Gun Moll
It's a love story for the new age
Dominic Starling
I’m sitting in the back office of my father’s nightclub going over the finances and paperwork for it. Sure it a front business, hiding what my father really does, but I still got to keep it running smoothly and make sure we’re in the black and not the red.
As I’m crunching numbers Treasure, the beautiful blonde haired bartender, walks into the office, “your father wants to see you in the VIP room Mister Starling.” She informs me, her Brooklyn accent bleeding from each word.
“Thank you Treasure, tell him I’ll be out in a minute.” I tell her before returning my eyes to the paperwork on the desk.
“He said it was urgent, Mister Starling.” She urges me. An annoyed sigh escapes my lips as I push myself from the desk before I get up and follow Treasure out of the room, closing the door and locking it behind me. I don’t trust many of the people that work here, especially since most of them are from the same families that work for my dad.
I walk into the VIP room and see my father sitting on the leather couch with a red head to his right and a blonde to his left; both of them are probably in their early twenties. He really likes them young.
“You summoned me?” I ask, bitterness in my voice as I glare at him and the girls. He’s out with young pieces of ass while my mother lays in a hospital bed, dying of cancer. Years of distantly teaching me of respect for women, Robert Starling can barely follow his own teachings.
“I’ve got a job for you.” He tells me, his Italian accent coming out clearly with his words. This involves the newspaper The Gazette.”
“What about it?” I ask, “I thought they weren’t going to be a problem since you paid them off 5 years ago.”
“They shouldn’t be but they’ve got a new writer, a nice young thing.” He tells me, “from what I gathered, she’s into the true aspect of journalism; the investigating.”
“I highly doubt she knows about what happened, she wouldn’t have taken the job if she did.” I explain, “I don’t see how this is a job for me.”
“I’m just asking you to watch her and the newspaper, that’s not a big thing to ask.” He explains to me, “besides it’s your fault our name was ever in that paper to begin with. This is your chance to make sure it never gets in there again….”
**
The clock strikes five and I find myself sitting outside the building The Gazette is based out of, waiting to spot the new writer. Twenty minutes pass and I catch glimpse of a young red head, talking to Brad Robertson, the owner’s son. He shamelessly flirting with her and she seems to just brush it off, giggling at something he’s said. I just roll my eyes, knowing this guy is desperate for female attention; he spends many nights in one of my father’s strip clubs.
A couple minutes pass and Brad hails a cab for the young lady by his side. Once she’s in one and begin to drive off, I turn on my car and prepare to follow. Brad must have heard the roar of my Mustang because he looks in my general direction; he grew to know the sound of my car. Brad just shakes his head before jogging back into the office as the cab drives off. I put my car into drive before I begin to tail this new writer.
An hour later, due to the car accident, the cab pulls up to a familiar building; my apartment building. A smirk appears on my lips as the girl gets out of the cab. From where I’m sitting in my car, I get a good view of her ass as she bends over and pays the fare. A wolfish smirk appears on my lips as I continue to stare, I’m only a man. Just as she begins to walk away, I park my car on the street and get out; locking it behind me as I jog towards her.
Just as she gets to the door, I manage to grab a hold of the handle and open it for her. She looks up at me with a smile, “thank you.”
“No problem.” I smile at her as we walk into the building together. “You’re new here aren’t you?”
“Yea, I just moved here from Boston.” She replies, beginning to play with her necklace; a nervous habit I’m sure. “I got a job at here and my sister pushed me to take it.”
“I’m sure you’re thanking her.” I chuckle. “I’m Dominic by the way.”
“I’m Giselle.” She smiles, “and right now I’m cursing her. The job I got is nothing what I expected, in the worst way possible. It makes me want to pack up and leave Chicago.”
‘That bad, huh?” I chuckle.
She laughs, “you’ve got no idea. I’m really starting to hate this city.”
“It’s not all that bad.” I tell her, earning a skeptical look from her. “How about tonight I take you out for dinner and show you a few of my favorite places?”
“And how do I know you’re not a serial killer?” she questions me, a smirk on her lips.
“Trust me, I’m not that bad.” I smile. “So tonight at 8, meet me down here?”
“It’s a date.” She smiles before walking onto the elevator.
I look over at Richard and he’s just shaking his head, “what’s wrong Dick?” I ask.
