Homey Estate

Time feels slowed as I whittle away at the small log of wood. My knife carves away its skin and flesh, tearing it apart before my eyes. With each strike, the piece becomes smaller and smaller. Yet my rusty hands still remember how it all works. The scent of cedar hits my nose with a comforting reminder of my dad's own habits. 

I continue working away trying to get the spoon I desire from this sculpt. Perhaps it wasn't the smartest idea to set my table up in my bedroom but right now it doesn't matter. My thoughts wander to Lucio, I have to start today, and not an ounce of me feels prepared. 

With a deep sigh, I continue on, carving out the handle. Setting my tools down I grab my phone, clicking the power button. Seven o’clock on the dot. Maybe I should start getting ready, he went easy on me and allowed me to come in later than usual, I should take advantage of it. I’d like to refrain from interacting with him any more than need be. 

Blowing away the dust my eyes travel along the spoon's edge. Grasping the sandpaper I get to work sanding its handle, smoothing the surface to a comfortable grip. My eyes dart across the surface, searching for any imperfections as I continue to scrub away at the wood. Switching grits my hand continues on, working to the bowl of the wood silverware. 

Traveling along I sand down the harsh edges replacing them with smooth material. The wooden grain shone beautifully beneath all the dust-coated on top. I truly love the craft, exposing the stunning prices of wood hidden underneath the bark of a tree. 

A small grin forms on my face and I rub at my mouth in hopes of vanquishing the smile. It had been a few weeks since the first faithful meeting in Lucio’s office. Thinking back to it I can't help but feel that something new is brewing in the depths. Something I once knew and long forgotten stirs in my chest. Is it fear? No, I know fear as though it's my home, it married my anxiety years ago. At least they're happily bothering me.

Shaking my head to whisk away the thoughts I set down the spoon and paper, brushing my hands off on my pants. Letting out a deep huff I stand from my position in the rickety chair and get to work. Stumbling over to my limited clothes selection I grab my best and only suit. The dark purple, nearly black suit, matched with a white button-up with a matching purple tie and dress pants would just have to. An old suit from a friend’s wedding, I’m sure we’re not even friends anymore but the suit was expensive so I can’t just throw it out. Although I didn’t pay for it I still feel rude if I were to damage it. 

Walking out of my room my routine picks up as per usual, showering, brushing my teeth, washing my face, and grooming my hair. In habit, I run my hand over my stubble, in the military, they would probably chew my ass for something like this. Just a little bit of hair barely visible they wouldn’t back down from grilling you. You got to a point where you just shaved your face every morning, even if there was nothing. The hair I have now was frowned upon but I’d like to imagine towards the end they took a little bit of pity on me. 

Running a brush through my hair one last time I swap out of the towel and work on getting dressed. Why I’m required to wear a suit, I don’t know, but I do know it’ll make the job harder. It’s not that easy to move in a stiff suit. I tighten the tie and stand awkwardly looking down at the clothing. How the hell am I supposed to work in this? 

I run my hands over the suit, wiping down any slight amount of lint in sight. Grabbing my phone and walking out of the bathroom I make my way down the ladder with a huff. Smoothing over my suit one last time I tuck my phone away and grab my leather wallet, I make a glance at the set of keys. With a quick shake of my head, I walk out the door, shutting it behind me. 

The sun blinds me in the wake of the door. Flinching away I can't help but laugh at myself silently. I'm acting like a fucking vampire right now aren't I? Tucking my hand in my pockets I glance over at Eveline's house. The small house is bundled in darkness, I hope she's still sleeping. She needs the rest, especially at this age. 

Walking past the house and by others, I take in the neighborhood. Each house is small, only on occasion do you stumble across the rare big house along the street. The color palettes from house to house are a good variety. At least you can find your house fast when you're being chased by something, I'm unsure. I wouldn't want to lead someone back to my house so maybe the colors are useless after all…

Shaking my head to rid of the stupid thoughts I feel the sensation again. One of watching eyes burning into my skull. This time I don't refrain and openly turn around quickly, scanning everywhere with no luck. I do notice the feeling disappears when I glance around. 

My aggravation increased. As I continue on the feeling pursues me in a more aggressive manner. My skin burns with an itch I can't describe or even reach as it hits my mind like a bomb. I hate this, it only started after I met Lucio. It has to be his men, right? He wants to make sure I'm not going to kill him or backstab him, right? Who else would it be, an enemy of his trying to find the weak link? I don't understand why the hell I can't just be left alone.

