"Ma'am?"


A body rolled over in the large four poster queen, the sheets were everywhere, barely covering the woman's half-naked body. The room was quite large, the floor made from wood, the walls painted a creamy white and the red velvet curtains kept the sun out without fail. That was half the problem, Catalina was one to get up early before the sun rose tot he horizon but some days she would sleep until late in the afternoon to make up for the sleepless nights. A woman dressed neatly walked to the curtains and yanked them open letting the sun pour into the room stirring Catalina once again. Catalina slowly raised her head, her eyes fluttered opened to reveal the beautiful blue eyes which many had fallen for.

“ It’s noon, Ma’am. The event coordinators had called, the chef and the decorators have arrived. All of the press and paparazzi have been informed once more this is a private event and no cameras or equipment are allowed within the premises while the event and its guests are in attendance.”

The event is supposed to showcase and grand opening to the Silk Petal’s new wing, after being closed for over 14 months. The rose gold metal card invitations were sent to many of the big names and elites all over the world in hopes to gain more investment funds. Anyone who was anybody would be there, including the five crime families.

“Anything from my sister?” Catalina asked softly as she sits up. The thick tresses of her hair falling in a silent curtain around her face as she pulled the covers away from her person. Passing a hand through her hair, she rose fluidity from her bed. The neatly dressed woman hand Catalina her robe which she took and slipped into, fastening a knot to her waist.

“No, nothing as of yet ” the woman replied. “ We have tried to get contact but-”

“Ms. Bloom,” Catalina’s voice broke out, her voice low and deadly. “ Try again, do not stop until you reach through and sent a friendly reminder to our neighbors. All parties must attend, if not I will be claiming favors. ”

“Yes, Ma’am”

Catalina walk to her bathroom removed her robe to get ready for tonight's event.

Chris had no faith in a divine being watching over him. He took care of himself. He knows the who's who, but he would murder anyone who supposed they could bury his name, steal from him, inform to the feds, or demand to do this or that because they doubted how in charge he was. Or, "in charge" could be rephrased as Chris being a wiseguy. All these things maintained a perimeter that people had to know. These things governed his life.

In an hour, Chris would be woke up by a phone call from the innkeeper. He was in a hotel. A few things had the cops looking everywhere for him and a couple guys. A cocaine transfer that went went wrong, someone got shot, and an hour after the fuck-up, somebody walked in a bar in Little Italy and tossed in a grenade... and then the sonofabitch shot a few bullets at the bartender. Chris knew the Colombians were heated and wanted to hurt somebody. The cops? They're here and there, but Chris was a big street guy, he just slipped there and moved to the next one.

In twenty minutes, the gangster would received his wake up call. He would get out of bed, go get his coffee, and get ready for the day. The TV was on from the night before, and there was half a $5 cigar in the ashtray. Chris was sleeping away, in his khaki pant with the belt wrapped inside the loops, when the concierge called him five minutes ear

He got out of bed, and remained in his slacks and put on a big, white tee shirt. He walked to the cabinet beneath the TV, retrieved his .45 cal pistol. He tucked it in the front of his pants and tightened the belt. He turned off the TV. He checked a few things out. He had two phones. He checked the messages, nothing. But he noticed a pager number, which was to a friend who run dope in the past, and who agreed to 56 months in prison.

He called his partner in crime and they greeted each other tough guy to tough guy, and then they talked about business.

"I forgot about it," Chris said while he remembered. "I remember now. OK OK..."

He disconnected his personal cell phone. Then, by his bed, inside of the lampstand, he reached in and pulled out a small bag of cocaine. He dumped a small amount on the table. He got a credit card and pressed down to make the compressed flakes usable. Then, he used a money bill and ingested it. Next, he returned to the cigar and set it aflame. For the next hour, Chris begin to question himself.

Was there a God? Why was he thinking about God?... etc.

