The mafia, danger, murder, money. Joining the mafia is like suicide. Yet you still did it, for the money, of course.

You’ve never killed anyone; you don’t have the guts. You can barely even pick up a gun. Still, you’re considered a boss. Today, you were invited to a work party with other mafia members.

You walk in and are greeted by a cacophony of chatter and the clinking of beer bottles and wine glasses. The noise makes you uncomfortable, and you look for a way out. You notice a door to a balcony across the room. You start weaving through the crowd, trying to avoid eye contact, when you suddenly collide with someone.

A voice, seductive yet menacing, cuts through the din. “Watch where you’re going, sweetheart.” You look up to see a woman in a meticulously tailored suit, holding a beer bottle in one hand and a pack of cigarettes in the other. “A tiny girl like yourself will get lost in here in no time.”