Chapter 9
Hi everyone. I want to thank everyone for their wonderful comments in the last chapters. I really do appreciate it—a big shout-out to DaoistsMthQw for providing the new cover art. This has seen my numbers jump big time. So, really, thank you.
Now to answer a few questions.
To start with, D_eta015, the answer is yes, she will know many different languages—Italian from her father, Hebrew from her godfather, and a fair amount of Japanese. I will also add French, Spanish, German, and Russian. That, however, is just speaking. She will understand more, but is unable to speak them herself. As for her personality, you're right, she is a lot like Vito Corleone. She thinks long-term and is a very loving woman towards those she trusts. That said, she also likes Bugsy in a way, who, according to history, was very charming but also crazy.
Dao_8te, if you could make the images for the other OC characters, I will be happy to make an auxiliary page as soon as I know. I do have a Discord as well, but I'm rarely on it. https://discord.gg/Uf8ATA8y
Taoist_yuri, I think you will like this chapter as I added a bit more on their relationship before moving on. That said, I don't think it will be easy for them. In the back, being gay could land you in jail for 14 years, and even in some states, the death penalty. Though I think that was rare and usually used against men.
VeggieBlue5, she will bring up many things after the war. Breaking so many rules in Hollywood by doing so and pissing off the KKK. Very active in the Civil Rights Movement. But think more of Malcolm X than King, and has the support system to use violence. After all, one of the people she is closest to was a founder of Murder, Inc., the hitman group. She doesn't have to play nice if they come after her. On another note, Lizabeth never truly gets over it in my mind. Think Jerry Lee, who believed to his dying breath he was playing the devil's music but never stopped. Also, I am unsure whether they end up together. As time passes, Ruth will have other relationships but never more than one at any given time. Also, yeah, she will cover pretty much all the great gangster movies of all time. I mean, come on, how could she not?
Now, if I have forgotten to answer anyone, please let me know in this chapter. Now, a question for you guys.
If it's not clear by now, Ruth will be entering a number of businesses down the line. Movies, of course, are her primary source of income, and she will also enter other areas such as fashion and music. Fyi, I go over one of her biggest business deals in this chapter.
With that said, the question is, should she have a small signing career of her own? She can sing and is actually pretty good. Think Jasmine Thompson, Lana Del Rey, and Plamina the singer. If she does, she will only do minor releases and never go on tour. Mostly covering acoustic covers of the songs of today that wouldn't have worked back in the day. The lyrics could. But not the songs in their original form.
With all that said, on with the story.
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"I want to make it clear that my uncle Bugsy was not the person most people think he was. In fact, he was worse than anyone could imagine—just one step away from being truly evil. The things he revealed to me when he was drunk were enough to give regular people nightmares. Fortunately, I am anything but normal, and I loved him anyway. Not for what he was, but for who he was to me.
Among everyone I knew, from my father to my godfather and even the boys, many had doubts about my dreams. Some even laughed at them, but never my uncle Bugsy. While he would have preferred that I settle down and get married, he never laughed at me or questioned my aspirations. He believed in me from day one and never stopped supporting me.
So, when he came to me with his own dream of creating an oasis in the desert, you can bet I believed in him as well. I only wish he could have been there to see his dream become a reality."- A Dream Come True by Ruth Morris Lucky Luciano.
-1939-
-Ruth POV-
Sitting in a diner about 30 minutes from my stepfather's house, I smile as I watch a striking man in a well-tailored suit walk in. He seems out of place yet somehow fits right in at the same time. I stand up and almost run over to greet him. Opening my arms wide, I shout with joy, "Uncle Bugsy!" and then hug him tightly.
Smiling back, Bugsy returns the embrace and says, "Ruth." He then picks me up and spins me around, just like he used to do when I was a child, and I laugh. We completely ignore the other diners, not caring that most of them think we are being loud and obnoxious. While I like to think I take after my father, I must admit that I might actually be more like Uncle Bugsy than I realize. As a young girl, I admired his adventurous spirit and charming demeanor, wanting to emulate them to some extent. Because of that, we were both unafraid to take risks, fully aware that every day could be our last—especially for him, as his life always seemed one step away from violence.
As he sets me down, I playfully slap him on the shoulder and pout, "You're late."
