Luigi had been born into a rich and luxurious life, physically getting whatever he wished for since he was old enough to scream for it. It was the life he was born into and he knew nothing more.
He did not wish to know either. He did not care about the ones on the streets, his father told him they were slackers. He did not care about the workers whose lives were in danger, his father told him to dispose of lazy workers. And he especially did not care about the people who couldn't pay Geneco back, his father despised them the most.
That's all the reasons he did not leave his fathers building when not needed, and why would he? Everything he could need was put in his lap since day one.
So that made it surprising to his father and Marni that he jumped at the chance to attend the bar Mag was performing at tonight. Ever since that night a few days ago, he kept thinking of her. He continued to tell himself it was just because no one really spoke with him often, all either too scared or too busy. It was surprising, yet refreshing in an odd way when she wanted to join him.
Though, he would never tell anyone this. Instead, he insisted that he only wanted to try the selection of drinks they served. He was only twenty, but one glance at the last name of his ID would get the bartender to bring down the sun if he asked for it.
Luigi smirked, looking up from the floorboards of the limo and out the window. It almost seemed as if night wasn't a thing in the city, everywhere you looked lights flashed and people were as busy as they were in the day.
Even so, everyone knew the nights were dangerous, dealers lurking around every corner and deep in alleyways. But none of the Largo children would never have to experience that, Rotti taught them better. Luigi was proud of not caring about surgery, besides the needed ones that came with certain habits he had. He brushed a hand over his stomach, feeling the stitches decorated all over.
His mind went back to Mag, again, wondering if she had ever had surgeries. Possibly. The way her face was structured was charming, even to him. The surgeons must've known what they were doing with her. Then again, he doubted a local singer would be able to pay for such things.
The obsessive thoughts stopped when they stopped in front of the bar, a few shady people outside turning away from the limo and walking away. Luigi was let out, who ignored the driver as he was eager to enter the bar, followed by his father and Marni.
It was nothing too grand, but of course nothing out of the 20s either. Wooden floors led to a large bar, decorated with lights and rough-looking barstools, all holding up the weight of men watching the fancy drinks being created. The tables were circular, black marble decorated with small candles. Probably dangerous near the drunker men, Luigi noted. The main attraction, though, was the small stage with hanging lights and a small microphone on a stand. A stool behind it for the poets to come to sit and groan about politics. Luigi looked around, expecting Mag to be there when a woman tapped him on the shoulder.
Marni smiled at him, whispering towards him with a wink, "Don't worry, she's just getting ready." With that, she sat with Rotti, who looked like he would prefer being just about anywhere but here at the moment. Luigi rolled his eyes and sneered, he didn't care where she was. That wasn't why he was here. That's what Luigi told himself over and over.
And his father was only here to act like he cared and to observe Marni's friend. If she was just some baggage Marni was carrying around, he would convince Marni to dump her on the streets and make Marni free to jump into Rottis arms. If she had potential, well, his father told him not to expect much. Marni has told him she was from a poor background.
So because his father told him so, he didn't care. Trying to erase from his mind the soft woman he briefly spoke to. The curls in her hair like raven black waves washing over delicate skin. The more he thought about it, the more he wanted to touch them. He made his last attempt to shake her from his mind with a drink, or a few.
