A Little Time (a novella)

A Little Time 300What would happen if a Mafia boss sent one of his best, most loyal men to escort his future wife from Phoenix to Atlanta via Cadillac? A man she specifically requested? Come along on a quick trip across the country as Joseph “Joey Bones” Salerno drives Vera, Big Frankie Mostrello’s intended, from Phoenix to Atlanta the long way around… at Vera’s request. If you enjoy the Brooklyn attitude, you’ll enjoy this story.

Search Tags: mafia, loyalty, road trip, phoenix, atlanta, new york city, romance

Below is an excerpt from the beginning of A Little Time.

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a brief excerpt from the beginning of A Little Time

He went around the car, got in, and started the engine. “So we’re off, eh? So begins the trip,” he said, and grinned. He got no response, so he put the gearshift in reverse.

Still reclining and without looking at him, as the back tires of the Caddy bumped down out of her driveway, she said, “Which way you plannin’ to go?”

He’d been waiting for that question. The night before at the hotel, he’d looked online to find the best route to Atlanta. “Oh, yeah. I did a little bit of research, y’know? I thought we might stop for lunch up in Flagstaff. We’ll take Interstate 40 most’a the way, but we gotta get up to it first.”

He grinned, certain she’d be pleased that he’d preplanned the trip.

Her Brooklyn accent crackled. “No.” It was the kind of No that began with the tongue pressed a couple of seconds too long against the back of the top teeth. The extended N drove the word home.

His grin disappeared and his eyebrows arched again. “No?” He edged the Caddy over next to the curb and stopped.

“No. I wanna take Interstate 10. It’s the southern route. I got a friend down in Louisiana. If she’s around, I might wanna stop and visit.”

Without raising her head from the seat she gestured lazily through the windshield. “See that stop sign up there? Take a left there. Drive a couple miles and you’ll go through an underpass. Then go left, up onto I-10 East. That’s all there is to it, okay?”

“Sure. Sure, if that’s what you want.”

She sat up as if she’d been hit with electricity, took off her sunglasses and looked at him. “Okay, you gonna keep askin’ me that every time I say somethin’? Should we just put my answer on a freakin’ tape recorder a’ready?

“Look, when I say somethin’, anything at all, how about you just assume it’s what I want? ‘Cause if it wasn’t what I want, I would’n have wasted my breath sayin’ it. See how that works?

“So let’s you an’ me just agree that when I say somethin’, it’s what I want. Okay? Save us a lot of time, a’right?”

Joey stared at her. What did she say? He’d never seen such a mouth, especially on a woman.

If she was a man, she’d already be bleeding from both ears and at least one eye would be lying on her cheek. She’d also be cupping her nuts with both hands and lying in the fetal position inside the locked trunk.

He wanted to smile at the thought, but he only nodded. “Sure, sure.”

“Good. Now, we’ll take Interstate 10 all the way across Arizona, New Mexico, Texas and Louisiana to Baton Rouge. We’ll take 12 over to New Orleans, then back on 10 to Mobile, then run up 65 an’ then 85 to Atlanta and my lovin’ fiancé. Now, you good with all that or I need to go over it again?”

“Sure. I mean, no problem. But are you sure? I mean, I ain’t arguin’, but I’m just sayin’, we go 40, that’s the shortest route an’ even that’s gonna take five days.”

“Five days? Whaddayou, a rocket man? If I wanted fast, I’d’a took the private jet. We ain’t gettin’ anywhere in five days, Joey Bones.”

Her sunglasses were still dangling from her right hand, and she was flipping them around. “I mean, are you kiddin’ me with that or what? This is like my last blast, Joey. This is like the ultimate road trip.”

She looked out the passenger side window and lapsed into a welcome silence for a long moment.

Finally she gestured with her right hand. It reminded Joey of Captain Jean Luc Picard about to say Engage. Only she said, “Let’s just go, okay?”

“Sure. Sure.”

Joey pulled the Caddy away from the curb, drove a few blocks to the stop sign, checked for traffic and turned left.

The woman slipped her sunglasses back on and relaxed back in the seat. It was still reclining about halfway. Just as Joey thought maybe she’d gone to sleep, she said quietly, “Tell me somethin’, Joey Bones, you a made guy?”

“What?” What could this broad know about made or not made? She’s just another chippy to make Big Frankie happy around the groin for awhile.

“You heard me. You a made guy or what?”

“Whaddyou mean by ‘made guy’?”

“Hey, don’t play games with me, Bones. Frankie lets you in on a lot, an’ I know he trusts you or you would’n be here right now. So you a made guy?”

Joey shrugged. “Yeah, I guess you could say I’m made. So what of it?”

“Nothin’. Like I said, it’s my last big hurrah, an’ I get to do it with a made guy, that’s all. Pretty cool from where I’m sittin’.”

They rode in silence for a few minutes.

Then she said, “So you killed somebody?”

“Whaddayou, writin’ a book here? Hey, you know, this is gonna be a really long trip if you don’t tone down the curiosity a little bit.”

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