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Subject: {ASSM} Cinderella 2.5 by Rachael Ross (Fantasy, Incest, Non-Sexual Violence)
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Date: Tue, 03 Feb 2009 10:10:03 -0500
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	A Cinderella Story
	Copyright 2007-2009 Severe Productions Ltd. All rights reserved.
	Intended for adults only. rache696@yahoo.com

Note: For those of you keeping score in other places, this is chapter
16 in the Cinderella novel (as posted on SOL) in other places (Like
ASSM) it is Cinderella 2.5 and falls between Book 2 and Book 3 as a
largely housekeeping chapter. Thanks. -rr


	=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

	A Cinderella Story
	By T.S.Severe

	Cinderella 2.5




    Mr. Goethe rarely visited me on location, at least not if it was
outside Europe. He ran my career from his offices in New York and
Paris mostly and the only time I really saw him was if something big
was going on, like the Fashion awards the previous March. He'd show up
for that stuff, but some shoot at the bottom of Australia? His
presence was proof of how serious the deal with Wolfgang and Eva
really was.

    "Where are they now?" Mr. Goethe asked me, crossing his long legs
and wearing a patient smile.

    "They said they wanted to go for a run," I replied with a hopeful
smile. I'd been doing a lot of that. Smiling hopefully, I mean.

    Sometimes talking to Mr. Goethe felt a lot like talking to my dad
when I'd been a teenager. I didn't really mind though, I'd loved my
dad a lot and he'd died much too young. Still...I was nervous and the
man had taken the news pretty well, which surprised me. It was almost
as if he'd already known about Wolfgang and Eva, or at least suspected
something. Mr. Goethe had that quality, like he knew everything.

    "I see," he nodded slowly and that didn't tell me much.

    "So..." I lifted my hands. "Can I keep them?"

    Sofia was with us, sitting in my suite at the Saint Vincent, a
very old and prestigious hotel in Adelaide. She was pretending to
update her diary in her new Inspiron-Mini. I'd gotten it for her
twenty-seventh birthday, that and a pair of gorgeous diamond and
sapphire earrings, because giving a girl a computer? I wasn't that
silly, even though I knew the little netbook was what she really
wanted. A woman wants to be spoiled and Sofia deserved it.

    "Did you do a background check?" Mr. Goethe asked Sofia, knowing
she had. Mr. Goethe was big on formality though and he wanted the
report so we'd all know exactly what we were talking about.

    "Another one, you mean? Yeah," she said, looking up at the man. "I
hired an agency in Berlin. They couldn't find anything incriminating.
Wolfgang's father died in prison, which could be mildly embarrassing.
They found Eva's mother, but only because I told them where to look,
there's no direct ties there. Nobody in the German government has ever
heard of Eva. The Federal Police insist that Wolfgang resigned for
personal reasons and have nothing but good things to say about his
service. And the banker in Munich is quite sure they were in his
employ for the last three years. They're legally married. Paid their
taxes. And...That's it."

    "I see." Mr. Goethe smiled thinly and I narrowed my eyes,
wondering what that meant. I hated it when he said that. 

    "I'm keeping them," I decided, knowing it really wasn't my
decision. I never made any decisions, not when it came to my career
and like it or not, Wolfgang and his sister were a part of the
internationally famous commercial enterprise known as Cindy.

    "Yes," Mr. Goethe agreed bluntly. "Very well."

    "Really?" I stared at him and Sofia blinked in surprise. She was
obviously expecting a different answer, or at least a little more
discussion on the subject.

    "They're good for you," Mr. Goethe said. "Now let's talk about New
York..."

    "What about New York?" I frowned, suddenly suspicious that Mr.
Goethe had agreed only because he wanted something in return.

    "You may have three weeks," he said, lifting his chin so he could
look down his nose as he flipped pages in his old fashioned
appointment calendar. He liked that pose a lot, I thought.

    "Shiseido wants you in Tokyo on the twenty-third for the
Monogatari show," Sofia explained. 

    "I'm supposed to get a month!" I said, looking between him and
Sofia, my manager and my assistant respectively. They always ganged up
on me!

    "A month is too long," Mr. Goethe looked at me with his dark eyes.

    "But you promised!" I reminded him. "You guys said I could have a
month off. I'm not going to stupid Tokyo!"

    "Cindy," Sofia gave me a disbelieving smile. "Monogatari is a big
deal. Prince Naruhito and his wife are hosting the show."

    "We can't refuse," Mr. Goethe said. "It would be an insult. They
wouldn't understand."

    "I don't understand," I pouted, sounding like a little girl.

    "Three weeks is a nice vacation. Come on," Sofia said gently,
reaching for my shoulders and giving me a little rub. "You're going to
have a good time. They love you in Japan."

    "They love me in New York too."

    "Bring Jaan with you," she suggested, looking for ways to make me
feel better. "He's probably never been to Tokyo."

    "Do I really have to?" I asked them. "I can't say I'm sick or
something?"

    "You want me to write you a note?" Sofia teased me. "Please excuse
Cindy from the big fashion show today, she has a tummy ache?"

    "Would ya, Mom?" I giggled despite myself. "Alright. Fine. But
those three weeks better be good. No celphones allowed, right?"

    "You didn't tell her?" Mr. Goethe asked and Sofia looked suddenly
guilty.

    "Tell me what?" I asked, losing my smile.

    "You have a couple appointments," Sofia said slowly. "I was going
to mention it, but..."

    "Appointments? You mean work?" I stared at her. "I'm gonna be on
vacation!"

    "I should be going now," Mr. Goethe cleared his throat, closing
his notes. "I have a flight to Paris in the morning. Call me if you
have any problems."

    "Coward." I frowned at him and that drew a smile.

    "Don't worry. You're going to like it," Sofia promised me after
Mr. Goethe kissed my cheek and left the room.

    "No, I'm not," I predicted, watching as the petite blonde played
with her electronic organizer.

		=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

    "Heya," Jaan said from the backseat of the limousine. He was tall
and well-built, ash blonde and tanned, and pretty damn gorgeous in a
pair of jeans, thick brown sweater, and generous smile.

    "Hi," I replied, pausing for just a second before Sofia was giving
me a push to get inside.

    After two full days with the guy, we were getting pretty
comfortable with each other. Jaan was just starting out, like I'd been
a year before, and at first he'd been pretty shy, which is a rarity
for South Africans, believe me. I guess because I was so successful,
but at first I'd thought it was because he was interested in me and
wasn't sure how to show it. Anyway, his shyness didn't last long and
now, on the third and last day of our shoot, he was pretty much over
it.

    "Hop'ya dind mine me forkin' yer ride," the man said with a grin.
"Me limo brook down."

    "Forkin'?" I giggled and shrugged and got comfortable beside him.
"I don't mind."