"I was busy," Bugsy replies, mirroring the excuse I often use when I'm running behind. Then he adds with a cocky grin, "You'll forgive me."
I huff and turn away, fully aware that he's right. I've already forgiven him—the jerk.
He laughs as I lead him toward the back, where we sit down. For a moment, I take in the man who was basically like a second father to me. Then, a feeling of cold dread washes over me. Like my father, I know how my uncle Bugsy died. My past self had watched several movies about what happened to him, and they painted a clear picture. One day—though I didn't know when—he would be killed for some reason. Why? I couldn't quite remember, but I wasn't naïve. I knew it would be because someone would order it, someone he would undoubtedly cross.
That was the problem with men who knew no fear. I recall a line from my past life that captures it perfectly: "There are men in this world who go about demanding to be killed. They argue during card games and leap out of their cars in a rage if someone so much as scratches their fender. These people wander through the streets calling out, 'Kill me, kill me.'" That was my uncle Bugsy, more or less, in a nutshell—loyal to those he cared for, but a loose cannon that no one could truly control.
However, even knowing that, I had to wonder if I could save him. Could I somehow keep my uncle from dying? Honestly, I doubted it. Even if I had the whole picture—knowing the when, where, and how—I still didn't know if I could stop it. He was just that kind of man, and it made me sad to realize I might not be able to change his fate. Nevertheless, I would try. Damn it, I would try, and if anyone got in my way, they would find out just how much of my father was really in me.
With that thought, I looked at him and smiled, asking, "So?"
"So what?" Bugsy replied.
"Are you wearing it?" I asked with a wide grin.
Clicking his teeth, Bugsy shook his head and said, "I ain't answering that."
My smile widened, growing even larger now that I knew the answer, and I said, "Oh come on, come on, show me, pleaseeeeee, Uncle Bugsy?"
"No," he answered again.
I put on my best hurt-little-girl look and said, "Pleaseeeeeeeeeeeeee."
It didn't work, but we both knew that wasn't the point of our little game. It was simply how we interacted with each other. So when he huffed and leaned back, I clapped my hands in joy as my uncle lifted his shirt to reveal the ugly sweater I had made for him. And boy, was it ugly—kind of offensive, if I'm being honest. I mean, really—who depicts jolly old Saint Nick wearing a red fedora, a cigarette in his mouth, and holding a Tommy gun? Clearly, someone who isn't quite right in the head—that's who.
"Yes, I knew you would love it," I said, half-cheering and half-teasing.
"I think you mean stand it," Bugsy replied, but even he couldn't hide the smile on his face.
After all, this had become their tradition. Every Christmas since Ruth was about twelve, she had made him a highly inappropriate, ugly sweater. This year, Santa Claus was portrayed as a gangster; last year, it featured two female elves who looked like they belonged in a seedy burlesque show. He could swear she was trying to get him into trouble. If Meyer ever saw some of the sweaters she made for him, they would have a long conversation about them. And as for Lucky, if he found out… well, that would be a whole different story. Bugsy knew he would end up joining some of the guys he had killed in the past.
But really, what could they have expected him to do? Ruth was the type of girl who marched to the beat of her own drum, just like he did, and she would sooner die than let anyone chain her down. Or someone else would die for trying. Bugsy could respect that, even if he didn't fully support it.
"So, what's the word, Bugsy?" I ask, dropping all playfulness in favor of business.
Noticing the sudden shift in my tone, Bugsy smiles. He thinks that if Lucky could see her now, he would be proud. That is, if he weren't already.
After taking a sip of the coffee that a waitress just brought him, Bugsy says, "It's like you said, Ruth. While many theaters hide their struggles well and make do with what they have, they are unhappy with the major studios. In fact, I would say they are downright angry about how they are being treated. I can't say I blame them."
Bugsy had heard about the cutthroat business practices the major studios employed against the independent theaters. Still, he hadn't realized that the major studios didn't allow mom-and-pop theaters to show their films. It made sense, though. Why let the little guys enjoy any profits when you could keep 100 percent of the earnings for yourself? But that approach also created many enemies, even if those enemies were too small to fight back.
"And what do you think? Is my idea any good?" I ask him with a hopeful smile.
