The newest jazz bar opened up in town, and Ciro had to attend. His guards seated at the same table as him. Smoking their cigars and adjusting their suits to look good infront of their boss.

A waiter bowing and placing the glass of champagne down and the bottle on the table in front of Ciro, "your champagne as you asked, Mr. Marchetti." The waiter spoke before walking away.

Ciro was curious about the bar and who would be performing, watching the stage as he leaned back and held his glass.