Ever since I skipped town last May to avoid a stalker, the threats against me have stopped, but my
boredom is at an all-time high, and so is my anxiety. My family is in a particular line of work that
makes a lot of enemies. That’s right, I am a mafia princess. Working at the Sex On The Beach
nightclub on the Atlantic City Boardwalk has been the hardest thing I have ever had to do in my
life. I hate what that says about who I used to be. I know my family would hate that I even work
here if I had told them where I was.
If the name does not tell you what this club is all about, the atmosphere and pretty much
general lack of morals will. It looks like a seventies porno set threw up in here and left shag
carpeting and bright colored furniture behind. It is a monstrosity for sure. I am not sure who
is behind the threats, but I knew I had to leave to protect my family and myself. It started
with notes showing up in my purse whenever I was out. I opened them and promptly tossed
them. Threats are not new to the Vitali family, and that is how we handled them. My
immediate family consists of my father, Fabrizio, my mother, Fawn, my oldest brother,
Brando; still older than me brother, Bartolo; then me; and finally, the youngest, Bella. I have
a million cousins, though my favorite is Albie. However, our “you can’t touch me” mentality
had run its course when I received a picture of my younger sister, Bella. It was taken up
close, but you could tell she had no idea she was being photographed. She was laughing with
a boy from her Drama class. That note gave me two options: either marry the stalker,
whoever he is, or disappear forever. The picture told me that Bella would face the brunt of
refusal to do either. I chose the latter and took only cash, my important documents, and
clothes, leaving my cell phone and credit cards behind. However, the first thing I bought
was a new phone. I knew that I wouldn’t be able to not talk to my mom. For some reason, I
didn’t think that it was fair of me to drag my family into a fight they had nothing to do with.
They have enough going on with the day to day shit they deal with.
I drove until I reached the ocean, which I have always been fascinated with. Atlantic City
seemed far enough away to be safe but close enough if I decided to risk it and head home. I
rented an apartment above a butcher shop and have been working for almost a year now, but
I miss my family and my mom’s authentic Italian cooking. I cannot even remember the last
time I had a meal that did not come from the bar or a fast food joint. If I am honest, I miss
my mom’s hugs more than anything. At least I get to talk to her every once in a while, but
it’s just not the same. Last year, I graduated from NYU with a dual certification in
elementary education and secondary history with a minor in History. I got certified to be a
teacher in New York, but then all this happened, and I never got a chance to get a job.
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