    Jaan was from South Africa, a professional surfer turned model,
and I'd taken a real liking to him. He liked me too, but in a sort of
friendly, platonic way since he was decidedly gay. Not in an obvious
way though, he wasn't some limp-wristed fag, mind you; Jaan was queer
the way Rock Hudson had been. Nobody would ever guess until they
really got to know him and right then, sitting in the back of that
limo with him, I still hadn't figured it out. I'm not exactly swift
when it comes to picking up signals anyway and like I said, Jaan was
really good at staying in the closet. He had Sofia fooled too, believe
me.

    I'd never met Jaan before, but I'd seen his picture. He was one of
the poster boys for Guess, being just twenty years old and sexy in a
Grecian youth sort of way. That had been his big break and they liked
to pose him topless, showing off Jaan's smooth chest and broad
shoulders, that surfer physique he had. Jaan had quiet blue eyes too,
sadly blue, and a natural pout that wasn't effeminate, but just...sexy.
Yeah, I'd seen his pictures and I was trying to hook up with the man,
being between boyfriends like I was. Everyone said we looked good
together too, which was why we were doing the shoot. Strange as it
sounds, sometimes even the most attractive people don't work well with
each other for some reason. Probably that elusive "chemistry" thing
everyone talks about. Whatever it was, me and Jaan definitely had it
though.

    And now it was me and Jaan working our magic with a whole bunch of
grape vines, or maybe just grapes, I wasn't sure. We'd been in the
studio for two days, now we were going to the Barossa Valley for the
outdoor portion of the shoot. Some Australian wine company was paying
me all kinds of money for three days work, so I didn't care. I'd pose
wherever they told me to. I was easy that way, unlike a lot of models
who could get pretty demanding once they got real famous. That was one
reason I was so popular, or so Mr. Goethe and Sofia claimed, because I
was so easy to work with. Photographers loved me. Blah Blah Blah...
Sometimes I thought it would have been better to say no once in
awhile.

    "I have the questions from FHM," Sofia said, smiling eagerly as if
that was something special. She was so weird sometimes.

    "The what from the who?" I blinked at her, leaning forward to pour
myself a tomato juice from the bar.

    "FHM magazine?" Sofia reminded me. "The one you posed for a couple
weeks ago?"

    "Oh those frat guys?" I laughed and Jaan gave me a curious smile.
"That was the dumbest shoot of my life. What do they want?"

    "They have some questions," Sofia said. "For the magazine. You
ready?"

    "Whatever," I shrugged and looked at the Aussie. "You ever posed
for FHM?"

    "Nah," he said with a shake of her head. "I didda pose fer Plygirl
once."

    "Really?" I asked him and then frowned when I realized he was
teasing me. "Playboy keeps asking me, but..."

    "We keep saying no," Sofia finished for me. "Are you ready?"

    "Yeah, go ahead," I replied, thinking there wasn't all that much
difference between FHM and Playboy except nipples.

    "Where are you now?"

    "What do you mean?"

    "That's the first question," Sofia grinned at me. "Come on. They
like to play this twenty question stuff."

    "I gotta answer twenty stupid questions?" I stared at her and Jaan
laughed. "Okay, fine...I'm in a limo with two hot blondes."

    I looked at the man and shrugged while Sofia typed my answer on
her tiny keyboard. I have no idea how she could use that thing!

    "What?" I stuck out my tongue. "You guys are hot."

    "Number seven...Hey!" Sofia narrowed her eyes at me five minutes
later and I was already bored.

    "Hmmm?" I wondered, sorta leaning against Jaan, just because he
felt really good. "Do you want to have dinner with me tonight?"

    "Dinah? I dunno," he gave me a little shrug. "Got me mites whiten
up in Sidney, yeah?"

    "Seven." Sofia insisted. "Um...What's the dumbest thing you've ever
done?"

    "Posed for FHM," I said without taking my eyes off Jaan. He had a
seriously cute giggle. Maybe it was his accent. "Your mates are
waiting? Come on," I sighed. "It's our last day. We gotta have a wrap
party. Its tradition."

    "That's what you want to say?" Sofia asked me and I shrugged.

    "Sure. Why not?" I glanced at the girl.

    "You side dinah," Jaan grinned at me as I translated his words
slowly.

    "Great," Sofia sighed. "What kind of guy turns you on?"

    "Oh God," I snorted and then gave Jaan an unmistakable look.
"South African guys."

    "Ya dunna loik Austrilyan guys?" Blaine asked me with that pouting
smile of his.

    "Australians?" I giggled. "South African guys and Australian
girls. That's what turns me on."

    "You can't say that," Sofia decided.

    "Why? It's a stupid question for a stupid magazine," I said. "Go
ahead. Send it to them."

    "Cindy announces her bisexuality?" Sofia shook her head at me. "Is
that what you want? Cause that'll be the cover."

    "And then I won't get to sell bibles anymore, right?" I rolled my
eyes. "Okay, fine. I like, um...I like a man who knows how to make me
breakfast. Better?"

    "Much," Sofia replied, but a little sarcastically, I thought.

    "Brikefest in bed, eh?" Jaan asked me.

    "Heh! Can you cook?" I wondered, thinking that it wouldn't matter
in the least. I'd eat him for breakfast, if I could ever talk the guy
into bed with me. It was getting a little frustrating.

    "Jaan, honey...Just get on the piano...Right on top...Joy, help him
out..." George, the photographer was giving directions. We were posing
with a full sized Steinway grand piano, brought in especially for the
shoot and plopped down in the middle of the vineyard.

    It was cold too, being winter in South Australia. The grapes were
all fake, and this goes to show how serious these people are and how
totally bullshit fashion modeling is sometimes. Fake vines, fake
grapes, a huge piano, and a beautiful woman in a red evening gown
freezing my ass off, all just so they could sell more wine. At least
Jaan got to wear a tuxedo.

    "I can play chop sticks," I said with a grin for the man, playing
with the piano while I sat there just to keep from getting frostbite
in my fingers.

    "Kin ya ply Light Me Fire?" he replied with a grin and I swear,
Jaan's accent was even thicker than that. He was from the South
African veld, deep in the bush, as he liked to say. A real country
boy, and I think he grew up hunting cape buffalo before he moved to
the beach and learned to surf.

    For this round of pictures, I was sitting at the piano like I
really could play it, since everyone knows supermodels can do
anything, and I had to gaze lovingly at Jaan while he lay all
infatuated just above me and held a glass of red wine. The idea, the
slogan was "Turn your world upside down" since Australia was the land
down under and all, so they had us switch traditional places. He was
kinda sexy up there, so I didn't mind.

    Sounds easy, right? Try two hours later and George was still
moving us around, looking for the shot he liked. I was giving Sofia a
look too, like this was the last fucking time I was ever working with
this guy! I'm pretty sure she was thinking the same thing. That's work
though and looking beautiful and sexy and trying to express a sort of
romantic lust without being obvious...Blah! What was the point?

    "Never again," I sang softly as I let Sofia wrap a long, warm coat
around me.

