Don’t fashion me into a maiden that needs saving from a dragon. I am the dragon and I will eat you whole.

Early Childhood

As early as Rosalinda could remember, she was a thief. From the moment she could walk, toddling around on chubby little baby legs, her parents would use her to help distract others, especially women, while they picked pockets or stole bags.

Once she was old enough to follow simple directions, her work became more important. She learned to cry on cue, a lost child who needed help finding her parents. She’d lead store owners away from their counters to help her look, while in reality her parents raided their cash registers or stole merchandise that they would later pawn off. At four and five years old she was picking pockets, grabbing keys and wallets, squeezing into tough spaces, climbing over fences and doing whatever else her parents needed her to do.

When she would succeed, which was more often than not, she was rewarded. Whether it be with hugs and kisses and the praises of her parents, or with money and toys and candy, she loved the attention. But on those occasions when she would fail, well, her punishment was harsh. She would be beaten, sent to bed without food or simply abandoned, sometimes for days at a time. It was during this stage of her life that Rosalinda became obsessed with perfection – failure was simply not an option.

Over time, her parents started to use drugs. At first, it was simple stuff– a bit of cocaine before a night out on the town, some weed before bed. But over time, Rosalinda watched as her parents fell deeper and deeper into their drug addiction, relying on her to do what was needed to keep money flowing into the home.

It would come as no surprise that the child never attended school. After all, if she was gone for six or eight hours a day, how would she help her parents in their life of crime? Occasionally she would befriend another child in the community, but they moved so often she never really had a chance to bond with others. She quickly learned to rely only on herself, with no attachments to others, not even her parents.

The disappearance of mom and dad

One day, her parents had selected a rather difficult target, a jewelry store in one of the richest areas of San Juan. They had it all planned out, in their mind at least and of course, much of the burden fell on Rosalinda. First, her parents would go in and request to try on some high-end pieces. Then she would go in and cause enough of a distraction for her parents to grab the pieces and slip out unseen.

The problem wasn’t so much the plan but the location. This store had not only an owner and a salesperson to distract but also a security guard. Everything started off well. Rosalinda waited outside, watching from a nonsuspicious spot as her parents, who were dressed to impress, went inside and had the salesperson pull out several expensive bracelets, necklaces, and rings. After a few minutes of them browsing the assorted pieces, Rosalinda went into the store, having turned on the waterworks already. Her sobs were strong enough to draw everyone’s attention in the store, almost. The owner and salesperson were quick to hurry over, asking her what was wrong and what happened.

What no one had anticipated was that she was now in the awkward phase of life, that one where she no longer looked like an adorable child that needed protection but she was young enough that couldn’t use any womanly charms to get her way. She explained how she had lost her parents out on the street and needed help to find them. She begged and pleaded for help and the salesperson was nice enough to give her tissues and reassure her. But the boss soon lost interest and the security guard never moved from his spot at the door. She had lost her ability to draw attention and this startled her. There was no plan B, a mistake she would learn never to make again.

Her parents had little opportunity to grab anything and they soon left the store. Rosalinda knew that this was bad and that she would be punished harshly for her failure, which only made her sob harder until finally, she left the store.

She dragged her feet on her way home, wandering the streets for a while before she finally got back to the little hole of a studio apartment where they lived. It was quiet when she arrived and she hoped that her parents had passed out. The next morning, when she awoke, they were there in the kitchen. She waited for their reprimands, their yelling or hitting, but it never came. Instead, they were oddly nice to her, serving her breakfast (chocolate chip pancakes, she remembers precisely) and talking about their next target. They told her it was her job to go out and collect all the information that she could, so that’s what she did. She scouted the location, counted the number of people going in and out of the building, looking for security guards or bars on the windows. She even monitored the police patrols, timing how often they came and when they changed shifts. This time, she would be prepared. 

When she finally got home at the end of the day, her parents were gone. Not only were they gone, but their things were missing and they’d taken all the money with them. At first Rosalinda didn’t think much of it; after all, she’d been left alone before and always managed just fine.

But days passed….and then weeks….and eventually, Rosalinda realized that her parents really had no intention of coming back this time. She had outlived her usefulness to them and they had decided to move on without her.

She would never see her parents again. Instead, she would meet a man who would change the course of her life forever….

