Mafioso (Part 1)

     Jane and I sat on a couple of high-backed chairs in the hall of Don Ventimiglia's Bel Air mansion, sharing an ashtray.  The hall was crowded with women, mafia wives, all gossiping with each other.  Jane and I mostly sat in silence, having run out of small talk to say to each other.  We didn't have much to say to the women present, either.  Introductions had been made, and that was it.  They already knew who I was anyway, I was the king of porn, the one with the drug habit.  Jane certainly intrigued them, but mutual attempts at conversation had gone nowhere.  There was no commonality: these women couldn't really relate to a blue-haired sixteen year old girl whose primary interests were (in no particular order) loud music, motorcycles, getting high on Ecstasy, and fucking.

Mafioso (Part 2)

     We entered the ballroom which was being used as a gathering space to a mood of consternation.  Don Ventimiglia, along with his chosen heir and the guest of honor of the night had all just....  Disappeared for a half hour.  No word to anybody.  When we returned, there was a lot of knowing nods and muttered gossip: of course the program is getting fucked up, Lenny The Punk is around.  I was considered a harbinger of chaos, someone who attracted trouble.  That goddamn Lenny, he's trouble looking for a place to happen.  Shot three times.  Goddamn dope fiend, too, him and his wife both.  They're hooked on crank, no wonder they're so damn crazy.  Why Angel Morelli recruited him is anybody's guess....  But he took a tiny porn studio down in San Diego and turned it into a powerhouse, so you can't say he's stupid.  Just crazy.

Mafioso (Part 3)

     I drove the Falcon back south solo, placing Jane rather unwillingly in the Fleetwood with Bekka.  The reason for this was simple: I was planning on breaking a shit-ton of traffic laws in an effort to test the limits of the new hot rod, and didn't want to set a bad example.  That, and if I got pulled over, I wanted it to be a short and simple exercise.  Jane was at the age where mouthing off to cops seems like a good idea.

Mafioso (Part 4)

     "So what are your plans for her?" Bekka asked me, as we got in the spa.
     I was dumbfounded.  "Wait, you're asking me?  You're the one who invited her up for a couple nights.  What are your plans?"
     Bekka pondered and said, "Well, it was definitely a Becky decision.  But shit, a tiny thing like her, living in her car in Ocean Beach?  Um....  Hey, I know.  We've talked about moving Rita up into being a performer.  That would leave us short one fluffer and script girl.  This chick claims to be a compulsive cocksucker, and so long as she's literate enough to read a script, she'd be fine.  She'd definitely be able to stop living in her car on $2000 a week, she could stay in the penthouse until she found a place, we could keep her high....  Yeah.  Call Rita tomorrow and tell her she's got the promotion."

Mafioso (Part 5)

     We took Dawn to Triplet's for brunch, where we insisted upon her making a pig of herself.  "I can see your damn ribs, girl," said Bekka.  "Fucking cigarettes and dope don't have any calories in them, they won't keep you alive.  Don't worry, with luck on Wednesday you'll be going to Safeway and buying some of your own groceries, and you'll have a kitchen to cook things in.
     Dawn started slow, but built momentum.  Over the course of brunch, she had waffles, eggs over easy, bacon, a ham steak, fresh melon, whole wheat toast with jam, two glasses of orange juice, three glasses of milk, and four vodka mimosas.  At first she was loath to order what she felt out of good manners, but we pressed her to have all of everything she wanted.  It was obvious even to the untrained eye she was malnourished, her using dope to kill her appetite and save on the expense of eating.