It doesn’t take Francois long to load me up with a whole heap of tailored pants and jackets, a few pencil skirts—Carla said skirts can be impractical and are harder to run in, but she still insisted I need a few—and a few dresses as well as some club wear. The other fabulous things she makes me buy are all the shoes. They are not too high to be impractical, but I love how they make me feel. I leave one of the outfits on, and I put my old clothes in one of the bags. Carla beams when she sees me.
“Aww, look at that, we could be twins.” She’s not wrong. She has long black hair, but unlike mine, hers is dead straight, and where she’s dressed in all black, I chose to wear a red top under my black suit. When I look at us side by side in the mirror, however, I feel a pang of sadness. She could pass as my older sister. I never got to know my mom, and Carla has been the only maternal figure I’ve ever known.
The bags get piled into the back of another limo like the one we were in this morning. Penelope took that one when she left, so I pile all my purchases into Carla’s. On the way to our next stop, she talks to me about hair and makeup.
“Get used to wearing it and doing your hair. Appearance is very important, and you will need to do all these things to be taken even partly seriously. I hope you’re prepared to hurt a few people, because if you cower and let them intimidate you, you might as well get out now. There’s a reason your father had you train all your life. Use it, because men will get grabby and take liberties, and you need to put them in their place immediately. Trust me, it was no picnic to get to where I am now, but I persevered, and with Mickey and your father’s support, I am respected and feared.”
“It’s fine, Aunt Carla. A recent revelation has made me open my eyes to the world and how untrustworthy people are in general. I’ve decided that no one will ever take advantage of me again. I have no issue with using my fists or my shiny new gun to solve my problems.” I squirm and pull my gun out again, huffing. “Do you carry a gun?” I look at her closely, and even in her tailored jacket, I can’t see if she’s carrying one.
She chuckles and slides her jacket off her shoulders. Underneath, she’s wearing this lacy corset type top that sits just under her bra. It looks lovely, but when she turns, I see that the back of the corset has two pockets, and she has a gun slipped into both holsters. Her jacket also has a slit cut in the middle of the back so she can reach behind her and grab her guns with no problem.
“Oh, that’s really nice.” She slips her jacket back on and smiles.
“That’s actually where we’re headed now. You need a range of options to go with different outfits, and unlike your stepmother who carries that ridiculous purse, I believe having both hands free at all times is a good idea, so I have pockets built into all my jackets so I can just slip my phone and ID in there, along with lipstick or a credit card.”
Aunt Carla gives me a whole heap of practical advice I had never thought about from a female’s perspective, and when we stop, she loads me up with different holsters and corsets in every color. She also throws in spare magazines, pepper spray, brass knuckles, and a small pocketknife. While the man is ringing everything up, she leans forward and reaches into the top of her bra, pulling out the same pocketknife she added to my pile. The man doesn’t even blink at our haul or the fact that she’s flashing her knife around. Aunt Carla says he’s on the family payroll.
“If you wear padded bras, no one will ever see it tucked in there, and you never know when you might need it.” She hands it to me, and I slip it into my bra. It feels a little weird, but I’m sure once I get used to it, I won’t even notice it.
Again, everything is bagged up and put into the limo. We stop and have a quick lunch at a nearby taco truck before going on to the next destination. Carla’s bodyguard—or errand boy—is quiet and unobtrusive the whole time.
“The Kitty Cat Club used to be Lorenzo’s jurisdiction as well, but he’s been slacking, and the manager at the one I’m going to visit is skimming from the take and making the girls do things they are not being paid to do. Just because they are stripping doesn’t make them whores. I found out because one of the girls came to me. It’s hard in a traditional male organization, and a misogynistic one at that, so having a woman at the top of the food chain has made it so the women who do work for us feel like they have someone to advocate for them. Because of this and the fact that your dad insists that they are treated fairly, we don’t have a high turnover, and most of them stay clean and sober and are reliable.”
The limo pulls up to the front of the Kitty Cat Club, which has a big sign over the top. The neon lights are on, even though it’s the afternoon, and the stylized sexy woman with a cat tail and ears is winking at everyone that goes past.
“Okay, let’s go. Your uncle wouldn’t let me get rid of the manager, so I do surprise inspections in the hope that I will be able to catch him unaware. Fingers crossed today’s the day.” Her grin is evil, and I can see the bloodlust in her eyes. I recognize the look because it’s what I see in my eyes every time I think about Stacey. “Be alert. I’m pretty sure the security is loyal to us, but there may be one or two who are in his pocket. My informant said he makes the girls blow them to keep their loyalty.”