I take in a deep breath and stride along the sidewalks. Ignoring the burning gaze searching my body. Eyes on the target crossfire aimed at the head. Yet where was my execution?  The perpetrator made no move to shoot, no move to cause any bodily harm. It has to be one of Lucio’s men, who would order someone to watch but never engage, it made no sense.

Stumbling across the office building once again the doors slam open before I can even grasp the handle. The brooding Lucio Mazza stands in front of me with a large scowl on his face. “You’re late.” He snaps out, my eyebrows furrow as I proceed to pull out my phone, “I’m only two minutes late you prick.” The red-head sneers obviously at my choice of words but continues on, “Follow me, I have places to be today.”

He clasps his hands together behind his back and walks off down the sidewalk to approach a parking lot down a small alley. I don’t hesitate to follow as I slip my phone back into my pocket. His long legs stride easily as we approached a fenced-off car. A man in a butler suit stands at the gate. He was built long and narrow with a matching face. The man was a full head of silver and white with a white mustache and glasses, “Master Mazza,” He pauses to unlock the gate, glancing at me, “Where to sir?” 

“To the estate Charles, alongside that– I’d like you to meet my new bodyguard, Noah Fletcher.” He turns towards me and extends his hand and I grasp it in my own, giving it a firm shake. “Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Fletcher, I am Charles Robert, personal butler, and escort of Mast Mazza.” I smile softly and move my hands in reply without even thinking, “He said it’s wonderful to meet you as well Charles.” I blush softly at the translation as I scratch the back of my neck. The older man grins softly leading us over to the car. He opens the back right passenger door for Lucio and the left for me. After closing our doors he hops in and starts the car. 

The vehicle felt like a smaller limousine as Lucio rolled up the separator between the older gentleman and ourselves. Buckling myself in I felt the car lurch into movement as my attention was drawn to Lucio rummaging in a small compartment on the door. Before I can ask he pulls out a bottle of alcohol and two glasses. “How much alcohol can you take?” His scorching eyes meet my own and suddenly everything that has been happening finally slows. 

“I can hold my own pretty well.” He chuckles, “Most people who say that are lightweights, hopefully, you beat that streak. The red-head pops the cork and pours a glass of caramel-smelling alcohol. “If you don’t like this alcohol, I’ll be pissed. This is limited edition and I only have so many bottles.” He fixes me with a glare handing over the glass as he pours himself one as well.

I take a small sip and my eyes widen as I glance at him as he casually drinks the beverage in hand. The warm burn of alcohol slides down my throat as I take another cautious sip. The caramel flavor is rich and full as the drink itself floats with the taste blending seamlessly. I make a quick sweeping hand motion to get his attention before stating, “This is the best drink I’ve ever had…” 

A small grin graces his face but it disappears as quickly as it came. "I'm glad, I wouldn't want to waste perfectly good alcohol on someone with no taste." He quickly saved himself under my radar as I continued sipping away at the exquisite-tasting drink. When I finish my glass Lucio offers to pour me another but I heavily decline. Don't want to end up tipsy if something bad happens. 

Glancing out into the wilderness my eyes watch the trees fly by. "Where exactly are we going?" He sits back, resting his arm on the top of the other seats, and crossing his legs over one another. “Charles is driving us to the main estate. You could say it’s used as a means of conversing between a place to sleep and work. I mainly work at the estate as well as sleep there. The caporegimes, my consigliere, and a few others sleep there as well.”

My eyes brow furrowed at the foreign names that roll off his tongue like if nothing, I don’t even know how to sign those. “What were those two words?” He looks at me confused for a second before he elaborates, “Caporegime and consigliere are both old Italian words. I have three caporegimes which you’ll meet them when we arrive and one consigliere. To make it easier on yourself you can just say, capo.” He mutters with blunt sarcasm but I know he did mean it. I didn’t know Italian and it was obvious. “Ajax works with weapons and the recruits, you’ll probably be visiting him a lot so learn not to get on his bad side,” Lucio grunts out in an aggravated tone. 

“Niccolò works in the stocks branch, making sure nobody is going out of budget and we’re all getting paid. Giovanni is the business branch of the mafia. He handles the shipments of incoming profit and orders things such as guns, ammunition, and a list of other things as well. You probably won’t see much of Niccolò, he stays in his office most of the time.”

“A consigliere is in other words my second-hand man, you’ll meet him soon enough.” The car starts to slow after he finally finishes his begrudging explanation. My eyes turn towards his window, peering out at the building before me. Deep within the mountains and forests of the small town lies knowingly a massive mansion. It was crafted in a log cabin style exterior and felt all around homier than expected.