The cigar smoke rose through the air of the Three Deuces. The fragrance, easily identifiable as a Chesterfield aroma, surrounded a shorter gentleman, holding himself like a rooster. He strutted in to the nightclub. He sported a striped grey jacket with a matching fedora tilted on his well-groomed head, a smooth white vest, and crimson eldritch knotted tie. A chain dangled from his neck, and a pocket watch from his vest.
Two broad men stood stoic beside him. The gentleman made his way to the front of the nightclub. The two broad men removed the guys from the table at which the gentleman nodded. The gentleman glanced at the broad man standing to his right to receive a cigar. He lit the end of his Carlo. A cloud of smoke burst from his mouth. He continued to puff until it was lit.
“Are you sure this is the place, boss?” The broad man on the right muttered.
“Vinny?” The gentleman questioned.
“Yes, boss.”
“What did the sign outside say?”
“It said Three Deuces, boss.”
“Where did I tell you we were goin’ Vinny?” The gentleman took his cigar out of his mouth and turned to Vinny.
“The Three Deuces, boss.”
“Then why the hell are you asking me if we’re at the right place?” – The gentleman sat up in his chair and pointed at Vinny – “I told you we was goin’  to the Three Deuces, and now you’re tellin’ me you read the sign outside, that says Three Deuces.  Are you asking me if I took us the wrong place Vinny?
“No boss, I was just…”
The gentleman cut Vinny short, “Don’t insult me like that again, Vinny. There’s plenty more tough guys like you out there, you know?”
A spotlight illuminated the stage. Anyone who was speaking was now silent. The beam reflected from the leg of a woman making its way out from behind the velvet curtain. It seemed to go on for miles until her stem met the tight silk hugging her thigh. Men hiding behind the gleam of tea light candles began to whistle and cheer. The gentleman raised his fedora from his brow, and gazed the woman on stage. He put his cigar out on a club shaped ashtray and leaned forward in his chair.
“She’s as much of doll as they say, huh Vinny?” the gentleman asked forming a grin.
“Sure is boss.” Vinny chimed.
“Yeah, she’s a fox boss!” The man to the left spouted in a childish way.
“I wasn’t talkin’ to you was I, Lou?” The gentleman snarled, never turning away from the stage.
The woman in the center of the stage grasped the microphone stand. The spotlight reflected off of the ebony c***tail-dress cuddling her body. Her rouged lips opened slowly like a jewelry box.
“Hello, boys.”
The club exploded. The screams and howls of the men broke out like steam from a kettle. The clapping was almost enough to make her flinch.
“I’m Serena Volpe, and I’m gonna sing you a song.”
The curtain pulled to the side revealing the band. They started with a relaxed guitar riff.
“Ah, oh, smokestack lightning
Shinin', just like gold
Why don't ya hear me cryin'?”
  She sang in nearly perfect, raspy tone. The men were losing their heads, toppling bottles and ashtrays on to the sweat stained floors.
Serena searched the crowd, distantly singing the same stale song she regurgitated every night. Singing here was not what made her the money she had come to love. It was her hobby; finding the men who grew too tired of their marriage, men who had no problem cheating on their wives. Luckily, these men would give anything to be with her.
She continued to retch her song, scanning over the tables looking for any men with a wedding ring. Her search stopped when the reflection of the tea light candle illuminated the pocket watch dangling from the gentleman’s vest. Surely enough, his finger was wrapped in a thin gold band. After her song she made her way to the bar, where the gentleman sat guarded by Vinny and Lou.
She sat at the stool beside Vinny. The gentlemen puffed on a cigar as he stirred his whisky around the blocks of ice in his glass.
“The lady would like a martini, sir.”  The gentleman said confidently.
“Would I?” Serena questioned through smiling lips.
“We could just skip the drinks and head to my place.”  He puffed on his cigar, never looking up at her.
“Oh my, we just meet and…” Serena blushed, trying to hold her grin back.
“Yeah, yeah, life’s short Serena. You should live like every night is your last.” The gentleman chuckled.  The bartender placed a twinkling martini in front of Serena. She took it by the stem and slammed the drink.
“Life is short. Let’s go.” Serena said, placing the martini glass on to the damp bar.
“Vinny, Lou, I’ll be takin’ the car back to my place so you two are gonna have to find your way back home.”  The gentleman spouted earning a scoff from Lou.
“Let me get my purse first, slow down.”  She said jokingly.
The gentleman drove fast. The Three Deuces was only a few blocks from his apartment, so close they could have walked. Her eyes seldom left his watch chain or his rings. The gentleman didn’t notice her gaze, he was more concerned with getting to his room. They made their way to the gentleman’s door.
“Ladies first.” The gentleman leered, opening the door for her and locking it when he entered.
The apartment was small. The room was concealed in a thin layer of dust. The outdated couch had an unnatural red tint to it. The room was bare; no decorations, just empty space.
Serena was paying no attention to the room, she was digging in her purse. Her fingers made their way to her pepperbox. The familiar cold steel gave her goose bumps.
“Have a seat Miss Volpe.”  The gentleman suggested.
“You know, you never told me your name, or who is wearing the other wedding ring.” Serena said through a smirk.
“Oh this?” the gentleman asked, removing the band from his ring finger, “I heard that the only thing that could fill the hole daddy left was to lure married men into your little web.”
Serena gasped, clenching her gun.
“But see, your daddy did somethin’ real bad to one of my associates. As much as it hurts me to do it, I’m gonna have to do somethin’ to your daddy. But what better way to hurt your daddy than to hurt his little girl?”
She drew the pepperbox from her purse. “I bet you didn’t know I had a gun!”
“How are you supposed to get what you want from a man who doesn’t play along with your game,”—the gentleman retrieved a pistol from his jacket—“without a gun? Don’t play me as a fool, darlin’.” The gentleman chuckled.
A thunderous slam on the door disturbed the dust cloaking the empty room. Bullets tore through the thin frame of the door, ripping the lock off the door. The room’s occupants dove for the floor.
“That’s impossible, the only people who know where I am are…” Bullets tore through the gentleman’s jacket, painting the dull walls a crimson color. The bullets ran down his body tearing limbs from his torso, misting the room with a dark pink haze. Many bullets missed, destroying the bland apartment and the few items within it.
Serena screeched loud enough to shatter glass. She stood in hopes of running to the table in the center of the reddened room. Her ascension lead to the bullets mangling her beautiful face, ending her cries. As she fell, the bullets shredded the black dress exposing her now deformed figure. The bullets dilapidated the room. Everything in the room was cloaked in dusty blood.
Vinny made his way through the door, firing his Thompson into what was once the gentleman until his clip ran dry, then reached for a half empty liquor bottle from his coat and made his way to the dismantled couch and raised the bottle in the air.
“See you in hell, boss.”