in plain sight

salon forty5

It was a rare occasion, as of late, for any outing she made to be about anything other than the family. Being a capo meant her life was often times forced her to forget the life she had made herself outside of the Vittori. This, however, was something she had been looking forward to for weeks now. An up and coming artist and their display of fresh work to her was like sending a moth to a flame. It was the rare occasion where she went alone, where the Vittori princess got a chance to be alone with her thoughts. 

The brunette stepped up to a painting, wide eyed and pleased with the details. It was one of those that made her feel something. It was a painting that made her think, it even made her hope. “Wonder if I’m going to have to sell my left arm to bring this one home”, she joked mindlessly, not paying mind to who she stood next to or even spoke with. @casspage

Despite how hard she tried to distance herself from her past, Cassidy found it difficult at times to do so. The girl was over a decade ago still lived inside her somewhere, however buried she may be, and indulging in things that she used to enjoy gave Cass a form of escape that most others in her situation were not afforded. She had actually been enjoying the gala at the museum before it descended into chaos because it reminded her of parties she had attended throughout her childhood; Cass had found them boring at the time, but at the museum nostalgia had flooded her senses as she distracted herself from the party by actually looking at what the museum had to offer.

The decision to make her way to Salon Forty5 had been an impulsive one, made in a moment where she felt the need to be by herself and forget for a little while. Imagine her surprise to find Veronica Vittori by her side, eyeing the same piece she had been drawn to the moment she passed through the door. Eyes widened slightly when she turned her head to see Lorenzo's daughter beside her, but she quickly wiped the look of shock off her face. "Probably both," Cassidy responded, letting a light chuckle bubble up from her chest. "There aren't many artists who take chances like this anymore, you know?" She did her best to continue the idle chit chat, as Ronnie had inspired curiosity within Cass since the moment she learned of her existence.

Farren shrugged, her worries falling from her shoulders as she began eating in unison with her friend. If there was one thing they could bond over in the midst of the absolute shitstorm that was life, it was food, even if it was of lesser quality than they were used too. Truthfully, all the woman could make in return was ramen noodles and a pretty good casserole, because her lack of parenting had caused her to develop less than mediocre cooking skills. Fuck you mom, she thought for a moment before coming back to reality and looking toward Cassidy.

“Totally forgotten. Trust me, everybody has a fist up their ass with everything going on lately so I don’t blame you. Besides, how could I be mad at that face?” The woman noted, a smile forming on her lips as she nudged the woman in an attempt to lighten the conversation. She had already spoken about Milena’s death to the point that it now felt like beating a dead horse, but at the end of the day, it was a significant loss and gain for both sides of the war.

Cassidy had to crack another smile at Farren's choice of phrasing. "They really fucking do, don't they?" she responded with a laugh, crossing her legs and re-situating herself on the couch cushion. "If only my face possessed more magical powers, I'd have it much easier." It was nearly impossible not to bring current events into the conversation, especially when it impacted both of their lives...in vastly different ways, sure, but both women were, in one way or another, slaves to the lives they led. She saw what her friend was trying to do, though, and quickly changed the subject. 

"You know what will be fun, though? The club is reopening." Cass never thought she would ever say that the reopening of a strip club where she just so happened to work would be fun, but there she was. She was sure that she would take full advantage of the endless supply of alcohol that Alex would provide for the Luxure's patrons, and a night of mindless distraction was really what she needed. Even if she would technically be working. "You should come. Or if you're not feeling dangerous, I could sneak you in."

The fact the Ivory Syndicate was game enough to host such an event in the wake of their fallen leader was somewhat intriguing to Samuel. It merely highlighted their lack of moral standard, not that such a thing needed to be publicly announced given their reputation. Nevertheless while it wasn’t an event he wanted to attend, the youngest Delore knew he must. If not to merely observe but to make an opportunity of such an invitation. 