After considering it for a moment, Bugsy said, "Maybe. I won't say there isn't any opportunity there, but it's a risk, Ruth."
"I understand, but if my plan works, it could lead to big business, Uncle," I replied.
I was confident that the major studios' tight grip on the industry would soon come to an end in the next decade. Continuous lawsuits were being filed with the Supreme Court, and while the process was slow, the studio system's decline was inevitable. That was one reason I was offering Alan such a favorable deal. I was essentially prepaying for what was bound to happen and positioning Lucky Pictures as the studio to work with. However, that didn't mean I couldn't manipulate things to my advantage. If I could persuade my uncle to start acquiring independent movie theaters and convert them into a chain under one company, I could establish my own distribution network while everyone else was forced to liquidate theirs.
After thinking it over for a moment, Bugsy says, "I can't say I'm not interested, but you'll have to give me more, Ruth. I know you believe the major theaters are making a mistake in how they handle the independents. But it seems to work just fine for them. Wouldn't it be better to do the same thing?"
I let out a dry laugh and reply, "Like those old men would ever let me. Right now, they're okay with me playing in their yard for the time being. After all, even they have to worry about the bullies who seem to like me for some reason."
Bugsy can't help but chuckle a bit at that, since it's true that many people are fond of Ruth. Even the prick Albert has a soft spot for her. She just has that way about her. A good example is Bugsy's own hatred for his nickname. Whenever he hears someone call him Bugsy, he wants to smash their head in with a hammer. Yet the moment a certain seven-year-old girl asked him what it meant and called it cute, he melted like ice in the desert. But that's only for her; if anyone else calls him Bugsy, they'll quickly find out he still despises that name and anyone who uses it.
"However, that will change if I become too greedy too quickly. They may not have the guts to do what others do, but there are other ways to wage war. No, it's best to play nice and let them think I only want to make movies, which isn't entirely untrue," I say to him.
"Hmmm, that's why you let Raimondo handle the day-to-day, right? You want them watching him more than you," Bugsy replies.
"You know what they say, Uncle: once is a fluke, twice is a coincidence, but three times—that's a pattern. Now they know, like I do, that my next movie will be a success. But they expect my third one to fail, and even if it succeeds, it won't last long."
"But if you keep going, you become a liability," Bugsy points out, understanding where I'm headed.
People may say they like competition, but they don't, not really. No businessman does—especially if that competition comes from a woman, though that remains unspoken.
Taking a sip of my coffee, I said, "That's why I'll let Raimondo and the boys take charge while I play the face. What is a ship without its captain, after all?"
Bugsy remained silent. Ruth was a bright girl; she was already taking steps to make it seem as if she were just the talent while managing the business behind the scenes. After all, as she said, the more successful she became—and something told Bugsy she would be—the more the men at the major studios would resent her. However, if she allowed the boys to run things on the surface and they believed she was just the talent, they would be more inclined to come to the table. This way, she wouldn't need to resort to violence.
"I have to say, Ruth, I'm impressed by your way of thinking. Not many people would be willing to let others take credit for their ideas. It's smart, but you still haven't given me a reason to invest in this idea of yours," Bugsy said to her.
"Tell me, do you remember Teddy Roosevelt?" I asked him.
Leaning back, Bugsy says, "Barely. I was just a kid when he was president. Why do you ask?"
"Because, Uncle, he was one of the key figures behind the antitrust laws at the start of the century. It's fair to say he played a significant role in the downfall of several monopolies, including Standard Oil. Right now, the major studios are operating under a monopoly that's not too different from what Rockefeller had for a time," I reply.
It's important to note that people like my uncle, father, and godfather aren't unwise. While they may not have formal education, they quickly grasp concepts once they are explained clearly.
Bugsy's eyes widen as he responds, "You think the major studios will have to give up their theaters soon?"
I smiled at him, pleased to see that he was following my train of thought. "Not just yet, but soon enough. When that time comes, how accommodating do you think the independent theaters will be towards those who have been fucking them over for so long?"
Hearing this made Bugsy smile; he was beginning to understand where his niece's mind was heading. "Ah, you want to get in on the ground floor early. Make deals with them now, rather than waiting until they actually have power."