Growing up alone

Rosalinda adjusted rather well to her parent’s sudden disappearance. The hardest things were the ones she’d never really dealt with before – like finding the landlord to pay the rent in the apartment they’d lived in. He’d questioned why she was paying the rent that first month, instead of her father like usual, and she’d come up with some bullshit excuse that her parents were busy that day. He didn’t push the issue the next month and over time he simply stopped asking; after all, he was still getting paid and that’s all that mattered.

She knew that housing was her most important focus. Then food, then anything else, like clothes. She knew she would need to avoid police and that if people found out her parents were gone, she would likely be sent to a group home or worse. 

At first, she’d struggled to come up with enough money every month. She spent all day out, scamming tourists, snatching wallets, robbing corner vendors, and even then, she’d be short every month. She realized that one of her biggest problems was learning to pick the right targets – after all, that had always been the role of her parents. So, she started to train herself to look before grabbing. She would notice little things – that couple looked rich, but if you looked closely you would see that her dress was faded and the cuffs of his parents were tattered. Their wallets would be lighter than that of the couple next to them, who ordered refills of expensive wines without hesitation.

A few years passed and Rosalinda fell into a routine. She woke each morning, had a simple breakfast and headed out to earn her money. At times she thought of escaping the island, finding a way to get to America and maybe go to school or make a different kind of life. The child in her wanted to be a singer, and sometimes she would daydream of herself on a large stage, bright lights shining as she sang some classic song, an audience giving her a standing ovation.

But those dreams were few and far between – Rosalinda had no time for such trivial things. She had to push every day to make ends meet and, even with her parents gone, she allowed herself no room to fail.

Meeting the Don

Until one day she did just that, a rather epic failure that would change her life. She’d been watching the man all day and she was certain that he was a perfect target. Clearly rich, he seemed to spend money with no regard for price. The biggest problem was that he was always surrounded by an entourage of people – beautiful women, big scary dudes that looked like bodyguards, all sorts of people. She might get close enough to pick their pockets, but getting to him well…that was going to be harder.

Finally, late afternoon. He was outside, having a cup of espresso at a local coffee shop, sitting by himself at the table. A few men were scattered, obviously there for protection, but she knew she could slip by those – after all, she was a harmless teenager, small and scrawny, only just starting to come into her body. She'd be surprised if they even looked twice at her. 

She watched him closely, waiting until he had finished his coffee and folded up his newspaper. Right when she could tell he was getting ready to move from his table, she started walking in his direction. When he stood, she was right there, conveniently bumping into him as her fingers reached for the wallet she had seen him tuck into his inside jacket pocket.

Her fingers closed around it but in the next second, she felt a crushing pressure on her wrist – he’d caught her. Shocked, she gasped and pulled back, but he held firm, his eyes finding hers. She’d never actually been caught before and she had no idea what to do. She was frozen, like a deer in headlights.

“Well well, what do we have here.” His voice actually sounded amused, and in a few moments, he’d loosened his grip, but not enough for her to escape. Two of the large men had stepped forward but he waved them off and they stepped back to their previous positions.

“Lo siento señor,” Her voice was soft, shaky. Was she going to go to prison now? No, she had to find a way out of this, surely, she could talk her way into him letting her go. “I didn’t mean any harm….I tripped is all….”

“No.”

His voice was firm as he stopped her and she got the message clearly. He knew exactly what she had been doing and there was no point in trying to talk her way out of it.

“Come. Sit. Have a cup of coffee.”

He released her wrist and motioned to the table he’d just gotten up from. She hesitated but it didn’t seem like she had many options. Silently, she slid into a chair and waited. He motioned to one of his men, who disappeared inside to presumably get them coffee.

“You have a story. I want to hear it.” Again, there was no room for discussion there. Why he was taking such interest in her she wasn’t sure, but if she could avoid getting turned into the local police by spending some time talking to this man, then she would do that.

So for the next little while, Rosalinda shared her life story with this man. He listened, carefully, silently, sipping his coffee long after she'd finished. Finally, he spoke. 

"You will come work for me."

And that's exactly what she did. From that moment forward, Rosalinda would never actually be alone again. She had been introduced to a new kind of family, one that she would be a part of for life. 

