Chapter 15
Hey everyone, so I did a bit of a rush job here. Been sick with an ear problem. So this chapter is not as long as I thought it would be. That said, I hope you all enjoy it anyway.
Now onto review.
Taoist_yuri, I looked it up. Sugar Ray has his first fight this year, and Jake LaMotta next year. The two don't actually fight till 1942. I am unsure about when they got their nicknames, as there is no set date to find. So I can literally call it a simple coincidence and leave it at that. So I will most likely keep the names and have people start calling the actual people those names just by chance. Or maybe change them. If you have any good suggestions, I will change them.
DaoistsMthQw16 I will most likely have her buy them either next chapter or after the next set of movies. I don't know what they were worth at the time.
D_eta015 house is a must. May have her write some books during her break from Hollywood later on.
VeggieBlue, I am thinking an early TMZ. It starts off by following Hollywood stars, then a war reporter as her men hit the ground overseas. Need a new name, however.
roronoa2 thank you. Honestly, I had thought of that as being the first movie at the start, but dropped that idea as I remember that while it is thought of as one of, if not the greatest film in history, it was not an actual hit when it first came out.
Dao_8teh, I am thinking the same. While both movies do well, there are some that do not do that well. That said, I am thinking one award will be won. In fact, it has been my plan for a while now.
Now with that out of the way, one question. How many records should Ruth's songs sell? From what I can find, "I'll Never Smile Again," by Tommy Dorsey, was the highest-selling record of 1940, with 12 weeks at the top and 1 million records sold. I am thinking, of course, Ruth goes past this, but I am unsure by how much. Thinking 14 weeks at the top with 1.4 million records sold. Thoughts?
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"There is nothing in the world that is more important than family. Everyone else is just a stranger. I believe this now as much as I did when my father first told me this as a little girl. However, something I have learned with time is that family isn't always defined by your blood. In fact, often those related to us are the ones who will betray our trust the most. I have been fortunate in this regard, as few in my family have ever betrayed me. Unfortunately, others I know have not been as lucky. This is why I tell everyone that true family consists of those who stay with you until the end—whether you are rich or poor, healthy or sick. They will never leave your side or let you stand alone. If you have even one of those people by your side, you are truly blessed." - A Dream Come True by Ruth "Morris Lucky" Luciano.
-1940-
-Raimondo Carlin-
Every young boy and girl has a special day, or days, if you prefer. For a girl, it might be her sweet sixteen or her first date. For a boy, it could be the day his father showed him what it meant to be a man or his first date. That's why right now at this very moment, I hated my father more than anything else in the world. He was always a spiteful and hateful man. Throughout my life, he was either drowning in alcohol or causing chaos in the house. He would spew hate-filled comments about Black people and Jews. So much hate, and for what? Nothing, absolutely nothing. And, worse, he directed that hate towards his own family most of the time.
My father took pleasure in browbeating me whenever he had the chance, calling me stupid, useless, and a failure who would never amount to anything. That's why his behavior over the past year has become even more unbearable. He already despised Ruth for what he claimed she was "corrupting his son," but once he started seeing me in the papers alongside her, he completely lost it.
He hated the fact that we had succeeded in what he called a fool's dream. It filled him with spite that, despite the odds, we had done it. We hadn't just made one hit movie; we had made two and even won an award. To him, our success was further proof that all his so-called hard work was a waste and that certain groups were out to get him. He believed these groups were somehow responsible for our achievements. How he connected those dots, I don't know, but for my father, it was as if all our hard work meant nothing or wasn't legitimate. He thought we had been handed success, while those who settled for mediocrity were left behind. So, while other fathers might have been proud of their sons for accomplishing what I had, he wasn't.
Things finally came to a head after the Academy Awards. Seeing Ruth in the newspaper at the event was bad enough for my father. Reading that her movie won an award was even worse. But what truly set him off was seeing me dressed so sharply while escorting a woman to the event. The next morning, when I got home, he immediately started yelling at me. He tried to beat me down with his words just like he used to when I was a boy. The only problem for him was that I wasn't a boy anymore, but a man who had taken his first steps with his friends toward reaching the top. I was a man who stood under the gun, literally in this case, and walked away with my head held high. So, for the first time in my life, I yelled back, calling him a bigot, a racist, and a shell of a man who was worth nothing and would always be nothing. Just a footnote in my history.
