The Mafia's Girl

When I woke up this morning, I had felt something in the air shift. I am not usually one for premonitions or horoscopes and other unscientific things like this, but the moment I had opened my eyes, I had felt like today was the day my life was going to change forever. I think it was just birthday jitters. I turned twenty-two today. I felt strange. Twenty-two was a weird age. I had felt strange and old at twenty-one, but still hopeful for what was to come, but now I felt like life was running past me in 3x speed. My brother, Gabriel had laughed when I’d told him this, telling me that I was too young to be feeling like this. And maybe he was right, but I couldn’t shake off the feeling.

Nevertheless, I had gotten out of bed and made my way to work. I work at my father’s tattoo shop every day. He had taught me how to do them when I was around sixteen, and I do enjoy the work. Its relaxing, in a way. Gabriel makes fun of me for it, because he says I’m the furthest person from what people imagine as a tattoo artist. Apparently, I’m too ‘girly’ and it doesn’t help that I don’t have any tattoos of my own. Except the small rose tattoo all people affiliated to the mafia get when they are eighteen.

I’m sitting down in the shop, filling out a design on paper, when I hear someone walk in. Not a lot of people come in at this time, so I’m pleasantly surprised. I wasn’t expecting to be doing much work before noon, but it would be nice. I get up to invite the customer in, and see Capo Bastone walk in.

My breath catches in my throat. I’ve met him several times, now. He comes in a lot, because he has a lot of tattoos. I’ve done several of them. But I still feel the same way seeing him for the hundredth time as I did the first time I saw him – like I’ve got my whole heart in my mouth.

I am in love with Julian Dante Lionelli Montefiore Rivera.

I've been in love with him for ten years now. I think I loved him from the day I first looked at him. I was twelve. He was nineteen. Yes, it’s stupid. He’s older and powerful and so, so far away. I don’t think he’s ever even looked at me. And people don’t fall in love at twelve. Especially not with nineteen-year-olds. But God, when he'd walked into Papa's tattoo shop as if he owned that fucking place, as if he owned every fucking person in that room, I had swooned. Any twelve-year old girl would have. He had been so young then, hadn’t been made Capo Bastone yet, but still exuded the power and confidence of one. That is why he had been made so soon; I think. He was made for it. He was born for it.

There's something about Julian Rivera. He's got girls falling over at his feet. But then again, all the Riveras have that going for them.But Julian is... Julian. He's not Don, and he's not Consigliere, and he's not Nico, he's just... Julian. To me, at least. My attraction to him had never been about how he looked, or what his post in the family was. I loved him when I was younger because he had been nice to me, because he had owned the room and all the people in it, but he had still been so polite to me. I loved him still because I had never stopped. Over the years, we had become friends, in a way. We talked, sometimes. He told me about his life. I told him about mine.

He hadn’t noticed my existence until I was 16 and he was twenty-three. He'd come in on my birthday to get tattooed, and then graciously let me do my first ever tattoo on him. It was a small, simple one. Just two words written on the nape of his neck.

Ancora imparo.

It meant 'yet, I'm learning.'

I'd been too shy then to ask why he wanted to get that, and my hands had been shaking the entire time. In the end it had turned out alright. Julian had treated me to chocolate milkshake on the occasion.

I'd fallen even more in love than possible.

That had been his first tattoo after he'd gotten all his mafia symbols tattooed, and since, he's gotten a lot more. I've done all of them.

I even made him and his fiancée matching tattoos on their ankles. When they broke up, I covered his with another design. She'd cheated on him, and he'd cried that day - while I was trying to hide the original tattoo. When I'd asked him if it hurt, he'd just nodded. I don't think he meant physically, though. I had made his tattoo, and then I'd let him stay for a while. Sat with him while he wept. There had been no one else in the shop then, and I'd hugged him. That had been the turning point in our relationship. He confided in me now. Told me things about his life each time he came over.

Julian has always treated me like his little sister. I guess that's for the best. It keeps me grounded. If he ever flirted with me, I'd literally die. And seriously, there's no chance. He's underboss - 29-year-old mafia extraordinaire. I'm just plain old Ginny, the girl who does tattoos, daughter of an ex-soldier.