Having entered the establishment, Samuel made light work of taking up position against the bar, motioning for a drink as the woman beside him spoke up. Brow raised in silent contemplation, a light chuckle surpassed his lips as he acknowledged her. “I wouldn’t dream of it.” He mused, offering a smile in thanks to the bartender as his drink was set before him. “Though we both know that if you were really having fun you wouldn’t be sat at the bar, drinking them out of vodka and alone.” He noted, attention returning to the woman as he raised his glass in an unspoken toast to her. 

The man who leaned up against the bar top looked vaguely familiar, but in her current state Cass didn't have the energy or the brainpower to put towards figuring out where she knew him from. All she knew in that moment was that he was attractive, and she was drunk. "Oh really? she countered, draining the contents of the small glass before placing it back on the bar and sliding it towards the bartender once more. "What would I be doing, then?" Her options at the point were slim; she would be back onstage soon, so she could either go back to the dressing room and socialize with the other girls, settle into a patron's lap, let someone pull her into a private room, or keep drinking. The last option was clearly the one she found most appealing. Cass turned to lean an elbow against the bar and focused her eyes on him to the best of her ability. "You must not be having any fun either, by that reasoning."

“I- I’m not in deep, but fuck. Fucking fuck,” he managed out. No matter how he worded it, no matter how little he was involved, he was involved, making him feel like he had been betraying her from the day he agreed to work with Sera. All for the advancement of his career. That had been his only priority back then, and up until recently even. Moving home had shifted his perspective, even if he had not realized it fully. The old connections and the new were merging into a life in limbo for him, balancing where he was and where he was headed as a person.

Taking a deep breath, he finally managed to meet her eyes again, if only for a fleeting moment, “Who was it? And how was Sera involved?” More questions he did not really want the answers to, but knew he needed them. He had been naive to turn a blind eye to that part of the Syndicate, to think he was not involved because he had never dealt with it directly. And now, standing in front of him, Cass was living proof of his stupidity. “Does anyone else know that we know each other?” It may have sounded indelicate at that moment, but they needed all cards on the table now. To protect both of them from what might happen should the wrong person know the wrong thing. He already felt like he failed her once, he was not about to do that again.

She watched as he stuttered, not quite able to process what she had just revealed; Cass knew the feeling. "If you're in, you're in," Cass spoke, reinforcing what he had to already be thinking. Syndicate members were fish on a hook, and every day they were reeled in a bit more until they were at the complete mercy of its iron fist. "Marco King decided to pick me up from school that day," she answered, beginning to put the pieces together for him. "It was planned, Deiter, it wasn't a freak thing. They got rid of my driver, they sat in that car, and they waited for me to open to the door." That was where everything started to get fuzzy, but Cassidy would never forget the sick smile that spread over Marco's lips when he saw the terror dawn on her features. "Sera was supposed to be a mail order bride." Cass shifted on her feet, deciding to leave it at that - Sera's story was her own to tell when and if she saw fit.

The question could have been a slap in the face, but Cass knew that he was only thinking of their safety. She had thought the same thing, which was why she had told him not to tell anybody he had seen her when they first saw each other again months ago on the street. "No. And we have to keep it that way," Cassidy said slowly, her eyes locked on his face even if he could not meet her gaze at the moment. "You can't tell anybody, Deiter. Don't give them any reason to dig. I don't want you to get hurt." Not to mention what might happen to her if the Syndicate discovered their connection.

It didn’t take a wild guess to assume that the young woman had been pounding a few shots too many. From the worried glance at the bar tender, and the heavy handed way her hands slapped down against the bar top, everything about the young woman screamed inebriated. She clearly had some sort of stake in the place, but if she did, then the fact that she was so drunk surprised Sam even more. Whenever she was on a job, she always kept a check on her drinks, ensured that she never took her eye away from the glass. She would never have even gotten close to the state the woman was in…as the vodka tonic was pushed over the bar, she clasped her hand around the glass and took a small, delicate sip. 

“i’m having plenty fun already” she told her with a slight chuckle, glancing back at the man who she’d been talking to minutes earlier, but who was now pawing at a dancer. “It looks great” she nodded in agreement, looking across the club. It looked like a strip club, albeit a high end one – but there was only so many ways you could polish what was essentially a den of debauchery. “They moved quick though, fire was only what…two months since the storm? It’s impressive.”

