Chapter 16
Hello, everyone. Here is the next chapter. Not much to say here other than I hope you all like it.
Now, there weren't many reviews or questions last time, but I will answer a few.
Taoist_yuri, ya, I couldn't think of any good names either. I changed one name but kept Sugar Ray Robinson because, honestly, I can't think of anything better.
Romain_Charmet, welcome to the story. Any and all suggestions are welcome. Just leave a comment, and I will read it and usually answer.
D_eta015 I plan for Raimondo to be a good father. Not great, as he falls into that "I don't want to be like my father" and kind of pushes them away. But still a good one. Agreed about the music. I mean, she isn't going on tour and only plays openly when she is bored and has nothing better to do. That is a great name for a paper. Putting that in notes.
roronoa219, that is my fault, I don't think I ever made it clear. Charles "Lucky" Luciano did sign the birth certificate. So Ruth's actual name is Ruth 'Morris' Luciano. Later, she changes her name to include Lucky. I am planning to buy before the war, but I am unclear how much they would have cost. I did some searching, and the number of comics sold in 1940 was 250,000 per title. DC had six titles in total and charged 10 cents per comic, which is around $150,000 per year. I don't think Marvel did any better, so she could probably buy them for $1 million. Does that sound right to all of you?
VeggieBlue, that is a good idea and would help explain things away.
For all those who call her a girl boss. I guess she is and thank you for liking how I am doing her. I mean, this is the old days. A woman can be a boss, but it's not easy, and she has to be both a woman and a cunning fox at the same time. She can't browbeat the men of this time as much as lead them to her way of thinking. That means compromise and leaning on them to hold her up.
A few notes at the bottom of the chapter.
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"Welcome back, ladies and gentlemen. Our next guest needs no introduction whatsoever. She is the granddaughter of the founder of HopeHaven, a nonprofit organization dedicated to helping victims of domestic abuse worldwide. Today, we celebrate its 60th anniversary—please welcome Cassandra Carlin!" Oprah announces, prompting the crowd to begin clapping and cheering.
A young woman, about 26 years old, walks through the curtains. She is sharply dressed in a business suit, has long raven hair—characteristic of the Carlin family—and possesses stunning good looks. Cassandra approaches Oprah, hugs her, and kisses her on the cheek before taking a seat in the chair across from the talk show host.
"Cassandra, welcome to the show. I'm happy to have you here," Oprah says.
"I'm happy to be here, Oprah," Cassandra replies.
"So let's get right into it. For sixty years, your organization has been helping domestic abuse victims around the world. How do you feel about reaching such a milestone?" Oprah asks.
Cassandra smiles and responds, "Honestly, Oprah, I have mixed feelings. On one hand, I am incredibly proud of the work we have done and that the organization my grandfather, Luigi Carlin, started way back in 1947, is still thriving."
At the mention of her grandfather's name, the crowd begins to clap and cheer once more, making Cassandra smile at the affection these people have for him.
However, she continues, "On the other hand, I feel very sad that we are still needed in the world, as I am sure my grandfather would be. If he were still alive today."
Oprah nods in understanding, fully aware of how challenging the work is for those helping domestic abuse victims, having spent time doing so herself in her younger years. Unsurprisingly enough, with HopeHaven.
"I think we can all agree on that," Oprah says, as the audience nods in agreement. "Speaking of your grandfather, he was truly a remarkable man—an activist, writer, war veteran, politician, and successful businessman. He really was the complete package, wasn't he?"
As she speaks, a younger Luigi Carlin, appearing to be about 40 to 50 years old, appears on screen behind them.
"Don't forget, he was handsome! He'd be very upset if you forgot that," Cassandra jokes, eliciting laughter from the audience, along with some wolf whistles from the ladies.
Oprah, still recovering from laughter, responds, "He was quite the handsome man, wasn't he?"
"If you asked him, he would say yes," Cassandra replies.
"So, what motivated a man like your grandfather? He was a well-known public figure but was notorious for avoiding interviews about his personal life," Oprah asks.
"Well, believe it or not, despite all his accomplishments and public appearances, my grandfather was actually a very shy man," Cassandra explains.
"Really?" Oprah says, surprised.
Nodding her head, Cassandra confirms, "Yes, really."