    "I know," she sang right back and we looked at each other, almost
giggling. Sofia always cheered me up, even when I didn't want her to.

		=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

    Sometimes a girl just has to take matters into her own hands, if
you'll forgive the expression, and after three days of seeing and
especially liking Jaan a lot...I'd kinda had enough of the modest
waiting.

    "Hey," I said, giggling softly as I walked into the master bath of
the vineyard manor. It was a big house, like a plantation house, and
we were using it to clean up and change after the shoot.

    "Shite!" Jaan practically jumped two feet in the air. "Uhhh..." He
blinked at me through the clear glass of the shower door and he had
something in hand as well.

    "How come you don't like me?" I asked him, standing there in a
rich, terry cloth bathrobe I'd borrowed. I had my arms crossed and I
was staring at his dark, thick cock...Until he turned quickly around,
then I was staring at his perfectly chiseled ass. I didn't mind.

    "Ya dinna rispect me privacy," he said, grinning at me over his
shoulder.

    "You don't like girls?" I asked him, finally and completely
figuring it out. George, the photographer, was a serious pussy and he
obviously knew something about Jaan that I didn't. Watching them work
together, it had become sorta obvious that they'd hooked up at least
once before.

    "Nuthin' personal bout it," he answered with a shrug and he was
probably thinking this was the weirdest conversation of his life. I
know I was.

    "Maybe you just haven't met the right girl yet," I said with a
grin, untying the sash around my waist.

    "I dunna think..." he stopped talking as I let my bathrobe go.

    Watching the man take a shower, that hot water spraying across his
muscular shoulders and back, running down his bronzed skin...I was warm
all over, inside and out, and my girlish cock was as hard as she'd
ever been. I reached down, letting Jaan get a real good look at me as
I ran a hand over my stomach and then my cock. I pressed it down and
let it go, so that my erection sprang back up with a soft slapping
sound as it found my soft tummy.

    "Let me in, little piggy..." I breathed, licking my lips and sliding
the shower door open. "I wanna huff...and puff...and blow you..."

    Jaan didn't say anything, he just blinked at me as I got in the
shower with him. I was going straight to my knees for him, tired of
fucking around with the boy. If nothing else, being a supermodel had
definitely spoiled me and I wasn't used to begging for anything. A
little humility was probably good for me and Jaan's cock was worth
chasing. He wasn't terribly long, six or seven inches maybe, and that
hardly matters anyway, but thick? Hmmm...I couldn't get my fingers
around the man, seriously, and I was trying!

    I was squeezing Jaan's cock tightly, pulling him close as I opened
my mouth for the swollen head. He might have been a total fag, and I
certainly had a penis and balls, but I wasn't a boy. Jaan could
believe whatever he wanted though, I didn't really care. People get
hung up on appearances and ignore what's going on inside a person and
I wasn't above using that to my advantage, not in this case. Whatever
Jaan might have thought of my gorgeous face and perfect body, it was
my one defect that was turning the man on.

    Weird the way that works.

    "Mmmphhh..." I moaned with satisfaction around Jaan's erection as I
worked my lips along the shaft. He was fully aroused now, stretching
my mouth wide as I took half of his prick across my wriggling tongue.
My hands were on his thighs, sliding up to find his hard ass, his
cheeks flexing as Jaan was thrusting gently into my mouth. His fingers
were in my hair, holding my head as he watched me sucking his cock.

    It was almost amusing if I stopped to think about it. Here he was,
getting head from the most beautiful woman in the world, and Jaan
didn't really care about that. Millions of men dreamt of doing what he
was doing, fucking the most famous face on the planet, but I could see
his eyes fixed lower than that. Jaan was tilting his head, wanting to
see my own erection, swollen pink and hairless above my smooth sexy
balls. I kept my legs spread, just for him, letting Jaan see my cock
as it jutted eagerly between my feminine thighs. Most guys wanted to
see my eyes while I sucked their cocks, but not him and it was vaguely
disappointing.

    Jaan wasn't long in cumming though, which made me feel a little
better about myself anyway. He was getting off on me, maybe not all of
me and not all at once, but the newness of the situation, the surprise
of finding out that my "enlarged clitoris" was something more than
just that, was exciting for him. That's as much as I'd hoped for and I
was enjoying myself anyway.

    God! He had a great cock, solid as a rock and covered with soft
skin. He was circumcised, which was okay, but I kinda wished he
wasn't. I like guys with foreskin, just because it's sexy as hell for
some reason. I like playing with it, but cut is okay too and I was
tickling Jaan's piss hole with the tip of my tongue every chance I
got. He seemed to really like that and I would pull my mouth off,
flicking my tongue across the smooth glans rapidly for several seconds
at a time. I licked and kissed the length of him, pressing my nose and
mouth against his large, hairy balls. I fingered his asshole gently,
working a wet finger inside Jaan's rectum and feeling the man shiver
with that small pleasure.

    I was giving him a good blowjob, a sloppy one too as my mouth
filled with saliva and precum. I was working the sticky mess along the
shaft with my face, not using my hands at all, but just letting Jaan's
prick ride across my chin and cheeks. He had one of those cocks that
stand straight out, horizontal and perfect for playing with. I let him
guide me, moving my mouth where he wanted it, letting him push his
penis between my bee stung lips over and over. Near the end he was
just fucking me, holding my head with both hands and pulling me onto
his cock so that I was gagging and choking every now and again, my
cheeks bulging outward with every weak cough, but I didn't try to stop
him.

    "Ah Chroist!" he gasped finally, holding me tight with his
cockhead right at the back of my mouth.

    He let loose with a series of rapid spurts, filling me too quickly
with a flood of hot cum. It was like the dam had burst and I don't
think I've ever been with a guy who came that much, that fast. I
swallowed as much as I could, but it was hopeless and Jaan's creamy
load spurted out of the corners of my mouth, spilling down my chin as
the shower tried to wash it away.

    I held a mouthful at the end, pulling away and pursing my lips
tightly. My own cock was aching almost painfully and inside my belly,
I was a desperate knot of female desire. The familiar sensation of
being ready for real sex, of having someone make love to me was
unmistakable. It was different than what I'd felt as Robert, a
yearning that was less physical than it was emotional. I didn't just
want sex, although that was obviously a big part of it, I wanted the
experience of being with another person. That was what got me off, the
emotional give and take until we couldn't tell ourselves apart. That
was what I needed.

    "Ummmphh..." Jaan sighed and he didn't refuse my gift at all.

    I was standing up, rocking my hardness against his own still
swollen member, and pressing my lips to his. The man had probably
never kissed a woman in his life, not a real kiss, but now he was
getting the full ride. He didn't wait for it either. Jaan was holding
me tightly, finding my pert, round ass with one hand while the other
went around my shoulders. His tongue went into my cum-filled mouth and
we snowballed for a long two minutes probably, swapping his semen
between us eagerly.