The yelling became so intense that it frightened my younger brothers and sisters. Till eventually, my mother attempted to calm things down, only to be slapped in the mouth for her troubles by her so-called husband. I always knew my father hit my mother behind closed doors. It was hard not to know, as from time to time, I would hear screams coming from their bedroom, along with the sound of a belt hitting flesh. But that was the first time I had ever seen him hit her in front of me. As a child, I felt powerless to do anything about what I knew was going on, and even as a young adult, I chose to remain silent. It was easier to ignore it when you couldn't see it. Call me a coward if you must, because I was.
However, again, I wasn't a child anymore, and I had witnessed it. I could still see the way my mom's head snapped back and the pain in her eyes as she cried out in pain. In that moment, I was done being that helpless child. So, I hit him—the man I called my father. He hit me back, of course, but I was younger and, thanks to Ruth, in great shape. I was able to easily overpower him, despite his years of working in construction, and then I threw him out of the house. Before warning him to never show his face to me again. Otherwise, I would kill him.
Did I mean it when I said it? I don't know, but when he got back up and looked at me straight in the eye, he walked away. Perhaps I did mean it, and he saw that. I will never know. All I know is that when I looked him in the eyes, all I saw was a broken man who never amounted to anything.
It had been three months since I last heard from him. Rumor had it he was drowning his sorrows at various bars around town. In some ways, this was a relief, but in others, it was troubling. My siblings and I felt a sense of freedom now that he was gone; it was as if a weight had been lifted from our shoulders. And my younger sibling could finally just be kids without the constant worry of our father coming home drunk and yelling at us for no reason. However, the cost was our mother being a complete wreck.
In her mind, her family was broken. She felt like she had failed as a woman, a wife, and a mother. I couldn't understand why she seemed unable to grasp that her own children were happy that their father was gone. Moreover, she couldn't comprehend how things had deteriorated so badly between that man and me. I confided in Ruth about this, and she simply said that my mother was a broken woman. It happens to those who have been beaten down so much that they don't know how to live without it, sometimes even mistaking that pain for a form of love. It sounded messed up, but I knew it was true from the way my mom was acting now.
With Mom gone in her own little world of self-pity and Dad off drinking, I found myself in charge of the family—something I was ill-prepared for. I was doing my best to manage everything while running a studio, but it often felt like nothing I did was enough. Fortunately, my sister Barbara was old enough to help take care of things. At eighteen, she should really be looking for a good husband, but that wasn't an option at the moment. Not with our youngest sister, Oliviera, and our youngest brother, Peleo, being only 10 and 8 years old. They needed a mother, and our mom just couldn't fulfill that role right now.
Luckily, my other brother, Luigi, had just turned 16 and didn't require as much attention as the others. That said, while he didn't need someone to take care of him, he still needed a male figure to look up to, and that's where I came in. I thought about this as I helped him with his tie.
"Hey, hold still," I told him for what felt like the fifth time already.
"Sorry, I'm just a bit nervous, you know," he replied, starting to pop his knuckles—an irritating habit he had picked up from our father whenever he was angry or, in Luigi's case, nervous.
"Hey… hey, look at me," I said as I straightened his tie. "You have nothing to worry about, right? It's just a movie and dinner."
"I… I know, but… what if she doesn't like me?" Luigi asked in a worried tone of voice that annoyed me.
Giving my brother a playful slap to the face, I say, "Hey, she said yes, right?"
Looking at me, he nodded his head, so I continued, "Then she already likes you, dumbass. So stop worrying about it."
Nodding again and taking some deep breaths—the ones Ruth taught me to do to help me calm down—he said, "Yeah, yeah, you're right. I just really like this girl, you know?"
I smiled at my little brother and said, "Of course, I know. Samantha is a great girl. Why else do you think I'm helping you, huh?"