@officaz

Francesco Sperrazza

Gaspare Moltisanti

Gaspare had woken up form what seemed like a great night, He had a amazing day yesterday and wondered if today would be the same. Getting ready putting on his suit, and going to the bathroom to attend to his hygiene routine. Kissing his wife and saying goodbye while leaving to heading to the kitchen, Eating some cereal and watching the news checking if their was anything about his "Business". So far it was mostly about black on black crimes, reports of murders and rich fat cats being caught committing fraud. Finishing up his breakfast seeing his oldest daughter coming down the stairs, "Hi honey, Whatcha gonna get up to today?" A smile on his face watching her toast some bread. "Oh just gonna go hang out with the girls at the mall, What are you up to?" She asked him waiting her her toast to finish.

"Just gonna go into the shop and get some work done, Just don't get into trouble okay" He said finishing his coffee and getting up. Kissing her forehead and leaving to his car. Riding his car down the highway and phoning Chris one of his made men, "Chris it's Gaspare, I need you to meet me at the Old Angel Midnight club downtown" He said into the voicemail that he heard over the phone. Then calling his pupil Francesco.

-------------------

Francesco meanwhile had woken up with a headache, Alone in his room with a large bottle of J.B whiskey that was laying on the other side of the bed like a lover. Getting out of bed and only wearing his underwear eating some breakfast, Drinking some pineapple juice while having some raisin bagels. Just stare at the brick wall of his apartment while having his breakfast, His mind racked with thoughts of last night and the many other nights before that. Hearing his phone ringing he answered it, It was his mentor and father like figure Gaspare. Nodding his head and telling his boss he would meet him at the Old Angel Midnight, Hanging up the phone and getting dressed in his suit knowing it sounded like a important meeting.

Leaving his apartment and getting into his care heading to the club, He felt even though Gaspare treated him like a son he was treated like some lower class since he was not a made man. Although Gaspare offered him the job of made man however he didn't like the business of a made man, All his life he knew how to kill and being a hitman was the only job he knew best. And it was a job he was damn good at. Many other mobs wanted his services he politely declined. Although he was interested in taking jobs for the The West End Mob, But he would have to run that by Gaspare.

The Bratva's heir awoke as he normally did: butt naked and with new wounds he couldn't immediately remember. He felt the fabric of the sheets peel off of one wound on his right side, grunting as he shuffled across the wooden floor of his master bedroom. He was able to make it to the bathroom and flick on the lights, immediately regretting the blast of the incandescent bulbs above the mirror. His eyes remained closed for a moment as his left hand felt around the wound. It was a small divot in his side... probably a bullet that grazed by. When Nikolai opened his eyes, he was able to confirm his suspicion: the minor graze of a bullet wound that was already scabbed over. He gave a reassuring nod as he turned away and got in the shower to begin his day right. He felt his hand pass over the wound again, and it only took a moment to realize what exactly had caused this...

---

The Night Before...

Nikolai stepped into the small bar with Dmitri on his tail. Sitting throughout the bar were about ten men, all dressed casually but clearly not average patrons. Samovar was a hole in the wall located in the basement of a housing project that acted as one of the Bratva's lower-scale brothels. The men here were protection, certainly born into the family. As soon as Nikolai entered, all sound and movement in the bar stopped. Some of them looked afraid, as they knew exactly who the heir apparent was. Others... they looked almost excited. Like they wanted to be the ones to kill The Bear. But as the room got silent, a Russian in a fine suit walked out of the back room and lifted his hands in greeting. This Russian has silver hair, and his face was clearly marked with age beneath the shaggy beard he had grown. He was a friend of Alexi Petrokov who went by the name Vladmir Tykovski, and he was the one responsible for runing the Samovar. Vlad greeted Nikolai in Russian. "Ahhh, Alexi's little boy... What brings you to my domain?"

"I came to collect the tax." Nikolai's response was cold and calculated. His words were clear and businesslike.

Vlad laughed and shook his head as he walked behind the bar and pulled out a bottle of Vodka, removing its top and pouring two glasses. "Your father is the one who collects the tax. We came over to this country together, and he has always shown me that respect. Now he sends his son to collect from me. What am I to think of that, little bear?"

Nikolai took a deep breath as he walked towards the bar, fetching his glass and downing the drink as if it were a cold glass of water on a hot day. He turned his gaze around to acknowledge each of the men in the room before turning back to Vlad. "You have always been good to my father, so I will show you this kindness. He has come down with the flu, and is resting. Until he is recovered, I am taking his place in all business. Treat me as if I were him."