"Exactly, and who better to do business with than family?" I raised my coffee cup toward him.
Laughing at my remark, my uncle replied, "Who indeed," as he raised his own coffee cup, contemplating ways to go about owning those theaters.
It was a significant gamble, and there was no guarantee that Ruth would ultimately be correct, but what if she was? Many doubted Ruth's ability to make her own movie, but just look at what she has accomplished. While Lucky was her father, Bugsy felt that he understood her best. After all, he witnessed her transformation from a skinny little twig into the beautiful, ruthless, and cunning young woman she had become. He had seen it from the beginning and had watched as the same fire that drove Lucky, Meyer, and himself to succeed burned brightly within her.
Something told him that she was likely to be correct, and while it would be a long-term investment, it would pay off. Now, the question was: where would he find the money? He wasn't naïve. The only reason Ruth approached him instead of Meyer or her father was that she understood the significant risk. They wouldn't take it on, but he would.
"Okay, let's say I agree to do this. It's going to take time to secure all those theaters, and it will cost a lot of money with little return in the short term. Funding this won't be easy, and some may not even be willing to sell," Bugsy pointed out.
"That's true, but in the long term, there will be a lot of money to be made. Besides, we don't need that many theaters right now. If we have 100 by the end of the coming decade, I will be happy," I say with a smile.
What I don't mention is that around that time, the Supreme Court will make a significant ruling. I don't have an exact date, as my past self seemed to prefer self-help and how-to films over proper documentation. However, I have enough information to make an estimate.
After thinking it over, Bugsy says, "I'll make some calls. I know a few people who can help me secure the funding, but they will want something in return."
"Tell them I'll provide 20 percent as an investment, and their theaters will receive preferred treatment," I respond.
"Make it 25 percent," Bugsy suggests.
"Alright, 25 percent, but Uncle Bugsy, this can't be traced back to me in any way. I don't care about getting a return on my investment. In fact, if you can't return it cleanly, keep it. As long as you acquire those theaters, the potential gain for me will far exceed what I invest," I clarify, making my intentions clear.
I was unsure how the government would react to investing in a theater chain after all. Even if I were a minor stockholder, they might still take me to court, and I had a feeling my uncle would use some questionable tactics to acquire those theatres. No, it was better to stay as far away from this as possible.
Waving me off, Bugsy said, "Don't worry about it. I'll handle it."
Nodding my head, I replied, "Good! Now, why don't you tell me more about this idea you have for the desert?"
"Oh, are you actually interested in that, Ruth?" Bugsy asked, surprised. He had only mentioned it once and was still uncertain about the move himself.
"Of course I am! After all, it's your idea," I huffed, feigning annoyance at his doubt.
Uncertain if I was joking or genuinely upset, Bugsy raised his hands playfully and said, "Sorry, sorry! I forgot how sensitive you can be sometimes."
In response, I stuck out my tongue at him, and Bugsy laughed.
"But seriously, are you really interested?" he asked.
"Absolutely, Uncle. As I mentioned, my next movie is sure to be a hit, no matter what. So, investing in a legally operated casino could be a smart move." I say to him with a wink.
"Right, legal," he replies, playfully winking back.
"You know me, Uncle. I've always been the type of girl who follows the rules." My comment makes him laugh loudly.
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-POV Lizabeth Scott-
I needed a drink. No, screw that, I needed several drinks at this point. I loved my family; I really did. But sometimes, they were just too much to handle. My parents had never been very supportive of my decision to move to LA with Ruth and take my shot at Hollywood. Even my father, who had always encouraged my desire to be an actress, took a step back when I informed him I was going to LA with a girl I had just met.
In hindsight, I can't say I blame him for that reaction. Ruth might have had a plan, but to anyone else, it sounded like little more than hopes and dreams. He thought I had fallen for those illusions, and in a way, he was right. I did become infatuated with the idea, but it wasn't until Ruth showed me her plans in writing that I fully committed. Up until that point, it was all talk, and while I liked Ruth from the beginning, I wouldn't have followed her if I thought she only had ideas without a solid foundation.