    His cock was rubbing mine, stabbing into my tummy while I moved my
hips, grinding myself against him. My girlish penis was pushing into
his balls, that soft sack hanging between his legs, and I could feel
him around the sensitive head of my penis. We were fucking like that,
making out and hunching our bodies together. He was so good at it, so
generous with his tongue and tender with his kisses. I felt like I was
melting in Jaan's mouth and my nipples were burning against the man's
chest. My heart thumped and stuttered and I was breathing his soft
groans, offering him my own.

    Jaan made me cum, with a deep throated moan and a flutter of my
eyelids. The moment exploded out of my belly, filling my blood with
the ecstasy of it. My cock strained for a brief moment, teasing me
with anticipation, and then jerked beneath Jaan's heavy prick,
spraying my orgasm against his balls and thighs. I was trembling and
nearly falling suddenly as my legs grew weak, but he was holding me
against him, giving me the strength I needed as my orgasm stole my
senses completely.

    When I came down from that wonderful high, Jaan was smiling at me.
The water was turning cool and he was turning it off. He didn't say
anything and I was giggling, giddy from my orgasm which had been much
more intense than any mere ejaculation. I knew what he wanted, what we
both wanted, and I nodded my head as he opened the shower door. He was
going to fuck me now, throw me on some stranger's bed and make love to
me, and I was happy. I had a new boyfriend and life was good.

		=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

    "Is it daytime in Paris yet?" I asked Sofia from the bathtub where
I was soaking. It was like a little Jacuzzi built for two, but I was
all alone in it, enjoying the hot spray as the water bubbled around
me.

    "It's about four in the morning," Sofia said, popping her head
around the open door. "Why?"

    "I need you to talk to Allen," I told her. 

    "We're ten hours ahead, so about eleven tonight he should be in
his office," she explained. "What's up?"

    "Come in and close the door," I told her and Sofia made a little
face. "In fact...get naked too. Come on, this tub is huge."

    "Cindy," she protested weakly. "I'm waiting for a call from Los
Angeles."

    "Ah!" I waved that away. "They'll call back. Hurry up. I need to
talk to you."

    "Talk huh?" Sophia looked at me doubtfully, but she started
unbuttoning her blouse just the same.

    I smiled as I watched my assistant undress. She was so small all
over, just a couple inches over five feet tall and still nice and tan
after our Hawaiian vacation and the SI shoot the month before. I knew
Sofia was conscious of her narrow hips and smallish breasts, but she
shouldn't have been. I always went for that look and it was one of the
reasons I found her so attractive. She was pretty in the face, with
her green eyes and tiny dimples, but it was her tomboy body I loved.

    "You're growing your hair back?" I asked her as Sofia climbed into
the tub with me.

    "Thinking about it," she giggled, pausing so we could both look at
her pussy. "It itches though. What do you think?"

    "Shave it," I told her, reaching for the soft swell of her pubis
and feeling the prickly little hairs trying to grow back. "You look
better that way."

    "Hmmm..." She shrugged and sat down in the water, facing me as I
spread my legs. "You don't think it makes me look like a little girl?"

    "No!" I laughed, but maybe it did. Sorta. I didn't think about her
that way though. I mean, she was twenty-seven and Sofia definitely
didn't act like anything but a grown woman.

    "Okay." She smiled at me. "I'll shave later then. Just for you."

    "Heh!" I stuck my tongue out at her.

    "So..." Sofia asked, now that she was in the tub with me and
wondering why. She wet her hands and pulled her golden hair back from
her face, the water making it darker.

    "Get ahold of Allen tonight and tell him to look for two million
dollars," I said quietly, even though we were completely alone. "It'll
be coming..."

    "Two million?" Sofia blinked at me. She didn't need to ask where
it came from, of course, I'd told her everything back in Tahiti.

    "...from a bank in the Cayman Islands, so he needs to lose it in the
books. Make it look like it came from someplace other than thin air,
you know?"

    "Uh, how's he going to do that?" Sofia wondered.

    "He's the best accountant in Paris, right?" I gave her a little
grin. "That's what you guys keep telling me, now he can prove it."

    "But..."

    "Don't worry," I reassured her. "It's really easy; he'll know what
to do. If he asks, tell him I don't mind paying taxes, okay? That'll
make it super easy. He can say the Japanese gave it to me or
whatever."

    "Alright," Sofia agreed. "You're going to be the highest paid
model in the world after this."

    "Really? That's cool. It all has to be legal though, that's the
thing," I sorta explained. "After he gets it cleaned up, I want him to
send it to New York, through Mr. Goethe's offices."

    "What do you need two million dollars for?" Sofia asked me. 

    "I want to buy an apartment," I shrugged. "So see if you can find
a realtor or something. I don't want to spend a long time looking;
just something nice in Manhattan that I can move into right away."

    "Okay," Sofia said with a smile. "That's a lot of apartment."

    "Heh!" I stuck out my tongue. "I'm not spending it all on that.
Find a lawyer and get it fixed so Wolfgang and Eva can carry guns."

    "Guns?" My assistant's smile went away quickly.

    "Yeah. They're my bodyguards and so...get them licensed and
registered and all that stuff," I said. "Get a really good lawyer too,
someone who can get it done fast, right?"

    "I don't know if that's even possible..." Sofia was frowning.
"They're not American citizens."

    "Yeah, but I am," I said with a giggle. "All kinds of bodyguards
carry guns. They already have permits for half of Europe anyway;
getting one for the States shouldn't be that hard."

    "I'll find out," Sofia agreed, somewhat reluctantly. 

    Wolfgang and Eva hardly ever carried guns, but I wasn't
exaggerating. They had weapon permits for France, Italy, Spain, even
England. Why would the United States be any different? All kinds of
famous people got killed there. In South America, like if I did a
photo shoot in Venezuela or someplace? My bodyguards had to be armed
because it was in my insurance policy, the one in case I was
kidnapped. I wasn't supposed to know I had one of those, but I'd
overheard Sofia and Mr. Goethe talking about it before. We didn't go
down there very often.

    "Anything else?" Sofia asked me.

    "Mmmm...Yeah, call your parents," I said with a smile, but I was
totally serious too.

    "Why?"

    "Because I want you to go home for awhile," I told her. "For at
least a week. Don't argue..." I held up my hand as Sofia opened her
mouth. "Find seven days straight, go back to Connecticut and take a
break."

    "But I want to stay with you," Sofia protested, like I knew she
would.

    "It's a vacation, remember?" I shook my head. "I know you. You'll
spend all three weeks making sure I'm happy..."

    "So?"

    "So, I want you to take a week off," I said. "More than that, if
you can. You haven't seen your family in a year probably."

    "We'll see," Sofia sighed, but I could tell she wasn't thrilled
with the idea. That girl was a serious workaholic.

		=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

    "I see you've been to Lebanon recently," the woman said, a plump
black woman flipping through my passport and punching her keyboard.

    "I was in Iceland too," I agreed, wincing at Sofia's elbow in my
ribs. I hated going through immigration. "I was working. I'm a model."

