Noir: Walk of Fire

“Vincenzo, good to see you. Our humble host.” Mr D., pretending not to be himself, gave a short, throaty cackle and leaned back toward his 2 attendees, “I see you have kept your place magnificent.” His goons smiled ever so briefly as I turned to escort everyone to their booth.

I felt it best to dispense with the trivialities and just wade through the crowd. The Topaz was large and the VIP section was on a raised loge in the back. It had prime viewing to the dance floor and stage. Each booth was semi-circular with lush, gold leather upholstery. A black onyx table appointed with fine silver, crystal and china awaited us.

My eye caught sight of Maryanne sitting with him in deep discussion. Her face looked pained. I had to refocus my attention on seating Mr. D. Surveying the approaching booth, I was relieved that the wine was already there. Once we reached I desperately wanted as much distance as possible between me and them.

“Vincenzo, join us for a minute, will you?”

Not really a question.

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