A new kind of adventure

“What do you mean work with him?! He tried to kill me!” Rosalinda rarely raised her voice, so when she did, the old man sitting across the table knew she was truly upset. 

The old man pursed his lips, thinking of his words before speaking. “That was….an unfortunate accident.”

The brown-haired woman sat in a chair with her arms and legs crossed, her body language screaming anger – her muscles were tight and her foot was twitching. Her eyes seemed to be drilling holes in her boss as she stared at him. In the seat next to her was another one of the old man’s associates, a young man no more than a year or two older than her. He was silent, his face free of emotion.

There were a million things Rosalinda wanted to say in response to his comment but she remained silent, brooding. Talking back, especially in the presence of a thug, would be very unwise and Rosalinda knew what lines she could push and what ones she could not. Years had passed since she’d first met the older man and they had grown quite close. She had become one of his most trusted and utilized associates; so, when the man sitting next to her had suddenly appeared, running the same route as her, a conflict was only to be expected.

After a few moments of silence, the old man motioned for the younger man to leave. Once he had, the old man leaned back in his seat, smiling at Rosalinda, seemingly amused.

“Are you going to be mad at me for the rest of our existence?”

“It’s very possible.” Stubborn, she knew, but true. She worked best alone and for him to try and stick her with a partner? Now of all times?

“Mi hija…” He exhaled deeply, shaking his head.

“I am not your daughter.” She was hash, harsher than she had intended, and she could see how it hurt him. In all fairness, he had been just like a father to her since the day he’d caught her trying to steal his wallet back in Puerto Rico. Really, he had been a better father to her then her own had been. 

In the years that passed since they had first met, Rosalinda had blossomed into a beautiful young woman. The man in front of her, who she had learned was a Don in the American Mafia, had taken her from Puerto Rico to New York. There, under his close watch, she not only perfected the skills she’d known since birth but learned new ones. From pickpocketing and robbing to learning how to fire a weapon, Rosalinda spent time learning the ins and outs of the business. She was a quick study and her need for perfection meant she spent countless hours studying the things she was taught so that she would never fail. The old man tried to teach her that failure was simply a part of life - after all, if she hadn't failed to pick his pocket, she wouldn't be sitting across from him now, living the life she was living. 

“I’m sorry,” She said, a few moments later. Her voice was softer now, and she forced her arms to relax, falling to her sides, her hands in her lap. “I work better alone.”

“No.”

There it was again. With one word he could express a million thoughts, since the day she had met him. She knew she was missing something, but she was too angry to figure it out at that moment. Either way, she knew he would tell her. 

“This is a Family, Rosa. You must learn that. Without your family, you are nothing, do you understand? Nothing.”

He leaned forward, his forearms resting on his desk. He was using his serious voice now, and she was reminded of her place in this thing. “You think this is punishment? No. This is a lesson. Antonio is a good lad, new to the business. You must learn to teach others. To bring them in and show them the ropes. To vet them, see if we can trust them. Without this step, you cannot continue to grow.”

Rosalinda knew he was right. She hated it, but he was right.

“Fine. I will do it.”

A slight smile crossed his lips, which caused her to scowl. “I won’t enjoy it.”

He sat back in his chair, laughing softly. “Not everything in life is enjoyable my dear. Now go, your new associate awaits. I expect only the best from you, and now, from him.”

She nodded slightly before walking out of the office. She found her new associate, Antonio, sitting and waiting. He stood when she exited, fumbling a bit with his jacket as he straightened it. She had to resist the urge to roll her eyes at him – it would hardly be professional after all.

“Listen, about what happened earlier today….I didn’t realize….”

“No.”

She stopped him with the single word, just like the old man often did to her. “What’s done is done. We start fresh.”

“It’s just….you didn’t strike me as a professional criminal.”

“And that’s what makes me so good at it.” She walked off without a further word, expecting him to follow. They had work to do and she had to figure out how to go from student to teacher without killing him. Or letting him kill her, for that matter.

Rosalinda stood at the foot of the hood of the car, her eyes wide as her they surveyed the scene in front of her. For once, words escaped her. The flames seemed to grow higher and higher, engulfing the building that Tony had just come running out of. She could already hear sirens in the distance and she looked at him, her expression enough to send him stammering for words.