    "I know who you are," the woman gave me a funny look and held up
my passport. "Welcome home, Cindy. Next..."

    I had to wait for Sofia and then for Wolfgang and Eva to catch up
with me. It was pretty obvious who I was, I suppose. My passport had a
single name on it, Cindy, since I had no middle or last name. My wrap
around sunglasses weren't much of a disguise either and even dressing
down in comfortable jeans, a rich angora sweater, and my red cowboy
boots didn't hide who I was. A lot of people stared at me, other
passengers arriving in New York, but after a ten hour flight from
Athens nobody was in much of a mood to bother me and I was grateful
for that.

    "Are you okay?" Sofia asked me and I nodded.

    "Yeah," I replied. "I'm just a little...I don't know."

    I didn't want to tell her I was frightened, because I wasn't
really sure if that's what it was. I was nervous though, excited too,
like I always was when I came back home. This time was different
though. I wasn't back for just a little vacation. I was here to find
out what had happened to Evelyn; to find out why Mike had died. To
settle my past once and for all. I didn't know exactly what I was
doing, or how to go about it, but I had to do something. Bad things
had happened to good people, what was I gonna do about it?

    Eva and Wolfgang were finally able to do something they were paid
to do, making a path through the crowded airport for me. I think they
enjoyed it, actually, and mostly it was just a matter of being polite
and nudging people out of the way. New Yorkers pride themselves on
being immune to fame anyway, at least some of them do. When I went
someplace like Tokyo the people there went a little crazy, but New
York was cool as a cucumber with the odd exception here and there.

    "Cindy! It's her!" some girl shrieked, definitely not a New
Yorker, and she was digging in her purse, probably for a pen or maybe
a little camera.

    "Step back, ja?" Eva caught the woman gently, but firmly.
"Please..."

    "But I want an autograph..." blah blah blah...

    I definitely wasn't in the mood for that stuff. Not at nine in the
morning after spending two days on airplanes crossing half the planet.
After Australia we'd been in China for a week, then on to Dubai,
Lebanon, and finally Greece. I'd been working my butt off, believe me.
Global exposure, Mr. Goethe called it. A recent phenomenon brought on
by technology, emerging markets in places like China and India, and
the vast appetite of humanity for a common experience. I tried to
ignore that stuff. 

    It didn't help that my picture was all over the stupid airport
either. JFK has these big, backlit advertisements on the walls and so
every now and then I'd have to walk past one of me. Thankfully, I
didn't really look like some of those pictures. I mean, by the time
the make-up was on, and I was dressed in some outrageous dress, and
the graphic artists touched up the photo and adjusted the colors and
all that...It was really artwork, not photography. But other pictures
looked exactly like me. That was always weird.

    "Wow," Sofia said, nodding towards one of the advertisements.
"That turned out nice."

    "Huh." I smiled at the big De Beers advertisement, like ten feet
high and three feet wide. It was the picture of me posing in their
diamond dress. I looked like a goddess; raven haired Venus clothed in
stars, gazing down on humanity with a mixture of sexual promise and
immortal disdain. It was probably one of the best photo shoots I'd
ever done and I was rather frightened by it for some reason. People
shouldn't look like that, and they don't. But I did, for that one day,
and now I would forever.

    "Dress her in diamonds," Sofia read the words aloud and I rolled
my eyes. 

    "Yeah." I laughed, trying to play it down. "If you're Bill Gates
maybe."

    "Picture of the year," Sofia predicted and I ignored her. She was
probably right though and De Beers was floating that ad campaign
everywhere on the planet.

    "Sofia, over here." Melissa smiled at us as we exited the main
terminal. "Hi Cindy."

    "Hi Melissa." I smiled back at the woman. 

    She was one of Mr. Goethe's office managers, like a vice-president
sorta, and Melissa was the one who ran his New York office. His
management company had a lot of clients, and a number of agents to
take care of them, but from the day I'd walked into his offices, Mr.
Goethe had taken care of me personally. I wasn't sure why and I know
it had puzzled some of his staff, but a year later I was paying off in
a big way. Melissa and the others just chalked it up to Mr. Goethe's
amazing instincts, but I always wondered if he hadn't bumped into my
fairy godmother, you know?

    Melissa was in her forties and attractive in a no-nonsense kind of
way. Tall and dressed in a nice suit, with her short black hair
running to gray. I was kind of surprised that she was meeting us, but
I shouldn't have been. She probably figured my ego would be bruised if
she'd sent one of her secretaries or something. I really didn't know
her very well since I didn't really do a lot of work in the States.
Most of my modeling was done in Europe. Sofia knew her though and they
kinda spoke their own secret language sometimes.

    "Melissa," Sofia nodded at her. "Did you get everything?"

    "Yeah," the woman said, walking with us now. "It's in the car.
This way..."

    "What's that?" I wondered.

    "All the stuff you asked for," Sofia answered, smiling at the look
on my face. "Back in Australia? Three weeks ago?"

    "Oh." I shrugged. "Yeah, I remember. I just thought you were still
working on it."

    "She always underestimates me," Sofia said to Melissa and they
shared a smile. "Did you have any problems?"

    "The weapon permits and concealed carry was a pain," Melissa told
us. "But only because of the rush. I have some forms for your people
to sign."

    "My people?" I giggled, but Melissa didn't really know Eva and
Wolfgang at all, so...

    "Yeah. The lawyers will get the paperwork filed tomorrow," Melissa
said with a nod and abruptly changed the subject. "I took the liberty
of scheduling some showings over the next couple days, I hope that's
okay."

    "Showings?" I asked her, and I hated these kinds of conversations.
I felt like a little kid sometimes.

    "Apartments," Melissa said. "Upper East Side is going for about
350 a square foot right now, so...This isn't an investment, right? I
mean, if you're looking to make money in real estate..."

    "No," I shook my head. "I want something to keep. For me, you
know. Nothing too big."

    "She's looking for about 3000 square feet," Sofia told her and
this was all news to me. I hadn't really worried over the details,
mostly because I'd been pretty busy working.

    "That's what I got from your emails," Melissa agreed. "So you're
spending about a million, maybe a little more depending on the
extras."

    "A million...dollars? For an apartment?" I rolled my eyes, thinking
maybe I should have done a little research before deciding to buy
property in one of the most expensive neighborhoods in the world.

    "The listings are in the car," Melissa agreed. "Do you need to
claim your luggage?"

    "No," Sofia replied. "Wolfgang and Eva will get our bags and meet
us at the hotel."

    Once we were comfortably in the limousine and on our way out of
the airport, Melissa was opening her thin briefcase. She was all
business and I smiled at Sofia, but she didn't notice. My assistant
already had her own briefcase open and was dialing someone on her
celphone while her netbook was booting up. Melissa was Sofia in twenty
years, I thought and while I'm sure both women were happy with their
professional success, I couldn't help but wonder about their private
lives. From what I understood, the only long-term relationship Melissa
had ever shared was with her cat.