Vlad shook his head, finishing his drink in like fashion before pouring each of them another glass. "You are not your father, little bear. If you won't leave until you get the money, you may as well sit and get comfortable. I am not handing it over until your father collects it himself."

Nikolai's face was stoic, but his hands clenched into fists at his sides. The other men in the bar began reaching towards their waists for their weapons. Dmitri grabbed his boss' shoulder with his left hand as his right reached for his own sidearm. The singular, frozen moment seemed like it went on for an eternity. But Nikolai's hands relaxed eventually, and he made his way towards the stairs. The two made their way outside and onto the streets of New York, walking towards an old black muscle car by the curb. They went towards the trunk without saying a word and opened it. At first, it looked like just a normal trunk... shallow, but unremarkable. Dmitri felt the side of the trunk's bottom to flip open a latch, and it swung up to reveal a small arsenal of weaponry. Two guns and loads of ammunition were on display, as well as a set of tools for torture that would make the CIA's mouth water. Nikolai reached for the Vepr while Dmitri fetched the AKS, and both loaded their respective weapons with drum magazines. The Bratva's heir slammed the trunk with his free hand, and the two men moved like one unit back towards the bar.

Dmitri kicked in the door and began opening fire, a line of bullets impacting against the wall in a line. Three of the men were caught in this spread, and jerked violently as they were killed before they could draw their weapons. Nikolai was right behind him, aiming straight ahead and aiming the shotgun towards a table of made men. Six pulls of the trigger saw the visceral death of four men as they too were slain before they could even stand. The last three had just managed to pull their weapons out and were running for cover as Dmitri was able to kill them too with a spray of bullets, leaving Vladimir for Nikolai to handle. Vlad was quick on the draw, almost expecting this to happen. Vlad's finger rested on the trigger of his sidearm and pointed it towards Nikolai just as The Bear began to squeeze and release his own trigger over and over again. Nikolai fired his shotgun into Vlad six times out of pure rage. He didn't notice that Vlad had managed to get a single shot off as he was hit with the first blast of the Vepr. The shot wasn't fatal, but just graze Nikolai's side through his suit. The "firefight," if you could even call it that, was over in about twelve seconds. Blood hadn't even truly begun pooling on the floor by the time Dmitri held out his weapon to Nikolai.

The two had an unspoken agreement at this point. Nikolai took the guns back out to the car and packed them away while Dmitri got on the phone with the Bratva's janitors. The heir got in the back of the car and waited for his assistant. Dmitri pulled out a rag and picked up the glass of vodka that his boss had drunk from moments before, knocking the drink back himself before pocketing it. He gave the door handle a quick rub down, and then went out to drive his boss home. Dmitri had become efficient at figuring out his boss' temperaments and could anticipate his actions most of the time.

---

Nikolai closed and locked the door to his house in Staten Island as he made his way out to the car that was waiting for him on the street. Dmitri was there, right on time. As soon as the heir had sat down in the back seat, Dmitri was handing back a few papers and letters. "I updated Zhanna on what happened last night, and she's smoothing it over with the boss. No meetings today, but as you can see... it looks like the Latins are calling all the families together for an event. They're expecting-"

Nikolai simply raised his hand to silence his driver. Dmitri gave a nod and put the car into drive as they began to coast down the streets of NYC and join its traffic. Nikolai looked over the metal invitation, giving a short nod. "Get in touch with Diabla's people. Let her know I'll be there in my father's place. If she has a problem, tell her we can discuss it in person." The Petrokov looked out the window as he spoke, his thick Russian accent almost suffocating the words as he spoke them. He would never admit it, but Nikolai knew how important his reception was at an event like this. It was only a matter of time before he was the official head of the family... but how that event went would determine if he would be able to stay that way once his father was gone.

The rise of the sun always left streaks across the bedroom. The windows of the 28th-floor penthouse were tilted in such a way that it almost had a prism effect in the morning, scattering rainbows on the beige walls and giving the giant dragon on the tapestry a multi-colored mustache. They used to be a symbol of love. A symbol of the things the woman in the bed thought were still good and honorable in this life. Now, they were just a reminder of how fleeting things could be. They had been that way for a couple months now.