Julian has always been a distant dream to me. As I am sure he is to many other girls who grew up like me. Part of the mafia but away from it, watching their fathers and brothers from the sidelines, watching the Riveras from afar, knowing them but not knowing them. Julian will probably marry a pretty girl from another powerful family soon. She will be strong and beautiful and will complement him properly. They will have children who will grow up in power. This is how things work around here. And I am honestly happy to watch from afar, to dream of him when I go to bed each night.

“Ginevra.” Julian acknowledges me. I smile slowly. "Hi, Capo Bastone."

"Where's your father?" He questions, sitting down on a waiting couch. I remain standing, and he gestures with his hands for me to sit down.

"He's gone out with Gabriel. Do you need something? I can help you."

Julian purses his lips. "Never mind, Ginevra. I'll come by later." I love when he says my name. I love how it rolls off his tongue. I’ve always hated my name, and everyone else calls me Ginny, but not him. He always says my full, proper name. Ginevra.

He starts to stand up, he's going to leave, and me - being the fool I am, try to make him stay. "Do you want another tattoo?"

"No. If I wanted one, I'd have told you. You do all my tattoos, anyway."

I feel dumb now. I duck my head. "Yeah, that makes sense."

The front door chimes again, and this time, I know it's Nico, because he's singing the happy birthday song as he walks in. I don't think he notices Julian, because he walks right over to me and pulls me into a bear hug.

Nico is my best, and in many ways, my only friend. I speak to a few other people from school, and we hang out every once in a while, but Nico and I have been incredibly close since we were children. I met him first when I was eight and he was ten, and he had taken me under his wing. Nico is the son of Julian’s brother, the Consigliere. So technically, Julian is Nico’s uncle. But they are only apart in age by about six years.

"Can't breathe." I manage to squeak out. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Julian staring at the two of us.

Nico pulls back, and looks at Julian.

"Oh, hi, Dante." He says, and they do some kind of guy hug. Nico isn't part of the mafia. He chose not to walk in his father's footsteps. He did not want a life of crime, and instead owns a business. The mafia still does its illegal dealings through his business, though, so it isn’t that much different. But Nico isn’t involved in the dirty work, and he technically isn’t in the mafia, because he was never made.

"Is it your birthday?" Julian murmurs, "Happy birthday, Ginevra."

"Thanks." I manage to get out.

"Wait here, Ginny. I need to go get some stuff from the car." Nico tells me, and walks out.

I shift from feet to feet, avoiding Julian.

"How old are you, now?" He questions, suddenly.

"Twenty two, Capo Bastone."

Julian gives me a quick once over, when he looks back up at my eyes, the look on his face has changed. He nods swiftly. “I remembered you were eighteen. I was wrong, then.”

He takes a step towards me, and my breath hitches. Reaching out, Julian tucks a stray lock of hair behind my ear. "I'll see you, Ginevra."

Before I can react, he's walking out, and I'm watching his back, my breath caught in my throat.

I've never been this close to him before. Never felt his breath on my face like I did today. It felt surreal.

Nico walks back in with a bunch of balloons in one hand, and a bouquet in the other.

"Happy birthday, Ginny." He says, "I love you."

I take the flowers and balloons from him, grinning widely. "What are we doing, today?"

"I think breakfast at your favorite waffle place, then we'll go visit my parents and Zio Mariano, then I have a surprise for you. How does that sound?"

(Uncle)

"Sounds good!" I exclaim. "What's my surprise?"

Nico flicks my nose. "It's not gonna be a surprise if I tell you. Geez, Ginevra Lille Espocito, I thought hanging out with me would cure your dumbness."

I scowl. I hate it when someone uses my full name. I mean, what kind of name is Ginevra? Everyone calls me Ginny. That's who I am. Ginny.

"I'm not dumb. And I'm not Ginevra. It's Ginny.” I roll my eyes.

He ruffles my hair. “Sure, Ginevra.”