Tom looked down between his legs at the black leather briefcase that bought him here. As tempted as Tom was to look inside he decided to hold himself true to his word. Something rarely done. His cap was pulled down over his eyes like usual the razor blades sticking out more than usual. 

Sean, his driver, looked in the rear-view hesitantly and began to stutter.

"Mmmm-Mr Shelby"

Tom looked up from the briefcase and tried to act hard for a cheap laugh.

"Speak"

Sean made eye contact, gasped and looked back to the road.

"We-Were iii-in Wash-Wash-Washington sa-sir"

Tom nodded and thanked Sean before looking across at his bodyguard. He was dressed in the finest suit money could buy and was supposed to act as Toms respectable partner. In actual fact he was only there to make sure Tom came back. Out the window of the 1935 Hispano Suiza J12 in which Tom only trusted Sean to drive, everyday life unravelled. Men walked children by the hand laughing and joking while women waltzed down the street in the younger lads arms. Posters and signs were everywhere with so and so for Senate but Tom paid no attention. Those affairs didn't affect him. Those affairs affected his bosses.

The car continued to drive to ''Restraunt Italiano" when a particular sign caught his attention. "Bill Wilson for senate". An older, chubby man smiled a yellow smile, grey hair covering his wrinkles. Drawn on devil devil horns came from his hair and and a fat tail from the bottom. Tom smiled and knew he was in for something.

20 minutes later, Restraunt Italiano.

Tom yawned as he stepped from the car and donned his coat. As Tom approached the entrance a small man with a stereo-typical moustache smiled and blocked his path.

"Good morning signore, I am Mario. I am afraid this fine establishment is closed for a rather important meeting. Please signore we will be open tonight. Tell your friends!"

Tom nodded and bit his lip remembering to be on his best behaviour just before head-butting the man. His bodyguard stepped forward and cracked his knuckles.

"Mr Shelby is here for that meeting. "Signore". So step aside or this place will soon be out of business"

The man gasped and stepped aside gesturing them in. He banged his forehead multiple times and took his hat off.

"Of course Mr Shelby I should have known. Please, please follow me me signore"

"Say signore one more time eyetie" Tom thought as he entered the restraunt. A fine glass chandelier hung from the roof and famous Italian paintings lined the wall. The tables were richly decorated and bare all bar one. A man in a suit leaned back where he sat, cigar in one hand a women in the other. When he saw Toms briefcase he smacked the women's bare ass and whispered something to the men who flanked him.

"Mr Shelby my friend sit down, sit down"

The man stood up and pulled out the seat opposite to where he was previously sitting.

"Mr Wilson. The grey hair and yellow teeth were no lie but I was expecting horns?"

Bill Wilson straightened up and sat back down. He began to speak but looked at the briefcase and smiled.

"Yes yes kids these days right Mr Shelby? No respect for those in charge"

Tom lit a ciggerete and crossed his legs. He laughed and nodded in agreement.

"No respect at all. Although I do not believe you are in charge yet Mr Wilson"

He was clearly annoyed but nodded and laughed. He leaned closer to Tom and began to whisper.

"No Mr Shelby im not. But mark my words I will be. And if word gets back to Chicago of how great I am YOU Mr Shelby will reap the rewards of my success"

He leaned back again puffing on his cigar. Tom looked down to make sure the briefcase was still there. Sure enough it was beside Mr Wilson. "Crafty fuck" Tom thought struggling for words. Tom stood up and cleared his throat.

"Good luck for your campaign Mr Wilson I wish you the best. I see you have already taken what I came here to deliver so I may as well take my leave"  

 Tom shook Mr Wilsons hand and walked towards the door, his bodyguard in tow. The man at the door said something but all Tom heard was signore. Tom faced the man and head-butted him.

Outside a mob of people stood with cameras and notebooks. When they heard the door open they turned and began to rush foreword.

"Sir what is your name?"

"You have business with Mr Wilson?"

"Where are you from?"

Tom looked at his bodyguard and sighed.