I didn't tell her what I’m going to do. Not because I've changed my mind, but because I didn't think I could control myself if she tried to change my mind. She doesn't know better, and denial is a powerful thing, but I just can’t hear that from her.

I'm at Baroque, a private gentlemen's club my family owns in East Boston. It's really just a nice word for whorehouse. There are half-naked women everywhere, serving men. There’s also an hourly strip show, and private lap dances. You can even spend some alone time with one of the girls.

I'm here with my friends, though I call them business associates. I don't keep friends—it gives people all the more chance for betrayal. It's business because these are the people I work with.

Danny, the person who calls me his best friend, and also happens to be a drug dealer, dragged me out because apparently I need to loosen up a little. Ever since I broke up with Hayley I haven't really shown any interest in women.

I don’t want to admit it but I'd rather have stayed in, close to Leighton. I would have, but I didn't want to raise any suspicion.

Danny takes a drag from his blunt, and then passes it to the girl sitting on his lap, his left hand exploring under her skirt. Her hand clutches to his wide forearm, and she’s trying not to be loud, but it’s really obvious what they’re doing. It's disgusting, but nothing I haven't seen before. I’m just waiting for them to take this business elsewhere so I can be on my way home. My uncle's home.

I didn't exactly meet Danny. We were just sort of thrown together, practically since birth, with him being Stevie's nephew and all. He even looks like Stevie, with short brown hair and brown eyes, his head barely reaching up to my shoulder.

Did I think of him as a friend once upon a time? I did, when I was younger. Danny never had to prove himself, Stevie just accepted him the way he was. His parents are both alive and well, although he never paid much attention to them. Of course we were friends. Hell, at one time, I even wanted to be him.

Now? Not so much. It's nothing in particular; we're just past that stage when you're friends because you're forced together. In my eyes, we're just business acquaintances. I make sure the goods are delivered; he's just one of many that distribute them for me.

My family dabbles in everything these days. Prostitution? Check. Extortion and racketeering? Check. Drug dealing—that’s my area—check. It’s easier this way, because we’re still in the business, but keeping a low profile. My uncle ceased all the money laundering operations when he became the boss. It attracted too much attention from the feds.

A sexy brunette with heavily made-up eyes walks up to me, smiling like she just won the jackpot. I don't recognize her but she probably knows who I am. Everyone does.

Danny gives me a lazy grin, nodding his head toward her. I ignore her, busying myself with pouring another finger of whiskey, but she doesn't take the hint. She waits until I set my glass down after taking a big gulp of throat-burning liquid, and then plops herself on the arm of the leather chair I'm sitting in. Her hand somehow lands at the back of my neck where she plays with my hair, looking at me expectantly.

I smile, but that's all I give her.

“Devon, you could use some fun,” Danny tells me, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. It's like he doesn't even know me.

“Yeah, Devon. I'm Soraya,” the girl tells me. She leans over, her hot breath fanning my ear, and says, “It's really Amber. I'm not supposed to say.”

“You must be new.”

She nods, her chocolate locks jumping up and down with the movement. Her boobs, practically in my face, jump up and down, too, but I keep my eyes trained on her face. “Yup,” she says. “First day.”

“I'm sorry, Soraya,” I say, letting her know her real name is safe with me. “Not interested. Pass it on.” I look around to find at least four other women watching me, sending suggestive glances my way.

I'm used to this attention. It's not even about my looks, it's just the simple fact that I'm an Andre, and they all think I'm a catch. It used to drive Hayley crazy for the short time we were together, like she didn't know it was like that before.

For a second I think Soraya will press on, a thoughtful look on her face, but then she shrugs. Giving me a wink, she jumps off my chair and goes off to her next conquest. I relax, hoping no other girls will approach me.

“You're no fun,” Danny says, shaking his head at me. I flip him off, because that's what friends do, except I really mean it, and he’s not really my friend.

A hand lands on his shoulder, and he spins around fast, almost knocking the girl off his lap, but she wraps her arms around his neck for support. He recognizes Colin, another one of our friends, and then turns back to the girl, giving her another lazy grin. She wriggles in his lap, and he smiles even wider at her, then leans his head at the back of the chair while she dry humps him in front of us.

Colin takes a seat in a chair next to mine. “Hey, man,” he says, taking my glass and finishing off my whiskey. I nod in response, not offended by his action. I wasn't going to drink it all anyway; the last thing I need is a buzz right now. He looks over my shoulder, searching the room. I notice his gaze lingering on Soraya, something flashing in his eyes before he masks it.

I want to shake my head at him. He’s so predictable.

Colin is a small-time loan shark, though he's always been too nice to actually collect. I met him two years ago when he started working for the Fermi family. After they realized he’s not cut out for it, having lost them more money than he made them, he got the kiss of death. Unfortunately, once you’re in, you’re in, and the only way out is in a coffin. I paid off his debt, but he’s still living on borrowed time.

I know he won't last in this world. It’s just a matter of time until he turns up dead. The thought doesn’t even make me sad. It is what it is.

“How's the old man?” he asks me, eyeing the couple making out in the chair across from him.

“Not old,” I say. Frank is only thirty five.

“Heard about the shipment.” Colin is also a gossip. If anything gets him killed, that will.

“No big deal.” I shrug. One of our own, Digger, turned on us and tipped off the authorities about one of the containers. He admitted to working for Keith. I took care of it personally.

Two bullets to the head, and a whole lot of bribery for the mess he made.

“What happened?” Danny asks, detaching himself from the plaything in his lap for the moment. Colin starts to explain what he heard—most of it wrong, but the gist of it right. I tune them out while they talk about how no one knows who ratted us out.

My cleaner, Saul, took care of that.

I scan the room to find Soraya already sitting in the lap of her next prey, an older man I vaguely recognize from this club. God, she can't be more than eighteen. Her eyes find mine, and she gives me another wink, and then turns back to the older guy, giggling like a schoolgirl. Playing the part, like everyone else.

I want to feel sorry for her, but no one made her come here. Either way, she's better off here than on the streets. We don't take the girls’ money, we make enough on the booze and drugs, and the material we collect for blackmail with their help is more than enough. They’re well taken care of, and we hold them under a contract that’s beneficial for both parties, although a little more beneficial for us.

“Heard about the Moore girl?” Colin’s words catch my attention, his voice squeaking a little with excitement because it’s juicy gossip. Anything about Leighton is. Sometimes it was impossible to avoid her, no matter how hard I tried, because she's always getting herself in some sort of trouble.