“Well … .” Landon looked to me for help.
Michael was a mobster. That could mean he had his fingers in a great many of nefarious pies. I latched onto the first one that passed through my mind. “Drugs. You want him to pick up a … bag of drugs, right?”
Landon’s expression was incredulous. “A bag of drugs?”
“You know I don’t run drugs, darling,” Michael admonished. “My brother died from a drug overdose, and I’ve sworn off the practice. How could you forget that?”
“Oh, well, that’s a terrible story,” Clove offered. “I think it’s great that you don’t run drugs. Drugs are terrible. They rip apart families and break hearts.”
“How do you know?” Thistle challenged.
Clove’s eyes flashed. “I’ve seen it on television.”
“Right.”
“Maybe it’s a prostitute,” Sam suggested. “Mobsters run prostitution rings, right?”
The look Michael scorched Sam with was straight out of a Francis Ford Coppola movie. “My sister was tricked into prostitution by an older man who took advantage of her. She died after taking the wrong trick to a bad hotel. I do not engage in prostitution.”
Sam swallowed hard at the expression on Michael’s face. “Good to know.”
Landon sighed to silence them. “So the thing isn’t drugs or prostitution. I’m guessing it’s stolen goods then. Do I need to pick up a shipment or something?”
“Stolen goods?” Michael made a tsking sound, disappointment positively rolling off of him. “I would never deal in stolen goods. I believe in being honorable. You don’t steal things if you’re honorable. Besides, I had a brother who was killed during a home invasion robbery. I honor his legacy by not dealing in stolen goods.”
“It sounds dangerous to be one of your siblings,” Thistle noted.
“It is dangerous to be in this world,” Michael corrected.
“So if we’re not dealing with stolen goods or drugs, how about garbage contracts?” Landon suggested.
“Garbage contracts?” Sam wrinkled his nose. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“Everyone knows that garbage companies are full of mobsters,” Thistle supplied.
“That’s true.” Clove was somber. “We saw it on television the other night. A lot of politicians are losing their jobs down south because they were bribed by garbage contractors.”
“Oh, well, that’s just … a smelly thought,” Sam complained.
“It’s not garbage contracts.” Michael’s agitation was beginning to show. “You know what the thing is. I’m not telling you in front of a group of people … especially my lawyer.”
“Of course not.” Landon clenched his fists. “Okay. Fine. I’ll get the thing.”
“Great.” Michael’s smile was back in place. “While you’re doing that … .” He reached out his fingers and touched the hem of my shirt. “I missed you last night, my darling. I have some time free this morning if you would like to get … reacquainted.” Michael offered a saucy wink that turned my stomach. He was handsome, in a disarming way, and the dimple was utterly adorable. He made me queasy, though. Plus, well, he was extremely touchy-feely.
“Oh, well, I have an appointment,” I lied, searching my mind for something to offer that he would buy.
“A photo shoot?”
I was understandably confused. “Photo shoot?”
“You’re a model,” Thistle reminded me. “I’m guessing that’s what you do, just sit around and pose for photos.”
That didn’t sound terrible. “Right. Um, yeah. I have a photo shoot.”
“Why do you get to be a model?” Clove complained. “I always thought I should be the one to be a model.”
“You’re not even five feet tall,” Thistle shot back. “You can’t be a model. You’re a miniature horse instead of a giraffe. That’s not how it works.”
Clove balked. “I could be a great model. I could do it professionally.”
“You’re a stripper,” Michael offered. “That’s close to a model.”
“Don’t bring that up,” Clove warned. “I’m offended that Aunt Tillie would even include that tidbit in her horrible game.”
I didn’t blame Clove. She really had gotten an “out there” story. In the grand scheme of things, I’d gotten off light.
“I’m going to my photo shoot,” I said. “I’ll be back … later.”
“That’s fine.” Michael had seemingly moved on from his determination to spend quiet (or maybe not so quiet) married time with me. “I have very important meetings at the warehouse.”
“That’s good.” Landon forced a smile for Michael’s benefit. “You should definitely go to the warehouse. Just out of curiosity, what do you house in the warehouse if you don’t run drugs or stolen goods?”
“You know.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Yes, you do.”
“No, I don’t.”
Landon flicked his eyes to me. “This world makes no sense. What kind of mobster doesn’t do anything illegal yet calls himself a mobster?”
I shrugged. “How should I know? I don’t even know what a real mobster does.”
“He kills people like Jimmy Hoffa,” Clove replied.
“Oh, well, that answers that question.” I pressed the heel of my hand to my forehead. This world was already tiresome, and figuring out the rules was daunting. “Let’s just get out of here. We’ll go find the thing and go on from there.”
“I thought you were going to a photo shoot,” Michael challenged.
“I am. You must have misheard me.”
“Oh, it happens.” Michael leaned forward and pinched my butt a second time, causing me to yelp. “I already miss you.”
Landon was unbelievably close to losing his temper. “Don’t do that again!”
“She’s my wife,” Michael fired back. “I can do whatever I want to her.”
“No, you can’t. In fact … .”
Marcus put a hand on Landon’s chest to keep him from throwing himself at Michael. “You’ll be playing into Aunt Tillie’s game if you do that. She expects you to pick a fight. Let’s get out of here. We’ll find the thing and take a look around. We need to explore if we’re going to figure out how to get out of here.”
Landon’s chest heaved as he debated the logic behind Marcus’ words. Finally he blew out a sigh. “Fine. If he does it again, though, I’m totally breaking his hand.”
“If he does it again, I’ll help you.”
Michael, who was doing a bang-up job of pretending he wasn’t listening, reached out with his hand, causing me to shrink back from his busy fingers, but Thistle wisely slapped it away.
“You are the dumbest mobster ever,” Thistle said. “How did you even get the job?”
Michael pointed at his dimples. “You wouldn’t believe what these can accomplish.”
“Well, at least you know who you are.”
“And we need to know where we’re going,” Landon said. “Let’s get out of here. I don’t ever want to see this house again.”
So let me get this straight … she’s pregnant with twins, but they each have different fathers? This sort of smut shouldn’t be allowed on television. I warned you girls about doing stuff like this, right? It’s how you get a reputation … and not a good one like I have. This is demented. It’s wrong. It’s so stupid. It’s … who is he? He’s hot. I like him. This show is absolutely wonderful.
– Twila on soap ethics
Five
“I don’t like that guy.”
Landon clutched my hand so tightly as we left the mansion that I thought he might break off my fingers.
“Oh, suck it up, big guy,” Thistle chided. “We have bigger things to worry about than your testosterone-fueled ego.”
Landon shot her a dark look. “Excuse me?”
Thistle refused to back down. “You heard me. You don’t seem to understand how soap operas work, and that’s a detriment to us in this world. You need to get with the program.”
“He pinched her butt … twice!”
“Like Bay hasn’t had her butt pinched in the real world,” Thistle argued. “You need to let it go. We have other things to worry about.”
“Like what?”
“You saw the footage reel,” I interjected. “Aunt Tillie wanted us to see it. She wanted us to understand the rules.”