The Mafia Don’s little Con Artist

Sophia POV: “10 minutes till open everyone!” Vance, the club owner, alerted us with loud clapping hands. A moment later, the DJ finishes up sound check, the dancers climb on stage and the wait staff triple checks the tables. My sister, Liz, and I have already prepped behind the bar, but instead of using the few minutes we have left to enjoy the calm before the storm, she wants to talk. “…so the hospital called again..” she mutters. “..about the bills.. and-“ “I know Liz.” I interrupt. “But there’s no use in trying to figure it out right this minute, okay? Let’s just..get through the night first.” She sighs, and tucks a piece of her bright orange-red hair behind her ear. “Yeah, okay.” I know she isn’t happy with my response, but it’s true. There’s absolutely nothing we can do about our current problem during our shift, and it’s Saturday night, the busiest night of the week. In a couple of minutes, a hoard of patrons will fill this place to capacity, with no regard for anyone or anything beyond their own self indulgences. The first place they’ll flock to is the bar, and we’ll be overwhelmed with drink orders for two hours before it starts to mellow out. New York was supposed to be our second chance, an opportunity to start fresh and clean from the chaos we were born into, but instead it became just another grave. Another place to live out whatever remains of our unfortunate existence. Our ambitions quickly turned to ash upon our arrival in the big city. Three days in, and we had found ourselves in a cramped emergency room hooked up to monitors, and being stuck by needles every hour. Since then, the bills have been pouring in, and the doctors refused to continue treatment or testing until the balance started getting paid. We’ve been working ourselves to the bone for four years, and have barely managed to earn enough money to resume treatments. Liz’s anxiety spikes with every phone call, especially when the hospital threatens to send our debt to a collections agency. Not many places in the city were eager to higher a homeless seventeen year old girl and her fifteen year old kid sister. So we hopped temp jobs until we were eventually referred to a popular night club whose manager didn’t care about age. Just our appearance. We’ve been bartending at NiteLyfe ever since, and although the tips aren’t bad, the cost of living and other bills are ruthless. Sometimes I wonder if I did the right thing dragging Liz with me to the city, or if she’d have been better off staying at the group home. I know she wouldn’t have, but it’s difficult not to beat myself up about it. Would they at least have better access to healthcare for her? Probably not. Liz tries to lighten the mood a bit. “Hey, maybe tonight’s the night one of us snags a handsome billionaire and he’ll solve all our problems.” She winked at me. I rolled my eyes at our on going joke of being saved by a “Mr. CEO Prince Charming” who might walk into our club and fall madly in love with one of the cute, yet mysterious, bartenders. I think we read too much smut fantasies. “Somehow, I think the only meaningful attention I’ll be getting tonight is from Gavin.” “Officer Gavin?!” Liz gasps dramatically. “Are you actually going to accept his offer of a date this time??” “No, but I can’t deny that the attention is nice.” I respond honestly. “Sophia Lynn!” Liz huffs out my first and middle name. “He’s a nice guy! And he comes every Saturday trying to sweep you off your feet!” “He’s a cop, Liz. I can’t.” I remind her sternly. No self respecting person, especially a cop, wants anything to do with someone who has a record like mine. Not to mention the things I’ve done off record. “Sophie if you just explained th-“ Liz stopped speaking when I turned and gave her a look that said ‘my answer is final’. She sighed again in defeat but pursed her lips in disappointment. The alarm on my phone went off, signaling one minute before the doors would open. I tied my apron around my waist and braced myself for the madness. - As expected, the evening unfolds much like every other Saturday night, Rhythmless s****l dancing and puffs of smoke clouding the visibility in the room. I’m cleaning out cups while Liz takes her break in the back when a tap on the bar pulls my attention. “Can I bother you for a rum and coke?” Gavin smiles. I politely return it. “V’course, Officer Mills.” “Thanks gorgeous, and just Gavin, please. How many times have we been over this?” He quips. “Ooooh about two years now.” I quickly pour his regular drink of choice, while trying to ignore the ‘gorgeous’ comment. Gavin Mills is no doubt one of the hottest men to ever walk into this club, and I’m sure that his sweet and gentle demeanor is genuine, but that’s all the more reason to stay away. Guys like him only entertain the notion of a girl like me for only a few reasons: He either knows that I’m broken, and believes that he can save me, or his handsome vanilla life is so uneventful that a troubled barkeep might be just the safe amount of excitement for him. Either way, I’m not interested in being his little social experiment project, only for him to find out that I’m more trouble