The Starlight Club: The Starlight Club (Mystery Mob Series Book 1)

by Joe Corso

  “Jimmy Romano,” he answered. Bernstein shook his head. “No good. We have a Romano under contract. We have to change it. Let me see. Romano, Rome … no … Roman … Roman. I like it. Now for your first name. Jimmy was all right for Jimmy Stewart, or Jimmy Cagney but supposing we stay with James … James Roman. That’s it. From now on, you are James Roman. We can build you up with a comparison to a Roman soldier or god or whatever the publicity boys come up with. James Roman. That’s the name that’ll appear on the marquis and that’s the name you’ll use from now on. Tomorrow, I’ll have legal papers drawn up to make it legal.” Jimmy liked the idea. A name change would protect him in more ways than one. James Roman. Nice . . . he thought.

  Jimmy called Red and told him the news. “Red, I can’t believe my luck because my first picture is a mob picture and I don’t even have to act. All I have to do is be myself,” and the two of them laughed at the ludicrousness of it all. Jimmy filled Red in on the meetings he had and then he described the screen test and the beautiful broad he had to kiss. “Oh the things I do for you, Red,” and they laughed again.

  After Red hung up the phone, he couldn’t help but note the similarities between himself and Owney Madden, the bootlegger from the 1920’s. Madden had a good friend he trusted driving his booze down from Canada and one day he called his friend into his office and he told him, “Georgie, this racket ain’t for you. I’m sending you to Hollywood to see a friend of mine. He’ll put you into moving pictures.” So off he went to Hollywood, changed his name to George Raft, and after a few small parts, hit it big playing himself in a picture called Scarface. He became the biggest star Universal had during the thirties and early forties. Jimmy, like Raft, was now James Roman and Red wondered if Jimmy would hit it as big as Raft did. Could this be history repeating itself? Red was always looking for ways to make money and Hollywood presented alluring possibilities. Good. The deal was done. The family had just branched out into the movies.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Shortly after midnight, Yip locked away his personal items, cash, receipts, and closed the lights of the Corona Gentleman’s club. He met Jerry and Richie Pigeons by the bar and all three began to head out toward their cars. Before leaving the club the two men performed their daily routine. They checked the street in front of the club to see if it was safe to leave. They didn’t see anything suspicious. It was a nice New York night for a walk and Yip’s car was just a short distance away, parked in a lot around the corner from the club. The streets were quiet, just a few stragglers coming home from the movies or a bar. Sometimes Yip couldn’t help feeling a tinge of jealousy as he watched a couple strolling hand in hand - probably going home where they’ll lock the door behind them and make love - the normal things that most people do - things he was missing from his life. His life was not his own. His life belonged to his business and his business dealings. Deep inside, he knew that he would never have the satisfaction of coming home to the love of a woman. He had been married once, for a short while, but she couldn’t handle his life and the closest he ever came to having a kid of his own was Red - his sister’s kid. He loved Red like his own. He had practically raised him after his father was killed on the east side docks. Those docks were now unused, rusting columns of steel, Frankenstein piers he called them, because they looked like they belonged in a horror movie. Red was loyal, smart, and had guts. He would take over Yip’s operation. Yip felt he was ready now. He had set it all up. He, “it,” was ready for Red. Everything was in motion. There were multiple savings accounts in different banks and a hidden safe in his apartment in Jackson Heights.

