Page 104 of Marcello

It was tacky as hell… but kind of impressive, too.

I pulled out my phone and called Cicciobello. “Where are you?”

“Aw, man, I’m sorry, dude, I forgot to call you,” Ciccio said apologetically. “I think I gotta back out.”

“What?!” I snapped, pissed as hell. He got me to come all the way down here when I didn’t want to, and now he wasn’t even going to fucking show up?!

“Cesare made me go do some shit with Toro. I don’t think I’m gonna make it.”

“Oh,” I said, suddenly thankful I hadn’t been the one called in. “Well… it’s not your fault.”

“Yeah… oh, hey, my cousin’s expecting you, though. Just go up to the entrance and tell him you know me.”

“I don’t know, man… I think I’m just gonna go home.”

“Aw, come on, don’t be like that! Just go in for a minute! It’s probably gonna be way cool – and wall-to-wall hot bitches!”

He wasn’t wrong. There were certainly lots of ‘hot bitches’ in line – but they were the same boring type I always saw in Neapolitan clubs. Lots of lip filler, plastic surgery, and TikTok cookie-cutter looks.

I gazed up at the lasers pulsing into space as music thumped the air.

I doubted I would enjoy it…

But I hadn’t come here for the music. I’d come to see the view, and to do something nobody had done in years: walk around on top of the castle. That part hadn’t changed.

“Alright,” I relented. “What does your cousin look like?”

“Just like me,” Cicciobello said cheerfully, “but fatter.”

I chuckled. “Alright, I’ll go find him.”

“Bang a hottie for me, man!”

“Yeah, sure,” I muttered into the phone, then hung up.

I walked past the massive line and approached the entrance to the ‘club’: an arched stone doorway set into the base of the castle. The area was set up like a Hollywood premiere, with a red carpet, floodlights, and a velvet rope.

A half-dozen bouncers in suits were standing around. They were big guys, and looked tough – though I doubted any of them would’ve lasted ten seconds against Cesare.

A seventh bouncer was checking an iPad, scrolling through what was apparently the list. I watched him the entire time as I approached. He let in one or two people, shook his head at others, and occasionally waved in extraordinarily beautiful women who weren’t on the list.

One of the other bouncers resembled Ciccio, just with more hair and a lot more girth around the middle. I walked up to the velvet rope, caught his eye, and gave him an upwards nod of my chin.

Another musclebound lunk stepped over to push me away. “Get the fuck back!”

“It’s cool, it’s cool,” Ciccio’s cousin said as he walked over. “You Romeo?”

“Yeah.”

The cousin unhooked the velvet rope. “You know Ernesto’s not comin’, right?”

Ernesto?

Must have been Ciccio’s real name.

I’d have to rib him about that later.

“Yeah, I talked to him already.”