DeStefano Syndicate (The Former Years)

OOC

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September 10th, 1934
Chicago Business District

His face was lined with concentrated effort, the years of being on the force showing in the planes of his olive colored skin, dark circles lining his once deep blue gaze. He reached up and readjusted his glasses for the hundredth time, a nervous habit of sorts. The press followed him closely allowing only enough room for one of the captains from his police force to squeeze in on his left and the lead detective on the case that carried his whole career on his right. There was mischief in the air and the stench of death and moonshine accompanied it like a haunting on a moonless night.

He pushed through the crowd and jogged up the stairs of the district precinct, his hand coming up to let everyone around him know that he wasn't answering questions, so they'd better not ask. He looked to the detective and nodded, "Meet me on the third floor. She's already there and don't say a fucking word to her until I get there... you got me, Jones?"

Jones nodded and smirk, his boyish good looks and tousled playboy hair fooling most that came in contact with him. The little bastard was smart and cunning and yet for some reason he decided he wanted to be a private dick. Why, Marx would never understand. There was danger, no money, endlessly chasing ghosts and a lack of female criminals, but he had no room to talk seeing that the last twenty years of his career were surrounded with varying criminal organizations that took turns casting lots for ownership of his city.

Marx turned toward the east corridor, showing his badge though they knew him through and through - always one to follow the rules of engagement to a tee. He looked over at Parker, the captain of the downtown and central precinct, the sound of their black leather shoes tapping on the white linoleum the only sound around them.

"We're not going to be able to hold her, you know. We really have one eyewitness and a few fingerprints. That's not nearly enough for what her big shot brother is willing to pay to get her off the hook. This is really just like going to a porn and not getting to jerk off while you're there - painful, shitty and leaves your boys blue." Marx spoke softly, the humor in his words deadened by the tone in his voice.

Eleanor DeStefano was the finest woman he'd ever laid eyes on and yet the beauty was a wolf in sheep's clothing. Of that he was sure.

"She's beautiful enough to star in a porno, boss." The captain laughed, a smile touching his vaguely plain features. His breath caught in his chest as the women's restroom door opened and she walked out, her own expressing telling the boys that she'd heard there lovely comments.

"Well, well... Marx. Do you always speak of innocent women so crudely?" The left side of her pale pink lips lifted, the playfulness in her gaze causing his groin to stir to life.

He hated her with every bone in his body and yet the woman was every man's wet dream. He coughed and shook his head, "Not sure what you're referring to, El, but you're supposed to be upstairs waiting on me and Jones. Why aren't you, dear?" He said, no love in his voice.

"You have nothing to keep me here and Joe came by and straightened this all out for poor little 'ol me." She laughed softly and walked past them, brushing her shoulder against Marx's chest. "I keep thinking you'll finally get what you want, Chief... what we both want."

She continued walking down the hall - a free woman. He couldn't help but ask what she wanted from him or rather what she assumed he wanted from her.

"And what is that, El?" His voice was deep and guttural as he watched her perfect hips sway side to side, the bitch well aware of what she was doing, of the game she played so very well.

She looked over her shoulder, her long black curls running down her narrow back and stopped just above her pert rear. "Me... in cuffs baby... whatever else?" She laughed again and walked out into the early afternoon, the convertible in front of the station waiting for her as she smiled and waived for the cameras.

"How did it go?" Joe asked, pointing to her seat belt, "And why are you blushing, Sis?"

She shrugged innocently. "As well as could be expected. The rat is in place and the evidence is planted, big brother. Take me home so I can put my feet up and get a drink."

He laughed and his deep timbre filled the narrow confines of the car, "Anything for you doll... anything."

“Keep it movin’ bucko,” The grunt came from behind, followed by the smallest nudge from the barrel of a .38. “I don’t wanna lose any more card time cause a’ you.” The young man turned and shot a quick glance backwards at the thug on the other side of the weapon and sighed, unimpressed. He was smaller than the thug, and unarmed since they took his weapons at the door, but that wasn’t where is advantage was. He smirked and shoved a hand in his pocket, maintaining the same leisurely pace. It had to seem casual.

He was in control.

They approached a pair of armed guards outside a door, and one stepped forward. “Whaddaya want?” he said, looking over the boy. He was younger, maybe mid-twenties. He was of average height and build, with red-brown hair and blue eyes. He dressed in simple clothing, a white undershirt and jeans. The man was nothing formal but at least he was clean.