“Don’t worry! This, it’s just a minor issue. Tiny.”

“A minor issue? You blew up a building for fuck's sake!” She motioned towards the building as if the damage wasn’t obvious enough. Frustration, sarcasm and sheer annoyance all bled through in her voice.

“Ok, maybe I did get a bit off track.”

“You were supposed to be collecting money, not DESTROYING things.”

“Oh!” His hands patted down his jacket until his face brightened and he pulled out a thick envelope. “I did that!”

Her eyes rolled before she reached out and plucked the envelope from his hands. “And so how did this,” she once again motioned to the building “Happen?”

“Well uh…I’m not quite sure.”

She couldn’t help but look at him like he was an idiot, mostly because he was an idiot. Months she had spent with him and still, he couldn’t even get a simple collection right?

“Get in the car, we have to get out of here before the pigs show up.”

She drove the two of them back to the family’s headquarters, taking a long route with lots of turns to ensure they weren’t being followed. When they got inside, she went straight up to speak with the Don. Within a few minutes,s she was sitting at his desk, a glass of whiskey in her hands, the envelope of cash placed on the table in front of him. She took a long sip from the glass before speaking.

“Can I shoot him?” She was joking…mostly.

“No.”

“Just a little bit?”

The old man raised an eyebrow, shaking his head.

“But papa, he blew up a building. An ENTIRE building. He doesn’t even know how he did it!” Again, frustration.

“He’s young, he’s made some mistakes. He doesn’t have the experience that you do.”

She stared at him just as she had stared at Antonio earlier. Was the old man losing his mind? Was this some sort of prank? Or a test? Why would he give her this complete failure to train, a man who couldn’t seem to do a simple thing right?

He sighed heavily. “He’s like me at that age. Reckless. And I entrusted him into your hands because you balance each other out.”

She was clearly surprised by this statement; there was simply no one she respected more in the world then the old man. “Balance each other out?”

“There is such a thing as being too meticulous Rosalinda. Of being too perfect. Maybe I hoped that Antonio would rub off on you a little, and you on him. He needs to think more, you need to think less.”

Now it was her turn to sigh; they’d had this conversation many times over the years. She couldn't help who she was, even if he felt that she could. Besides, she didn't even agree with him; how could being meticulous be a bad thing? How could having a well thought out plan be a bad thing? She had certainly never blown up any buildings, like her new associate. 

Still, she refrained from responding and instead took another sip from her glass. He was silent, eventually standing from his desk and walking to the balcony doors, staring out. Their family was located in Westchester, outside of New York City. Their headquarters was on a large plot of land, surrounded by trees, and the Don had a beautiful view of the garden he'd cultivated over the years. He sipped from his glass before he finally spoke, not looking back at her.

“I won’t always be here Rosalinda. I am an old man and old men don’t live forever. Everything I do, I do for this family and for you. To keep you safe. Remember that.”

She frowned at the comment; again she had the uneasy feeling that something wasn't right, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it. She stared at him, but he didn't turn around. She would wait, quietly, and eventually, he would tell her. She hoped. 

The loss of the old man

Cancer.

Rosalinda had heard it called many things, this illness that was incurable, that ate healthy people away from the inside. She had seen people suffer many forms of it but never anyone close to her. And never had she heard it named.

It shouldn’t have come as such a shock, she realized later. She had noticed him growing weaker for weeks, passing more and more of the family business to his right hand. Even she had been stopped from seeing the old man at times, and that had never happened before, not in all her years of knowing him. He’d gotten a nasty cough, and once she swore she’d seen him cough up blood.

Today, with all his button men gathered, he finally told them the truth. He would die, he said, without hesitation. It could be a week, it could be a month, maybe longer, but he would die. It was time for him to make arrangement for the continued vitality of their operations.

Rosalinda was not one to express her emotions. His announcement didn’t elicit tears or heartbreak from her, not in that moment. Instead, she threw herself further into her work. Every job she was given she executed with a fierce precision. She gave everything she could to training Antonio, as hopeless as the task seemed to be.

Until one day, the old man called for her. He had been in bed for a few days now and his time was limited. He looked so weak and fail, it was hard for her to see him like that. In fact, deep down she didn’t even want to be there – she wanted to run away. But she couldn’t, not after everything he had given her. She forced herself to sit and hold his hand.

