Isadora took the pad and considered it for a moment, "What would you have me write about?   Anything at all?"  She glanced around the room wondering if the new manager knew the history of this place.  Having grown up in Detroit she did, The Blackhawk was famous - legendary in her mother and grandmother's days.

Lodrian nodded. "Anything at all. A write is like an artist I think, if you ask them to do something specific, something they don't have the muse for, well then it's lackluster."

He watched as the kitchen doors opened and out came a tray of food for each of them. Betty set them down.

"Chef Anton prepared a honey-glazed ham, with stuffed artichoke and collard greens for each of you this afternoon." She smiled and Lordian slid into the booth slightly further.

"You hungry Betty? I'll only be able to eat a small bit of this, though it smells delicious, doesn't it Isadora?" He turned to her as Betty slipped herself into the booth a little too close to Lordian for the comfort of anyone else in the room. If the Maitre'd didn't watch himself, he was clearly going to be out of a job soon.

Isadora began writing between bites.  She was quiet, taking time to consider her words, looking around at the room as if she could see things that were not there.  She paused a few times seeming to look as though she was riffling through her mind searching for words or names to add to her document - things that teased on the edge of memory.

"Your offer," She said between bites and scribbled words, "Is very generous, but I couldn't help noticing that you didn't ask what then nature of my publication is.  Do you normally offer to go into business without knowing what you're buying into?"  She glanced at Lordian out of the corner of her eye, a small smile playing on her lips at least until she saw Betty's scowl.  Instantly her eyes went back down to what she was writing.

"I mean... you might have no desire to be involved with us once you learn the nature of what I write.  You seem like a kind and straight laced fellow after all."

Lordian smiled a broad smile.

"I'm a gambler Miss Esposito. I like risks."

He took a bite of the ham off of his fork, savoring the sweetness a moment before swallowing. He was never one for artichoke, but the chef here was world-class, and these were pretty good. Though he covered up his not eating them by feeding small bits to Betty. He enjoyed having someone pretty around, things had gotten lonely since he left home, and Betty helped pass the time. Now though? Now he was getting involved in things around the city more and that might just be enough to keep his mind from wandering too much.

"Betty dear, could you grab me another cola? One for you as well Miss Esposito?"

Betty got up and waited for an answer, letting none of her impatience show, the model of professionalism as soon as she stood up from the booth. Whether or not Lordian kept her around for himself, she would make a very good reason for other gangsters to come into the place, that was for sure.

Some part of Isadora was sure she'd had enough of gamblers in her life and for an instant, she considered purposefully writing something that she would never let see the light of day.  However, she'd already begun, and the muse was begging her to keep on with the endeavor until the end.  

The muse was a horrible taskmaster.

"Yes, please."  She told Betty.  When the other woman walked away, Isadora asked, "Have you been seeing each other for very long?  Betty seems like a very nice young woman.  Pretty too.  That never hurts."

Isadora didn't look at Lordian as she spoke, simply popped a bit more of ham into her mouth before turning her eyes back to whatever she'd been writing.

"Week or so." Lordian shrugged. "You're right, she's pretty, but I don't really want to drag her into what I'm involved in, after all, the restaurant business can be a hard place to find yourself."

He nodded and Betty returned. "Thank you hun." She set both the bottles down and then looked toward the kitchen. Giving Lordian a half smile she made her way to go do her job. Just because she was clearly making moves at the boss, didn't mean she could slack of completely. he had made that clear.

"No, she's got ambition and I like that, but she's far too easy to handle. She does what I ask and I don't get much push back. Truth me told, if and when I settle down I'm going to need someone who isn't afraid that I'm going to pull the rug out from under them at any moment. No way to be equals in a marriage without that."

He sipped at his cola and tried to steal a glance at what Isadora was writing. It wasn't much use, the pad was half under her hair, and he didn't feel like trying to read upside down just then, especially not with the band starting to muddle their way in.

"One drink for each of you per set, you got this? I won't have you boys drunk by the time you leave like the last group!" He called out to them. "I hope not all musicians are drunkards. You know about musicians Miss Esposito?"