“I am lookin’ for the Lion.” The man said, in a poorly hidden Irish accent. The guard’s eyes narrowed as he sized up the boy, then smirked and let him past. They walked through the door and into an office, or what seemed like an office. Empty, concrete walls, one window straight ahead, and a desk planted in the middle of the room. The desk was littered with assorted papers and documents, along with a few knick-knacks; A hula girl, a snow globe, and a tiny bust of Charlie Chaplin.

Behind that desk sat a man, who seemed much immersed with the paperwork in front of him, scribbling on one, looking at another, and scribbling some more. In fact he seemed so immersed in his paperwork, that he didn’t look up from it, merely held out his hand indicating the chair opposite him for a moment, then going back to scribbling. The red-haired man sat down, glancing around for a few seconds in silence. “I-“ The man’s hand shot up and he raised his head to look upon the person in front of him for the first time. For a moment, he just stared, and the man stared back. For a few uncomfortably silent seconds, nothing was said, before the man opened his mouth to speak again. “I-“

“Hello how’re ya doing?” the Lion interjected suddenly, with only a slight Italian accent, continuing before the shocked young man could react. “I’m the Lion, pleasure to be of service. What brings you down to my neck of the woods, ye olde potato lubber?” The man’s face shifted slightly from one of more surprise to a slowly escalating irritated one and he began to assess the situation. This “Lion” thought he was clever, trying to get him all worked up. As the man glared across the table for a moment, trying to recuperate himself, the Lion leaned forwards, grabbing the snow globe and shaking it vigorously, before setting it back down, flicking the hula girl into a swaying dance and leaning back in his chair.

The man stared, mouth slightly open as this man, this Lion, sprawled out, kicking his feet up and folding his hands. He tried to form a question, but the Lion saw he was tripping over words so he shrugged. “Takes away the tension.” He said softly, motioning for the man to continue.

The man thought hard for a second, then shook the perplexed look off his face and settled into a serious nature. “My name is Conor Eoin, and I’m here to deliver a message from my boss.” The Lion looked unimpressed, so the boy increased his volume slightly. “Two hours ago we hit your shipment of ‘goods’ on its way here from the harbor.” A slight twitch of the eyebrow, he was getting somewhere. “Yeah, but don’t worry, were willing to give it all back, for a little bit of… ‘handling compensation.’” The corner of his mouth turned downwards slightly, just one more push…

“Oh, and don’t worry about your boy,” Conor said, leaning forwards slightly. “He didn’t suffer no long-term pain.” Suddenly, the Lion took his feet from the desk and leaned forward slightly, looking hard at Conor, who just sat there with an unknowing smirk.

“Now, I know you probably think you’re smart,” He began, running a hand through his hair and glancing around the room quickly. “You know they don’t call me the Lion for shooting the messenger that bears bad news. Nah, I’m better than that.” He shrugged slightly, eyes fixing on Conor. “But you, who the hell are you? Probably some rag-tag group of wanna-be gangster boosters thinkin’ they can make a quick buck rippin’ off some crew, right?” Conor averted his gaze.

The Lion jumped up from his chair suddenly and, before Conor could react, slid across the edge of the desk and landed next to him, getting within a few inches of the side of the Irish man’s face. “Wrong. That’s my crew, and nobody fucks with my crew, Seamus McDoogle or whatever the fuck your name is.” His voice slowly boiled into a crescendo, and his Italian accent began to get more and more prominent.

He reared back suddenly, and Conor turned his head slightly to look at him, only to be met with a crack of some very hard knuckles smashing into his nose. He cried out and covered his nose with his hands as blood instantly began to flow down his face, eyes shut tightly as a reflex to the pain. When he opened his eyes all he saw was a leg come flying over the desk and barely had enough time to cover his face with his forearms and brace himself before the leg smashed into him, sending the chair tipping backwards and spilling the Irishman onto the floor.

Almost instantly the Lion had his knee pressed down on Conor’s chest, pinning him to the ground as he moaned and tried valiantly to squirm away from his attacker. “Now you go back and tell your scum-suckin’ buddies that they can either return my shipment in pristine condition,” he said, pressing his fist down hard on the man’s throat. “Or I can track every one of your friends down personally, and I can cut out the hearts and feed them to you, and then I can put two shells in your chest and dump you in the river.” With that, he finished his sentence with three shattering punches to Conor’s already-broken nose before standing.