Cassidy followed Sam’s glance and took in the scene behind the other woman, a smirk replacing the smile. “Men,” she mumbled, shaking her head. Unpleasant as it was to watch, older gentlemen were the Luxure’s bread and butter, much like any strip club. They were the ones who had the deepest pockets and the most sexual frustration to release. “Dodged a bullet there,” she noted, then turned her attention back to the bar. The bartender gave her a stern look and Cass sighed, slipping on the stool next to her. “Alright alright, you’re no fun,” she said grumpily, waving a hand to send him on his way.

“Fifty-one days, actually.” Fifty-one days that Mateo had her practically all to himself with no need for Alex to call her in. Not all of those days were bad, Cass had to give him that, but the first few weeks weren’t ones she wanted to relive. With that thought in mind, her eyes scanned the crowd to see if she could find the newly minted underboss...he had to be there somewhere. When she couldn’t spot him, Cassidy turned her attention back to the woman beside her. “You don’t exactly look like the type to frequent a place like that,” she stated plainly.

Something about it made her sick, the way in which Cassidy glided out onto the stage as she’d undoubtedly done countless times before. By the time she’d reached the pole, Sera had already disappeared to the farthest end of the club, sidling up to the bartender in an effort to drown her own nagging itch of guilt which never should have existed in the first place. The fact still remained: she didn’t want to see what they’d made her former friend into, she didn’t want the reality baring down on her with the reminiscent echo of a life they once shared. Granted, Sera was never deemed valuable enough for the pole, but it hardly subdued other memories.

Just her luck, the woman in question took up residence beside her at the countertop, seemingly unawares of whom she’d come to join. “I don’t remember saying a goddamn thing.” The bitterness which seeped into her tone hadn’t been reserved for Cassidy nor had the other party particularly earned it, but in light of their most recent encounter Sera couldn’t help herself. Allowing the Page woman into her life once more inspired emotion she was never afforded, it warped her into someone unrecognizable now; someone human. She refused to risk her accomplishments for compassion… Or so she told herself. “You certainly look like it.”

Cass hadn’t seen Sera come in, which wasn’t surprising considering the amount of bodies that were packed into the building. She had, however, been wondering when the capo would make an appearance; in Cassidy’s experience, the older woman tended to avoid the Luxure, Ivory Studios, particular parts of the warehouse...but then again, their last conversation had taken place after Sera arrived outside Mateo’s building. 

Her voice startled Cassidy, who was clearly too inebriated to check her surroundings or even fully focus on who she was speaking to before striking up any kind of conversation. She jumped slightly at Sera’s tone, a bit of vodka sloshing out of the tiny glass that she had just picked up and onto her hand. Switching hands, Cass wiped her hand on her torso. “Don’t judge me, Sera...” Eyes narrowed slightly as the accusation left her lips; the shot was downed only seconds later, then Cass slid the glass back onto the bar. “It’s going to be a long night.”

There was no missing the stark look of indignation that bloomed sharply on her features. “You told me not to?” The laugh that slipped between her lips void of humor at the mere idea that her friend could think that she could simply cling to what she’d been told over what was necessary for some sense of diplomacy within her own life. “Are you serious right now, Cass?” She sat up a little straighter, the bottle she’d held put down on the floor beside the sofa. It was one thing, for her best friend to consider anything she’d said to have been worthy advice, and another entirely to expect that it would have so heavily swayed any choices made. “You’re right, you don’t tell me to do anything. Anything you can and might ever say to me, is only ever going to be little more than advice, Cassidy. I’m under no obligation to do as you tell me for any single fucking reason beyond it being in line with the choice I decide to make.” 

