Boyd Ainslie | Red Riding Hood (ex_sanguine300) wrote in bellumlogs, @ 2009-12-04 12:35:00 |
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Entry tags: | red riding hood |
Who: Boyd
What: Narrative
Where: Costa Nostra
When: Last evening
Warnings: None
Boyd was dead on her feet. She'd been coming into work earlier and earlier for private groups. At first, she'd been thrilled, because she could use the money, but then she'd gone to pay her rent, only to find that it'd already been taken care of for December. At first she'd foolishly hoped it was Shane, because that would be an indication that he cared. But it was becoming more and more painfully obvious that wasn't the case.
It only took a few days to learn it was one of the Giancomas. She'd smiled and thanked him, even though inside her heart was breaking.
Right now, she was sitting at a table, the arm of a distant relative draped over the back of her chair, and she was listening as she sipped on the Lemon Drop in her hand.
There were six men around the table, and the only one Boyd knew by name was Mikey. The conversation revolved around some mysterious man who had followed them from Chicago, a vigilante, they said, who was trying to systematically eradicate the family.
She terribly wanted to zone out, to think about pretty things instead of this discussion about the person who, she was sure, had killed her family, her grandmother.
Her grandmother hadn't been born a Giancoma, but her grandfather always said she had more of the family running through her veins than he did. It made Boyd smile. She'd always felt safe around the family, and even now, when she had no one else to turn to, they'd picked her up and wrapped her in their arms.
She forced her attention back to the conversation at hand. The man, they were saying, was getting sloppy and angry. It was, they felt, an advantage for them. Anger was considered a weakness, and Boyd tuned the conversation out again.
So far, living on her own hadn't been what she'd expected. She knew it was up to her to remedy that. She'd done too much hiding in her apartment since Shane had rejected her again. She needed distracting, something to hope for that wasn't him. There were plenty of men in the building, and she wasn't an ugly girl.
Her grandmother would tell her that she was using the wrong criteria for finding love. That power and protection were priorities. Boyd knew that if she was still alive, her grandmother would have already made an advantageous alliance with another mafia family for Boyd. Safety and family, her grandmother thought, were everything.
She wouldn't approve of 601, not by a long shot. Maybe it was time to find someone grandmother would approve of.
She smiled as Louis' father touched her arm lightly, her focus easily sliding back to him. Of course she'd help, she told him, and she took another sip of her Lemon Drop, not realizing that the woods were closing in around her.