"Was that because of his brother, Raimondo 'The Boss' Carlin?" Oprah asks, and this time the applause is mixed. The legendary businessman and movie producer, Raimondo, was a controversial figure at the best of times, much like most of those who founded Lucky Inc.
"Partly, yes, but also no," Cassandra replies. "You see, my great-uncle was always destined for success. He has that drive even now, despite his age. My grandfather, on the other hand, was, according to my grandmother, always a shy person with a lot of self-doubt."
"I see. Was that due to your uncle's early success?" Oprah inquires.
Cassandra shakes her head. "No, if anything, that made my grandfather want to live up to his brother. The real source of his self-doubt comes from my great-grandfather."
"Ah, I understand. Now that you mention him, we don't know much about him. Your grandfather never talked about him, and as far as I know, neither has your uncle," Oprah states.
"Well, that's because he was truly a horrible person," Cassandra replies.
"Really? Would you mind telling us more?" Oprah asks.
Taking a moment to reflect, Cassandra realizes that now is the right time to share the truth about her family's dark secret. "Well, I don't know everything. As you mentioned, my grandfather and my great-uncle never spoke much about him. What I do know is that they, along with their siblings, were victims of domestic abuse. I don't know how bad it was, but it got to the point where it ultimately led to my great-uncle getting into a fight with my great-grandfather, during which my great-uncle kicked him out of the house."
"Oh wow, was it really that bad?" Oprah asks.
"I'm not entirely sure of the details. What I do know is that it led my great-grandmother to have a complete mental breakdown, which culminated in her attempting to take her own life in 1940, after my grandfather was gunned down in a back alley near the docks in Los Angeles," Cassandra says, frowning.
"God, I am so sorry to hear that. Did they ever catch the person responsible?" Oprah asks.
Shaking her head, Cassandra replies, "No, and I don't think my grandfather or great-uncle ever really cared to find out. All I know is that they really hated him, and that's why my grandfather founded HopeHaven—to help victims like him and his siblings."
-Ruth POV-
I have always found it amusing that people perceive me as some kind of daredevil—a risk-taker with no sense of the dangers I face. Even those closest to me thought this way, but the truth is, I am anything but a risk-taker. Sure, I often act on impulse, but I don't consider those actions to be real risks. Whether it was making my first movie or asking Liz to live with me, I never saw them as true risks. In both cases, the worst that could happen was that I would fail or Liz would say no. Neither of those outcomes would have been the end of the world for me.
A "no" from Liz wouldn't have mattered much in the grand scheme of things, and failing to make my movie would have only delayed my plans. Sure, it might have cost the boys their lives, but I would have carried on regardless. I know that sounds harsh, but those are the facts. Neither of those decisions was a real risk, just as asking a black man to star in my upcoming movie was not a risk either. I understand how some people would react—there would likely be a boycott in the South—but that would be about it.
Of course, there was always a chance that the KKK might resort to violence, but here's the thing: they were used to targeting unarmed Black people—those who couldn't fight back. I was neither Black nor unarmed. If they attempted something aggressive, well... I secretly hoped they would. After all, I would take great pleasure in unleashing my fury on them and making the South pay for their actions.
"What is it that General Sherman once said? Oh yes, I intend to make Georgia howl if they tried anything," I think to myself, as that is exactly what I planned to do to the entire South if it came down to it. I was well aware of who the leaders of the KKK were. The past me had a deep hatred for racism and had watched detailed videos about its most powerful members before their downfall.
Even now, with that knowledge in hand, I was tempted to just go ahead and start cutting off the heads of the snake. The only thing holding me back was the desire not to go to jail. As I was sure I would end up in jail because murder on that scale would be tracked back to someone sooner or later. Lucky them that I had some common sense.
Although I had no desire to go to jail, I realized there were other ways to combat racism in this country. It all started with the man sitting before me, whom I was honestly struggling to keep my inner fangirl in check around. Right across from me was the legendary Brown Bomber himself, Joe Louis. I first saw him fight in 1935, when he faced Max Baer. That was the last match my father and I attended together before he was imprisoned, and I became a fan almost immediately.
"So, what do you think, Mr. Louis?" I asked in a neutral tone, trying to hide just how much I wanted him to be part of this movie.
Looking up from the script he had just finished reading, Louis paused, genuinely uncertain about what to say. This script was… well, it was something else entirely. There were no words to adequately describe it. He had starred in a boxing movie before, so when he received the call that Ruth Luciano wanted him to play a role in another one, he thought he was prepared for what she had to offer.