“Why hasn’t Dad done anything about this?” I ask as we step out into the afternoon sun.
Carla grimaces. “Lorenzo is a touchy subject for your dad. He feels guilty that he is the boss and not Lorenzo just because of birth status. But between you and me, Lorenzo hasn’t got the head for business, and he is a lot less ethical than your dad. I know it sounds weird. We run guns and drugs and girls, not to mention launder money, so what’s so ethical about that? But there are lines your dad won’t cross, such as sex trafficking. Lorenzo wouldn’t blink an eye at doing something like that. He is also all for having the whores and strippers hooked on our drugs so they are easily manipulated, but your dad won’t have that either.
“All the whores and strippers go through rigorous drug and STI testing. Addicted whores and strippers lead to loose lips and sloppy performances. The occasional recreational use is fine, but if we find track marks, or if any of them test positive regularly, they are out. They get sent to rehab, but they are done with us because we don’t want them relapsing. They also know to keep their mouths closed about any business transactions that may have occurred when working for us, otherwise they will find themselves floating face down in a dirty puddle, dying of a suspected overdose. We know how to make it look like an accident.”
“That’s good enough motivation to keep quiet, I guess. I never liked Lorenzo, he makes me feel icky,” I tell her, and she laughs.
“I think he makes a lot of people feel that way. Okay, let’s go. Hopefully nobody has alerted him that we’re here.”
I probably should feel something more than interest from a business point of view, like maybe somewhat horrified that we’re willing to go to those lengths, but I’m really not. Not anymore. I’ve made peace with what our business does.
ChapterNineteen
Despite it being late afternoon, there are a few people occupying the tables surrounding the stage. “Bad Girlfriend” by Theory of a Deadman plays loudly as a girl does a routine on the pole. She’s in a bra and thong with sparkly heels, and she does some impressive move that has her upside down and doing the splits before she slides down the pole and, with feline-like grace, crawls across the stage before kneeling and stripping off her bra. She shakes her perky tits, runs her hands through her hair, and then keeps crawling across the stage, allowing the patrons to tuck bills into her black thong. She’s sensual in a way I never thought a stripper would be. I thought it would all be fake, but she’s hot as fuck. I hope she makes plenty of money, because she’s good at what she does, but I have other things to concentrate on now.
“Come on, this way.” Carla leads me toward a door at the side of the stage. When the security guard at the door sees us coming, he reaches for his earpiece. Carla whips out her gun and points it at him. “Uh-uh, I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” I look around the room, and apart from the bartender who is paying no attention to us, I can’t see any other security.
Carla holds out her hand, and he pulls out the earpiece and drops it into her palm. “Good boy. Go sit at the bar. Tori, if he follows us, shoot him.”
He slides by me, bumping my shoulder and muttering something under his breath on the way past. Carla quickly shakes her head, so I turn and grab him by his hair, kicking a shoe into the back of his knee, and he goes down. Pulling my gun, I hold it against his temple and walk around to the front of him so he can see me when I talk to him.
“Oh, I’m sorry, what was that? I didn’t quite hear you. I’m pretty sure I heard you say, ‘Yes, ma’am,’ to my aunt? And I’m also pretty sure you must have tripped when you went past me, and what you meant to say was, ‘Sorry, Ms. Russo.’” I watch as he pales when he hears my name, and a sense of satisfaction washes over me.
He stammers before getting himself together. “Sorry, Ms. Russo, I didn’t know who you were,” he says, trying to excuse his behavior, but I shake my head.
“Not good enough. I suggest you think very carefully about whether or not you want to continue working here while we go speak to your boss. I’m hoping when we return, you have an attitude adjustment.”
I pull my gun away from his head, and there’s a red mark there because I had been pushing fairly hard. My hand is steady as I tuck it into the holster I put on under my jacket, but as I turn and walk away, I breathe out a sigh and shake out my hand. The adrenaline is still running through my body. I’m lucky I didn’t accidentally shoot him in my nervousness.
We walk through the door, and Carla grabs my arm, stopping us. “You did good. It gets easier. One day, it will be second nature, but you need to establish your dominance and who you actually are from the get-go. Don’t let anyone use the excuse they didn’t know who you were. As a woman, respect needs to be demanded and taken in this organization.”
