*It was late, and she was reclining in a large comfy chair with a fine glass of French champagne. It had been dull around Vegas lately. Sure, there was the usual slicing and dicing, running and gunning, but there was no huge silo of money that you could swim in. What worked for a cartoon duck would be undoubtedly painful for a normal human. Her sound system was playing classical music, at the moment Pachabel's Canon. Suddenly, the music was interrupted by the ringing of her phone. Muting the sound, she picked up the phone with a sigh.*

What?

~Yeah, I got something you might be interested in. Turns out there's another Devereux girl.~

Really? Well, that's what happens when those fucking sluts down in New Orleans can't keep their legs closed. What's so fucking special about this one?

*There was a chuckle from the voice on the line.* ~Well, this one's an artiste, and only found out recently she was Devereux at all. It was all smoke and rumors until D. Stanton appeared at her showing.~

*At this, Carmela sat up.* D. Stanton? That son-of-a-bitch is still alive? Fuckin hell. I thought they strung him up like Jesus H Christ. Well, well. How exactly is this girl Devereux anyway?

~Well, I missed that part, but it looks like she's being welcomed into the fold in a hurry. There's shit stirring in New Orleans, and certain parties would like to see this girl eliminated before it goes down.~

I see. Well, for such a rush job, I'll have to charge you four times the usual amount. But, since it a Devereux, and I do hate those Cajun cocksuckers, I'll cut the price in half. 200 Grand. Do your 'interested parties' have that kind of scratch?

~You know they do, Ms. Vincetti.~

Good, and you know where to send it. Once I get the money, I'll give somebody the job.

~Of course.~ *With a click, the phone hung up, and Carmela did the same.*

Aah, now back to the good things in life. *Taking a sip of her champagne, the room filled with the sounds of classical music.*