    "Okay, this came through from Allen..." Melissa was holding a large
envelope and she gave it to Sofia who just handed it to me. My
assistant was busy talking just then.

    "...just got in," Sofia was saying. "I understand. I want to set up
a call. What time is...Okay...Wait, I'll check..."

    I had no idea what that was about, I never did, and so I tuned it
out as I looked inside the unsealed envelope.

    "Two million," Melissa told me. "He was going to do a wire
transfer, but Sofia didn't specify how you wanted it, so Allen used a
courier and..."

    "This is fine," I agreed with a smile, looking at two bank drafts,
each for one million dollars USD drawn against the Banque Nationale de
Paris. 

    "I just need you to sign for them," Melissa told me, almost
apologetically. "You must have gotten some serious contracts, Cindy.
What's Mr. Goethe got you doing?"    "Oh, I don't know," I shrugged.
"I just smile when they tell me to."

    "Do you have the file from Vincent?" Sofia asked, closing her
phone and taking the envelope from me.

    "Mr. Dearborn? Yes, it's right here." Melissa nodded.

    "Who's Vincent?" I asked Sofia as Melissa retrieved a folder for
Sofia.

    "The Make-A-Wish people," Sofia told me, opening the folder and
then handing it to me, or spreading it out across my thighs, really.

    "Make-A-Wish?" I narrowed my eyes and looked down at thin sheaf of
papers with a photograph on top. I pulled the picture out from under
the paperclip. 

    "That's Angie," Sofia told me. "And let's see..." She found a dog-
eared envelope in her briefcase, stamped and postmarked from New York
to Paris and then to Australia. "This is her letter."

    "What's wrong with her?" I asked, still looking at the photo. She
looked about ten years old, I thought, but it was hard to tell because
the girl didn't have any hair. She was wearing a rainbow bandana
around her head and smiling, but her brown eyes looked old, tired
maybe.

    "She has chronic myelocytic leukemia," Sofia told me, unfolding
the letter so I could read it.

    "I don't know what that is," I sighed, taking the letter from
Sofia's hand. 

    Dear Cindy, My name is Angie Myers and I'm thirteen. I saw you on
the TV and I collect your pictures from magazines. You're the most
beautiful woman in the world and I like you a lot, but not just
because you're pretty. You always smile and have fun with people. I
want to be a model like you, but I can't because I have cancer. It's
okay though, since I can look at you and it makes me happy. I'm your
biggest fan and I hope it's okay I wrote you a letter like this. It
isn't very long because I'm kind of tired today. Can you send me a
picture, please? Just a little one is okay.

    Yours truly, Angie

    "When did you get this?" I asked Sofia.

    "In Australia," she replied.

    "I took a call from Vincent Dearborn about a month ago," Melissa
said. "He's the regional director for the Make-A-Wish people. He asked
me for a point of contact and I gave him the New York address."

    "They want to know if you'll come by and meet Angie," Sofia said.
"Spend an afternoon with her and..."

    "Why didn't you tell me about this before?" I bit my bottom lip,
looking at the girl's picture again.

    "We couldn't do anything about it until we got here," Sofia told
me. "I know how you get, Cindy. Worrying about it wouldn't help. You
were working."

    "You should have told me," I sighed. "This is the work you were
talking about?"

    "Yeah," Sofia nodded. "I'm trying to get Seventeen interested. I
talked to one of the assistant editors over there, but..."

    "Seventeen? What's your plan?" I asked, knowing the girl had one.
Sofia always did and there was no question that I was going to visit
Angie, we just had to make it special.

    "I was, uh...thinking we could get her on the cover," Sofia said
hesitantly and Melissa blinked at my serious blonde friend.

    "Seventeen isn't going to put a cancer patient on the cover," the
older woman stated flatly.

    "That would be great," I said to Sofia, nodding my head and
smiling. "God! Who can we get? Did you call Carla?"

    "Not yet," Sofia said, grinning back at me and Melissa probably
thought we were crazy. That was pure Sofia though, she went for the
top everytime and sometimes over the top, but I liked that about her. 

    "We need her and a designer, um...Who's that guy at Gucci?" I
frowned, trying to think.

    "You want Gucci? I was thinking Christian Lacroix..."

    "For a thirteen year old?" Melissa made a face, and at least tried
to get enthusiastic. She worked for me, after all. "How about Bella
Pollen? She just opened a new boutique on Fifth Avenue."

    "Isn't she in London?" Sofia wondered.

    "Yeah, but she's got a couple kids working here," Melissa said.
"They're really good."

    "Can we steal one for a couple days?" I asked her and Melissa
shrugged.

    "I think I can pull some strings," she replied with a smile. "I
need the dates as soon as possible though."

    "Tell them what it's for," Sofia said. "If they still want to be
paid..."

    "I'll cover it," I told both of them. "You guys set everything up,
okay? Can I talk to this Dearborn guy?"

    "Yeah," Sofia nodded. "I'll get him on the phone for you."

    "No." I shook my head. "Like in person. Is he in town?"

    "I don't know," Sofia answered. "I'll find out. You want to have
lunch with him?"

    "Yeah," I said with a shrug. "Or dinner, him and his wife or
whatever. I just want to meet him, okay?"

    "Sure," Sofia agreed. "I might need you to talk with Seventeen."

    "Just tell them I'll do two covers and a layout, free of charge,"
I said. "Whatever they want, as long as Angie gets a cover."

    "That's asking too much," Melissa said. "They're not going to go
that far. You can get an article, some nice shots inside, but..."

    "Me and her then," I said. "I'll do the cover with her."

    "Hmmm..." Melissa frowned and even Sofia didn't look to sure about
it anymore, even though it was her idea. Melissa lived and breathed
with these people. She'd know what was possible and what wasn't, and a
kid with cancer probably wasn't, you know?

    "We'll try, right?" I asked them. "Look. Tell them if they don't
do it, we'll call someone else. Tell them I'll call Oprah and
Seventeen will be the magazine that doesn't care about little girls
dying of cancer."

    "They're not going to like it if you play that game," Melissa
warned me. "Seventeen has some clout, Cindy."

    "Nobody wants Oprah on their ass," Sofia grinned at me.

    "So do we, right?" I looked at Melissa and then softened. "They're
gonna go for it anyway. It's August already, so they can get us on the
cover for Christmas. Who wouldn't go for that?"

    "Yeah, maybe..." Melissa took a deep breath. 

    "I'm calling them back after lunch," Sofia said and she gave
Melissa a reassuring smile. "I'll talk to them nice."

    "Great," Melissa rolled her eyes. "So if you're the good cop..."

    "Yeah," Sofia laughed. "You're the bad cop. We have to keep Cindy
out of it."

    "That's why they invented agents," Melissa shrugged. "Okay. Just
don't make me do anything I'll regret later. I have to live here, you
know?"