Samantha was a local girl born into a good Catholic family. Her father was a LAPD constable, and her mother was a real sweetheart. Standing at about 5'3" with chestnut brown hair and a pretty face, she was on the cusp of womanhood. Though she was not yet a fully grown woman, she already possessed the patience and grace of one. She was the type of girl any man would be lucky to marry.
It honestly made me wonder what Samantha saw in my gangly little brother, who was always trying to act tough but was really a dork. I'll give him credit; like me, he was handsome, but he lacked confidence and often second-guessed himself over nearly everything. This was likely a result of our father browbeating him, which had toughened me up but had the opposite effect on Luigi. The fact that he even asked Samantha out was shocking and made me proud of him. Why she said yes, however, I will never know or understand.
Running my hands through the sides of his hair one last time, I stood up and smiled at my little brother. He cut a dashing figure in his new Italian silk suit, leather shoes, and trilby hat, with a sleek side part. Looking at him, I could see he was becoming a young man truly coming into his own.
Turning around, my brother looks in the mirror and smiles at himself. He wasn't used to wearing such fine clothes, but I was. Ruth had insisted that the studio cover all clothing expenses. After all, we couldn't afford to look unkempt while doing business, but that didn't mean we could just go spend money on our families as we pleased, at least not yet that is. One day, however, I would be buying my brothers and sisters all the new clothes they desired.
When I heard the clicking of heels, I glanced over and saw my sister Barbara walk into the room, a smile on her face. "Oh my, don't you look handsome!" she exclaimed.
"Thanks, sis," Luigi replied, beaming with pride.
As she approached him, Barbara began to fuss over his outfit, straightening his clothes. "Now remember to be respectful tonight. Samantha is a wonderful young woman, so treat her right, understand? That means no funny business, understand?"
Blushing a bit, Luigi replied, "I know, sis. Don't worry; I promise I'll be respectful."
"I know you will. You two are just so young, and I know what people your age get up to," Barbara said, making Luigi blush even more. He understood she was referring to sex, despite the fact that she was only two years older than him.
"I... I swear nothing like that will happen, sis," Luigi stammered, now feeling even more nervous.
"Good. Make sure it doesn't," Barbara replied in a stern voice.
"All right, all right, that's enough, Barb. Leave Luigi alone," I said, coming to my brother's aid.
I smiled as I noticed the pout on my sister's face; she was clearly enjoying teasing our little brother, which she loved to do even when we were younger.
"All right, Luigi, remember that I made a dinner reservation for you at Café Trocadero for 9 o'clock. So after the movie, that's where you two need to go, understand?" I said to my brother.
"I got it," Luigi said, genuinely pleased that his older brother chose the restaurant for his date. After all, Café Trocadero was the go-to spot for Hollywood stars and influential film producers. If that didn't impress his date, he wasn't sure what would.
"Good. Now don't worry about the cost; it's all been taken care of. Here's fifty bucks for tonight," I said, pulling out my money clip and giving him two twenties and a ten. It was more than enough for a fun night out.
"Thanks, bro," Luigi replied as he took the money.
"Just one thing—stay out of the gambling room downstairs, alright? Those guys don't mess around," I warned him.
Nodding, Luigi said, "Of course, you got it."
"Now, one more thing. Follow me." I led him outside, where he saw Ruth's Cadillac V-16. Holding up the keys, I smiled as I watched his eyes widen. "Just don't scratch the paint job, okay? I don't need Ruth on my ass if anything happens to her car."
Hesitating for a moment, Luigi just looks at his brother, barely able to believe it as he takes the keys. "Raimondo... I... I don't..."
"Yeah, yeah, don't get emotional on me. Now get out of here and show that girl of yours a good time," I say with a smile.
"I... I will," Luigi replies excitedly as he walks towards the car, over the moon about what his big brother is doing for him.
As I watch from the doorway, I hear Barbara say, "He is going to make a fool of himself tonight, isn't he?"
Looking over at her, I respond, "Big time, but hopefully all the glitz and glamour will make up for that."
Covering her mouth, Barbara comments, "Oh God, to be a fly on that wall."