And wouldn't you know it? Ruth had proven she could do what she claimed. She made a hit movie—one that my father and brothers loved, by the way. However, he still wasn't very supportive. As for my mother and siblings, they were even worse. My father might not have been entirely on board, but the rest of my family was completely against me. It didn't matter at all to them that Ruth was the creator of *Shane*. To them, I was just a foolish little girl making a colossal mistake—a little girl who had to grow up and find a man to marry, finally.
It didn't help that my mother believed she was right. After all, I had been living in Los Angeles for nearly a year, and in her eyes, I had accomplished very little—just a few seconds on screen time in Shane. This was enough for her to start pushing me to move back home, even going so far as to set me up on a date with a young man from the neighborhood.
Being a dutiful daughter, I felt unable to refuse my mother. After all, I couldn't tell her I was in a relationship, especially since that relationship was with another woman whom I was head over heels for. So, to make my mother happy, I agreed to go on a date with the young man, and throughout the evening, I felt terrible about it. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was somehow betraying Ruth, even though I knew she would understand.
At the end of the date, I politely declined a second date with the young man. When my mom asked why, I explained that I couldn't date anyone right now because I was under contract with Lucky Pictures to appear in their next movie. If I didn't return to Hollywood, I would be in breach of that contract, and the cost would be significant—three times what I was set to be paid for the film.
That was a lie, of course. The truth was, there was no such clause in my contract. Maybe it was in the others' contracts, but not mine. When your girlfriend is the boss, you get treated differently, even if it doesn't seem that way. A good example is that I was paid $20 more than any of the other background actors, despite having no lines. I was all too happy to accept it, seeing it as hazard pay for having to go home to Ruth at the end of the day.
Anyway, my mother didn't need to know that. All she needed to believe was that if I broke my contract, I would have to pay $3,000—money I did not have, and my father couldn't cover. He may have owned the local market, but during the Depression, we were only getting by. Now that it was ending, his store was doing better, but $3,000 was no small amount.
However, that also gave my mother something else to complain about. Forget the fact that I was about to star in my first-ever movie. All my mother could see was the amount I was being paid—$1,000. It was a good amount for a first-time lead actress. Most would be lucky to get half that, but compared to Alan's $25,000 a year, Bogart's $10,000, and Miss Lamarr's $5,000, it was nothing to my mother.
It was at that moment that I nearly lost my temper and yelled at my mom for the first time. If it hadn't been for my father stepping in and explaining that it made sense, I was being paid less than the others, I might have done so. God knows I wanted to at that moment.
Unlike my co-star, my father understood that I was still an unproven actor. Alen was a rising star, and Mr. Bogart had many credits to his name, which allowed him to demand a higher salary. Miss Lamarr worked for MGM, with whom Ruth had to negotiate to secure a deal, so she didn't even factor into the comparison. Still, $1,000 wasn't a small sum. Most people made only $1,000 a year, and I was earning that in just three months. Yet my mother still dared to look unimpressed.
"Emma, you have a phone call," I heard one of my sisters call out, and I rolled my eyes.
"While I didn't particularly like my stage name, I wished my family could get on board with it already," I thought to myself.
"Who is it?" I asked as I entered the living room, where the phone was.
"It's your boss. She said she wanted to discuss when filming would start again," my sister replied, handing me the phone.
Taking it from her, I gave her a look that clearly communicated, "You can leave now."
With a scowl, my sister walked off in a huff.
"This is Lizabeth speaking," I said into the phone.
"Hey, Liz, how's it going?" I heard Ruth say in her soft voice, which always helps calm me down when I'm upset or stressed.
Letting out a small sigh, I replied, "Fine, I guess."
"Yeah, I figured your family was driving you crazy by this point. I thought I'd call to make sure you're doing okay," Ruth responded.
Feeling my heart flutter a bit at that, I smiled. As much as Ruth had shared about her own family, I had told her just as much about mine—the ups and downs, including how they felt about my desire to be an actress. Now, Mom wasn't very supportive, and Dad had become less so over time. Ruth faced similar issues, but unlike me, she didn't give a flying fuck if others supported her or not.
Since Ruth didn't trust switchboard operators, I took a moment to calm my racing heart. After all, being in a relationship with another woman was very much against the law, and Ruth was well aware of this. So, being careful was essential.