What he had imagined was an all-black cast, like in *Spirit of Youth*, a film made specifically for a black audience. However, *Raging Bull* was different. Unlike *Spirit of Youth*, this movie was a major motion picture, not a limited release meant only for black-owned theaters. Then there was his character, Sugar Ray Robinson. He wasn't the typical black character who bowed down to whites. No, Ray was a proud black man—shrewd in business, humble, kind, but not one to back down when insulted.
Just reading the lines in the script he was given sent chills down Joe's back. He had to wonder if this white girl was crazy. Did she have any idea what she was doing? Sure, he was only in the movie for about 20 minutes in a film that lasted over two hours, but there was no way white audiences would take this well. That's why he always acted so humble in his interviews. If he dared to brag about how much better he was than his white counterparts, at best, he would be blacklisted from boxing and, at worst, lynched for stepping out of line.
"Miss Luciano, I have to ask, are you sure you want to do this?" Joe asked.
"I love intelligent men. They are so much easier to work with than fools, which unfortunately make up about 90 percent of the people in this business," I thought to myself before responding.
"Do what, Mr. Louis? Show that a Black man is equal to any white man?" I asked with an innocent-looking smile on my face.
It was clear that my comment caught Joe off guard, as he and his manager took a sharp intake of breath. They realized I was well aware of what I was doing.
And wasn't that something, Joe thought to himself. She not only understood what she was doing but also looked like a cat that had gotten into the cream—or perhaps a lion tearing at its meat.
Looking over at his manager, Joe said, "Well, yes, ma'am. I mean, you must know that some people are not going to like this."
Nodding my head, I replied, "Sure, some won't, but that's where the star comes into play. Tell me, Mr. Louis, what do you think of the character Jake Como?"
Joe had to stop himself from saying the first thing that came to mind. After all, using foul language in front of a woman was something a gentleman wouldn't do. Instead, he settled for, "Well, ma'am, he is difficult."
"You can say 'asshole,' Mr. Louis. Trust me, I've heard worse, having grown up around the type of men I have," I said with a smile, and Joe laughed.
"Why, yes, ma'am. I apologize; I'm just so accustomed to behaving a certain way around women. My mother taught me not to use foul language in front of them," Joe says.
"That's a good lesson. Unfortunately, the men I grew up around didn't get that message," I reply with a smirk, making Joe laugh even harder.
"Anyway, you're right, Mr. Louis; the character Jake Como is difficult, and that's by design," I tell him.
"May I ask why, ma'am?" Joe inquires.
"Of course, Mr. Louis. The answer is simple: I hate racism, Mr. Louis." I say this as I lean forward a bit with anger in my eyes.
That statement once again captures everyone's attention. They look surprised by my honesty, but I can also see a newfound respect in their eyes.
"I understand, ma'am, and that is why Jake is so unlikeable. You want to use this movie to fight against racism," Joe comments instead of asking. He wasn't stupid after all, in fact, he was a pretty smart guy, but till just now, he didn't understand why the main characters were so unlikeable. While his character was so compelling, now he understood the reason why.
"Exactly. Mr. Louis, there's not much I can do about racism on my own. Even after this movie is released, change won't happen overnight. However, if executed properly, I can encourage people to reconsider their viewpoints. To achieve this, I need a main character who is so detestable and unlikable that the audience will have no choice but to root for his downfall," I explain to him.
"Even if his final downfall comes at the hands of a black man," Joe says, clearly supportive of this direction.
"Especially if it's from a Black man. If—and trust me, I know it's a big if—I do this right, people will set aside their racist mindsets just to see this horrible man brought down," I say to him.
"And you think this will change things?" Joe asks.
I let out a snort that is anything but ladylike and reply, "Please, Mr. Louis, don't make me laugh. If people were so easily changed, I would give you more than the 20 minutes of screen time you're getting."
Joe can't help but nod; he understands that 20 minutes is probably pushing it.
"No, my goal is to get people thinking and shift public opinion toward the desired outcome. However, I seriously doubt we will see any real change for at least another decade or two. Until then, I will do everything I can to drive that change," I explained.
"While still making a profit, right?" Joe asked with a knowing look on his face.
I laughed and replied, "Of course! Money may be the root of all evil, but the truth is, you can't change the world if you're broke."
