|My Best Friend's Girl
Author: Lyrical Ballads PM
Guns. Narcotics. Italian mobsters. These are all things that Beni wants to avoid, but after being forced to spend time with Rick's obnoxious girlfriend, he accidentally gets involved in a shady deal gone horribly wrong.Rated: Fiction T - English - Crime/Humor - Beni G. - Chapters: 4 - Words: 8,365 - Reviews: 5 - Favs: 1 - Updated: 02-05-13 - Published: 11-10-12 - id: 8691080
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Disclaimer: I do not own The Mummy. Title of the story was borrowed from "My Best Friend's Girl" by The Cars.
Author's Note: As usual, I don't need another story, but a new OC popped into my head and she wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote this. I've explored Beni's relationships with women in a lot of different ways, but here's an angle I haven't tried yet, and it's proven to be a lot of fun so far.
My Best Friend's Girl
Little Miss Brooklyn
"Say, Beni. Did I ever tell ya how I came to Egypt?"
Beni took a drag on his cigarette and glared at the woman who sat across from him. Normally he wouldn't mind having drinks with a classic Italian beauty, especially when she had such full red lips, waves of black hair, and the biggest, darkest eyes Beni had ever seen, but he would gladly shove this particular woman into the Nile and let the crocodiles devour her. "No, you did not," he said wearily. "And I don't want to hear it."
"Oh, yeah? You don't wanna hear it?" She glared back at him, her dark eyes narrowed beneath her thin black brows. "Well you're gonna hear it, bozo. Richie says ya gotta entertain me when he's busy."
"O'Connell would never say that."
"How do you know, huh? You ever get into Richie's head and see what he's thinkin'? You some kinda mind reader, Beni?"
God, he hated her voice. It grated on the ears. She said she was born and raised in Brooklyn, New York, and Beni wished she had stayed there so he wouldn't have to listen to her strong Brooklyn accent. He could barely understand her half the time. "A mind what?" he asked, wishing he was drunk already. Why didn't he order straight vodka instead of this stupid cocktail?
"A mind reader," she repeated. It sounded like "ree-dah" coming out of her big mouth. "Ya know, you read minds. Is that what you been doin'? Are you a fancypants smart guy who has all the answers?"
There was that damn accent again, playing havoc with Beni's brain. How was he supposed to understand her when she said things like "smawt" and "an-sahs"? He put out his cigarette on the table and imagined how convenient it would be if he could extinguish her voice just as easily. All women ought to be more like cigarettes; you could use them just long enough to satisfy your craving, and then when you were done you could snuff them out.
"Why do you even bother talking, Olivia?" said Beni. "You know I hate talking to you."
Olivia Catania. Little Miss Brooklyn. Miss Pain-in-the-Ass, as far as Beni was concerned, but he couldn't say that around O'Connell because she happened to be O'Connell's latest girlfriend. Beni didn't know how a guy with the last name O'Connell managed to snag a girl whose parents came from Sicily, but he hoped she would come to her senses and stick to her own kind. Or at least stick to somebody who could drag her ass back to Brooklyn.
"I know ya hate talkin' to me, ya dumbbell," said Olivia. "That's why I sat down at ya table. You're so much fun to harass."
Olivia wouldn't know what shame was if it crawled up her skirt and gave her syphilis. She treated Beni like a dog, as if he had been placed upon the earth just so she could abuse him, and she had the nerve to call O'Connell "Richie" right to his face. O'Connell let her get away with it, too. The last person who called him Richie got his nose broken.
"Why don't you swim back to your whorehouse in Brooklyn, you filthy little wop?" said Beni.
Her big, dark eyes got even bigger and she made a noise that was more of a cackle than a giggle. "Ohhhh, we're pullin' out the big insults tonight, ain't we, bohunk?"
"You're nothing but a dago whore, and your brother is a greaseball."
"I'd rather be a dago than a hunyak, ya scrawny lil' hunyak."
"Goddamn gypsy bastard."
Beni took a swig of his cocktail and wondered how long it would take for him to black out. He didn't know why he allowed himself to get trapped in these horrible conversations, but at least he was sure that he hated Olivia Catania more than he had ever hated anyone before, and he had good reason for it too. He didn't hate Olivia because she was O'Connell's girlfriend, or because she was Italian, or even because she had an annoying accent.
He hated Olivia Catania because she never kept her mouth shut. She was a mouthy little bitch, and there was nothing Beni despised more than a mouthy little bitch.
She tapped her fingers on the table in an angry rhythm, drawing his eyes to the bright red paint on her nails. "You're a real jackass. Did ya know that, Beni? Ya made me lose my train of thought!"
"That is not hard to do," Beni said with a snicker.
"Aw, put a sock in it. I was s'posed to tell ya how I came to Egypt, remember?"
"And I told you I don't want to hear about it."
"Well you're gonna hear about it anyway. You don't want Richie's favorite girl to spend her evening all lonesome, do ya?"
Heah. Goil. Her damn accent was getting to him again. "No, of course not," Beni said mockingly. "I would hate to see poor little Olivia drink all by herself. I think O'Connell is just pretending to be busy so he does not have to hear your voice."
