The Cold, Dark Night

 Ok, so this is a story I submitted for a writing contest. The reason I did it was to get some practice and to challenge myself. I held off publishing it here because part of the rules was for the story to not be published but since I figured I don't have a snowball's chance in hell of winning I  would submit it to my wonderful readers (all 7 of you). The rules were that is had to be 600 words or less and be able to be read in 180 seconds (you can guess the contest). There were also some other parameters but I'll just let the story stand for itself. Enjoy!

Rumilo Salvetore, AKA “Fat Rummy”, the notorious gangster, sat at the head of the long table in the dimly lit restaurant flanked by ten of his henchmen. The restaurant was empty except for them, a busboy, the maitre d' and Sylvia, Fat Rummy's beautiful, raven haired wife.

Sylvia sat at the end of the table opposite of Fat Rummy. She sat with her elbows on the table staring sadly at her wine glass.

Fat Rummy took a swig from his glass of wine and began to tell one of his terrible jokes. Sylvia despised him and his jokes.

“A priest and a rabbi walk into a bar,” he began. His henchmen leaned in. Sylvia rolled her eyes and sighed and feeling hopeless until she saw the tall man in the dark suit enter the restaurant through the front door.

“And the bartender says, 'You could use a drink', So the priest says...'” , Fat Rummy continued. The henchmen were completely engrossed in the tale.

As Fat Rummy continued the tall man approached the maitre d' who was standing at his podium near the entrance to the restaurant examining the reservation book. He leaned over to the maitre d', whispered into his ear and handed him a folded bill. The maitre d' ceremoniously took the bill, smiled graciously, closed the reservation book, picked up his coat and walked out the front door.

Sylvia could feel the rush of excitement in her chest, her eyes wide as she watched the tall man make is way across the room. He was her ticket to freedom, her chance for a new life. Play it cool Sylvia, she thought. She has to act shocked when it happens, scared, sad. She will have to play the grieving widow. This she can do.

“Then the priest says, 'What poodle?...'” The anticipation was so intense that they didn't even notice the tall man in the restaurant making his way to the busboy, handing him a folded bill and nodding towards the door. The plan was going just as Sylvia imagined it. In a few minutes she would be rid this fat oaf and his henchmen.

Fat Rummy reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a cigar, chewed off the end and spit it onto his empty plate sitting in front of him as was tradition before delivering his punchlines.

“And the rabbi says, 'I know one thing, that sure ain't kosher!'”

The henchmen exploded with laughter, slamming their hands on the table. Sylvia didn't seem to notice. Her whole body stiffened as the tall man, almost out of nowhere, was now standing right next to Fat Rummy's chair.

Fat Rummy searched through his pockets for a lighter ignoring the tall man standing next to him that had reached inside his coat and pulled out a metal object and held it next to Fat Rummy's face.

Click.

The tall man lit Fat Rummy's cigar.

“Mr. Bortelli!” Fat Rummy said, “Where have you been? You missed my joke! You know Sylvia right?”, He motioned towards his Sylvia who was in utter shock. She shook and her eyes filled with tears.

“Sylvia darling, Mr. Bortelli will be escorting you home this evening.”. Fat Rummy's henchmen all turned and looked at Sylvia who was now crying. They knew. They all knew.

The tall man reached under Sylvia's arm and escorted her out of the restaurant. As he did Sylvia suddenly felt relieved that it would all be over soon as she was led into the cold, dark night.