  Yip’s family arrived from Sicily at the turn of the century. His mother had kept in touch with her family and friends in the old country. When any of them decided to move to America, she always found a way to find them a home, one that was move in ready once they arrived. She always used her resources and found the men jobs according to their skills. Yip’s mother was quite the woman and he loved her. His father, well he was another story. Each of his parents had taught him the importance of being a man of honor. They had instilled honesty and loyalty into their only son. But Yip wasn’t brought up in normal times. He had grown up in a melting pot of New York’s various cultures and he had grown up fighting for everything in his life. Fighting bullies in school was routine because his parents, being immigrants, couldn’t fight for him. Immigrants couldn’t risk the attention that it would bring them. Yip’s father would simply say, “Fight ‘em. Defend yourself. It’ll make you tough.” And indeed, it had been a good lesson in life. For years, young Yip had been terrified each day going to school but one day, at age fourteen, that all changed. Brawny, an older kid, was the ringleader of a gang of ruffians and he always picked on Yip. When he spotted Yip on the playground, he would surround him with his gang and taunt him mercilessly. When Brawny spotted Yip leaving school, he would chase him home. Yip would run as fast as he could, holding on to his books, just praying that he could make it home. He would never forget the feeling of relief when his front door had closed behind him. One day, while Brawny was at his feet, chasing and mocking him, Yip slowed down. Suddenly, he whirled around and faced his bully head on. Brawny’s fast-paced trot carried him right up next to Yip. Instinctively, Yip seized the moment, and he threw and landed a surprise right hand punch to the gut that put him down like a ten pin. It was a revelation to Yip. At that moment, he realized he was no longer the scared, skinny, little boy. He began to notice arm muscles that weren’t there a few months ago, a six pack of muscles on his gut and calves that seem to spring out of nowhere. At that moment, all fear left him. How strange life is when the tables turn. Now it was Yip who challenged the rest of the bullies, fighting them with fury. It wasn’t long before Yip assumed his new role as the pack leader. Under his tutelage, the gang morphed into a cunning, vicious group of young criminals with money on their minds, a group that quickly caught the attention of the local Don. Yip had never planned for his life to head in that direction, but he came to believe that you just don’t fight the forces of destiny. Apparently, this was his destiny. Unlike many in his profession, he tried to be fair in his dealings, but boy he could be cruel when he had to be. Some people just had to be punished for crimes committed against him or his organization, and it was Yip who decided their fate. Sometimes it was banishment. Sometimes . . . it was death.

  Now Yip had grown old. He had plenty of money. He wanted to retire from this life and enjoy his remaining years. Yip dreamed of going somewhere quiet - some place where he didn’t have to look over his shoulder. He had groomed Red for years and he always planned to have Red succeed him, but the question had always been when. When is the right time to quit? When do you step down and hand over the mantle of leadership? Yip knew in his heart that Red was ready and had been for some time now. Yip had taught Red everything, confided in him everything. So what was he waiting for? He had shown Red his most personal of secrets even where his safe was hidden. Red’s name was on each of the bankbooks and Red understood his role should anything ever happen to Yip. Yip owned racehorses, properties, businesses and jewelry. He was worth millions. It was all Red’s when he was gone. Yip made up his mind that he would hand it all over to him before the year ended and he smiled as he walked to his car thinking about it. It was decided. Maybe he’d go to Italy or Monte Carlo. All these thoughts were swirling through Yip’s mind as Richie Pigeons turned the key to start the car.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Jimmy was excited. The picture was two weeks into shooting. This playacting stuff was interesting, and he wondered how the movie would turn out. He enjoyed his new job but he didn’t like the long waits, sitting around for hours, waiting for the assistant director to call him for his next scene. It felt a bit like a dream, though, being paid nine hundred fifty dollars a week to playact. He thought he’d just sock away the money and invest it in something, maybe like what Trenchie has, a nice restaurant that would give him an income for the rest of his life.

  The sce
ne finished and the director called for the cast and crew to take an hour for lunch. “Be back at one o’clock sharp.” Jimmy stepped out of the dark interior of the studio into the warmth of the California sunshine. As he turned to walk to the cafeteria, he heard someone call his name. “Jimmy, Jimmy the Hat, is that really you?” He turned and was surprised to see a familiar face from the neighborhood.

  “Shorty Davis, I’ll be damned. Man, it’s been a long time. How the hell are

  you?” Peter Davisano “Shorty” was Sicilian. His last name was shortened to Davis, by mistake, by one of the documenting officers the day his parents came through Ellis Island.

  “I’m doing great, Jimmy. What about you, what are you doing here?”

