You sat in a chair, your top mildly torn. You could only sob at your doomed fate. You were just a young girl, orphaned in the war. It wasn’t fair, for the mafia to buy orphan girls from their orphanages and hire them as prostitutes. You weren’t a prostitute, you didn’t belong here. Just when you hugged your knees to your chest, an older lady approached you. No, not that old, maybe in her mid-twenties. She had a smile on her face. A smile, how could she, in this godforsaken sinful place?

“Why are you crying, missy?” She blew out smoke from her expensive looking cigarette, leaning back on the vanity. Her hair was short and neat; her gown was pretty but oh so revealing. A showgirl, she was. “You’re lucky, actually. Y’know?” As she inhaled, she puffed the smoke out of her nose. “Big boss’s brother wants you in his bed. I overheard him telling the madam to keep you a virgin doll and he’ll come later to collect you.”

"How is this better?" You chocked back, a fresh lump forming in your throat.

With her cigarette, she pointed at you. "You got one man to sleep with, we got dozens. Aren't you lucky, missy?"

“I do not pay you to chit chat, Angelica!” The madam stepped in, her face harshened by wrinkles. A trail of shadow followed her presence. Her thin lips, painted dark red, were pulled down with annoyance. And her cheeks; painted red with too much rogue. The woman whom you now knew was called ‘Angelica’ rolled her eyes. “You don’t pay us, madam.”

“That is not the point, don’t taint the new girl, she’s been paid for her innocence. That bastard Vincentio didn’t want to pay much, sayin’ he’s Damiano’s brother ‘n all! This gem is a foreigner, does he know how much can I cost for every hour with her? Ugh! Men!” The Madam grabbed Angelica's cigarette, inhaling before coughing. "Cheap!"

"Have this instead." A deep playful voice interrupted the women, holding out a cig. A man who had dared step into women's backstage. Dontaye Vincentio, brother of Valerio Vincentio. He turned to you, green eyes locking on you. "Let's go."