The Americans

Prove It

I’ve been accepted as a mafia escort but the role has not been as simple and straightforward as I had assumed it would be. After servicing several mafia leaders to prove that I was serious, and worthy to be in their stable, I was sent away. It was almost a week before the first call came in the form of a text. It was cryptic and vague. It gave an address and a time. It said that I was to meet a priest, Stepfather Zetta, and tell him that “payment is on the way.” It ended with “Make very certain that he is pleased with our arrangement.” My questions went unanswered.