  “Shorty, you’re never going to believe this. They got me starring in a picture, can you believe it?”

  “What picture Jimmy?”

  “It’s called Mob Enforcer.”

  “Hey, that’s a serious picture! The studio’s puttin’ a lot of money into it and besides that, you are one lucky son of a bitch.

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m scheduled to work on that picture starting tomorrow.”

  “Why? Whatta you do?”

  “I’m your chief cameraman. I just finished a picture and they ordered me right onto this one, so we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.”

  “Shorty, what happened back east? I mean one day you were running numbers for Red and the next thing I know, you disappeared. What happened?”

  “I married a great gal who wanted to be near her parents. They live here in California. I didn’t have a job waitin' for me here so how could I move? Well, her father solved that problem. He pulled me aside one night and told me that if I moved to California, he’d find me a job at the studio. When I asked what kind of a job, he said he headed the camera department and I’d run a camera for him. But get this, he tells me that I’ll be paid five hundred a week. That’s two and half times more than Red paid me, so I took him up on it. When I started working the camera, I discovered that I sorta’ had a talent for this kind of work and over time, I worked my way up to chief cameraman. I even won an award for my camera work. You know, I have a lot of acquaintances out here but very few friends. I don’t know who I can trust. But now that you’re here, I can’t begin to tell you how happy I am to see you! Listen, you have to come to my house for dinner. I want you to meet my wife and my two boys. I won’t take no for an answer.”

  “Sure, I’d love to come. I’m not doin’ anything nights. I just hang around the hotel bar, listenin’ to music at the bar.”

  “Great. I’ll pick you up at six-thirty - tonight, if that’s okay with you.”

  “That’s great, Shorty. I’ll be ready. See you later.”

  The two of them became inseparable. Jimmy had always gotten along well with Shorty but out here, he realized how much he had taken their friendship for granted back home. He thought about how much he missed the Starlight Club and his pals back east. He trusted Shorty, he could depend on him, and it was as if he had somebody to watch his back. Old habits die hard. Here he was in Hollywood where there was no danger, and he still felt he needed somebody to watch his back. Go figure.

  In the third week of shooting, Jimmy realized that Shorty was a genius working a camera, always looking for the best advantage for a shot, that perfect shot, the one that could go down in history as ‘the scene’, the one that made a good film great and he was now working his magic on Jimmy. Shorty insisted that the light hit Jimmy’s face just right. He checked and double-checked angles in order for his camera to capture dramatic moments. Things were going great and Jimmy was slowly learning how to give the director what he wanted, or more importantly, what he needed from a scene. In the short time acting, he was acquiring techniques similar to the great actors of the past. Those techniques clearly distinguished him from the schooled actors. He was becoming more like Cagney, Raft, or Gable or even the Duke who always played themselves, no matter the role.

  One day, on a break from shooting, Jimmy, between scenes, was relaxing in his director chair, his heavy eyes about to drift into sleep when suddenly the hair on his neck stood up. Jimmy had learned to pay attention to his instincts because in his world, seconds could make a difference between life and death. Jimmy looked up just as an unfamiliar man walked out of the shadows. He walked right by The Hat, acting as if Jimmy was invisible, and never taking his eyes off another scene being shot. The man wandered around, with a kind of morbid curiosity and to Jimmy, it was like watching a snake stalking his next meal. What was it with this guy hiding in the shadows? This guy didn’t want to be noticed. It was obvious to Jimmy that he didn’t belong here. Who allowed him in here, he wondered. Jimmy decided that it really wasn’t any of his business as long as the man didn’t interfere with the picture.