    "Thanks Melissa." I smiled at her and then looked at Angie's
picture again.

    Her file was thin, just some background really. I frowned as I
looked through it during the long drive from the airport to Manhattan.
Midmorning traffic was bad, as usual, but it did give me some time.
Angie Myers was all alone, living in New York Children's Hospital.
She'd been diagnosed almost six years before with leukemia and Angie
had already beaten the odds just by surviving that long, but another
year was out of the question. There was nothing in there but bad news.

    The little girl was dying a slow, painful death and I closed my
eyes, wondering what God's problem was.

		=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

    "I want to keep Sofia out of this," I said, looking at Wolfgang
and Eva as we sat in my suite at the Trump Plaza. 

    "She already suspects," Wolfgang said slowly. "After what you've
told us and..."

    "I know," I agreed. "But I don't want her involved, so..."

    "Ja," Eva nodded. "We understand."

    "I'm going to meet Baron Carlisle tomorrow at the bank," I
explained. "You guys come with me, get a look at him..."

    "We're going to need some support." Wolfgang pursed his lips,
looking at his sister and they spoke in German for a moment.

    "What kind of support?" I asked them, thinking that was an odd
word to use. "You mean money? I'll give you two hundred fifty
thousand, is that enough?"

    "We need a contact," Wolfgang said. "Someone who can arrange
things."

    "What sort of things?" I really had no idea what they would need.

    "The bad things," Eva smiled. "Do you know of the bad man?"

    "You mean like a criminal?" I bit my bottom lip, thinking hard for
a moment.

    "We're going to need surveillance equipment, weapons," Wolfgang
told me. "Information...That's the most important thing. Someone who
knows the city, knows the right people."

    "Right people," I nodded. "Um...Yeah. I think I know somebody like
that."

    "Ja?" Eva smiled, perhaps not really believing me and I grinned at
her.

    "I have to find him though," I said with a nod, looking at my bare
wrist. I'd been taking a bath. "But yeah...What time is it?"

    "Just after two," Wolfgang answered.

    "Okay." I started to stand, pulling my bathrobe around my body.
"Let me get changed and we'll go."

    "We will go where?" Eva asked.

    "Brooklyn," I said with a grin. "I hope you guys like Italian
food."

    I dressed quickly while my two bodyguards waited, digging through
my suitcases until I found what I was looking for. I pulled on a pair
of old hipsters I hadn't worn in over a year, the supple leather
fitting me as well as it had that distant afternoon when Evelyn had
picked them out for me. The top too, my informal corset with laces
front and back. I'd kept those clothes with me everywhere I went,
looking at them occasionally, but never putting them back on until
now. I was home finally, for more than just a day or two and the trip
to Bensonhurst was going to be a journey through time as much as
anything else.

    "Your home is here?" Eva wondered forty minutes later, pulling her
platinum hair from her eyes as we stood on the sidewalk. 

    She was wearing a linen suit, casual and black of course, like her
brother's. Low heels and a short, tailored skirt to show of her
wonderfully long, toned legs. Her blazer was unbuttoned, as was
Wolfgang's coat. August in New York is always stifling with the heat,
but my friends were taking it well. I was kind of dying, actually.
Traveling as much as I did offered little time to get used to any
particular climate and it was a wonder I didn't catch a cold, which is
a common complaint for anyone on the constant move. I never got sick
though, not even a sniffle, and that was both a little weird and a
real luxury.

    "I lived down there," I said with a nod, pointing at the stairs
leading to the basement apartment where Mike had put me up for some
two months. "Come on, let's go in here for a minute."

    "Cindy!" a large, round man said after a full ten seconds of
staring at me. He was wearing a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up
and a red checkered apron over that.

    "Hi, Mr. Generro," I smiled back at him. "Smells good in here."

    He embraced me, naturally, and I let the man kiss my cheek. We
didn't know each other very well, but I'd lived beneath his bakery and
Mr. Generro knew me. He was older, in his fifties, and he had two sons
working for him. One of them opened a bottle of wine for us, while the
other gathered a tray of bread and rolls, the really tasty sort laden
with cheese and spiced sausages. 

    We sat together, him and me, while Wolfgang and Eva sat patiently
at another table. The younger Generro brothers, who were in their
twenties, hovered behind a large glass counter, watching me and
whispering. A few people had come into the bakery, ostensibly to buy
bread, but they weren't leaving and I knew we had to speak quickly,
before a real crowd gathered to see the celebrity who was visiting
their modest neighborhood.

    "Yes, I heard about Michael." Mr. Generro frowned. "He was very
unhappy after you left."

    "I'm sorry." I frowned too.

    "No, you don't have to be," the man said. "You have your own life,
he had his."

    "Yeah," I cleared my throat, feeling empty down in my gut. 

    A lot of memories were flooding back and most of them were bad. I
was remembering the times I was angry with Mike, how I'd lied to him.
How I'd pushed him away. Everytime he'd wanted to get close to me I'd
felt guilty. I'd rejected his love, even when I'd let him make love to
me. I hadn't given Mike what he'd needed. I'd left him hurt and alone
and as much as I wished I hadn't, looking back I could still find no
other way. It wasn't fair.

    "Did, um..." I reached into my handbag and pulled out the letter,
the one with the newspaper clipping in it. "Did you send this?"

    "No," Mr. Generro replied after looking at it. He gave me an
apologetic smile, "Perhaps I should have written you. I'm sorry I
didn't think of it."

    "It's okay," I said, taking the envelope back. "I was just
curious. Um...I want to find a friend of Mike's..."

    "He didn't have a lot of friends," Mr. Generro shrugged. "Who are
you looking for?"

    "A man named..." I leaned closer across the table, "...Frankie. Mike
told me that he kinda, I don't know, takes care of the neighborhood?"

    "Ahhh..." The man sat back, rubbing his ample belly slowly.

    "Mike did him a favor once," I said quietly.

    "And you want a favor in return?" Mr. Generro asked me. "I don't
think that's what Mike would want, Cindy."

    "I just want to ask him about the letter," I lied and the old
baker knew it, I could tell. "Please?"

    "Frankie Graziano, that's the guy you're looking for," Mr. Generro
finally said, with obvious reluctance.

    "Where would I find Mr. Graziano?"

    "The Frontier Club," he answered. "It's on Colombo Boulevard."

    "Thanks." I smiled at him, but Mr. Generro only sighed.

    Cristoforo Colombo Boulevard was a wide street, packed shoulder to
shoulder with small businesses, restaurants and grocers, tailoring and
bakeries. There were a lot of colorful decorations going up for the
approaching Santa Rosalia Festival which is held at the end of August
every year. Saint Rosalia is the patron saint of Palermo and a lot of
people in Bensonhurst were of Sicilian heritage. The atmosphere was
subdued and normal, but in a few weeks it would be a real carnival and
thousands of people would come from all over New York to take part in
the "Feast" as it was known locally.

