Written for OLWG#105
Junior Notaro grabbed his sister, Marica, by the chin and turned her head so that he could see her face.
“What’d you tell Ma, Mari; what’d you tell Ma?”
“I didn’t tell her nothin’,” she wiped tears from her cheek, smeared her mascara and looked at Junior defiantly through cry reddened eyes.
“I didn’t tell her nothin’.”
Junior slammed his hand down hard on the table and Marica jumped.
“I’m startin’ to lose my patience, Mari. I need to know what you told her.”
“Fuck, Junior. You’re scarin’ me… All right, all right,” she shook her head and looked down at the table, “I told her… I told her that you and Ann went into the city, and you were going to stay the weekend.”
“Why would she believe that?”
“I told her that you were going to see some shows.”
“Do you know where I was, Mari?”
“No, not for sure, but you might have been involved in that shooting on the bridge. Did you kill those guys on the bridge, Junior?”
He averted his gaze to the window, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh come on, Junior; I watch the news. I read the papers. It doesn’t take a rocket surgeon to figure out what you do for a living.”
This week’s prompts were:
- it’s clogged
- rocket surgery