Page 12 of Ivory Tower

I desperately need the sleep an early night is promising.

But then I remember who Sammi left with last night.

“I win,” she says, and a dozen girls groan.

“No fucking way!”

“How was he!?”

“I need proof!”

There was an ongoing bet in the back room, a battle for Tino Bucceri, the newest member in the Carluccio family. Rumor is he was made less than a month ago after four years of doing his duty with the family. And, of course, all of the girls want a piece of the hot guy whose eyes always stray to the stages.

Sammi sits on the bench, leaning back on her hands with a cat who got the canary smile as she prepares to tell her tale.

“So you know what he told me?” she asks, and all eyes widen in a bitch, you know we want to know kind of way. “So, you know Big Boss?” Everyone nods, and I do too, even though for the life of me, I have not been able to figure out just who Big Boss is. Asking too many questions raises too many red flags. “So apparently, he and Paulie are neck and neck in deciding who will, you know, be in charge when Carmine passes.”

It clicks. Big Boss is Junior Carluccio, the youngest son of Carmine Carluccio, the current head of the family. The next in line to take over now that Tony Carluccio was put away from some kind of Ponzi scheme.

And Paulie is his nephew.

“You’re shitting me,” Gina says, a gasp in her voice. “But Paulie’s just the grandson!”

“Seems that they can’t all agree on the, uh, direction the family should go in. Tino wouldn’t tell me who, but one of them wants to go back to how things were before: safer, easier. Helping the community. The other wants to go . . .” Her eyes move from left to right with major dramatic effect before she whispers, “Darker.”

“Well, I can almost guarantee it’s not Paulie who wants to play it safe,” Tia says, snapping her gum and doing the last buckle on her shoes. “So what does this mean?”

“Nothing. It means nothing,” Candy says, clapping her hands. “Tino’s got a big fuckin’ mouth. You think they’re sharing the important shit with him?”

“Dunno, Candy. He seemed pretty worried about it when he was tellin’ me about it this morning.”

“This morning!?” Gina shouts. “He stayed overnight!?” Fancy smiles like she was waiting to drop the bomb.

“Oh yeah. And when he was sober, he was really nervous when he remembered what he told me and all. Made me promise not to spill to a soul.”

“So you came in here and spilled instantly?” I ask with a smile. “What about the cameras?”

“Oh, he told me they’re fake in here,” Sammi says. “Big Boss isn’t too bad. Apparently, he wants to give us privacy when we’re dressing.”

“And we’re supposed to believe that?” Tina asks in disbelief.

“I mean, none of the guys ever come back here,” I say with a shrug. “They always knock or send a girl in if they need something.” Everyone nods, agreeing, before there’s a knock on the door and a deep voice booms.

“Girls! Two minutes till stage time!” Instantly, women flutter around, fluffing hair and spritzing body spray in a familiar tornado of chaos. As it happens, I continue to pack my stuff up, categorizing the new information in the files of my mind.

My whole life, I’ve been taught to smile pretty and keep my ears open, to be someone people are comfortable talking around. It’s a skill I’ve put to use here at the club. I silently track which politicians come in shitty disguises, which powerful married men get back-room lap dances, and who disappears into the offices where, I’m sure, deals and plans are made.

Oh, to be a fly on the wall in those rooms, to have that kind of access. Some part of me is sure that I need to be back there in order to get the information I need to bring to the Russos and take down the Carluccios.

To be honest, I thought the men here would give me the most, give me the ammunition I need to take to my blood family and earn my way to the top—and my revenge.

It turns out the women are the true gatekeepers of information.

I should have known, really.

It’s always the women who hold all the secrets, and with those secrets, they hold the power.

“Alright, ladies, see you tomorrow!” I shout, grabbing my big duffel bag and waving to the girls, all in a mix of stages of dress.

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