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the seam. Move back to the center, bringing my nose back in line with the seam. My feet moving like I’m dancing on hot coals so that I control the pace and momentum of the fight. I take a small step to the side before whipping in vicious hooks to the image of Evander’s head and body, the image of his bleeding flesh arousing me.
    Showered, I take care to shave carefully, dress in my beloved Boss suit and slip on my Rolex. If Evander suspected his fate, he might at least have kissed his mother goodbye. Sporco traditore.
    My phone buzzes and I answer. The boys are here and on their way up to my bedroom. I love this room. Everything that’s worth anything happens in here and today maybe I’ll be doling out my first punishment. I feel pumped.
    My heart pounds at the sight of Evander being pushed into my room by three other boys, my soldiers. He looks pale. I can feel the heat of my blood spreading throughout my whole body. He stills as I inch right up to him so that I can smell his breath. I think he’s shaking. It’s like a series of pleasurable electric-like shocks go through me.
    “Evander, I appreciate your cooperation in willingly surrendering yourself after being summoned. I may take this into account when deciding on your punishment. Have you got anything to say, brother?”
    “Look Lucien, I’m so fricking sorry. I didn’t mean to cause a problem. I just wanted to help out.”
    “Evander, I obviously misunderstand. You thought you would help Olivia how exactly? Oh yes, by supplying her with prescriptions from your dad’s medical office?”
    “Aw, man. Come on. I felt sorry for her.”
    He falls to the floor, not even seeing where my right hook came from.
    I can’t believe that my plans to burn Evander with cigarettes are being delayed because none of us smokes and we hadn’t thought about the tiny detail of actually procuring any fucking cigarettes. Jesus, Lucien, it’s all in the details. I straighten my back, crack my knuckles one by one, a smile spreading across my face as the scene where the mafia guys burn the grasses with cigarettes plays out for me.
    When I decided to research it on the internet, it turns out there are some sick fucks who actually do it to themselves. They call it self-harm. This is precisely why some people just disgust me, then it occurred to me that Evander’s dad is some celebrity psychiatrist, so how fitting that his son should end up being a self-harmer. That’ll make him think about even going near his dad’s prescription pad again. Maybe when he’s older and I’m New York State Attorney General he’ll thank me for teaching him what happens when you break the law. Yeah, he’ll be grateful one day that I helped him see where he was going wrong.
    Evander’s sniveling interrupts my thoughts. Is that blood from his nose dripping on my carpet? We don’t have cigarettes. Maybe boiling water, drop by drop, onto the backs of his hands? Another cool scene from Mafia 2.
    An amazing idea pops into my head.
    “Guys, wait here. Put one of my pillow cases over this douchebag’s head or I’ll do something I’ll regret. I’ll be back in a minute.” They nod and move like the well trained soldati they are.
    My heart is thumping so loudly it’s all I can hear, sweat prickling my upper lip as I move towards my father’s study and head for the Spanish Cedar wood box that sits on its own special table. If my father notices that someone’s been in his precious cigar humidor, he’ll never suspect me.
    I wonder what sound the Stradivarius Churchill that I’ve picked will make as it burns through the first layer of skin.

Chapter Seven
    Olivia Carter
    “Tyler, hit the volume. I need to hear this track … I want it LOUD,” I shout at my drug-dealer-cum-new-best-friend Tyler White , affectionately known amongst his ‘clients’ as Snow White for his skill of acquiring the purest, whitest cocaine on this side of Manhattan.
    Galvanize by the Chemical Brothers pulsates through