Chapter 1A Chapter by Billy StarkChapter One
April 15th, 1906
Nuova Villa Tammaro, a small restaurant in Coney Island. It’s basement was used for illegal poker matches, tonight was no different. The basement was all stone, the walls, the floor. It was unbelievably cold but after a few whiskeys nobody seemed to notice. On one wall was a small bar that a young boy was behind at the moment, he would serve the men whatever they asked and staying silent unless spoken too. There were four men at the table each with two cards in hand, one of them was Joe Massaria. He spoke first, “So we all know why we are here, shall we get down to business”, he said quite matter of factly. He was trying to control the situation, something that the second man, Salvatore Maranzano. “We do know Joe but do you really think this is a good idea, I mean we don’t need war”, he said, sipping from his whiskey when he was done. “What are you talking about, we get rid of the old b*****d and we can control this town. Me and you, we can control uptown, the drugs, the gambling. Anyone that wants protection will have to come to us. Not f*****g D’Aquilla, what is their to think about”, Massaria said in a harsh matter, he did not want to be told no. “I just don’t think now is the time, we are still small, if he picks us off on our own we are going to lose men. My men don’t want to risk it”, there was silence in the room. The stone walls echoed what Maranzano had just said, they rang in Massaria’s ears. “Do I have permission to speak?”, said the third man, Tommy Luciano. He was Massarias right hand man. He looked at his boss for permission to speak, his boss nodded. He then quite unsurprisingly looked over at Maranzano, waiting for his approval. Maranzano gestured his hand to allow him to speak. “I believe that this is a conversation for another day, D’aquilla would expect an attack soon. His second hand man has just been killed. His men will not be worried or shaken they will just be prepared”, the two bosses nodded in agreement. Massaria had composed himself, “Arnold, what do you think?”, he said, turning to the last man. Arnold Rothstein. “I thought we were here to play cards”, he said with a smile on face, shuffling the cards as he grinned. “Typical Jew, all you care about is your money”, said Massaria jokingly, the other two men laugh but Arnolds face turns stern. “And it is a typical Italian to worry about pride instead of income”, Luciano rose to his feet sharply ready to defend his boss. “Now, now Tommy. You sit down, we are all friends here. And not with your son over there”, said Massaria, pointing at the young bar keeper who stood freezing behind the bar. “That is young Luciano, I had no idea. Son come over, come over”, said Maranzano, calling over the young boy. “Come on Charlie, don’t be shy”, said the boys father. He walked from behind his bar and sheepishly walked over to the table. “You’re little Charlie aye, come here”, said Maranzano. Charlie moved slowly toward Maranzano with his hand outstretched. “You wanna shake do you?”, said Maranzano, he shook the boys hand. “Good kid there, great respect. He’s is a credit to you Tommy”, said Maranzano, Charlies confidence began to grow. He walked around to Rothstein and offered him a hand, “You know who I am?”, Arnold said confused. Everyone else looked at the situation except for Tommy Luciano who looked on in horror. “You’re Arnold Rothstein”, said little Charlie. “And you know about me?”, he said. “Charlie move your hand”, said Tommy, but Charlie took no notice. “You are a very successful man, you are clever, you are respected”, Charlie said, Arnold smiled as he spoke. “Those are very big words for such a little boy. You know I am a Jew don’t you?”, said Rothstein, the young boy nodded. “My father taught me if you respect a man, you shake their hand”, Charlie said, with his hand still out stretched. “My father taught me the same thing”, Rothstein replied, shaking the young boys hand. “Why don’t we let the kid deal the cards?”, said Masseria. “I have no problem with that”, said Rothstein, who would normally insist that he would deal. “Three in the middle, two in each hand?”, Charlie asked his head, he nodded and Charlie began to deal. Masseria held his cards in his hand, putting them to his chest when he wasn’t looking at them. Maranzano would so exactly the same thing, they had both been taught this in Sicily. Luciano had them face down on the table but would check them constantly. Rothstein had his face down but only checked them once and then did not touch them again. The middle three cards were; seven of hearts, Jack of spades and a nine of clubs. Everyone checked. Charlie put down another card, Ace of spades. It was Rothsteins bet. He moved over four chips, “Two hundred”, “Call”, said Maranzano, putting it four chips of his own. Luciano then checked his cards again, “Call”, he said putting in for chips, “And I’ll raise you five hundred”, putting in an extra ten chips. Masseria didn’t speak, simply putting in ten chips. “Fold”, said Rothstein, quickly and sharply. “Come on, not going to see one hand through”,asked Maranzano. “Not this time”, said Rothstein, looking at Masseria as he spoke. “Well I’m calling”, said Maranzano, putting in ten chips. Charlie turned another card, Ace Of Hearts. Maranzanos bet. “Ten grand”, he said. Putting the rest of his chips into the pot. “I thought we had a thousand limit”, said Rothstein, “I have no problem”, said Masseria, Luciano agreed with his boss but more due to control than anything. “I fold”, he said, throwing his cards in the middle. “I’ll call”, said Masseria, pushing all his chips in the middle. “I thought you would”, said Rothstein smiling. “Show your cards please Mr Maranzano”, said Charlie trying to act as professional as he could, much to the amusement of his father and Rothstein. Maranzano revealed his cards, eight of hearts and a ten of diamonds. “Nice straight, seven, eight, nine, ten, Jack”, said Rothstein, admiring the hand. Masseria revealed his hand, ace of diamond and the jack of hearts. “Full house, Masseria wins”, said Maranzano said, with a smile written across his face. “It’s little Charlie over there. Giving me Luck aren’t you kid. Little Lucky Luciano other there”, Charlie smiled. It was a big thing whenever someone was given a nickname and Lucky Luciano finally had his. By the end of the night Rothstein was the better off out of them all and although Masseria had made a bit of money he didn’t get what he wanted from the night. After everyone had left, Masseria and Maranzano remained alone in the basement. “Look, Salvatore. Lets talk like men”, said Masseria, sat at the table alone with a whiskey each. “I would never talk to you any less Joe”, “You live on these streets, your mother lives here, your sister, your brother. All it takes is one miss understanding and f*****g Toto D’Aquilla has them killed. That hit last week, it wasn’t us but we both know who is going to get the blame”, his face was growing red with age the more he spoke. Maranzano interrupted him, “I am not doing it, not yet Joe. We have to wait”. Masseria collected himself, calmed his nerves. “I’m not asking you to join me, I’m asking you to keep out of my way”, they both shook hands and parted amicably. Both very aware of what was about to happen next.
© 2015 Billy StarkReviews
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