“What exactly do you do at the ‘warehouse’?” she asked, ending with air quotes.
I chuckled at her innocent humor.
“Regular warehouses are to store goods to be sold, right? Mafia warehouses are similar to those. Just more of a collaboration of sorts. The warehouse serves as the office, storehouse, meeting ground, and sometimes, detention area.”
“So what do you store? I mean, I know it’s all guns and violence in the Mafia world, but I have no idea what they buy and sell. And look at you, you’re like super rich. People don’t just get paid for shooting a few people.”
“Violence is just a part of the business by default. We engage in trades that are considered too risky for others, even governments.”
“Like hard drugs?” she inquired, amazement crossing her features.
I nodded. “Among other things.”
“Wow.”
“You don’t seem scared or repulsed,” I commented.
“Should I be? My husband is the boss of the organization, after all.”
It had to be the first time she called me her husband. It almost made me giddy.
“True. We should get you started on learning to shoot soon.”
“Wh…what? I never said I was that bold!”
Her shocked retort made me want to laugh.
“Of course, baby. I was joking,” I revealed.
“It’s hard to imagine you joking,” she dropped before asking. “Do you ever do anything for fun?”
“Yes. I play chess. I also do a bit of music whenever I have the time,” I disclosed, my tone casual.
“Chess…that’s fitting. Could a game be more boring? Two people just move plastic dolls around, no scoreboard, no fast movement, no sound. It’s depressing.”
“Nobody ever analyzed chess to me that way.”
“Your men are all like you. I’m sure they like it as much as you do.”
“Valid point.”
“Do you…like this life? I mean, if you could make a choice, if you had a chance to choose, would you still want to be a Mafia boss?”
“It’s quite hard to tell since I’ve never had much of a choice. But what I know is this: I’ve worked so hard to earn my authority and respect. I have brothers who would kill for me. I wouldn’t trade that for anything.”
She nodded slowly.
“But I can want more,” I added.
“I guess. Besides, I wasn’t expecting a less profound answer from someone who plays chess for fun.”
“Baby, what do you have against chess?”
Her smile faltered a bit before it reappeared.
“I told you already. It’s boring. And depressing.”
“What doyoudo for fun?” I questioned.