"A few.  Mostly so far as they deal with those in my reader base.  The OCW writes for a very particular crowd.  I've spent the last couple of years reading a lot, educating myself on their interests and concerns.  It's why even after I married I was left to my own devices."  She looked up to Lordian.

"I know my business well."  She smiled, a hint of pride flashing behind her eyes.  "In truth, though, my dream is to one day work in radio.  The writing was just the first gig I could land.  I mean, I like it, I'm good at it and Vinnie was damn kind to give me a shot at his paper - but we all have dreams, right?"

She glanced over to the band, "How about you?  Care much for music and dancing or is it just something that comes with running this place?"

Lordian smiled broadly "I love dancing, music comes with that, but it's not always required. My mother use to let me stand on her feet and she would dance with me, said it ran in the family. I don't know how true it is, but there's something about it that makes me feel like I'm doing the right thing. Calms me almost you might say."

At that he tapped his foot to the band warming up and glanced to the widow, then shook his head silently to himself. Another time, tonight was business, and radio. Maybe he would get into radio himself. After all, what does one do with millions when you have no other ideas right?

"What about you? A good dancer, or just like to be part of the motley?"

"Oh, I've been known to cut a rug or two in my time.  Truth is... I rather enjoy it when my partner can manage to keep up with me."  She put the final period on her piece. 

"Well, you're going to read this and whether your like it or not you're definitely going to understand who my reader base is and... perhaps the sort of girl you're having lunch with."

She passed the paper to him, "I'll understand if you don't have any interest in getting involved... my work and my readers can be quite... dangerous."

The Blackhawk Revival

by Isadora Esposito

Music, movie stars, dancing, and some of this country's best food is exactly what The Blackhawk Restaurant is best known for.  Home to the weekly radio show "Live from the Blackhawk" some decades ago, it was world renown.  What you might not know, gentle readers, is that the Blackhawk's history is so much more colorful than meets the eye and that's saying something considering it was the host to such names as Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers, Benny Goodman, Perry Como, Glenn Miller and Louis Prima.

Opened by entrepreneur's from the city of Chicago, Blackhawk was a sister club to one in Chicago.  It's fame exceeded it's older sister though and was bought out by the glamourous and eventually infamous gangster Godmother Isabella Luciano-Byrne whose empire was for a short period of time the entire city of Philidelphia.  You might recognize the name Luciano because of her father Salvatore Luciano and her step-mother Marie Lucania who held the distinction of a empire of crime that stretched from sea to shining sea for longer than any other in recent memory.

Isabella purchased the club at the tender age of 21, by which time she was already a crime boss in her own right running a crew known as The Ivory Tower out of downtown Detroit under Godfather Luciano.

Under Isabella, the Blackhawk exploded.  Every gangster who was anyone showed their face under it's roof - drinking Canadian hooch and swining their favorite molls around the room without a care in the world.  It was the golden era of the Blackhawk and while she would continue to do well for years after, never again would it be so glorious as it had been under the loving hands of Isabella Luciano-Byrne ... or so it would seem.

The Blackhawk reopened its doors this week under new manangement.  Having passed through famous hands with such names as Byrne, Mastrosimone, and most recently Fannuci - none have done for the Blackhawk what the star-studded original matriarch of the place had done.  The question is, can the new management restore this jewel in the underworld crown to it's former glory?  Will the Blackhawk once again be the hopping 'it spot' for the criminal elite and Hollywood royalty?  

This reporter, who loves a good dinner and spin around the dance floor, will defintely be watching with great interest.

Lordian nodded as he read. He had either not heard about, or had forgotten about the radio show. The names though, he hand't forgotten any of those. How could he? Well, whoever this woman was, she certainly knew what the hell she was talking about. He nodded.

"I'll buy you out, both the newspaper and the debt. Also, take Fanucci's name out of this before you publish it, that fuck doesn't deserve it. Your turn."

He reached into his pocket and removed a signet ring, one with a simple "M" emblazoned on it. For as simple as the ring was, it held significance, to him, and so far, to the few people who had seen it. he placed it gingerly on the table, facing Mrs. Esposito.