Lips pursed tightly and she nodded, the bitter sense of a slap in the face carving it’s way across her features in light of the lecture that she certainly didn’t need to fucking hear. “Is that what you think this is for me?” Where she could usually hold onto indifference and the lacking sense of feeling anything beyond self-depreciation, it boiled beneath her skin and the once fiery brunette found her ground again. “You think I’m doing this for fun?” She balked, “Unbelievable, you must honestly think I’m just that fucking stupid.” The pillow she’d held thrown across the sofa as she stood up and moved towards the kitchen before better thought stopped her. “You know, whatever your problem is with this — that’s your problem and it gives you absolutely no fucking right to turn your god damn nose up at me for whatever I have to do to make it through the fucking day.” 

It was numbing — numbing and not something that she was particularly proud about, not like her job at the Luxure. That; she could freely claim pride to, love for and while the money there was more than enough to satisfy mostly anyone, it didn’t put a dent in the looming noose tied around her neck, tightening with every new visit from another Vittori lapdog. “If you had to shoot yourself in the foot to get ahead in anything, I’d be there for you to aim the god damn bullet, not chewing you the fuck out for doing what you had to. So if you’ve really got that much of an issue, you know where the door is.”

“You’re not stupid, but you’re acting pretty fucking stupid right now,” Cass shot back. “This is a much more fun way to make money than anything else you could do, right? If you need the money, Nic, we can figure something out. I’ll help you figure something out.” There came the naivety, a direct outcome of never having had to work for a day in her entire life before it changed forever. Cassidy couldn’t even begin to think of logical ways that her friend could come up with enough money to pay off whatever loan she so desperately needed to be free from.

“Turning my nose up? Are you serious?” Her words dripped with incredulity, and Cass’ feet set her on a path to the kitchen before she could think to stop them. “I’ve been doing this since I was fucking fifteen. I’m not turning my nose up at this. That’s not what this is about.” This would be different if Cassidy had chosen her path - then her reaction would likely be focused only on jealousy, and it would be much more than a spark. But she hadn’t chosen this, she hadn’t chosen any of it, and she knew all too well the darkness that lurked beneath the surface. “Please, Nic.” Cass had done entirely too much begging lately, and she got a sour taste in her mouth every time she did so. Small hands grasped the edge of the countertop and she leaned over it slightly, doing her best to try to catch her friend’s eye. “It’s not just my problem. You don’t know what happens there. You don’t know Mateo.” She was panicking now, anger pushed to the side to allow fear to creep in. She couldn’t let Nic do this. She couldn’t.

“You won’t just be shooting yourself in the foot, Nic. There’s no turning back from this. I don’t want you to have to--” She didn’t want her friend to have to experience half of the awful shit that she had been through, living a nightmare for almost half of her life. Cass knew that Nic didn’t have a particularly strong fondness for living in the first place, which made this even worse. She had to tell her; even if it didn’t make a difference, Nic had to know why Cassidy was so vehemently opposed to the choice she was making. For the first time in a long time, Cass pulled out her phone, opened Google, and typed her own full name into the search engine. As expected, the first post that popped up was an article from the New York Times dated September 23, 2006. She held up the phone and turned it around so Nic could see the screen, the headline DAUGHTER OF PROLIFIC BUSINESSMAN VANISHES accompanied by her freshman year class portrait.

Even on a night off, Samantha was always primed to pick up new clientele. The invitation for the grand reopening had appeared in her inbox just a week before, but when the night had rolled around, she’d almost considered not attending. It would have been so tempting to just say fuck it, to order bad takeout and watch terrible Netflix originals. By 9pm however, she’d been itching to get out, bored stiff by the four walls of her apartment. Her essays could wait. Netflix could wait. The chance to socialise and schmooze with some of the cities wealthiest gentleman? Well that didn’t happen every day. 

Which was how she’d ended up at the bar, a dry vodka tonic in hand, one hand on the bar, the other on the shoulder of a man two times her age, laughing a little too enthusiastically at his terrible joke. Behind him though, she could see a young woman stumbling over towards the bar. She was vaguely familiar, though it took her a few seconds to register that she’d been the woman who had stood on the stage just twenty minutes before. Slugging back the last of her drink, she made her excuses and ducked away from the man, slipping a small card in his jacket pocket as she did. “I didn’t say anything-” she shrugged, turning to face the bar tender and signalling him to send over another vodka tonic. “Shots before midnight. Looks like you are having fun”.