Leonardo LaRocca shook his throbbing hand off to the side for a few seconds before looking up at one of his guards. “Get this piece of shit,” he added a bit of emphasis onto the word “shit” with a vicious stomp to the man’s rib, emitting a couple crackles and pops and causing the man to gasp in air and crumple into a ball. “Out of my warehouse.” The guard grabbed the man by the collar and began dragging him away, and Leo looked at the trickle of blood that left a trail out with a scowl. “And get somebody to clean this mess up.”

Then, he proceeded to sit down behind his desk, grabbing his important paperwork and leaning back in his chair. “Hmm, five letter word for ‘Mickey’…” he tapped his pencil to his lips a couple seconds in thought, before a confident grin took over his face and he began scribbling. “Mickey Mouse, that’s a good one.”

The corridor was long, dark, the floor like a green mile for those walking to their death. Benjamin Righetti had walked this mile for what felt like a thousand times. He reached the end of the underground hallway, a single door sat before him, guarded by two men. “Has he said anything?” Benny asked as he took off his jacket and handed it to one of his men. They both simply shook their heads. “Very well” The Sicilian rolled up his sleeves and opened the door. The room was quite large, to some it could pass for a crypt. In the centre of the room, a man stood, tied to a pillar of steel.

“You know, I was born in New York. My father had only been off the boat for just under a year. He and my mother met his first night in the city. He died, when I was very young but he instilled in me the thought that you should never forget where you come from” Benny circled the man as he spoke. “When I was old enough I travelled to a little town called Lecara Friddi, in Sicily. My hope was to find out a little more about where I’d come from. I found my father’s home and around that building there was a field, where wild horses used to graze. You’re probably wondering why I’m telling you this and it’s pretty simple really. My father owed everything he ever was to that place, he owed it and he never paid it back in any way and because of that, that old house was torn down. Destroyed…” Benny reached into a nearby box and pulled out a rifle. “Now Mr Mikealson, two weeks ago you came to me and asked a favour. I gave you my investment and you gave me your word I would have it back three days ago. A man is only as good as his word. You owe me, Mr Mikealson and you haven’t paid me back. The lesson in all of this?...” Taking aim, Benjamin stood before his prey. “Pay what you owe or risk being destroyed” He only pulled the trigger once, he watched with dark eyes as Mikaelson’s head snapped back.

Placing the gun back into its box, Benny left the same way he entered. Taking his jacket back from the guard, he placed it under his arm. “Burn the body, leave no traces” stepping to, he began to walk the mile again until he reached a stair case. He travelled up the staircase and threw the hidden door, finding his way into the boiler room. From here, it was a short walk into the bar of the Sicily Diamond. This hotel was Benny’s baby. Not only was it a great front but it was also great fun. He took his usual place behind the bar and poured himself a nice glass of whiskey before being approached by one of his dancers.

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“Let me guess, vodka martini and a cigarette?” He looked to her with dark eyes and she smiled. “You know your customers, Mr Bartender Man” She took a seat as he poured her drink and handed her a lit cigarette. Benny admired her for a second before speaking. “You’re nervous. Don’t be. I know it’s your first night, the customers who come here are no problem” It was an illusion Benny had found often worked. None of the staff who worked at the Diamond knew who he really was. They didn’t know he owned the place, as far as they were concerned he was nothing more than a barkeep. “Is it that obvious?” She asked, taking a long drag from her cigarette. “I just know people. I look into their eyes, I can see beneath the clothes. They’re scared, afraid they’re not good enough, not pretty enough. It’s all the things I see in their eyes” the left side of her mouth perked up as she leaned forward.

“And what do you see in my eyes, Mr Bartender Man?”

The road was like any other in Chicago. Vendors out, just on the border between the sidewalk and the cobbles, peddling fruits, vegetables, wooden toys and the odd bits and pieces all over the place. The sight of a Rolls was about as common as a Ford T, or even bicycles, pedestrians, and any other sort of transportation shy of horses and unicycles were strolling along this place. It wasn't shabby and it wasn't chic neither. There were shoemaker stores right beside well renowned clothing stores, a tea shop held right beside a man looking to polish shoes, all living together in peace and harmony. People greeted each other with a tip of the hat and a complimentary "Mornin'". So when a Rolls Royce with a powerfully build engine that almost made the entire street thrum, it wasn't even something to make men and women around take a second glance. Even the shiny black exterior, the rich look of the vehicle, and the dark tinted windows weren't out of place. It was a street in which the rich and the poor seemed to mingle and rub shoulders without anything but pleasantness. What did cause people to take a second look, or, for those that were smart, look away, were the five men that stepped out.