The woman was tempted remain in her silken cocoon for just a little while longer, but the buzzing of her phone indicated that there was business to attend to. She slowly kicked off the bold red covers and ambled to the walk-in closet. She debated making her caller wait the appropriate two hours necessary for her to get completely ready for the day, but it was a close friend. There was no need. She cast off her pyjamas and quickly grabbed a pair of grey shorts and a red tank top, throwing it over herself without a thought. Moving to the master bathroom, a quick rinse of her face and a scrunchie twist left her ready to face her caller. At least as ready as she wanted. Good timing too, because the elevator moved fast in this building.

Shandra Zhao stepped out towards the expansive living room that offered another stellar view of New York City. At least, the part that could be seen without the larger skyscrapers blocking the view. Still, the development on this site had gone well. Condos were starting to fill up, giving more cover to the true activities that JinXiong Holdings was really involved with. This would make a fifth building that would be bringing in cash, and a fifth building to offer the cover she needed for now.

The doorbell buzzed and a quick check of the security camera footage on her phone confirmed the identity of her visitor. She pressed a button. granting entry to a man in his late 20s wearing a well-tailored black pinstripe suit and a red and gold striped tie who walked in. His black hair was slicked back and he adjusted an Apple Watch on his wrist as he entered.

"Well shit, Matt. If I had known you were going to go full corporate on me this morning, I would have at least put on a bra," Shandra commented as she sat on her chaise lounge. "Taking this role a little too seriously, huh?"

Haibin Fa, or Matt to his friends and colleagues, took a seat opposite his more dressed-down boss. "Hey, you are the one who appointed me to this position. I intend to take it as seriously as it needs to be."

"Pfft. Yeah, I believe that."

Matt shrugged and leaned back. "Well of course you aren't going to believe that, but that doesn't mean the rest of the triad won't. Give me something here, Shan."

Matt's boss waved him off. "All right, all right, all right. You are doing a good job looking the part. And acting the part, I guess. Where's your sister at?"

The man sighed. "No clue. Mel went out around 10 pm and all I got after that was a snapchat message this morning of her, a Puerto Rican man and what looked to be a mechanical bull."

Shandra laughed. "That's my girl. Probably doing a better job gathering information than you are." The woman stood back up. "I'm going to make a smoothie. You want one?"

Matt straightened his tie. "No thanks, I ate. Plus I don't want blueberry juice on this suit."

Shandra shrugged and headed toward the gleaming metallic kitchen, intent on pulling the ninja blender out of the shadows and onto the island. She started rummaging in the fridge for various ingredients. "So I assume since you are waking me this early, you have good news to bring me? I mean, you didn't have the courtesy to bring breakfast, so it has to be something important, right? Something that could not have just been texted to me?"

Matt cleared his throat. "Yes, well, it is rather important. Maybe not to your immediate goal, but at the very least it should help potentially clear out some brush."

Shandra dumped a banana and some chocolate soy milk into the blender, and moved towards the peanut butter. "I'm listening."

The young man pulled a card out of his suit pocket and continued. "Well, this came yesterday at our Alphabet City front. It's an invitation to the Silk Petal's grand reopening."

The glob of peanut butter fell off the spoon and into the murky drink. "The Bustamantes' casino? They actually finished that thing? I thought my dad put enough red tape on it that it would take another few years? I think he did it just because he hated the name."

Matt shook his head. "Not enough it would seem. Diabla has everything set and ready to go, and it looks like the invitations are going out across the underworld. The heads of all five families are expected to be there, and that includes you."

Shandra slammed her hands on the table. "Well shit. Tell the money crews in Edison and Atlantic City that revenue may be down until we get this sorted out. She really got everything squared away, huh? Shit! That's supposed to be our racket." She uttered some unintelligible curses in Mandarin and tossed the soy milk back in the fridge. "So why is she having the other families over for this? Just to gloat? Rub it in my face that she got her crown jewel back up and running?"