Joe couldn't help but agree. He decided to bring up the pay, asking, "So, what are you offering Miss Luciano?"
Smiling, knowing I had him, I said, "I'm willing to offer $30,000. I would like to offer more, but realistically, my investors are already upset that I plan to rent Madison Square Garden for the fight series and fill it with people."
Joe raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed that I would go that far. Renting the Garden for the fight series would be a significant undertaking and likely quite expensive. In fact, $30,000 was a great deal for his time.
Still, he needed to ask, "I've heard, ma'am, that you give a cut of the box office to some of your actors."
I quickly interrupted him. "That's not happening. If the papers find out I'm giving you a cut, they'll nail me to the wall." Realizing I needed to soften my stance before Joe misunderstood my words, I added, "However, there's nothing stopping a little money from slipping through the cracks once the final counts are done, if a profit is made."
Joe snorted at that, clearly understanding my meaning. "Agreed."
I reached over and shook his hand with a smile, then added, "Oh, and one more thing—I won't sign you unless you give me your autograph on a pair of boxing gloves."
Joe just laughed and replied, "You drive a hard bargain, ma'am."
We shared a laugh until I heard my phone ring. I picked it up and said, "Ruth speaking."
"Miss Luciano, the investor wants you to know that there will be no more issues with your movie," said a voice I didn't recognize.
I smiled and replied, "Thank you for letting me know."
Then, I took a deep breath and exhaled, feeling as if a huge weight had been lifted off my shoulders as I hung up the phone.
"Good news, ma'am?" Joe inquired.
"Hmm? You could say that. Please, Mr. Louis, just call me Ruth," I said with a small smile.
"Very well, Ruth. You can call me Joe then," he replied.
We continued discussing a few more details about the movie. Overall, it was a very productive day.
-Toby POV-
Of all the ways I thought I would wake up this morning, this wasn't one of them. I thought as I took a moment to settle my nerves. In my short life, I had woken up next to strange women in my bed, hungover, bruised from a fight, and even fled from a house when the woman's husband came home unexpectedly. My womanizing, after all, didn't begin when I found success in Hollywood; it started when I was just 14 and fucked with my very first girl.
That said, I never expected to wake up to a relatively peaceful morning, only to pick up the newspaper and read the shocking headlines: "Murder on the Docks: Famed Hollywood Producer Raimondo Carlin's Father Found Dead of a Gunshot Wound to the Head Over Suspected Gambling Debts."
It honestly wouldn't have been such a big story or a surprise if it weren't for the fact that, as the papers pointed out, Raimondo wasn't famous. At that point, we were all somewhat recognized, though to varying degrees. For instance, Ruth was the true star of the show. She was the creator of Lucky Studios' two hit movies and had a record at the top of the music charts. Early projections from RCM indicated that "Kiss by a Rose" and "Crying in the Rain" were on track to sell well over a million copies. Naturally, Ruth was the most famous among us.
I was next in line to be judged the most famous of the four. Though perhaps "infamous" would be a more fitting term for me. The sudden change in my… well, not quite fortune, but access to the higher life—had done little to alter my womanizing ways. I was fully aware that I was a cad, but at least I was more honest about it than most.
Then there was Raimondo, who was famous mainly because everyone believed he was the one calling the shots at Lucky Studios. He was the handshaker, the face in all the business dealings. As for Sam, he wasn't exactly famous; he was more well-known. The point is, this story made it to the front page because of our notoriety. Otherwise, I wouldn't have thought much of it. Mr. Carlin was always a dick after all. The fact that someone had finally killed that old bastard wasn't shocking but an inevitability.
No, it was the timing that had me all worked up. Raimondo thought he was hiding things from us, but I was well aware of what was happening in the old neighborhood. I kept my ears to the ground more than anyone else. Perhaps even more than Ruth did, since I actually spent time around those types of people. I knew about the fight Raimondo had with his father and what his father had gotten up to after Raimondo kicked him out of the house.
I decided to leave it alone, as it was none of my business. Plus, I trusted Raimondo to handle his own issues. It seemed like Ruth didn't share that trust, and I fully suspected her of having a hand in this. Old Man Carlin hadn't been out of the house for more than a few months, which wasn't nearly enough time to accumulate a debt high enough to warrant a hit. That meant someone wanted him gone, and only one person came to mind. Did that mean I would confront her about it? Absolutely not.