    It had taken us almost forty minutes to cover three and half
miles, mostly because we had to lose a couple guys with cameras. The
paparazzi were onto me and that was annoying, but only a couple and
Wolfgang paid the taxi driver a hundred extra for following his
directions. He might not have been a native New Yorker, but the man
knew some tricks when it came to losing a tail. Wolfgang had me
seriously confused, the driver too, but somehow we came out of the
wrong end of a one way street alive and alone and sprinting through a
red light. It was kind of exciting, actually.

    "Mr. Graziano?" I smiled at the man. He was sitting alone at a
table, reading a newspaper and drinking iced tea, it looked like. 

    Not far away and sitting at the bar, a couple other men were
looking at us. They were younger, wearing leather jackets despite the
heat, and their eyes were narrow and suspicious. This was a small
tavern, a neighborhood place, and we were strangers and the atmosphere
was a little chilly.

    "You're that broad on the billboard," one of the guys at the bar
suddenly lit up, smiling at me and snapping his fingers.

    "Shit!" his friend nodded in agreement. "That's her. Fuck yeah!"

    "I knew I seen her around!" The first guy was laughing and Mr.
Graziano shot them a look.

    "Tommy," he said. "Shut the fuck up."

    "Uh..." I cleared my throat. "Mr. Graziano, I'm..."

    "I know who you are," he said in a surprisingly gentle voice. "I
guess you got that note, huh?"

    "Note?" I blinked at him and I touched my purse without realizing
it. "The newspaper clipping. You sent it?"

    "Sit down," the man said, folding his newspaper. "Tommy, make
yourself useful and get the lady something to drink. Iced tea?" He
looked at me and I nodded. "A couple glasses of iced tea, Tommy."

    "Sure, Frankie," the young man replied, getting off his barstool.

    "Thank you," I said, taking a seat at his table.

    "I don't know your friends though," Frankie narrowed his dark
brown eyes. He had black hair, neatly combed and a swarthy complexion,
deeply lined with his sixty some years. He looked healthy though, real
calm and confident too. Mr. Graziano looked like it really was his
neighborhood, or at least this small corner of it.

    "They're with me," I told him and then realized how stupid that
probably sounded. "I mean, they work for me."

    "Sure." He shrugged, looking kind of bored with that answer. He
was making a real show of being unimpressed with me and in that way he
reminded me of Mr. Goethe. They shared that same sense of immunity to
what people looked like on the outside, but nobody is totally immune
as I well knew. We're all human by nature.

    "Why did you send me the clipping?" I asked him and in all honesty
I'd been pretty sure that Gloria had sent it to me. She was the only
one I could think of who would have a reason, certainly not this man.
I'd never even met him before.

    "I thought you guys had a thing," he said and I almost smiled at
that.

    "You knew about me?"

    "It's a small neighborhood." Frankie smiled. "I know about
everything. Yo! Tommy, where's that tea? We're dying out here," he
said loudly over his shoulder and looked back at me. "My sister's kid.
You know."

    "Sure," I nodded. 

    "Helluva thing, what Mikey done," the man sighed, but he was
watching me closely. "He was a good boy."

    "Yeah," I agreed and then Tommy was putting a glass of tea on the
table for me.

    "What about them?" Tommy looked at Eva and Wolfgang who had sat
down in a booth and were watching us.

    "They're alright," I said. "Not big tea drinkers."

    "Yeah, whatever," the young man shrugged, getting an eyeful as he
looked down my top.

    "So?" Frankie looked at me.

    "Mike did some, uh...work, for you," I said slowly. "Cleaning up the
neighborhood." I paused, but Frankie just stared at me. "I was with
him when that pimp, the one with the gold tooth? When Mike...you know..."

    "You was with Mike?" Frankie asked me and I nodded.

    "Yeah," I replied. "He told me you were the one who asked him for
the favor."

    "Hmph." The man crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back,
pursing his lips as he looked at me. "You ain't shakin' me down here,
are ya?"

    "What? No," I said quickly. "Nothing like that. All I know is
you're a man who likes his pasta."

    "Heh!" That brought a sharp laugh and the old man's eyes softened
noticeable as he smiled at me. "Mikey musta told you that, huh?"

    "That's what he said," I nodded, smiling back and feeling my tummy
all knotted up.

    "Okay," Frankie agreed. "What are you lookin' for?"

    "I got my own neighborhood I want to clean up," I said softly,
leaning forward and looking into the man's eyes. "I just need a little
help. Some tools, some information, that's all. I can pay for it."

    "Uhhh..." He looked ready to laugh again, but maybe the look in my
eyes stopped him. "You're serious, ain't ya?"

    "Yeah," I said.

    "You know what you're doing? You know what you're asking for?"
Frankie asked me.

    "No," I admitted. "But my friends do."

    "That's your crew, huh?" Frankie looked past me for a second, his
experienced eyes taking in Eva and Wolfgang as they sat there. 

    Apparently Frankie was happy with what he saw, giving a small
grunt that I took for approval and asking me nothing else about them.
I wondered if my two bodyguards looked as dangerous to a man like
Frankie as they really were and I think they probably did. People like
that, the real predators, can recognize each other more easily than
other, regular people can...Or so Wolfgang had tried to explain to me
once. A guy like Frankie had probably spent his whole life recognizing
danger when he saw it and I was a little relieved that he was taking
me seriously.

    "Let's say I do this thing, whatever it is we're talking about
here..." Frankie said. "What's in it for me?"

    "I can pay," I told him, and then I had a better idea suddenly.
"But that's not what this is about, is it? Mike didn't kill himself,
did he?"

    Frankie narrowed his eyes and I knew I was right.

    "And you don't know who did it," I said. "Right here in your
neighborhood. That's why you sent me the clipping, cause you had
nowhere else to look."

    "I knew Mike Cicero since he was born," Frankie said slowly. "He
had reasons, God knows, but he was a tough son of a bitch. He wouldn't
wanna go that way, not Mikey."

    "I know," I told him. "Help my friends get what they need and when
I find out who did it, you'll be the first to know."

    Frankie looked at me for a long minute and I waited, feeling my
heart going fast and trying not to show it.

    "You know, if this gets out...You could be in a lot of trouble,"
Frankie said. "Pretty girl like you. I'd hate to see that happen."

    "You shakin' me down, Mr. Graziano?" I gave him my best, knee
buckling smile and he reddened noticeably.

    "No," he said. "I'm just saying..."

    "I know," I agreed. "But I owe my friends. I owe Mike. Nothing
else really matters, does it?"

    "Huh." The man nodded appreciatively. "Where's your family from?"

    "My family?" I shrugged, not understanding what he was asking me
at first.

    "You sound like you got a little Sicilian in ya," Frankie said
with a chuckle and I laughed lightly, taking the compliment with a
little nod of my head..

    "Could be," I said. "Have we got a deal?"

    "Yeah." Frankie held out his hand. "We got a deal."





End of Cinderella 2.5
rache696@yahoo.com

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