"Didn't I tell ya to put a sock in it, ya bozo? Now a few months ago I'm in Brooklyn, right? And my brother Georgie is in a lotta trouble. Georgie's always in some kinda trouble, 'cause he's got these rough friends who are always runnin' around the city, hijackin' liquor trucks and stealin' booze and gunnin' people down all the time. I ain't s'posed to know about this, of course, since I'm a woman and all, but I ain't blind and I ain't deaf either. So one day Georgie finds out—"
Beni sighed loudly, cutting off her story. "Does this have a point?"
"Does what have a point, Ya Majesty?"
"The story. Is there a point to this story?"
"Of course there is, ya dope!" said Olivia. "I'm tellin' ya how I came to Egypt."
"Well get to the Egypt part already. You are boring me."
Olivia rolled her dark eyes at Beni, took a sip of her cocktail, and picked up from where she left off. "Anyway, Georgie finds out that he's in trouble. Some of these rough friends of his are plannin' to bump him off or somethin', so he's gotta leave the country or else he'll be sleepin' in the East River, wearin' cement shoes. So Georgie says to me, he says, 'Hey kid, ya wanna see Egypt?' Well I don't even know where Egypt is, but it's gotta be better than this slum we're livin' in, right? I always thought I'd marry a rich man and make my escape, but that rich man seems to think I've got all the fuckin' time in the world, 'cause I don't see him anywhere, so I says, 'Sure, Georgie! Get me the hell outta here!' And next thing I know, I'm in Egypt."
"Thank God it is over," Beni groaned.
"Say, you wanna hear about the time I met Richie?"
Beni didn't understand why women had to talk so much. Talk talk talk. That was all they did, and Olivia was the worst. She looked so innocent, with her big eyes and her pouty lips, and people thought she was just a harmless little Italian tourist looking for sunshine and buried treasure, until she opened her damn mouth and started blabbing. O'Connell wasn't seeing her because of her conversation skills, that was for sure.
Olivia started tapping her fingers on the table again, looking like a cheap whore with her red-painted nails and her fake gold bracelets. "I'm bored," she said. "Why don'tcha pay for the drinks and take me outta here?"
"Pay for the drinks?" Beni echoed in disbelief. "Why would I pay for your drink? I am not the one who drank it."
"Well I sure ain't payin' for it," said Olivia. "I'm a lady, and ladies don't hafta pay when there's a man around. That's how it works, ya dummy. Just ask anyone."
"A lady?" Beni echoed again. "What the hell makes you a lady? You swear and you're rude and you abuse me all the time. Good girls are supposed to treat men with respect."
"Ha! Ya think ya deserve my respect, Beni? You won't even pay for my drink."
"Why should I throw away my hard-earned money on a drink that is not mine?" Beni whined at her. "I don't think you are a real Italian. You're nothing but a stingy Jew bitch."
"I'm a Jew bitch, am I? With this cross 'round my neck?" Olivia showed him the little cross that dangled above her breasts, the only piece of jewelry she owned that wasn't fake. "You think you're somethin' clever, callin' me a Jew bitch, but I used to know some Jews in Brooklyn and they were a lot nicer than you."
"If you like them so much, then go back to Brooklyn," said Beni.
"I can't. I've got a drink that ain't paid for yet."
She could argue with him all night if he let her. That was the problem with Italians, and Sicilians in particular. They were always looking for an excuse to fight, and when they couldn't find an excuse they created one. Beni rubbed his aching head and muttered some Hungarian swear words under his breath, then pulled out some money he had stolen last night and threw it on the table for the waiter to pick up, knowing it was the only way to keep Olivia from raking her sharp nails across his face.
"There," he spat at her. "Are you happy now?"
"No," said Olivia, with a haughty toss of her head. "I ain't happy. I'm bored, remember?"
"Well that is not my problem."
"I bet Georgie can find somethin' fun to do. Let's go find Georgie."
Beni was terrified of Georgie. The man had never harmed him, but he always stood around with his thick arms crossed in front of his chest, glowering at Beni like he was the worst kind of rat. "I don't want to find Georgie," said Beni, allowing a whine to creep into his voice again. "Georgie hates me."
"Oh, Georgie doesn't hate you," said Olivia. "Georgie could never hate you. Richie's the one he doesn't like."
"I thought everyone liked O'Connell."
"Not Georgie. He hates it that I'm seein' a mick. He can't stand Irishmen."
"Well I'm still not going. You can find Georgie yourself."
Olivia's full lips curved into a wicked smirk. "Ya want me to tell Richie ya tried to rape me? 'Cause that's what I'll do if ya don't go with me. I'll tell Richie ya tried to rape me, and you almost got away with it too."
"Why the hell would I rape you?" said Beni. "I would never touch you."
"Really, Beni?" The smirk disappeared and a pout took its place. "You don't find me just a lil' bit attractive? Not even a lil' bit?"
Of course he found her attractive. He would have to be an idiot not to find her attractive, but he would rather slit that pretty little throat than take her to bed. If she wasn't involved with O'Connell, he would slit that pretty little throat, if he could swallow his nausea at the thought of getting close to her. How could O'Connell stand to touch her, anyway? Did he put a gag over her mouth every time he took her home?
"Shut up and get outside," said Beni. "I'll help you look for your brother, all right?"
"Sure, I'll go outside," said Olivia, smirking again. "But I'm not gonna shut up. Not now and not ever."