So why the hell did he feel so utterly misunderstood, out of place, and alone?
Chapter 5
Carla
Carla looked in the mirror at the sleek pantsuit she was wearing, as well as the expensive makeup, fashionable hairstyle, and tasteful jewelry. Federal agents didn't make much—she usually bought her own clothes at Target or JC Penney, and she rarely concerned herself with makeup or accessories. The teardrop diamond earrings they'd given her cost more than she earned in six months. Now, as she examined herself, she felt like a completely different person.
She caught herself wishing she could ask to keep her costumes like movie stars do, and stifled a nervous laugh. Why shouldn't she be allowed to hang onto them if she managed to survive this undercover operation? Meryl Streep may have been unparalleled at transforming into the characters she played, but it wasn't as though an unconvincing performance could lead to her being beaten to death with a crowbar and dumped in the river.
Carla smoothed the front of her blouse to make sure the tiny microphone underneath didn't ruin the line of her outfit. Then she turned to Don, raising an eyebrow. “Well? What do you think?”
Don favored her with a toothy grin. “Darlin', you look like one of them business gals from Houston who never said yes when I asked 'em out.”
“Their loss, right?”
“Damn straight,” Don chuckled.
Louie Grammatica stood in front of the mirror next to Carla's, carefully shaving his chest with a trembling hand. The Mancinis' family lawyer was a short, stocky man with graying hair and heavy bags under his eyes. He nicked his left nipple with the razor and hissed as a drop of blood welled up. “Goddamn it! Will you two stop gushing about her clothes? You're distracting me.”
“Say, what's the matter?” Don drawled, his eyes glinting with amusement. “I thought you gay boys didn't have no problem shavin' off your body hair. Puts you more in touch with your feminine side, right?”
Louie shot him a venomous look. “You're thinking of Olympic swimmers. Lots of gay men don't shave their body hair. And for the last time, I'm not gay, okay? I was...”
“...'you were there to deliver a message to someone, you'd never been there before in your life, and you were just wearing that outfit so you'd blend in,'” Don and Carla finished with him in unison. He'd made the same claims at least five times already that day.
“But I don't reckon any of that'd hold much water with Mario if'n he saw the location typed on your arrest record, right?” Don added.
“I imagine he'd at least want to know who you were delivering a message to,” Carla pointed out. “And why you seemed so certain you'd find the message's intended recipient in the glory hole booths at the back of the club.”
“Oh, an' how he knew which outfit to wear so he could 'blend in' if he'd never even been there before,” Don continued. “You startin' to see our point here, Louie? 'Cause we can keep goin' if you like.”
Louie scowled and went back to shaving his chest. “Yeah, fine, okay. Just remember what you guys promised. When you take Mario down, Witness Protection had better put me somewhere no one's ever even heard of the fucking mafia outside of a Coppola flick.”
“Sure, sure,” Don nodded. “Now hurry up an' finish shavin' those titties of yours so we can tape a mic to 'em. We ain't got all day.”
Don motioned for Carla to follow him into the next room. She did, smoothing out the front of her pantsuit again. She wasn't used to wearing anything this nice, and she didn't want to get it wrinkled and spoil the disguise.
Don noticed this as he closed the door behind them. “It's gettin' rumpled on you 'cause you slouch,” he said, as though reading her thoughts. “Try to keep your neck an' your back straight, an' your shoulders squared off. Posture, that's the key. You want to look like someone who spends half her life walkin' into courtrooms like she owns the place, 'stead of someone who mostly sits in front of computer screens transcribin' surveillance tapes.”
Carla stiffened her spine and threw her shoulders back. “Like this?”
Don laughed, shaking his head. “Now you look like some kinda robot.” He positioned himself behind her and gently moved her shoulders into a more natural position. “There, that's more like it. You want to be poised without lookin' like you're trying too hard. It's like my old yoga teacher used to say: You just go on an' picture an invisible wire extendin' from your crown chakra up to the sky, an' all them other chakras in your body are gonna align right under it. You keep that up, an' soon it'll feel so natural you won't even realize you're doin' it.”