It's not like she would ever admit to it anyway; she would even deny it. Even if she knew I was aware of the truth, she would never acknowledge it. Besides, it wasn't as if I could prove anything, nor would I try. After all, even now, a war was raging inside me. Part of me didn't want to believe that Ruth could do this, that she could order a man killed. But the other part of me knows that not only could she. She would if she felt like it was necessary. It was the part of her that was her father. If it had something to do with business, there were no limits to what he would do to ensure our continued success.
It was best to let the matter go. After all, I had my own problems to deal with, especially the thought of what I would do if Ruth found out the truth about my actions. As I contemplated this, I heard my bedroom door open and saw Naru walk in, wearing one of my shirts and letting out an adorable yawn. Yeah, I was definitely feeling more than a little fucked right now.
Don't get it mixed up: Ruth had no problem with interracial couples, and we were both consenting adults. However, Ruth was quite overprotective of her girlfriends. At that moment, Naru was one of those girlfriends, and I was… well, I was just being me. I didn't have the best intentions to begin with, and I was pretty sure Naru was aware of that. It was just about sex for me, but if she wanted more? I would have to explain myself to Ruth.
"Morning," Naru said in the sweet voice that had been screaming my name just last night.
"Morning," I replied, sipping my cup of coffee.
I wasn't sure what it was about Naru, but she had this uncanny ability to sense when something was wrong. It was as if she could read people better than most. I had come to realize this while we worked together at the studio. "What's wrong?" she asked, perceiving the tension.
Realizing that there's little point in trying to hide anything from her, I simply hold out the paper for her to read.
As she bends down to take it from me, her shirt shifts in a way that draws my attention, allowing me a clear view of her full breasts. While they might be a bit small for my taste, they still have an appeal that makes them enjoyable to appreciate.
"Oh God, poor Raimondo," Naru says, her voice filled with sadness. Unlike Toby, whom she believed was only good for sex, she genuinely liked Raimondo. He was a good man who loved his family deeply, even if he sometimes denied it.
"Yes, poor Raimondo," I respond flatly, not even trying to sound upset. She would see right through any facade I attempted to put on.
"You don't sound upset about this news," Naru comments, her tone sour. To be fair, she didn't know the whole truth about Raimondo's father.
Taking a sip of my coffee, I say, "That's because I'm not. Salomè Carlin was a racist and a drunken asshole. Trust me, the world is a better place without him in it."
This only makes Naru frown even more. "Toby, that's no excuse for not feeling at least a little remorseful. The man was still Raimondo's father. Surely, he's upset about his father's passing."
"I doubt it," I think to myself, but I don't say it out loud. Naru was too good a person to accept that, even though Salome was a jerk who deserved to die. Honestly, I was almost inclined to agree with her, but I also understood that Salome wouldn't have met his end unless there was a reason behind it. What were those reasons I didn't know or care to know.
Instead, I say, "This could be bad for Lucky Pictures. A mob hit on the father of one of its founders could attract unwanted attention to our funding sources."
"Is that all you're concerned about?" Naru replies, her voice laced with annoyance. No doubt it was hard for her to understand how I could easily dismiss a man's life like I was.
"Yes," I respond flatly, watching her huff and walk away in disgust.
Not that I overly cared. Naru was amusing to deal with, but when it came to business, the best interests of Lucky Pictures took priority. Accepting money from the mob was already illegal, and even I knew that. While I trusted that Sam was managing to both receive the funds and launder the money we sent back through legal channels, we certainly didn't need anyone looking too closely. So again, what was Ruth thinking?
Looking out the window, I whisper softly to myself, "Why kill him?"
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So, just to clarify a few things, Luigi Carlin will not be a main character and will only appear from time to time in the story. I thought I would give a look into his life down the line. As the 2nd oldest boy, he too suffered under his father. Not as much as his elder brother, who took the worst of it enough that he wanted to do something to help those who came from that background. I hope you all enjoy it.
Next, I won't say Ruth ever gave the order if you know what I mean, but I am sure you can all guess what happened. The man was frankly out of control and a loose end. So something happened to cause his death. What it was, who knows lol. Fyi, Toby, I have been trying to show as more cunning than anything. He may not be as smart as the other two, but he is more aware of his surroundings.