All seemingly dressed in a uniform clothes, dark, with white shirts, trench coats, and rimmed hats. Such stylish dress seemed a bit out of place on the men that bore them. They all had flinty gazes, hatchet faces, eyes that had seen more than their fair share of crap all around. They were also tall, muscular, and seemingly in their prime, between late 20s to early thirties. The man that was in the shotgun seat seemed a bit more different. The rest were like wild dogs, still on a leash and happily munching on a bone or two, while he looking like he had never seen a leash. A wolf, lean as one, and holding that same rigid power that most men respected, and, well, the rest respected after a solid encounter with said wolf. You wouldn't find a hunter on earth that didn't respect the hell out of a wolf, and, just the same, you wouldn't find a man in the city that wouldn't think twice about taking this man on. He was tall, leanly muscled with a full head of hair still on underneath his hat. Even though they all bore the same manner, this one stood out.

All five seemed to be following marching orders behind Dexter, name Latin for Right, or something like that, he had once been told. They stepped inside a large establishment, selling clothes, mainly women's with all the furs and satins, silks and other sort of things that these men had absolutely no interest in unless they were being removed from a soft and willing body. Dexter moved over to the counter, and tapped his hand against the bell, smiling at the ring. Odd contraptions.

An elegantly dressed woman, looking to be in her forties, moved forward, stopping short in surprise when she saw the set of men, trying, in vain, to fit in by inspecting the clothes. Dexter paid them no heed. They were brutes, much like himself, only useful when there was lead flying around.

"We need to see Mr. Frankie," Dexter said the name that had been on display at the front of the shop, in bright red letters," It's kind of urgent, ma'am."

She nodded, curtsied, and headed off faster than a rabbit that hear a shotgun to find Mr. Frankie, and, more than likely, warn him that he was in deep shit. If he tried to bolt, no matter. There was another car around the back exit, just waiting for something like that. He doubted it was gonna happen, but people looking at facing a firing squad did the darndest things.

The woman returned," Please, may I show you to his office?"

"That would be deeply appreciated, ma'am," Dexter removed his hat and nodded. The rest of the men followed suit, and ended up in line with Dexter, up the stairs, and into Mr. Frankie's office. The place was small, crowded now that there were six men inside, and they all looked around. Dexter didn't, as he found what he had been looking for. Frankie was sitting on his plush seat, looking as jumpy as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs, sweat gleaming on his half bald head. Dexter took one look around, and stepped closer.

"Now see here, Mister," He started," I have no beef with you. Hell, seems like you run one hell of an establishment, with all these clothes and all," The men nodded in agreement," And who doesn't need a good buy here and there. But see, you haven't been paying your rent to Mr. Pallotti, and that mister is a close friend with my boss. And he don't like not getting paid rent," The rest of the men shook their heads."

"I'll pay this afternoon. I promise," Frankie said nodding, hoping he had appeased the men that looked like they were out for blood. He grabbed a kerchief and wiped the sweat off of his bald head.

Dexter nodded," Good. Cuz' I'd hate to see this place getting... oh, I dunno, robbed, or any such thing. I would hate it more if you sir, yourself, came to any harm. However, with you no longer paying any rent, Mr. Pallotti can no longer afford to keep you and your fine establishment protected from any such unpleasantness. Do we have an agreement, sir?"

Frankie nodded, desperately.

"I am mighty pleased," Dexter said, tipping his hat," Have yourself a fine day, Mr. Frankie."

"You gentlemen as well," He called after them, but they were already gone. They moved through the store again, out onto the street, towards the car. Another screeched to a halt not too far away, and two men stepped out, and moved for Dexter.

"Mal, Kev," Dexter greeted them.

"Sir," They said in unison.

"How can I help you boys?"

Kev, a young man with bright orange hair and lean as a fishing pole spoke up," Well, it's like this, Boss: We is hearin' tell that Mr. Benny, over at the bar, has gone around roughin' up some of his clientele. He even shot one last night."

"Yeah," Mal, brown hair, short and stout, with a mean look on his pudgy face," We're hearin' tell of the same thing with Mr. Lion, boss."

"Fuck," Dexter ran a hand through his hair.

"Seems like everybody wants yer job, boss..." Jerry, a man already in the car, said.

"Looks like everybody wants my job, Jerry," Dexter repeated," Cept'n nobody wants to pay the piper when the piper's due. And it's usually up to me to straighten shit out later. Then everybody's right as rain to leave the shit haulin' to me," He shook his head," Mal: Send a boy to Benny's place, and let him know that if he shoots another one of his clients again, I will personally go over there, and shoot him a new set of assholes. If he runs into trouble with his clients, he is to call me, and let me handle it, okay?" Mal nodded," And Kev, you head over to Lion's place, and see what went down. I dun' like the feller, but he hasn't done shit like this before. Just see what happened, and if it wasn't warranted, give him the same message, ya hear?"

