"You a gambler? Poker, dice. Really the boys that spend time in that room, will bet on about anything."

Tommy liked poker but he wasn't much of a gambler, he didn't like risking money, it probably came back to his poor upbringing. It hadn't even been his idea to set up the small gambling den, but it made sense to have it here. This brother was a den of sin, a location that anybody could go to find their vice and enjoy it. 

Sully puffed on his cigar. "Poker's one o' me favorites, but I'll do just about any gamblin'." He patted his pocket, happy with the hard earned stack of cash he had. 

Byrd entered the fine establishment casually. He wore a nice suit, but too nice. He liked to look good, but looking too good would make him stick out. At first glance he noticed that there were only a few girls currently working. He had heard that it was quite the spot only a few days ago. He'd imagined that some of the girls and maybe even a few of the bouncers would be taking the next few days off to mourn their losses. He walked briskly to the bar and slid onto a stool. A few moment later, a scantily clad bartender approached.

"Welcome to the Honey Hole, good lookin'. Can I get you anything, a drink or a girl? We got some nice rooms upstairs." The woman spoke in a soft and seductive tone.

"That won't be necessary. I'm meeting a friend here. If you would be so kind, a glass of water would be good." Byrd looked her in the eyes as he set a crisp $100 bill on the bar.  The woman shrugged, grabbed the money and sauntered off to get him some water.

Byrd waited patiently. He knew that Pete had stepped of a plane recently, so his arrival would be soon.

Pete walked to the door when a the large bouncer out front stopped him, he hadn't expected a stop. A single tear rolled down the large mans face and he embraced Pete in a big hug, one that might have killed the smaller man if he hadn't stopped. 

"I'm Boris, been looking out for things till you showed up. Boss left a note before he fled the city. For me and you to read only."

Boris reached into his coat and fished out a note, the outside read "Boris." He handed it to Pete expectantly, and the smaller man opened it up.

Boris, 

I am writing yous this note because I love yous, and my boys and my girls. But each and every one of yous knows that. By the time yous find this, I'll be in Los Angeles, I got a lead there, might be able to help me out. Everyone's dying. Chicago is gunning for us, they killed Vinny and shot Paul, trying to get at me. Maybe I'll be alright, but knowin them Chicago boys, I'll be dead later this afternoon. Close up shop, drink out the bar, you, the boys and the girls. Celebrate my life, don't mourn my death. Who knows, I might show back up after a while. But if I don't I want yous to give this letter to Petey. He will be around sometime, take good care of this, then treat Petey like he is me, cuz this place is gonna go to him if those fucks put me in the dirt.

with Love,

the Boss,

Thomas La Beau

Petey,

Yous the only family I gots. These past few months been great, your a natural, and I trust you. Them chicago boys are gonna kill me, Ill try to get away, but someones got to take care of my people. They need it, and they deserve it. Treat them well and they will thrive, the money you make will keep growin. Trust me Petey, the Honey Hole is a gold mine. If I die Petey, I want yous to take over here. Shit. Writing this is makin my fuckin hands shake like a big goddamn baby. Here I am Blabberin, I love you Pete. Make somethin of yourself and don't get wacked.

Your Cousin,

Big Fat Tommy

Pete looked up to Boris, almost choking up like the big man. Fuckin Tommy. Why did he have to go and get wacked. Pete resigned himself to take damn good care of this place in Tommy's memory. He hadn't been sure about what he wanted to do with the stranger that sent him the note, but if it meant cleaning up Tommy's unfinished business. He was in.

"Looks like i'm going to take over, Boris. Whats the state of things in there?"

The large bouncer thought for a second before answering. 

"We just got a shipment of booze in, drugs are overflowing, cigars untouched, though half the girls took the night off, they weren't feelin it with Tommy gone."

The last part of that kind of hit Pete at home, Tommy managed to make prostitutes love him, big shoes for his skinny feet to fill. But he was a kind soul, he'd do what he had to do in the end. With that in mind he patted Boris on the shoulder and opened the doors.

"Good Evening! My name Is Peter, but you can Call me Skinny Pete. My cousin used to run this fine establishment, unfortunately, we lost him. Now I'm gonna run it, free drinks on me for the next hour. No top shelf shit. If your employed here I need to speak to you in the office. If your not employed, have a great night, and thanks for comin here tonight."

He stopped for a second, he had come here for a reason. He scanned the room until he seen someone that stood out, he made his way over to the man.

"Excuse me. But would your name happen to be Byrd?"