"I don't know why Catalina is throwing this party," Matt admitted. "But I do know that if you want to try and pump some information out of the other families as to what happened to your father, this is a golden opportunity to do so. You will have a shot at Catalina. You will have a shot at the Irish, the Russians, the Italians, you can cover a lot of ground in one night if you go to this thing. So if you want to... must you run that blender while I am talking?!?"

Shandra mouthed she couldn't hear Matt as the blender whirred to life. It didn't take long for the ninja to do its work, and she soon was pouring out a PB Banana smoothie into a tall mug. "Yeah, I don't want to be thinking too hard on an empty stomach. She walked back over to the living room area and sat back down on the couch. "So what you are saying is, the benefits outweigh me having to make nice to Catalina. Especially in a setting with a lot of people where no funny business can be tried."

Matt nodded. "Not only that, word on the street is that you are running scared after what happened to Sonny. Making an appearance at a place like this, in the full Shimmering Dragon attire that you are known for, will be a good show of strength. Let the other families know that not only is what happened to Sonny not going to affect Triad business, it will make it more efficient, more ruthless and more powerful than ever before."

A tear almost fell into Shandra's smoothie as she heard Matt's speech. "This is why I like you, Matt. You're always good at making sense sound like a blockbuster." She sighed and set the breakfast down on the coffee table. "I am getting really tired of going to a different apartment every night. It is no way to run a business." She leaned back. "All right, I will do it. When is the party?"

Matt rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, that's the thing. Because you've been on the move so much, it appears that the invitation get to us with much time..."

"Spit it out, Matt."

"It's tonight."

Shandra rolled her eyes. "Fucking seriously?" She sighed. "Fine. Tell Mei-Lin I'll be by the compound in a couple hours to start preparing. Have Gary and Fan there and tell them this needs to go all out. If I'm going to try and upstage Diabla at her own event, I need to be a fucking knockout. And then maybe we can get down to some real business talk. Because when I find out which one of those assholes did my father wrong like that, heads are going to fucking roll."

Matt nodded. "Understood."

"And I want you there with me. And Melanie. Tell her she's got bigger parties to go to tonight. And if things go well, then we can celebrate later." Shandra winked as if Matt needed any explanation to what that meant.

"Consider it done."

"Good." The smoothie found its way back towards Shandra's mouth. "Now let me drink my smoothie in peace." Matt nodded and headed towards the door, departing and leaving the head of the Golden Dragon Triad alone in her latest temporary dwelling.

"Fuck, this had better be worth it."

Chris sat at the table that was stationed between the radiator and the bed. He felt lousy from the powdery substance he did between the time he woke up until now. Chris was an addict. No one knew it. They could not know Chris did so much dope that he would cut the lights off and keep checking the windows to see if that imaginary sound or that unbelievable urge to make sure his mama was alright... he could not call.

Chris's uncanny drug use started after his father got murdered. He was selling and using cannabis, but it was controlled. When Antonio Dellacrose left the Earth, his family shattered. There was a lot of things going around. Chris had excused himself from his mother and everyone else. After he went away, his mother went to Florida.

His phone's message alert was signaled, and he picked up it up from the drawrer, unlocked it, accessed his voice mail, and it was the boss reminding him that there was a party tonight. He thought to himself... Is the pope in town? He flicked his eyes some because his joke reflected him returning to a reasonable amount of brain chemicals.

He wanted to call, but instead he keyed in a quick, simple text.

It was a little chilly in the room, so Chris turned up the heat. He sat down to have a cigarette, a menthol. Now, he was going to give himself an hour, and shower and get a cup of coffee and get dressed. It was either going to be his watch, or his necklace. He'd put on what felt right.

@officaz

Francesco Sperrazza

Gaspare Moltisanti

Gaspare was heading into the club greeting the bouncer, bartenders and the regular barflies that frequented the club. Taking a seat in one of the booths quickly ordering a "Jack&Coke" while he waited for Francesco and Chris, Having his drink and checking his phone seeing that Chris would be their soon. He didn't want to wait long as he didn't want to piss off the other gang leaders, Seeing Francesco coming though the front door of the club. "Eyh Frankie how are ya?" He said standing up and hanging the younger man as he came over, "I'm fine, Do you know why the Bustamante want a meeting?" He asked him in his thick Italian accent.