  It was time. Jimmy was called to do a repeat of the passionate love scene that had landed him this plum role with his leading lady Lana Thomas - this beautiful, young, famous actress. The director called action and as the scene unfolded, Lana, the consummate professional, seemed to struggle with her lines. Take, after take, after take, she stumbled and fumbled through sentences. Something just seemed a little off. Jimmy finally asked, “Is there something wrong? Are you okay?” Lana looked up at him, nodded and sheepishly replied, “Yes,” but she appeared sad. Jimmy’s mind went to the mystery man hiding in the shadows. “Are you sure you’re all right?” he asked again. Once again, she nodded yes as she burst into tears. The director, watching what was unfolding, called for a lunch break. Shorty, working the stationary camera, was waiting for Jimmy so they could have their usual lunch together when out from the shadows came the man. He slowly and calmly walked over to Lana. Lana, obviously stunned, froze and a look of shock filled her face. Jimmy, in the corner, was watching intently.

  “I want a moment alone with you, Lana,” the mystery man stated harshly.

  “No,” she cried. “Leave me alone . . . please.”

  Jimmy began to slowly inch his way toward Lana.

  The man walked closer to Lana, completely ignoring Jimmy. Jimmy meant nothing to the man. In fact, this leading man had a pretty boy fag quality, he thought. This sissy posed no threat to him. Rudely, he turned his back to Jimmy and looked back at Lana. Shorty, witnessing what was taking place, had kept his camera on and sensing something brewing, trained it on all three of them. Jimmy, being the street kid, had had enough.

  “Excuse me. It looks like the lady is upset and it looks like you’re the reason. Why don’t you take a walk and let us get on with making this movie?”

  The guy, agitated by pretty boy’s interference, turned to Jimmy and lifted his hand to place it on Jimmy’s chest to push him out of the way, but in one swift motion, Jimmy grabbed it with his right hand and instantly placed his left hand at his elbow and in one fluid motion pulled it to him snapping it like a twig as the man screamed in anguish. The arm flapped unnaturally from his sleeve. With another sudden move, bam, he landed a right hand in the soft part of his gut. Another right hit him hard in his jaw, knocking him to the ground rendering him semiconscious. Jimmy, smiling, turned to Lana and remarked, “Man, this guy has a hard head” and with the two fingers of his right hand, he gently lifted her chin, waiting for a reaction. She gazed silently, looking directly into his eyes.

  “Now, you wanna tell me what’s going on?” Jimmy asked.

  Lana, still visibly shaken and afraid, began to speak, “When I was sixteen years old, I was at a party and I had a little too much to drink. I did some things that were captured on camera by someone at the party. The film re-surfaced recently because of who I am. He threatened to release the film and ruin my career if I didn’t pay him a hundred thousand dollars. I guess I’m finished in films. That’s it - my career’s over. I’m so humiliated and embarrassed.” She began to sob uncontrollably.

  Jimmy smiled that boyish smile of his. “Nothin’ like that is gonna happen. I assure you, nothin’ like that is gonna’ happen.” She d
idn’t know why she believed him but she did, and almost instantly, a tiny sad smile broke out on her face, her tears slowly subsided, and a faint glimmer of light glistened from her eyes.

  Jimmy walked over to the dazed man, holding his arm, struggling to stand up.

  “Where’s the film?”

  “Go to hell. You’re a dead man. I don’t talk to dead men.”

  “Let me educate you, you shit head. You think I’m just an actor, but I’ve killed more guys than you can count on both hands. I’m your worst nightmare. I’ll cut you into little pieces and feed you to the dogs. Now where’s the film?”

  “Go to hell.”

  Jimmy looked around the set and spotted a large wrench used as a prop in the film. He picked it up and walked back toward the guy.

  “Tell me where the film is. I ain’t gonna’ ask you again. Where’d you put the film?”

  “Go to hell,” the guy repeated.

  Holding the wrench in his raised right hand, Jimmy swung the wrench into a half circular motion, landing it squarely into the center of his left kneecap. There was an audible crackling of bone. The man screamed, writhing in pain and managed, “You bastard. You broke my knee. You broke my fuckin’ knee.”

  “You better answer me because the next thing I’m gonna break is your other the other knee, then your arm and then I’ll re-break your other arm, and on and on. We’ll play this little game ‘til there’s nothin’ left to break.”