I start laughing as we head back inside and sit down at the kitchen table. Barbara moves over to the sink to wash the dishes and says, "It was really sweet of you to do so much for him, Raimondo."
I reply, "It was no big deal."
"Really? I don't remember you saying that a few years ago when you were always picking on him," Barbara teases.
I let out a dry laugh. "Yeah, well, he was a little shit back then. Besides, it was before—" I didn't finish my thought. Instead, I just looked at my sister with a frown, remembering why she was doing all the work around the house.
After a few moments of silence, Barbara asked, "Has there been anything new with...him?"
Barbara could no longer call that man her father. Like me, the moment he hit Mom, any love she may have had for him died. Now he was just some guy we once knew, nothing more.
"No, not really. Some people I know spotted him at the docks, drinking," I replied. What I didn't tell her was that he had also been gambling.
Gambling and losing, from what Ruth had told me. Right now, according to Ruth's friends, my father was deep into debt with some very serious people, and they were not happy about it. They only left him alone because he was my father, and Ruth was stalling them. That said, she had advised me to start looking for a new home. Because they would come looking for the house sooner or later. Ruth was even willing to help us out by loosening her own purse strings, so I didn't have to tell the others about what was happening.
I knew that Samuel and Toby would never judge me, but I wasn't ready to admit that I needed help. Honestly, the only reason Ruth found out was that Mr. Dragna discovered the situation and informed her. Mr. Dragna didn't want any issues with his investments and contacted Ruth to see if my father would be a problem. When she brought it up, I had to come clean and assure her that my father was on his own. Whatever he did had nothing to do with my family, and I asked her to tell her friends so. This was the message she relayed to Mr. Dragna, who kindly agreed to keep an eye on my father—perhaps he just wanted to ensure that I meant what I said.
Letting out a sigh, Barbara said, "God, what are we going to do about this? What are we going to tell Mom?"
"Don't worry about it, Barb. Just leave everything to me; I'll take care of it. You should focus on your own life. I heard you've been seen with that Walters boy," I said teasingly.
I laughed as I watched my sister turn around, her face red with embarrassment. She then threw a dish towel at me and exclaimed, "Shut up! We're just friends."
"Is that why I hear people saying they saw you kissing him behind the bakery?" I teased, laughing even harder as I noticed her face getting even redder. At this point, it looked like a ripe tomato.
"You... you know about that," Barbara says, looking nervous. Her brother has always been very protective of his little sisters.
I wave her off and say, "Hey, don't worry about it, Barb. Andy is a good man. You could do a lot worse than a baker's son."
Looking relieved, Barb replies, "He is a nice guy, but… I can't leave now. Who would take care of Oliviera and Peleo?"
It was a valid question. Mom was a mess, and it seemed like all the life she had left had vanished. That left Barb and me to take care of her. Fortunately, Luigi was at an age where he could mostly take care of himself. He even had a part-time job at the studio, earning his own money, even if it wasn't much.
"You put too much on yourself, Barb," I said with a sad smile.
"So do you," she replied, giving me a soft, sad smile in return.
I let out a sigh and said, "I do what I have to."
"So do I," she answered, and we left it at that.
In a few more years, or maybe even by the end of this year, she could finally live a normal life. After all, things were going well at the studio, and our investments were ready for the storm to come. It was, after all, only a matter of time before the U.S. was dragged into the war in Europe. Sooner or later, everyone would wake up to the truth, just as I had. We would have no choice but to enter the conflict, as the newspapers revealed the grim reality. The French were in total retreat; even a blind man could see they couldn't stop the Germans. While it was all around bad news, most Americans didn't perceive it that way. Still, it was positive news for our investments. Soon, we would all be wealthy, all because the U.S. was too blind to see the truth.
"Thank God Ruth was much smarter than your typical American," I thought, chuckling quietly to myself.
"What's so funny?" Barb asked.
"Huh? Nothing. Nothing at all," I replied, realizing I needed to start the process of securing an exemption from the military.
Let the average Joe call me a coward. I did not care so long as money came rolling in and I was alive long enough to enjoy it.