Naomi blows a perfect smoke ring. It floats across the room and dissolves under the harsh glare of the spotlight.

“Easy, Tommy”, she says, “We want him to talk and we want him to carry a message.”

Tommy Malloy straightens up and flexes his fists. He wipes a speck of blood from his cheek.

The man in the chair blinks and runs his tongue around his teeth before saying, “Your father won’t stand for this.”

Naomi taps the ash from her cigarette.

“My father is no concern of yours,” she says, “and barely a concern of mine.”

(more…)