“Rosa…” The one word sent him into a fit of coughing. She tried to tell him he didn’t have to speak but he waved her off, dismissing the thought. “I am so proud of you Rosa. I never had a daughter of my own, but from the moment I met you, I knew you would be special.”

Rosalinda shook her head, tugging at his blanket and tucking it in around his chest. “You should be resting.”

He took her hands and sighed. “Let an old man say his peace.” His voice was firmer than she had heard it in a while, so she relented. “You cannot stay here Rosalinda. You should see more. There is so much more for you.” Another fit of coughing overtook him and she waited, helping him sip at a glass of water.

“I have spoken to some of my contacts in Manhattan. There is a woman there, a strong woman just like you. She is the Godmother of Manhattan and she goes by the name Bubbles. When I am gone, you are to go and find her. Take Antonio with you. We both know he won’t be much of a gangster but I think he would do you well.”

“But papa, the family….” She had lived here for years, working with this crew. Why would he send her away now? Why couldn’t she stay?

He waved her off again. “They will be fine. I have good strong men here. But you, you are young. You must see the world mi hija. Please, promise me that you will go? Godmother Bubbles is a fine woman and she will teach you what you need to know to be successful. Do this for me.”

She could tell this was very important to him; she wasn’t sure why but who was she to deny him this last request? “Of course. Now, will you get some rest?” She smiled, weakly, her eyes full of worry and questions.

“One more thing.” He fumbled with a drawer in the table next to him and she helped him pull it open. He pulled out a small black bag and put it in her hands. “For you.”

She pulled from the bag a stunning gold chain, on which hung a charm in the shape of a rose. It caught her by surprise and she told him how beautiful it was. He seemed pleased that she liked it and finally shut his eyes.

Only when he fell asleep did the tears start to fall. This man had saved her after her own parents had abandoned her; who knew what her life would have been like had he not taken her off the island and here to New York. He’d given her a life she could only have dreamed of and now he would be gone soon too. She lay her head on his chest as silent sobs escaped her. “Please don’t leave me….” Her voice was merely a whisper and she knew it would do no good. She was learning that everyone in life would leave sooner or later, one way or another.

The next morning, he was gone. His right hand was crowned the new Don and he immediately took over the family operations. The next few days were a blur; the funeral arrangements were made and the services were large. Mobsters came from all over the country to pay their respects for the old man was known far and wide, more so then even she had realized.

Moving to Manhattan…

She’d returned home after the funeral the last day with plans already in motion. When she got to her room she kicked off the black pumps she had worn all day. A black lace dress and black mantilla had completed her mourning clothes and she wanted nothing more but to get them all off, to pretend like none of this had happened, to put all of her emotions away in a neat little box and tuck them into a deep dark corner where she’d never have to face them. She wanted to get back to the straightforward emotionless work that she was so very good at it.

She changed into a more suitable daytime traveling outfit of slacks, a blouse, and boots and tucked the rest of her belongings into the one bag still in her room.

“Tony, are we ready?” She called out, waiting for the man to stick his head into her room.

“Yes ma'am, the car is all packed up, just waiting for you.” He had been crying; she could see his eyes were still wet. But he hid it from her, likely to keep her from getting upset. Rosalinda had not cried once through the services, and she could tell from the glances sent towards her that others found this odd. What good would tears do her now? He was gone and life had to move on. She had promised him she would go to Manhattan, to find the Godmother. She still didn't understand why his dying wish had been for her to leave her family, but she had promised and she had every intention of fulfilling that promise. 

She glanced once more around her now empty room, her fingers absentmindedly playing with the charm of the necklace she now wore. She knew she would never see the place again, this place she had called home for so many years. But she refused to let the sadness overwhelm her, so she grabbed her last bag from the bed and headed out the door. “Let’s go then. We have a new home to find.”

Rosalinda would never forget all of the things the old man had taught her; she would never forget him or the way he had changed her life. But he had made it clear to her that he wanted her to find bigger and better things in life, and the only way she could do that was by moving on. So when their car pulled away from the family compound, she didn't look back. 

Every story has an ending. But in life, every ending is a new beginning.