"Yes boss."

Joe filled his late afternoon on the golf course, but El was found sitting at the large cherrywood desk her father had carved for their parting gift years ago when they left home and headed for the land of opportunity. She snickered at the thought, this world not being very different than her own. It was neither here nor there, but the truth of the matter lay in the ideal that you could create your own destiny, forge your own path no matter what soil you pressed your feet upon.

“It’s all in your own abilities.” She looked up at the empty room, her to-do list a bit long for the type of evening she wanted to have. Something had gone wrong with their arms shipment a day or so before and she knew Leo would be on it, but it was her job to make sure she was on him. She smirked at the thought.

Picking up the phone, she leaned back in her plush leather chair and slid her feet upon the desk, her black boots pointed at the far end of her heel, taunt skin and perfectly sculpted legs running up to disappear into her skirt, her mannerisms never allowing her to look anything less than perfect until locked behind the sanctuary of her home.

His secretary answered the phone though it was far too late for her to be there and El left a discrete message. “Tell Leo that I’d like an update on what we discussed earlier today. Tell him I’m dying to hear what happened.”

She hung up and turned as Joe walked in, his appearance making him seem like a hard working banker or high dollar lawyer. She slipped her feet off the desk as he scowled at her.

“What have you heard from the Lion?” He moved to the liquor cabinet, pouring himself a glass of bourbon and her a glass of water. She took the glass and took a quick sip, shaking her head.

“Nothing. I left him a message. Stop worrying so much, Joe. You chose the right men for the job, now let them do what they do best.” She stood and moved from behind the desk, walking to the large full length window on the back of the room.

“You called him, I assume?” His deep timbre followed her and she chuckled, looking over her shoulder. “Of course I did. I told you not to worry namely because that’s my job description.”

“Good girl…” He muttered and walked from the room, pointing at one of his assistance as they scurried by with a look of fear on their face. “Call Mr. Righetti and get something set up for tomorrow night at the hotel. We need a meeting room big enough to fit a dozen people.”

The girl nodded and moved away quickly. Joe was a good natured fellow, but if you wanted to be intimidated by him and have the type of relationship that made your stomach hurt and your bowels tighten every time you saw him… fine. He’d be more than happy to oblige you – male or female.

“Now… to deal with the eyewitness that’s ratting to the cops about Ellie…” He picked up the phone in the kitchen and left a message for his boy. “Dex, we need to talk.”


Cary

Cary finished applying the deep mauve lipstick, pursing her lips and touching the curls that framed her alabaster face. “Perfect…” she muttered and walked from the lady’s room at Sicily Diamond, her eyes moving to the bar where the new girl was talking with Benny. A saucy smile touched her mouth as she moved toward the both.

Life had been nothing but hard lately; the number of married men that wanted a night of pleasure was almost concerning as if their wives had separated the physical needs of their relationships from the relationship itself. She cared not. Falling in love and getting married was a poor investment decision in her own mind. She needed need the security of a man taking care of her and she most certainly didn’t want to think he’d be at Benny’s bar picking up someone just like her to spend the night sweating and moaning at.

She slid into a seat next to Francesca and smiled at Benny. “Evening, Sir. You look excitable. Busy later?” She laughed at the new girl looked at her with a bit of surprise.

“Is he one of your customers?” Francesca looked between Cary and Benny.

Cary shook her head as she laughed softly. “Don’t I wish…”

Another day, another client. The hotel room Cecilia found herself in this time wasn't exactly the Palmer House but she had been in worse; was usually in worse. Smoke wafted through the room, like so many before him her latest customer couldn't wait to pop another cigarette into his mouth. For them it was no doubt a signal of their victory, their conquest; for Cecilia it was a stark reminder that business was done. The time for communication, for negotiations, were long since passed. Cecilia rose to a seated position, letting the duvet that had been covering her drop to the bed.

"Leaving so soon?" the smoking man asked inbetween puffs.

His hair, dark brown and in dire need of a clipping, was dripping with sweat and partially stuck to his forehead. Someone had been enjoying themselves. Moreso than Cecilia even. There was a self-satisfied grin on his face, ballooning his puffy cheeks. The client, as Cecilia had not asked nor cared to find out his name, had approached her like any other, flashing his smile and his payment. He wasn't exactly Clark Gable, being a bit on the short and chubby side and having a bad tendency to spittle while he talked, but his money was good and he himself hovered right around not bad.

