THE MAFIA DON'S WOMAN

Proserpina Two years ago "Hey kid," said the voice from the other side of the hostel room, in the usual mocking tone that I had come to hate. I sighed as I looked at my roommate, Marianne Weston. A blonde with a figure like a model’s, tall and slim, who hated me for no reason that I could fathom. Except perhaps that I was so different from her. As always, she was lounging on her bed, looking like a million dollars, a joint dangling in her hand. * Right, let me introduce myself; I’m Proserpina Martinez, from a small town named Charleville, and I, had to scrape through to earn my scholarship to get into one of the best universities in the neighboring big city of Hollowford. My roommate’s parents were rich, and that would be an understatement. They fawned over their beautiful, spoilt daughter, lavishing her with presents that were ridiculously expensive, which she discarded as easily as used paper. Unlike the unabashedly lucky Ms Weston, I had never seen my father and did not know who he was; my mother had waltzed out of my life when I was three years old. She had gone on a date with a truck driver, promising to be back in a couple of hours. She never returned. The only thing wise thing she had done was to leave me with her sister, my Aunt Beth before she disappeared. So my uncle, Stan Lawford, a pillar of society, never made me forget what a burden I was and how lucky I was to have a roof over my head and food on my plate. Overwhelmed by guilt, I tried to ingratiate myself by taking on the majority of the chores in the house and was soon managing the cooking, for Aunt Beth had a large family with a new baby almost every year. I was not overly blessed in the looks department either; I was short and rounded, too busty, as my aunt used to sigh, and with my mane of dark chestnut hair, I knew I was no beauty. My mouth was too full, my brown eyes too large… Working odd jobs—waitressing, babysitting, anything and everything—I made the money for my bus ticket when I was sure of my scholarship. I had fled from Charleville after High School, with a scholarship, no less, which had left my sour uncle amazed. I had big dreams of getting into a job; my childhood fantasy had been of finding my mother and maybe my father too…? But with age comes maturity, and I soon figured that neither of them was ever going to return. * So I set off with my meager money and some cash, which Aunt Beth had furtively pressed into my hands, my eyes full of dreams. But the reality in the big city was a lot worse than I had expected. My roommate, Marianne, loathed me. She kept making snide remarks, although I had tried my best to be pleasant when I was allotted the room with her in the college hostel, eager to blend into this new world and make friends. She hated that I preferred to study, making it impossible for her to bring her string of boyfriends around and spend the night with them. Now I huddled on my bed, reading, trying to ignore her evil looks. I did not fit in with the other students either; with my rather limited and old wardrobe, I was often the butt of snide jokes, though I ignored them for the major part. Yet my roommate’s continued ridiculing of me stung me. That had been the norm all of last month, but this evening, she looked at me with a glint in her lovely blue eyes. “Wanna hang out with us this evening, Martinez?’ she drawled in her Texan twang. I sat up, my mouth falling open in shock. Later on, I kicked myself for not suspecting something. I should have guessed that she meant no good, but then I was just too glad to be accepted by her, for I was lonely and simply did not fit in. ’Yes,’ I said eagerly, and I saw the look of devilish glee on her face, which she quickly hid. That should have warned me, but I was too happy. ‘Then let’s get you dressed,’ she said, a sly smirk on her face, her eyes moving dismissively over my plump frame. "Uh, where are we going?’ I asked in a small voice, for I had no clothes in any way comparable to the Texan girl’s lavish wardrobe. She shrugged her shoulders and said mysteriously,’ Somewhere you have never been to, baby.’ * Seven hours later, we were before a large building, dark and foreboding, almost hidden away in an alley. As we stood before the large doors, I trembled. It was just the cold, I told myself, but I was terrified. A feeling of unease pervaded my body and I could not shake off the disquiet that had been with me all evening. My dress, or what there was of it, was a lacy red thing that barely covered my full breasts and clung to my wide hips lasciviously. It came up to mid-thigh but that was because it belonged to Marianne, who was a lot taller and slimmer than me. In fact, I had to squeeze into it! Marianne had done up my eyes and the smoky look made me look like a different person altogether, someone who was promising a lot… As for my mouth, she had colored it red—a soft, sultry red—and I shuddered. If Uncle Stan had to see me, he would drop dead with outrage, I thought, holding back a hysterical giggle. Swallowing, I said in a small voice, balancing precariously on my high heels, 'Ummm, just where are we, Marianne?’ “Shut the f*ck up,’ she hissed as she stepped up to the door and pounded on the massive knocker. The doors swung open, and a man with beefed-up muscles and gelled black hair scowled at us, his gaze softening as he looked at Marianne. ’We have a pass,’ she purred, and he blinked before nodding, his small eyes skimming over her proffered hand. His salacious eyes went over me, and I shrank, hating the look in his eyes; it made my skin crawl, but I moved forward, obediently following Marianne inside as the door slammed shut, closing out the world.