No one answered any of my questions on the ride home. Not one. I am a curious gal. I'd like to know who shot up my wedding. Can you blame me?
I was rushed into the car, my wedding dress still on. Marco had to throw it over me and the seats to fit it all in. I don't understand the rush. Everything was all cleaned up by the time we left.
"Marco." I called out.
He looked at me through the mirror. "Yes?" He answers quickly, focusing back onto the road.
"What is the rush?" I question.
He sighs. "I have somewhere to be." He replies.
"And where would that be?" I ask curiously.
"Respectfully, that is none of your business, Mrs. Napolitani." He speaks to me with the utmost respectful tone.
I don't press on anymore, frankly bored with the loss of interest. My stomach groans. It's been such a long day. All I want to do is just sleep. Oh! No, I'd rather eat a cheeseburger from Burger King. They probably don't have those here.
Mrs. Napolitani. Being married to a man like Alonzo must be exhausting. Remy is always so tired and scared. I don't want to be scared all my life. Maybe I can set some standards. I laugh at the thought. I won't be able to "set standards" or rules to a Mafia boss.
Soon, we reach "home", Marco hurries to help me out of the car, helping me just get inside. As soon as I step through the front doors, he leaves, going back to the car. What's got him so busy?
A bunch of maids whisk me away into a rule where a man is waiting at an easel. Are you kidding me? "Salve, signora Napolitani, Sua Altezza dovrebbe essere qui presto." The painter says to me, "Ahh, uh. Hello. Mr. Napolitani be here soon." He struggles with English. "Please, have a seat." He motions to a seat on the side of the room. I walk over and sit there for the time being.
[Translation: Hello, Mrs. Napolitani, his highness should be here soon]
Hours go by. I'm so uncomfortable. It's getting late. I just want to rip this dress off and go to sleep. Mr. Napolitani still isn't isn't. I feel myself relaxing back into the chair. My body is so exhausted I feel myself drifting off to sleep.
Thoughts?
YOU ARE READING
Written in Ink
Action" I peer behind him to see a woman laying bridal style unconscious in one of my father's security guard's arms. She wears an involuntary frown. "For what reason?" I snap, looking back to my father. "For the same reason I got your mother. So we look...