"Oui," Cecilia responded, rolling her stockings up her leg. The client had enjoyed it when she dipped into her native tongue - the whole foreign allure worked wonders on the job. "Yes," she corrected herself; there was no need to indulge his delights anymore.

"A shame, I was starting to like you." He laughed. It was high pitched and wheezy and was quickly interrupted by him coughing out a puff of smoke.

Cecilia said nothing in response as she stood up from the bed; she could feel the man's eyes watching her as she sauntered towards her dress hanging from a coat hook in the closet. She took her time in crossing the room, her smile hidden from view. Outside, men like him had the power, they vied for it, always wanted more of it. But here, within the confines of a bedroom, it was women like Cecilia who held the power, and she knew it - basked in it. Basked in knowing that any given client was wrapped around her like a snake squeezing the life out of its prey.

The first thing Cecilia did when she reached her dress was ensure that the payment was still there. Always get the money first. That had been a mistake she only made once.

"How about we grab a drink sometime?" His eyes still glued to her, his lips practically smacking together.

And there it was, the question all first timers asked. The poor folks who couldn't, or wouldn't, make the distinction between hired help and actual physical attraction. Cecilia was no stranger to accepting a post-job drink, it was a good way to get repeat business, but that was before she found a much better way to bring in repeat customers.

"Sorry, love, I'm on the clock," Cecilia was straightening out her dress and checking her appearance in a small personal mirror. She bent down and picked up her heels, dangling them on the end of her index finger. "Until next time, yes?" Cecilia turned to face the man, her lips forcing a smile. She bent her leg slightly, letting it peak out from the side of her dress. The way his eyes darted to the brief flash of skin was all the proof Cecilia needed to know that they would be doing this again sometime.

Always leave them wanting more. That was key.

Cecilia left the hotel room, closing the door behind her. She put on her heels and headed for the lift. Another successful job. Another trip back to her employers to hand over their cut. Another day in the life of a woman living the American dream.

“I see a storm coming” Benny took a drag from his own cigarette before ramming it out in the ashtray. “The crowd isn’t going to know what hit it” At that moment, another blonde appeared and took a seat next to Francesca. “Sorry Cary, I’m serving all night” He laughed as Francesca asked her if he was a customer. “Now now, I may work behind a bar Francesca but don’t take me as that type. I ain’t nobody’s customer, I’ve never had to pay for Miss Wittington’s company before and I don‘t plan on starting now” Benny traced a finger across Cary’s cheek and winked. He smiled to the two of them as he poured Cary a glass of wine and slid it over to her. “That one’s on the house” he turned to the ringing phone behind him. “Evening you’re through to the Sicily Diamond, Benny speaking how can I help?” He listened intently as it was described the Don needed a big room the following day. “Not a problem, tell Mr DeStefano he can use the bar to his leisure and I’m sure I can wrangle up a few highlights if he so wishes. Thank you for calling, goodnight”

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Turning back to the girls, he grinned like only a rattlesnake could. “Ladies, how’d you like to earn a little extra tomorrow night? A big business wants to use us as a venue for a meeting. If you girls wouldn’t mind coming down here and keeping them company, I’m sure everyone will go away happy. Free drinks for you guys all night, high rollers in the palms of your hand. We’ll pay you double for a few hours work. What do you say girls? Francesca looked to Cary and pulled her cigarette away from her perfectly full lips. “You done got yourself a girl, Mr Bartender Man” Benny checked the clock and then looked towards the door. “Better go get ready, Miss Marino. You’re on in five” With that, Francesca walked away from the bar and headed backstage to get ready with the other dancers. “So, what about you Cary? You wanna put in some work, tomorrow? I'll even take you out on a date if you want to sweeten the deal” Benny had known Cary for a few years now, she was one of the first people he met when he returned from his sebaticle in Atlantic City. She was a regular at the Diamond. She wasn't a dancer but she did ply her trade there and occasionaly worked a few rounds with the patrons. "Don't make me get on my knees now, you know I only save that for behind closed doors"

Their bodies had been tangled together for far too long, one another's sweat becoming a collection of a lust potion. William, the Italian stud kept her body close to his under the covers. He would do this ever so often with the same whore, a whore he thought cared about him...but Valarie was that fox in sheep's wool, waiting for her chance to make it big by marrying a wealthier man than she could dream of and she was being coddled by him right now in his tight embrace. The white satin sheets stained in their musk, the disheveled hair and the flustered skin created a calming symmetry. But they hid their desire in the most anonymous place where most fornicators go to release their love on one another. The Hotel...the cheap yet high class hotel that was clear on it's intent in the district where they would for their secret. She laid on top of him now...her olive eyes peering into his frozen sea. She smirked, either out of admiration of maybe not being satisfied as she wanted to be. But William knew all too well how to pleasure a woman, inside and out.

