Taking Care Of The Mobster

“I....” I lick my lips nervously and look around the bathroom to ensure no one is listening in on my conversation. “My patient is Carlos Rodriguez,” I say in a whisper.

“Who’s that?” Beth asks, sounding even more confused. “Is he a celebrity I should know?”

“Carlos Rodriguez as in the man known as Drago!” I snap in a loud whisper.

Beth gasps sharply. “What?!” she screams, nearly bursting my eardrum in the process. “That can’t be possible. Wasn’t he pronounced dead? How are you treating a dead man? He was shot dead in the last shootout between rival gangs. It was all over the news, right? Besides, I thought the patient was the CEO of Diamond Investments?”

“I thought so, too,” I say, biting down harder on my fingernails. “I...can't do this, Beth. He’s a notorious gangster. We all know what he’s capable of. What should I do? Please tell me?”

“You need to calm down, Abs,” Beth says, lowering her voice to a gentle pitch. “Take a deep breath and blow your fears out. Now...this might not be as hard as it seems. I mean...how much damage can one injured man do? Besides, his life is in your hands, and I’m sure he knows that fact, too. There’s no cause for alarm.”

“I have to live in his home for three months, Beth!” I screech, my fear getting the better of me. “I can’t possibly do that. How do I live with a mafia boss for three months? Oh, my God! What if he decides he doesn’t like my face and shoots me dead? OMG, I’m going to die. I’m going to walk back out there and demand out. Damn the consequences.”

“I don’t think it’s going to be that easy, Abby,” Beth says with a sigh. “Besides...we need the money for Mom’s medications. Think about it. You know how expensive those medications are. We’re barely getting by as it is. And the debts? Think about how much that money could do for us.”

Images of our mother flash through my mind, I can see her leaning heavily on the closest wall, her face wrought with pain. She smiles through it all, but I know better than anyone how much pain she’s in. I think about my sister, who works her butt off to pay off my college debts and buy mom’s medications. They have both done so much to see me through college, the least I can do now is return the gesture. Refusing to do this would be selfish of me.

“I can do this,” I say out loud, despite every fiber of my body protesting that fact. I swallow down the raging fear in my chest and breathe in and out multiple times. “I can do this,” I repeat, more confidently this time.

“I believe in you, little sis,” Beth says with a conviction that serves to strengthen my resolve. Like always, she is my pillar of strength. Surviving three months in a mobster’s home is nothing as long as I have my big sister’s support.

Right?

CHAPTER TWO

Abby

I stop myself for the thousandth time from gawking at the shiny expensive decor and furniture in Carlos Rodriguez’s home as I slowly walk behind his housekeeper down a long hallway.

After my little episode in the bathroom, I returned to Mandy’s office and told her I was ready to begin work with the biggest smile I could muster while trying not to give in to the urge to make a run for the next bus home. Mandy had looked at me with disdain as she called the driver that brought me down to Carlos’s home. I’d only stopped at home, to pack a few things, and say goodbye to Mom and Beth.

The housekeeper, a pleasant petite lady, welcomed me with a warm smile when I arrived. She looked to be in her early fifties, but I could tell she’d lived a lively youth from the mischievous light in her eyes. She must have seen how tired I looked because she immediately volunteered to lead me to my room.

The housekeeper stops in front of a door at the end of a hallway. She turns to me with a small smile. “This is your room.” She gestures toward the adjacent room and turns back to me with a smile and says, “That’s Carlos’s room. I believe it’s best if you stay close to him, just for convenience purposes.”

“Y-yes, I guess,” I mutter, clearing my throat awkwardly. “Thanks, ma’am.”

“Please, call me Sarah,” she says, smiling apologetically. “Forgive my tardiness. I should have introduced myself earlier.”

“That’s fine, ma’am... I mean, Sarah,” I say with a genuine smile. “Thank you.”

“I’ll leave you to settle in,” Sarah says. “If you need anything, I’ll be in the kitchen. I don’t leave until six PM.”

“You don’t live here,” I ask, ignoring the trepidation starting anew in the pit of my stomach. I’d been relieved to find out that another woman lived in the house. But now, it looks like my hopes have just been dashed.