"Nah i don't know why that spics wanna talk to us, Must be about all em fuckin missing tacos eh" Gaspare said chuckling. But Francesco's face was not laughing at his rather inappropriate joke. Francesco now sitting beside Gaspare ordering a Italian beer while shooting the shit with his boss. The both of them waiting for Chris, Talking about things like Gaspare's family, the weather, what kind of business they will do today etc.

Chris didn’t know the time, why he was being asked to consort with the same people that more often than not wanted him gone, and plus, something had happened to his coffee. He looked at the corner of the room, and he must have knocked it onto the floor when he ejected from the chair. There were also some narcotics sitting on the rickety table.

He wiped the dope away. Next, there was something he was looking for. His khakis! All three of his phones were inside of his pant pockets. He lifted them from the floor, ringed them out, put his legs on for pulling them up, tucked his shirt in, and buttoned up.

He was already dressed and groomed, but remembered his priceless leather jacket. He zipped to the closet, yanked it off the small rack and threw it on. He did a shake, then a stretch. Besides that, he surveyed his hair and his shave, and his nails and finally, his teeth. He looked good.

He picked out the phone that the Colombians had the number to. That could be bad, or good.

He put the other two beneath the left side of the bed, where he had twelve ounces of cocaine. He had received a call earlier in the morning, one of his pals’ son, who was coming up. He promised he had $5,000, but he didn’t call anymore since 6:00a.m., so Chris kept it in the room.

He exited his hotel room, not so much looking around suspiciously, just taking a gander around the court. He didn’t see anything, so he walked to the stairs of the old, cheap hotel, raced down the stairs to the managerial office, told her that he had left a Do Not Disturb notice hanging from, outside of the, made a point for housekeeping to know that, and rented the room for one more day.

He went to his car, a Cadillac equipped with a thick, reinforced steel so he would not die if it ever exploded, and Bluetooth technology with a featured satellite radio, DVD players, advanced GPS, and etc. He stepped in, and slid down, and started the car. He backed up, and was on his way to the gangland conference.

Two lovely ladies traipsed down the converted firescape steps from their modest loft to the street level of the East Village, quietly shuffling along as the morning waned on. They walked hand in hand, laughing and chatting, only pausing to hail a cab.
Rita somewhat jokingly opened the door for Lily, who blushed and laughed as she entered and scooted to the opposite window. Rita followed suit and they were headed downtown.
As Rita watched New York fly by her window, she felt acrylic nails brush against her neck, and looked down to see Lily teasingly unbutton the collar of her shirt, biting her tongue and giving her lover a playful look. She smiled warmly and carressed Lily’s thighs, just tracing the edge of her American flag tennis skirt as she leaned in to give her a chaste kiss.
Their cabby rolled his eyes as he stopped the cab at their destination; a pub that was quite a far cry from their accepting drag bar. They entered without hesitation, still hand in hand, despite a few odd looks from other patrons. They just smiled; Lily knew they wouldn’t do more than mutter, while Rita knew if any of them tried, she could take ‘em.

@officaz

Francesco Sperrazza

Gaspare Moltisanti

The two men were talking to each other and just shooting the shit with each other, Soon they left the bar and heading towards the meeting spot. Francesco going into Gaspare's car and just riding with him for the time being, While they were in the car they would be talking about life and what kind things they will be expecting with the meeting. "I think this is all about territory, Ever since i got all of em to stop killin each other. They've been bitching about what parts of the city they want, I swear sometimes they act more like children then gangsters" Gaspare said laughing while driving. Francesco was nodding his head to what his boss was saying, "They all act they are owed something, But they need to earn what they keep" The other man said staring at the buildings whizzing by.

Soon the two men arrived at the meeting pointing making sure to get a good seat, Gaspare taking a few sips form the metal flask he had in his pocket. Offering some to Francesco who shook his head not wanting to be drunk or intoxicated during the meeting. Gaspare then noticed Chris coming in and waving him over to join them, "Chrissy my boy how are ya?" He said standing up to greet him in traditional Italian way. Francesco joined them shaking Chris hand.