"Why are you lookin at me like that?" William had traces of his New Yorker accent, giving him a sex appeal that wasn't accessible in Chicago.

"I can't look at the man I just fucked huh?

"God you have the worst mouth I've ever heard. Did you're mother raise you like that?" he scoffed playfully.

"Well you didn't seem to worry about my mouth a few minutes ago, besides poor old mommy could never teach me what I know now." she looked away, tapping into the memories of family she slowly began to forget as the time began to fade into a repeated reality. Whoring, boring and scoring that doe was the motto.

He bear hugged her as she giggled into his chest, the repeated no's making him grin as if he had received an ice cream for his efforts in school. The tension between the two was thick, but neither one wanted to say their minds speech that would race through the confines of each and every nebula between brain stems. She smiled widely quickly and broke away from his grip, removing the sheet and walking in the nude, proud of her bust and sculpted figure.

"Where are you going?" Billy sat up.

"I like need to get out of here, more clients to attend to, you know the drill. I can't be held down by one man, that would be a bad idea for revenue...and a whore like me is highly wanted in the market."

"Please don't call yourself a whore..."

"Then what am I?"

Billy couldn't say anything, his words would be useless let alone meaningless to this woman who took control of her own situation. She only cared about the fight for her own rights, for her own well being and she made that known with every man that approached her. The main appeal she had was her side that challenged a man. And to be honest, most men loved a little man inside a woman in many different ways. She put on her Arab like bra, leaving her underwear off as she slipped on the white dress the was hemmed a little too high.

Valarie smiled as she grabbed her minx coat and her clutch purse. Walking over to him with that seductress step, her hair ruffled but looked like some kind of fad going on in the city. She leaned onto the bed, placing her lips against Billy's cheek and ending in a giggle. And like that she was out the door...gone with the wind and searching for the next piece of ass she could score.

Both of them were now traveling in different directions. Billy in the car as he drove toward the mansion and Valarie walking to the Sicily Diamonds, the haven for whores. Two walks of life similar to one another yet they couldn't break out of what they were doing. One was happily involved and the other wanted to get out.

Each one arrived at their destination...Billy parking and entering the house and Valarie entering the club as she began to put on lipstick.

Cary

Cary smiled at Benny’s admonition of never hiring a whore and yet it was more that obvious why. He was not only a handsome devil, but he had money and a personality to boot. He had to be one of the nicest men she knew and yet something about him, if you looked a bit too deeply in his eyes, might spook you enough to turn and hustle the other way. He was in a good mood tonight and had always been good to her, so she had no complaints. She took the liquid courage he offered to a woman that needed it not and took a quick sip as the dancer made her exit.

Benny had a proposition on the table and one that didn’t sound too bad. She glanced at the door as Valerie walked in, her movements lose and purposeful. A smile touched Cary’s lips at the sight of her saucy friend. She looked back at Benny as her eyebrow rose at him. “My, my… you’re laying it on thick tonight, baby. Don’t suppose you want give me a quick taste of what that knee thing you’re a talking about is, hmmm lover?”

She laughed and turned to Valerie, winking at the beautiful minx. “Benny here says there might be some work for us tomorrow night here at the hotel. Buncha big wigs from the upper side coming in. He’s even offering dinner and a little lovin’ to sweeten the deal. Wanna join he and I and let’s see how much trouble we can get in?” She laughed and looked back at Benny. “I’m in baby… I just love teasing you. I’ll run it by Taylor and make sure he’s golden with it. Valerie wants in too… we like to share.” She nibbled at her lip playfully and turned to watch the dancing beauty that left her side waltz onto the stage.

Dancing with clothes on… there’s an idea.



Elle

El growled as the door shut behind her brother. He did that "good girl" shit just to roweled her up and it worked beautifully every time. She sunk back in her chair, her fingers running through her long dark locks, the silky resolve helping to calm her a little. The run in with the cops was less than pleasant, but she's weaseled her way out of it with grace and skill, not to mention having Joe show up to assist. She needed to read through the police report on Angelique Martin that started all this shit.