"That's the kind of guy you just had lunch with."

He stood up then, abruptly, and as if on cue, half a dozen men stood up with him, all of them with their hands in their jacket pockets, or under an arm.

He gestured for them to relax and they did. He turned to Isadora then and as he sat, said with only a slight hint of joy in his voice.

"Welcome to the Blackhawk Miss Esposito. Now, let's talk about that radio show."

Isadora nodded when the man instructed she was to take Fannuci's name out of the article.  Clearly he knew what sort of business he had bought into, her article hadn't revealed anything shocking by his lack of reaction.  However, when he expressed it was her turn and he pulled out his ring it felt as if the whole room suddenly lost every bit of air within it.

The 'M' was not unknown to her.  Knowing generations and stories of gangsters for the last three generations was a big part of her business and that 'M' still cast a shadow on the streets.  It was in the masonry of Vegas, the storefronts of Detroit's riverwalk, it held Chicago beyond any reasonable amount of time against all odds and its blood was mixed in the paved streets of New York and the waterways of Italy and Sicily.  The 'M' had been silent for a whole generation, but not forgotten.

Isadora swallowed the lump in her throat as the men around the room relaxed at their boss' command.  She looked at him in disbelief.  She'd been lead to believe that the last Mastrosimone line was an old woman now, living a life of extreme excess aboard a seafaring bordello.  The slaughter of that family was legendary... the Mastrosimone family had nearly a dozen children and it was presumed those who took New York had committed the most egregious taboo in slaughtering them, even the tiny baby who was not yet a year old.

Seeing the man before her, clearly, that couldn't have been true... or he was somehow smart enough to have found a way to pass himself off as one of them.  In any case that made him a man you did not cross lightly.

Her voice was barely a whisper as she spoke what she assumed was his name with great respect, "Mr. Mastrosimone ... had I known..."  She shook her head unsure of what the hell she was supposed to follow this revelation up with.  Was she honestly going to pitch to him her radio show?!?

Lordian shook his head. "I'm no Mister anything just yet. I'm just Lordian, same guy you met coming here tonight. One day, maybe, but if my family's fate is to be followed, that's pretty unlikely." He chuckled, if his family's fate was to be followed he's be walking around as a ghost a few times before he finally died.

"So, no harm no foul, now. Tell me about you. Cause I'm real curious as to how much you actually know. The answer is certainly a lot, but uh, maybe you could tell when you did your research?"

"Vincent, my father in law, hired me out of high school.  His family and my father's family go back a long way, my maiden name is Fazzone.  I grew up on the stories of the Chicago families, the recent troubles in Ireland, and I guess a love of genealogy and history evolved into a solid career writing rags for gangsters to read.  My husband Sal always fancied himself made of the stuff to be like my Da or even his... but he wasn't cut from the same cloth.  I think we both knew it.  Cops say he was killed by thieves... me?  I figure either some zealous bookie got him or maybe Fannuci got tired of watching his monthly payments get spent on the ponies."

She shrugged and picked up her coke to take a sip.  "Don't mistake my attitude for saying I didn't care about Sal.  I did.  It wasn't one of those storybook sorta romances, he had a temper and lept before he looked more often than not, but he did have a good heart.  He meant well most of the time.  I suppose I should count myself lucky we never had a child though.  All I've had to worry about these months past is whether or not I could pay the bills and Sal's debt.  The paper doesn't make much, but I've found side hustles here and there."

"As to how much I know - well, I know a lot.  My father left me some good information on the family, connections, businesses.  At least the Fazzone and Cappazo side of things.  Vinnie had more information to fill in holes and I have a talent for asking the right questions and not eating lead for my trouble."  She smirked, her eyes sparkling.  "I like to think I got a knack for poking trouble and not getting poked back."

Lordian chuckled. "You got married doll, I'd say you got poked back." He waved a hand. "Apologies, that was crass." He took a sip of cola and continued. "Fazzone huh? I know I've read the name before, but can't place it, and if I've read it somewhere, it's likely tied in to someone my family had dealings with at some point. My grandparents had a habit of keeping journals, and mementos."