“She’s a good dame, Dom, I’d hate to see her get hurt,” he replies, “ especially by a fella like you…”
I’m sitting in the back office of my father’s nightclub going over the finances and paperwork for it. Sure it a front business, hiding what my father really does, but I still got to keep it running smoothly and make sure we’re in the black and not the red.
As I’m crunching numbers Treasure, the beautiful blonde haired bartender, walks into the office, “your father wants to see you in the VIP room Mister Starling.” She informs me, her Brooklyn accent bleeding from each word.
“Thank you Treasure, tell him I’ll be out in a minute.” I tell her before returning my eyes to the paperwork on the desk.
“He said it was urgent, Mister Starling.” She urges me. An annoyed sigh escapes my lips as I push myself from the desk before I get up and follow Treasure out of the room, closing the door and locking it behind me. I don’t trust many of the people that work here, especially since most of them are from the same families that work for my dad.
I walk into the VIP room and see my father sitting on the leather couch with a red head to his right and a blonde to his left; both of them are probably in their early twenties. He really likes them young.
“You summoned me?” I ask, bitterness in my voice as I glare at him and the girls. He’s out with young pieces of ass while my mother lays in a hospital bed, dying of cancer. Years of distantly teaching me of respect for women, Robert Starling can barely follow his own teachings.
“I’ve got a job for you.” He tells me, his Italian accent coming out clearly with his words. This involves the newspaper The Gazette.”
“What about it?” I ask, “I thought they weren’t going to be a problem since you paid them off 5 years ago.”
“They shouldn’t be but they’ve got a new writer, a nice young thing.” He tells me, “from what I gathered, she’s into the true aspect of journalism; the investigating.”
“I highly doubt she knows about what happened, she wouldn’t have taken the job if she did.” I explain, “I don’t see how this is a job for me.”
“I’m just asking you to watch her and the newspaper, that’s not a big thing to ask.” He explains to me, “besides it’s your fault our name was ever in that paper to begin with. This is your chance to make sure it never gets in there again….”
**
The clock strikes five and I find myself sitting outside the building The Gazette is based out of, waiting to spot the new writer. Twenty minutes pass and I catch glimpse of a young red head, talking to Brad Robertson, the owner’s son. He shamelessly flirting with her and she seems to just brush it off, giggling at something he’s said. I just roll my eyes, knowing this guy is desperate for female attention; he spends many nights in one of my father’s strip clubs.
A couple minutes pass and Brad hails a cab for the young lady by his side. Once she’s in one and begin to drive off, I turn on my car and prepare to follow. Brad must have heard the roar of my Mustang because he looks in my general direction; he grew to know the sound of my car. Brad just shakes his head before jogging back into the office as the cab drives off. I put my car into drive before I begin to tail this new writer.
An hour later, due to the car accident, the cab pulls up to a familiar building; my apartment building. A smirk appears on my lips as the girl gets out of the cab. From where I’m sitting in my car, I get a good view of her ass as she bends over and pays the fare. A wolfish smirk appears on my lips as I continue to stare, I’m only a man. Just as she begins to walk away, I park my car on the street and get out; locking it behind me as I jog towards her.
Just as she gets to the door, I manage to grab a hold of the handle and open it for her. She looks up at me with a smile, “thank you.”
“No problem.” I smile at her as we walk into the building together. “You’re new here aren’t you?”
“Yea, I just moved here from Boston.” She replies, beginning to play with her necklace; a nervous habit I’m sure. “I got a job at here and my sister pushed me to take it.”
“I’m sure you’re thanking her.” I chuckle. “I’m Dominic by the way.”
“I’m Giselle.” She smiles, “and right now I’m cursing her. The job I got is nothing what I expected, in the worst way possible. It makes me want to pack up and leave Chicago.”
‘That bad, huh?” I chuckle.
She laughs, “you’ve got no idea. I’m really starting to hate this city.”
“It’s not all that bad.” I tell her, earning a skeptical look from her. “How about tonight I take you out for dinner and show you a few of my favorite places?”
“And how do I know you’re not a serial killer?” she questions me, a smirk on her lips.
“Trust me, I’m not that bad.” I smile. “So tonight at 8, meet me down here?”
“It’s a date.” She smiles before walking onto the elevator.
I look over at Richard and he’s just shaking his head, “what’s wrong Dick?” I ask.
“She’s a good dame, Dom, I’d hate to see her get hurt,” he replies, “ especially by a fella like you…”