The Mafia's Woman

-Camilla-  I look at the pictures in front of me on the table, my mother and I. It was always my mother and I. I didn’t know my father and according to my mother, I don’t miss anything about it. I have a picture of him, which I only found after the death of my mother. It’s so much, maybe too much, but I’ve decided to do it all. My phone vibrates and when I look at the screen I see the number of the office. “Matthews.” I pick up the phone. “Hey Cam, we have another one.” Annie, the receptionist of my department, tells me. “I fly there, send me the details.” I disconnect. “Moving will have to wait a while Mister.” I stroke my four-year-old cat over his back, over his tail, which he curls around my wrist. He purrs when I scratch his back and puts his nails in the carpet. Hee grumbles when I stop and get up. I look again at the picture of me and my mother. I look like her, but I got my eyes and my hair from my father, that’s what she always said. My mother had very thin hair and my father had a very thick bunch of hair. Again, what she told me. I go to my work room, one of the few rooms I haven’t quite packed yet. I also still work here and here’s Washington, for the FBI. We came to live here at a young age and according to my mother, I was always obsessed with everything that had to do with safety. Especially weapons and martial arts. From the age of eight, I went to do judo, then karate followed. I was just going boxing and kickboxing, my mom drew the line when I told her at the age of sixteen that I wanted to do MMA. In addition to all my, according to my mother male sports, I also had to choose something girly. So I decided to go dancing. The hard fighting, versus the soft of dancing. Here I pushed the boundaries too and I can lose myself completely during a dance, on the floor, with ballet shoes on or in a pole, that does not matter to me. I joined a shooting club, got my permits, and when I turned eighteen, I went to the police academy. I was good, the best in class and now I’m twenty-five and one of the best FBI agents out there. I have my own department with people I manage. I investigate murders, which is convenient, because I myself, have a fascination for murder, especially the not-so-standard ‘knife in the stomach’ murders. My mother was such a case and I was the person that was allowed to find her. Years of therapy have helped, my work also helps. But her murder made me more determined than ever before. My mother’s killer has been caught, I visit him once in a while, to see if he wants to say more. We talk, I said I forgave him. Not that I’ll ever forget, but hatred and resentment take too much energy. Something that doesn’t deserve murder. My mother doesn’t deserve me to waste my life with hate, she gave her life and it’s up to me to show her how well she raised me. That I get everything out of life, that I live a good life. Otherwise, everything would have been for nothing. That includes forgiveness. I had to forgive him in exchange for information. Information that has so far yielded nothing. So in addition to my work, I am now throwing myself into finding my father. The man who donated his sead is perhaps a better term, because he was not a father. Although. The week after my mother’s death, I went to the notary to read out her will. I was the only heir, she left everything to me. The house where I grew up and where she was murdered, her car. A lot of money, I didn’t even know she had that much and an apartment in the town of Cliffs, Texas, an hour and a half from Dallas. According to my mother’s stories, she lived in a very nice city, where she had grown up and where she met my father. Until it was no longer safe and she left with me and left my father. I was half a year old at the time. She always told me that my father had abandoned us and that she was being bullied away from the place she was once so in love with. So I’m going back to that place. With Mister, my cat. The cat I took after the murder of my mother, because the trauma therapist told me that a pet could help process it. It sounded like a better solution than what I was doing; partying and drinking on the days I was free and working and sleeping on the other days. I look at the glowing phone. It’s Annie with the details of the murder. I sigh. “I have to go to New York first.” I tell Mister. He no longer looks up and curls up slightly on the couch. My phone rings. “Hey Milly!” I shout enthusiastically. Milly is my best friend, forever. I don’t know any better of Milly is in my life. “Hey girl!” she shouts back. “I was wondering, what are we going to do this weekend?” I start laughing. “I say girls’ weekend.” I suggest. She squeals. “Where to?” “New York?” I ask “Work?” I sigh “yep, but work and private can go together on this trip.” I answer. “All right, Am I going to pack now?” she asks. “I have to grab the data and arrange a flight-” I start and I feel my phone vibrate again. I look and I see that Ian is calling me. “I have to go, Ian calls, I’ll let you know when we’re going, but go pack some shit.” I laugh. I hear Milly laughing when she says it’s okay. I take Ian. “Ian Salta, why the honor? You’re free today, aren’t you?” I ask. He laughs. “Always that last name!” I start laughing. “Yes, I think it’s a good name, Mr. Salta.” I tease. “Okay, well... A little bird told me that a body had been found in New York, the details sounded interesting and I thought, Cam has to go there.” He explains. I start laughing and shake my head. “Oh man, I saw the pictures that Annie sent and I definitely want to see them myself.” I tell him. “Shall I come with you?” he asks. “Ian, I’m a grown woman huh, last time with training? Do I need to remind you of that?” I tease him and Ian starts laughing. “You were just lucky. I was distracted by your question about your nipples.” “I didn’t ask anything about my n*****s, you asked if I had consciously put on a white shirt, because now that I was sweating and the cold air, you saw my n*****s,” I shout and he laughs even harder. “For the record, I didn’t say anything negative over your nipples.” His tone is more serious. I now smile at him “Thanks for the compliment creep.” “Sorry, I will keep it professional and friendly.” He laughs. I ignore his comment. As a woman in a man’s world, it is sometimes difficult. In the beginning, men thought I had my own office because I had thrown myself on an office table with the high bosses and f****d my way up. They make comments about my lipstick, my hair loose, my hair in a ponytail. It took me two years and finally I (almost) always get the respect I deserve. And during these years Ian has proved to be a true friend. He stood up for me, challenged the men who offended me, and during training he was one of the few men who really wanted to fight with me. He was the only one who was not reluctant. He went for it and now two years later I have finally beaten him once. Whether that was because of the cold wind and my n*****s or not. Just to be on the safe side, I changed my training outfit from white shirts to black ones, so that my n*****s that poke against the fabric can no longer be an excuse. “I’ll take Milly with me.” I answer. He knows Milly is a friend. “Milly is not an agent.” He answers. I start laughing and rolling my eyes. He doesn’t see it anyway. “I don’t need agents either, they’re there. Milly is with me for the fun afterward.” I tell him. Now he laughs “You’re going to make New York unsafe?” he asks ’ “That’s the intention, be a little crazy. Going out, having some adult fun. Before I move away.” “When will that be again?” he asks. “In three weeks.” I answer. “Maybe I’ll go with you. Looking for the warmth.” He laughs. “Ian, that’s sweet, but you don’t have to.” “Why, is Milly going with you?” he asks, and he sounds offended. “No, I’m going alone, it’s my history and my shortcoming that I can’t let go of the past,” I answer him. He chuckles “You sound just like the one psychologist we had that conversation with, whatever her name is.” “Driver,” I answer with a sigh. “Total bitch.” That brings the smile back into our conversation. The rest of our conversation is uneventful and then I check the flights, I book two seats and two hotel rooms. Milly and I share the hotel room, unless one of us has found someone to share the bed with, then we sleep separately. I text Milly so she knows the time. I pack my bag, I turn the tap in the kitchen and in the bathroom slightly open so that there is a constant flow of water in several places for Mister. Just before leaving I tell the neighbor that I am gone, she gives Mister the necessary hugs and takes care of his food and litter box until I am back. Then I get in the cab with my bag, to the airport where Milly is waiting for me.