The woman who appeared at her side didn’t look the type who frequented a place like the Luxure, but then again, this was likely the biggest party in the city tonight. If unlikely guests showing up meant that there was more money flowing, both toward the bar and toward the dancers onstage, then Cassidy really couldn’t complain - more tips coming her way meant that she would likely be allowed to keep a bit for spending money for herself, while the rest would go to boosting the Syndicate’s bottom line for the evening. From the look the bartender gave her as she slung back the latest bit of alcohol, Cass had a feeling that she would be cut off soon - eventually her performance would be affected, and then she would become a liability instead of a money-maker.

Hands hit the bar - not not yet permanently sticky bar - and Cass allowed her weight to shift slightly. “You should try it. Just speeds the fun along.” She flashed a smile at her new companion. “What do you think? Place looks nice, right?”

Cassidy watched from backstage as Nic did her thing; it wasn’t a secret that Nic was one of the most popular girls at the club. Perhaps it was the fact that she had no reason to hold back, that she lived with a permanent death wish. Cass couldn’t relate to the latter, but she had always wished that she could be more carefree like her friend; she still felt it now, despite the fact that Nic had been avoiding her since they had their first major argument. The song ended and Cass waited for Nic to make her way to the steps that would lead her offstage. “Money’s good tonight,” she commented casually when her friend entered her space.

The lack of answer has Dante on edge, his darker judgments leaning more toward cop than the other end of the spectrum. If he weren’t in a professional setting, he might even begin to start questioning her real reasons for coming here. Dante knows Emilia. He knows who her family is, and he has no doubt they are very aware than their princess is working for the Consigliere. Why wouldn’t they send someone in to investigate? It’s smart business. But then he realizes he fucked up. Dante is careful not to react. Not facially, not otherwise. In reality, this woman has no idea what sort of working relationships he has. He would bank on this. “And I suppose you know all about working in an office,” he responds coolly. “Have a nice night, ma'am.”

Her head didn’t start spinning until she took the first step off the stage, body tilting to the right as she began to lose her balance. Luckily, a much larger body was there ready to prevent her fall. “Scottyyyy...” He was always there. Cass gave him a grin as her hands found his shoulders and she found equilibrium once more. “You have perfect timing. Always.”

It wasn’t even an hour in and Cassidy Page was already drunk- it was the only way she would be able to handle almost the entire Syndicate being in the same building at the same time. This was a classic move: distract everyone from the fact that the world had come crumbling down with the news of Milena’s death by showing them that the organization could just as easily put all of the pieces back together again with very little effort. She had downed a full drink and slung back a shot before she took the stage for the first time that evening, then found herself back at the bar for another shot when she was done. If everyone else got to party into the wee hours of the morning, then goddammit so did she. 

Back at the bar again, doe eyes blinking at the bartender who begrudging slid another tiny glass across the counter to her, Cass became aware of someone approaching her. “Don’t tell me to stop,” she stated immediately, words slurring only slightly as she fixed her eyes on them. “I’m having fun.”

@casspage 

“You know, I was beginning to think you’d fled town after that Walk in the Park thing,” Mason started, the tiniest grin forming on his lips. “Thought maybe they’d sent you to boarding school for skipping Algebra.”

Cassidy had been actively avoiding interacting with Vittoris since Milena’s death, but doing so was becoming more difficult with each passing day. There were a lot of them. Farren was her friend so it had been hard to keep away from her and Cass eventually gave in, but other than her, she was trying to lay low. But Vittori or not, Mason had always been kind to Cassidy and it would have been rude to blow him off completely. It wasn’t as if she could turn and run. “Thought about it,” she offered with what she hoped would pass as a genuine smile. “Boarding school might provide a nice change of scenery. Only a French one, though.”