd habits make it hard to believe there isn’t something shady going on. One drink a night, watching over the bar from the same seat, wearing an all-black, nondescript outfit that shows off his muscular physique. Watching and waiting for an opportunity to pounce on Oscar and force his hand into the devil’s dealings.
Somehow, this thought makes it sting more. No matter his role, I’ve lost myself to wanting Luca Palermo. I was going to do something about it, too. Tonight could”ve been our first step into the future, and now I’m…
Crushed.
Rounding up empty glasses and cleaning counters with a void in my chest.
“You want a ride home tonight, Josie? I’m gonna be another half hour. Waiting for the boys in the back to finish.”
“Thanks for the offer, Oz. But I’ll take my chances with the cold.” I’ll be home in ten. The extra time I’d be sitting around here can be better spent in my bed.
Daydreaming about Luca. Naughty fingers finding their way wherever they might go.
I pull on my puffy pink winter jacket and head for the door. It’s good to be out of the Sunken Sailor uniform. Shorts and tight tube tops are fine, but there’s nothing better than a pair of comfy pants and an oversized tee.
“You sure? Full moon’s out.” Oscar turns his head to a filthy window that barely shows the outside world. “People tend to get squirrely…” He lets the thought trail off.
“Don’t let ghost stories get you down,” I tease. “I’ve done the walk home a thousand times. I’m sure it’ll be okay.” I stroke his shoulder. It’s a small gesture, probably pointless, but he’s worried about me. I’ll give him a small comfort.
How bad can it be? I’ve braved many full moons under his employ, and I’m sure I’ll go through many more. Tonight isn’t much different from any other. Apart from the cold.
“All right, but stay safe out there.” Oscar reaches under the bar and pulls out a small cylinder. “Anyone gives you hassles, you point this at them and press the button on top.”
He hands it to me. The label reads Dicks Pepper: Spray and Pray.
“Isn’t this illegal?” I ask, inspecting the can.
“Safety first. Your old man will give me a hell of a ribbing if anything happened to you on my watch.” Oscar releases a wheezy chuckle, but his eyes don’t match. They hold the same worry I noticed when he stopped me to chat.
“Thanks.” I tuck the pepper spray into my carry bag. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He nods and gives a two-finger salute.
It’s freezing outside. The kind of cold that stings your lungs with every inhale. But Oscar was right. A glowing, pearlescent moon hangs heavily in the night sky, so bright its luminescence obscures even the stars.
But with the stars, so too does it light my path. I pop my earphones in, click play on an early 2000-era playlist, and start my walk.
It’s oddly peaceful. There isn’t much of anything happening on the streets. The nice part about it is my walks aren”t completely solitary. A few members of the neighborhood burn the midnight oil. Their apartment lights ablaze, and sometimes I even overhear their conversations.
It helps when I’m feeling scared, but I don’t tonight. After my shift, I have a newfound sense of courage. Not only because I stood up to the asshole who tried groping me, but because I finally decided to speak to Luca.
It may not have come to fruition, but it’s still liberating. Tomorrow is another day, and Luca will be back in that chair, watching over the Sunken Sailor.
That’s when I’ll make my move, and there isn’t a thing he can do to stop me.
For the first time in a long time, I feel in control. It puts a bounce in my step, and before long, I’m skipping down the street singing along to Britney Spears in my ears. Nothing can get in the way of my good mood.
I can think of a few ways it would be improved. Luca’s arms wrapped around me, tearing clothes off my body in a fiery embrace that leads us to the promised land.
My loins tingle and shudders of pleasure wash over my body while my mind runs wild. His lips, face, rough fingers dancing across my skin. Our bodies connecting in sacrilegious harmony.
Not that I’d know what to do if I was in that position. I haven’t shared my bed. Hell, I haven’t even had my first kiss. I”ve been his since the second I saw him, and it”s only getting worse. No one attracts me the way he does, and I don”t want them to.
He’ll have to lead the way. Teach me how to tame those deep, dark desires running wild in his head.
He”ll have to teach me how to be his.
I’ll be the perfect student. A blank canvas. A virgin. Luca’s to mold and shape into whatever pleases him.
A loud bang from an alleyway tears me away from my thoughts. My whole body seizes as if a shard of ice struck my heart and pinned me to my spot. The sudden fear brings a sharp, searing pain to my core, and chills explode through every muscle fiber.
I can’t see through the inky black dimming the moon”s brightness. An unnatural black that almost reflects the ominous warning Oscar gave before I left the bar. If I were the superstitious sought, maybe I’d believe him now. That some cosmic karma is playing a sick joke on the foolish girl who didn’t heed the warnings.
But I’m not. I’m logical and sensical, and I don’t believe in ghosts and ghoulies making things go bump in the night. It’s probably a stray cat. It usually is.
Still, I prepare for the worst. I used to be a good runner in high school, so feet don’t fail me now.
“Tell me, pretty little thing,” a voice comes from the darkness. I’d recognize it anywhere. It’s the same brute who tried groping me in the bar. A sharp sting strikes my chest. “What’s a girl like you doing out here alone?”
He strikes a match and brings it to a cigarette hanging from his lips. For a brief second, I get another glimpse of his snake eyes and the wicked grin stretched across his face.