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What am I doing?
I question myself now that I’m face-to-face with a mountain of a man blocking my way.
“Ms. Gia Castellano, Castor is expecting you.” He steps aside and guides open the curtain. “Center table.”
“The one with four gold-plated Dom Pérignons? Typical.”
The bouncer smirks at me.
“That’s Bullion for you.”
“I hate that nickname,” I say.
“Go tell him that.” We share a laugh.
“Maybe I will.” I raise my eyebrows and strut into the VIP room.
The club music pumps through my toes all the way up to my chest as soon as I step foot inside. I can’t believe the level of jitters rushing through me. No. I can’t believe I actually agreed to come in here. There’s an empty stage to my left with gaudy strip lighting illuminating the edges, and to my right sits fifty or so mobsters and their arm-candy, each at marble tables with red-felt chairs and center inlets for their chilled champagne.
A serving woman passing by is almost a full foot taller than me, with double the boobs and booty. It makes me feel like I already don’t belong.
“Hey, hey. Sweetheart. I need a refill here! Move it or lose it, hunnie.” An inebriated man with slicked-back black hair and a long face holds up his empty drink, wiggling the ice back and forth so I’ll help him.
The edgy waitress in me wants to tell Italian Abraham Lincoln to settle the fuck down, but I remember myself. I’m no longer in Marty’s jurisdiction. These aren’t the common-douche folk of Bingo Bangos. These are mobsters. The Extra-douche folk with a capital E.
I lean over and smile as pleasantly as I can while grabbing the glass. One of the men on the other side of the table grunts ‘Minca,’ which I understand to mean he likes the way my ass is shaped.
“Aren’t you going to ask me what I’m having, sweetheart?” Abraham Lincolnzano asks.
I stare at his cup even though I already know what it is based on the distinct smell. “Hendricks Gin on the rocks with one lime,” I say.
Abraham’s jaw drops as he looks to his friends. “Woman’s a fuckin’ tarot card reader or some shit. Tell me, hunnie. What am I thinkin’ right now? I’ll bet you could guess.” That sloppy grin of his makes me want to recoil, but I don’t let it show.
“Oooh, sorry. My talents are only limited to empty drinks.” I frown.
“Mm. Well, I’ll just tell you, then. Hoping to see your fine ass on that stage later. I’ll be lookin’.”
I swallow past a lump in my throat. What the hell is happening on stage later? This isn’t a strip club. We don’t have any of the licenses to even pretend to be one. I’m becoming more uncomfortable by the minute here. I turn away from my original path to Castor and redirect to the private bar across the way.
The last thing I want to see is a bunch of horny men dribbling over strippers and shoving singles into anything with two legs that walks by. It’s not that I’m a prude or anything, I’m just… tired.
Alright, I’m lying.
I’m not tired anymore. I just don’t want the allure of Castor DeMatteo to be ruined.
I tell the bartender the drink I need and become lost in her big green eyes. Jeez, if she’s affecting me like this, I can’t imagine how those dogs over there are going to survive the night. She’s a ten model. What the hell am I doing here?
My eyes flick to Castor about ten times on my way back to delivering Lincolnzano’s drink. He’s guarded by his friends mostly, and still no sign of my brother. It’s time to report to my post – no more distractions.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
My clacking heels are drowned out by the music, so I’m left standing in front of Castor’s table for a full ten seconds unnoticed. One of his friends does a line of coke on the glass, then rubs the residue on his teeth.
Shit. My heart twists at the sight. Is this what Castor does with his nights? Well, of course. But… being away from mob life for so long made me forget how jarring it could be.
The guys laugh when the cokehead comes up for air.
“That’s a new record for Zippy. Nine lines? How’s the bastard even alive? Hah, hah, hah.” A larger man belly-laughs, slaps Castor’s back, then finally notices a hopefully hot waitress is standing there like an idiot. “Oh my, oh me. Hello, lovely. Haven’t seen you around these parts.” The big man with big lips extends his hand, asking for mine. I’d be an idiot to reject him.
