Sold to the Mafia

Tessa.

The clatter of ceramic on counters was the soundtrack of her life.

“Another coffee, Sal?” she asked, her voice hoarse from a twelve hour shift.

Sal grunted from behind the grill, flipping a burger. “And a slice of that cherry pie, sweetheart. The one you said looks like it could kill a man.”

She managed a weak smile. “This one just might.”

Her phone buzzed in her apron pocket. A frantic, angry vibration. She ignored it. It could only be one person.

The bell over the door jingled, but she didn’t look up. Another customer was just another order.

The phone buzzed again. And again. Relentless.

“You gonna get that?” Sal asked, sliding a plate onto the pass.

“It’s nothing.”

“Doesn’t sound like nothing, Tessa.”

With a sigh, she pulled the phone out. *PAPA*. Ten missed calls. Her heart sank. This was never good news.

She swiped to answer, pressing the phone to her ear. “Papa? What is it?”

“Tessa! Dio mio, Tessa, you have to help me.” His voice was a raw, panicked whisper.

“Papa, slow down. Where are you? Are you hurt?”

“They’re coming for me. They found me. I don’t have it, bambina. I don’t have the money.”

Her blood ran cold. The same old story, but the terror in his voice felt new. Sharper.

“What money? How much this time?” she asked, her voice dropping. She wiped the counter with a damp rag, a familiar, grounding motion.

“It’s too much. It’s not about the money anymore. I made a different deal.”

“What does that mean? What kind of deal?”

The bell over the door jingled again. This time she looked up.

Two men stepped inside. They were not diner customers. They wore immaculate black suits that probably cost more than her car. They moved with a predatory stillness that sucked the air out of the room.

“Papa, I have to go.”

“No! Tessa, listen to me. They know where you work. I’m so sorry. I thought I could win it back. I swear I did.”

One of the men met her gaze. His eyes were flat, like polished river stones. He gave a small, almost imperceptible nod to his companion. They took seats at the far end of the counter. They didn’t pick up menus.

“Who knows where I work, Papa?” she whispered, her back to them.

“They do, Tessa. The Cassano family.”

The name meant nothing to her, but the way he said it made the hairs on her arms stand up.

“I have to go,” she repeated, her throat tight.

“I love you, my daughter. Forgive me.” He hung up.

The dial tone hummed in her ear. She slowly lowered the phone, her hand trembling.

“Everything alright?” Sal asked, his brow furrowed with worry.

She forced a smile that felt like cracking glass. “Just my father. Being dramatic.”

She walked toward the two men, her order pad in her hand. Her feet felt like lead.

“What can I get for you gentlemen?”

The one who had met her eyes looked her up and down. It wasn't a flirtatious look. It was an appraisal. Like he was checking the quality of a piece of merchandise.

“We’re not hungry,” he said, his voice a low rumble.

“This is a diner,” she said, her voice steadier than she felt. “You order food or you leave.”

The second man chuckled, a dry, humorless sound. “We’re just waiting.”

“Waiting for what?”

“For you to finish your shift, Tessa,” the first one said.

Hearing her name from his lips felt like a violation. A cold dread seeped into her bones. How did they know her name?

Her shift crawled by. Every time she looked up, they were there. Watching. Silent. They never ordered. They just sat, two statues carved from shadows and menace.

The regulars noticed. The usual friendly chatter died down. People paid their bills and left quickly, casting nervous glances over their shoulders.

“Who are those guys?” Sal muttered, polishing a glass until it squeaked.

“I don’t know,” she lied.

“They give me the creeps. You want me to call someone?”

“No. It’s fine. I can handle it.”

But she couldn’t. She was terrified.

Finally, the clock on the wall hit midnight. Her shift was over.

“I’m heading out, Sal.”

“You sure you don’t want me to walk you to your car?” he offered, his eyes flicking towards the men.

“I’ll be okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She untied her apron and hung it on the hook. She grabbed her worn jacket and purse, trying not to look at the two men. But she could feel their eyes on her back as she pushed open the door and stepped into the cool night air.

Her car was parked two blocks away. She always took the shortcut down the alley behind the diner. It was faster. Tonight, it felt stupid. Dangerous.

She hesitated on the sidewalk, the flickering neon sign of the diner casting a red glow on the pavement. She could walk the long way, under the streetlights.

But a spark of defiance flickered inside her. She wouldn’t let them scare her. She was just a waitress. What could they possibly want with her?

She turned and plunged into the darkness of the alley. The stench of stale beer and garbage filled her nostrils. Her footsteps echoed off the brick walls.

She was halfway through when two shadows detached from the deeper darkness ahead. They blocked her path.

It was them.

She spun around, ready to run back to the street. A third figure blocked the entrance. She was trapped.

“Please,” she said, her voice shaking. “I don’t have any money. Whatever my father owes you, I can’t pay it.”

The first man stepped closer, the faint light from the street glinting off his polished shoes. “We know.”

“He doesn’t have anything either. He’s a sick man. He has a gambling problem.”

“Oh, we’re well aware of Lorenzo’s problems,” the second man said, his tone mocking.

“Then you know you’re wasting your time. You can’t get blood from a stone.”

The first man was in front of her now. He was so close she could smell the expensive cologne on his suit.

“Your father sends his regards,” he said softly.

“A debt has been called, Tessa.”

“I told you, I can’t pay it.” A desperate sob caught in her throat. “Take my car. It’s not much, but it’s all I have.”

The man almost looked pitiful. “He didn’t offer money, sweetheart.”

Her mind raced, trying to understand. What else was there? What else could her father possibly offer that they would want?

Then the memory of his panicked voice on the phone hit her. *I made a different deal.*

The man smiled, a cruel, sharp thing that didn't reach his eyes.

“He offered you.”

The world tilted. The grimy brick walls of the alley seemed to close in, squeezing the air from her lungs. She wasn't just a waitress anymore. She was collateral. She was the debt. And they were here to collect.