Taylor was a good ring leader and prostitution was a money maker, but his whiny whores got on El's last nerve, the filthy bitches wanted to slut out their bodies and then wondering why someone might get a bit aggressive and leave his mark. She touched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes, contemplating how to bring the new detective on the force under her spell. He was young, brilliant and quite taken with his new job, but she was seasoned in manipulation and had a pair of tits that would make a preacher strip down and howl.

She'd turn most of this over to Taylor to better understand what happened to the girl and why the cunt filed a report with the police. She had less and less time to deal with the rings as the syndicate grew by leaps and bounds, so he could clean up the mess his girl made and El would call in her left hand, Dex, to take out the male witness that got involved and stuck his nose in places it didn't belong. Delegation was the name of the game and she was damn good at it.

Joe walked into the room again. "I'm getting something to eat... come with me."

She shook her head, "Make me something and bring it here. I can't leave. Taylor is coming by and I've a call into Cal."

He nodded, "I have us meeting at Benny's place tomorrow night to get everyone together and just make sure we're on the same page. Any news on replacing Vince as our Bootlegger?"

"No, but I'll get on that next. I think something is going down with Paul and I need to take care of that first. We are losing money left and right in the casino's, Joey..." She slid her fingers down her taunt thighs, her nails digging in to reminder she was more alive than she felt at times.

"What? Are you fucking kidding me?" He moved into the room and walked toward her. "Paul's like a brother to us, El. No fucking way he'd steal from us."

She stood up and walked toward him, brushing something from his lapel and taking his hand as she moved from the room toward the kitchen.

"Can't trust anyone. I'll have William look into the dealings with the casino and Paulie and then if he determines we're dealing with a thief, Cal or I one will put him down." She moved to the fridge and pulled out cold cuts, looking over as William walked in.

"Well, well... speak of the devil." Joe said and shook his consig's hand. "You smell like a woman. Tell me its in a good way. "

Taylor was in a black 1930 Cadillac V16 and heading to the DeStefano mansion. Elle called him out on a meeting, and judging by her tone she seemed pretty upset. Taylor was kind of concerned about that. The car was driven by Taylor's bodyguard and most trusted man. A black male named Louie. From the outside he seemed like an ordinary man, but he was actually very dangerous. He used to be Mario's bodyguard as well, until he died of leucemia and Taylor replaced him as head of the prostitution ring three years ago. He decided to keep Louie as his bodyguard as well and in time he became his man of trust too.

http://s6.postimg.org/4wxp13loh/Black_man_vintage.jpg

"Boss, if I may..." Said Louie while keeping his eyes on the road.

"Come on Louie. I have a name you know. I hate all this formal stuff, Boss, Mr., Sir or whatever. And yes you may." Said Taylor with his british accent as he took a smoke from his cigarette, blowing it out a couple of seconds later.

"Yes...sorry! Umm...Do you know why Miss DeStefano called you and told you to come to a meeting? She seemed very upset on the phone." Asked Louie.

"Yes she was upset, but I don't know Louie. I really hope it's not because of me though. I did a good job so far and I don't remember doing something wrong." Responded Taylor.

Minutes later they arrive at the mansion as two men open the gates and the black Cadillac drives inside. As the car stops somewhere, Taylor gets out of it and then heads over to Louie who was still in the car. He throws away the smoked cigarette away and leans down on the window, looking at Louie, who was looking at him as well.

"Stay here with the car mate. I'm, gonna go inside and..." Said Taylor as he paused for a few seconds and looked towards the door.

"...face the music." He finished as he pulled out his Colt 1911.

"Here...hold this for me. Only soldiers and bodyguards are allowed with guns inside." Concluded Taylor as he gave the gun to Louie and started walking towards the door.

Taylor got inside the mansion as one of the bodyguards saluted him. Taylor responded by nodding his head. he then ran his right hand through his slicked, black and medium long hair as the butler apprioached him.

"Aaah, Mister Cole. You finally arrived. Miss DeStefano is expecting you and Mister Dexter as well. Come with me please. Said the butler as he directed Taylor to the living room.

"Wait right here please. I'll go and tell her that you arrived." He said as he walked away, heading to the kitchen.

Taylor was a little nervous honsetly, but was trying to hide it as he was walking around and admiring the place. It wasn't everyday that he was called out at the mansion. It was usually hapenning because of meetings that were taking place in the family, when they were discussing business and future, or because that something bad took place. But since only he and Cal were supposed to arrive, and since he was the enforcer, Taylor had a feeling that the second variant was more then likely to be the reason.