"Everything is fine, but please tell me everything is on schedule," I say hopefully.
"Ah, so your family wants you to stay over for New Year's, huh? Well, don't worry; everything is a go here. We'll review the storyboard on the 1st and 2nd, then start rehearsals on the 3rd. Like last time, we will be pressed for time, but if everything goes as planned, we should finish filming in March with a release date in May," Ruth replies.
"Good, I can't wait to see my face on the screen—this time as the leading lady," I respond, feeling somewhat excited now.
After all, I was only in "Shane" for a few seconds, and while I looked good, I wanted more. In "Boom Town," I would get that opportunity since I played second only to Miss Lamarr, who portrayed the wife of one of the main protagonists. The exposure alone made the role worthwhile, and if Ruth was right, this could be the break I needed to find my footing in Hollywood. However, I was still unsure if I wanted to stay with Lucky Pictures if that were the case.
I didn't want to seem ungrateful toward Ruth, but everyone knew I was only in "Shane" because we were friends. Now, I was landing a leading role in a major production for the same reason. Eventually, people would realize that we were more than just friends, and that would become a problem for both of us. However, those thoughts could wait. Right now, I need to focus on what is right in front of me.
"Trust me, you will look great, Liz. Just remember to practice your lines," Ruth said to me.
"I will," I replied.
"Good! Oh, and before I forget, I just finished a new costume. I think you will love it when you see it," Ruth added casually, as if she were merely discussing a costume. But I knew better and had to fight to keep my face from turning red. I didn't want to have to explain to my family why I was blushing after talking with my boss.
"I'm sure I will," I said, trying to sound as calm as possible before hanging up.
-Still Lizabeth Scott POV-
I felt utterly exhausted when I arrived back home from my parents' house. This last trip made me realize that Los Angeles was now my home, and it wasn't just because Ruth was there. It took some time for this realization to settle in, but during this recent visit to my parents' house, I began to understand something I'd sensed around Thanksgiving. I could no longer return to the place where I grew up. I love my family—I truly do—but that place has become too small for me, too suffocating to handle anymore.
Los Angeles had become more than just a place for me to pursue my dreams; it was my escape from a life that felt too suffocating to endure. I needed a space to spread my wings and soar—higher than any bird could ever hope to fly.
"With Ruth by my side…" I begin to think, but my thoughts come to an abrupt halt as I catch sight of Ruth in the dim light of the apartment.
Suddenly, a wave of heat washes over me, igniting a fire in my belly and stirring something deep within my womanhood as I take in her outfit.
If I had any real higher brain function at that moment, I might have realized I was half right in my assumption that Ruth would greet me home naked.
"What… what are you wearing?" I stammer, feeling my face grow hot.
Striking a seductive pose with her back against the wall, one leg bent and raised, and her arms above her head with her hair partially covering her face, she speaks in a voice laced with sexual promise, her lips painted a deep, sinful red.
"You like it, babe? I made it just for you." She speaks in a tone that promises nothing but sinful pleasure, making me feel like I'm about to melt.
Her outfit, if it could be called that, reminded me of fishnet, but it wasn't made of rough fabric; instead, it was made of silk. Black in color, it resembled stockings, yet it covered her whole body while simultaneously revealing almost everything. The fabric was completely see-through, with an open bust, an accent bow between her breasts, spaghetti-style shoulder straps, and an open crotch that perfectly showcased her shaved womanhood. On her feet were a pair of black heels with what could only be described as spikes, at least six inches tall.
For a moment, I wondered how she could walk in those heels. Then she started to walk toward me, and I saw the ease and grace with which she moved.
When no words left my mouth, she said, "I hope you like it. I spent over a year making it, babe, and let me tell you, it wasn't easy. Just the shoes cost me quite a bit of money to make and get just right. Not to mention this."
She runs her hands up and down her body in a sensual manner, cupping her sizable breasts and lifting them as if presenting them to me like a gift. My mind is flooded with thoughts and emotions, none of them entirely innocent. Yet somehow, I manage to ask an awkward question, "Why?"
"Call it a late Christmas gift. One that you can do whatever you like with," she purrs, taking my hand and leading me to the bedroom.
The last thought I remember having before we entered the room, and she closed the door, was, "She is the devil."