than he can handle. The only thing worse than disappointing someone..is growing attached, only to be abandoned by them, and that’s what most people do when things get difficult. They toss the problem away. I’m not exactly sure what triggered the mayhem, I was occupied carrying a box of maraschino cherries from the back, at the time. I just remember hearing the crash of glass shattering on the floor. I had just sat the box on the floor, and when I looked up into the club I saw several men with guns drawn and aimed at one another. I kept perfectly still, but glanced over to see that Liz had already ducked behind the bar and into a hollowed out space under the counter. That’s my girl. Now, this kind of thing wasn’t uncommon, but the big families here did their best to keep incidents to a minimum at places like NiteLyfe. Unfortunately, mafia organizations are full of men who tend to let their tempers, and their egos, get the better of them. I had lost my position behind the bar, and moving to hide now wasn’t an option. I wouldn’t risk drawing attention to where my little sister hid safely. I stood near the entrance of the bar, where I had clear sights on Liz, and also the commotion taking place in one of our VIP sections. I scanned around the room for Vance, but I didn’t see him anywhere, he was usually on top of this sort of situation. Quick to gently remind everyone of the location and the treaty in order here. Another peek at my coworkers, and I could tell that no one was eager to step forward and enforce the neutrality of NiteLyfe, and we had dozens of innocent customers who could get caught up in a bullet party. But most importantly, Liz was here, and I wasn’t going to let these Neanderthals endanger the only family I had left. Pushing past some patrons, frozen by fear, I slowly made my way to the VIP section where the men were muttering aggressively in Russian and Italian. I recognized both of the men in charge, but only the Italian man by name. I’d never spoken to personally, or served, any members of the Russian families. Keeping my back straight, and my hands visible, clasped at my front, I cleared my throat gently, and repeated what I’d heard Vince say only a few times. “Mr. Toscano. Please forgive me as I remind you that NiteLyfe is a neutral territory, and we have other guests in attendance.” When the six men on either side of the shallow table turned towards me, I was more than relieved when their guns didn’t follow. The two leaders of the group looked back at one another before slowly lowering their weapons, and tucking them away. Soon after, their men followed suit. I signaled to the DJ to resume the music, and gradually the customers began moving about, but none so brave as to leave the building. “This isn’t over.” Mr. Toscano’s thick Sicilian accent carried a promise in his words. He gave an order to his men, and adjusted his shirt sleeves before smoothing out his shoulder-length, salt and peppered, slicked backed hair, and made a move my way. I kept my chin up, but at a respectful height, preparing for whatever he might say to me. He’d always been polite when I’d served his drinks in the past, but I’d never corrected his, or any other Don’s, behavior before. Don Toscano’s entire demeanor softened as he spoke directly to me. “It is you who must forgive me, Miss Sophia. I hope we did not cause you too much trouble.” I bowed my head once, accepting his pitiful apology. “I appreciate your tolerance.” More like, ‘thanks for not gunning me down for speaking out of turn, and giving you orders’. He furrowed his handsomely thick brows at me. “Not at all, miss Sophia, you were well within your right to administer such an important reminder.” A heavy sigh of relief snuck past my lips, making Mr. Toscano stifle a laugh. He spoke in Italian: “And you were doing so well.” Masking the fear, he meant. “I tried.” I reply, utilizing the few Italian phrases I’d learned to impress one of our most notable guests. “You’ll get there.” He winked. I laughed nervously in response, and thanked the powerful man again for not killing me, but I didn’t fail to notice how the Russian boss, back near the table, never took his sharp green eyes off of me. Not even for a second. Mr. Toscano straightened his coat, and smirked at me once more. “I’ll be sure to speak with Vance.” He promised. “ Ciao Bella.” I understood ‘speak with’ and ‘vance’. Again, I was relieved to not have to explain myself to my boss, or risk getting fired for potentially risking my life as well as our patrons. Vance was nowhere to be found, and someone had to do something! Regardless, there was no way in hell Vance would punish me if I had a glowing praise from Don Toscano himself. But as the polished Italian men left the club, I could not ignore the persistent stares I received from the other men. One set of deep green eyes in particular. - My heart didn’t stop pounding in my chest until both dangerous groups had exited the building. And most people were wise enough to wait at least an hour before evacuating the building themselves. After checking on Liz, and making some serious life-choice evaluations, we packed our things and prepared to go home.