He reached down and flipped the pad on the pad then.

"If I'm going to buy a newspaper, I'm going to need an asking price, and I need to know what your debt is to Fannucci's men, I owe them for him going missing anyway, so I'll just tack that on to the butcher's bill." He wrote down a number five, followed it up with five zeros. "That cover it?" He slid the pad back across the table.

She nodded.  "Yeah.  That should about do it." 

Putting her drink down she drew a breath, "Let's see if I can remember all the twists and turns..." She paused, getting a distant look in her eyes.  "The connection as familial - if distant, that I'm sure on.  My, many greats-aunt, Lucia Fazzone married Frank DiCaprio.  DiCaprio was related to Messina by blood, who by blood is tied to the Conti line."

She glanced then to Lordian who was listening with interest, "Now, I'm sure that name sound familiar to you as Aurora Byrne was originally Aurora Luciano, daughter of Sal Luciano and Marie Lucania.  Lucania was her first husband's name, her maiden name was Conti.  The Conti family had betrothed their grand-daughter Aurora to the last son of Don Messina in an attempt to end the war with the Luciano family which was brought on by Sal having killed Marie some years before."

She shrugs.  "Of course as the story goes Aurora Byrne killed Don Conti and his wife for attempting kidnapping her and trying to make her wed a man while her first son was already growing in her belly.  Aurora Byrne married the man who would become Godfather Mastrosimone and... I think you know the line better than me from there since I had thought all but one of his descendants killed.  And not to speak ill of your relative but it's my understanding she never wed or had any children of her own..."  

That was a nice way of putting it.  Everyone knew that the infamous 'Madam M' ... Tara Montini, the High Priestess of a cult of Bacchus, was involved with another woman.  Of course, no one said as much out loud or in her presence in anything but the most respectful of ways.  After all, tales of the suffering inflicted on anyone who had ever tried to say a negative word about the former assassin Oriana, were dark legends told to keep young gangsters on the straight and narrow.

Lordian chuckled at the mention of his Aunts, much like his grandmother had an aunt floating around the world somewhere, so did he.

"Yeah, my aunts are very dear to me, but we don't mention them all that much and they like it that way. My mother on the other hand..." He ran his fingers though his hair to emphasize the point of his parentage. "Did get married, I won't tell you much about her offspring, nor how many she had, or where. She's going to be kept out of this just like she wanted. Me though? I'm my own man, and I may not be a bull, but I've got brains, and I can read. I've learned a thing or two about how to do things from my family."

He cocked his head to the side then and nodded toward the pad and pen.

"Thank you for the information though, I don't know I would have pieced it together myself. Are you sure that's enough? No counter offer or anything? You're not very good at business if you just say yes to the first offer each time you know."

He slipped his signet ring back into his pocket and then motioned to one of the men. After a brief whisper the man disappeared into the kitchen and Lordian folded his hands in front of him.

"Jimmy will be back in a couple of minutes for you, in the mean time, where can I reach you? After all, you're my editor in chief right?"

Isadora smirked, jotted down her number quickly and passed it to him.  "Never said I had a head for business... I just tell stories.  Besides, if you are taking advantage of me, you must conclude that either I'm your victim or a willing participant."

She finished her coke,  "Like any good reporter, I'll leave it to you to decide which I am."  With Betty out of sight, the words were spoken in a decidedly flirtatious manner.  She picked up her purse then as if she was preparing to leave, having sensed she was being dismissed.

"In any case, what sort of businessman points out such a thing to someone he's sitting across from at the negotiating table?"  She arched an eyebrow.  "Thank you for the meal and the chat, Lordian, it was ... pleasant." 

She stood up and looked around the room.  "I wish you luck with the Blackhawk.  She's a fine ol' gal.  She deserves a few more turns around the floor, safe in the arms of someone who knows what the hell he's doing."

Lordian took the pad and stuffed it into his pocket, standing slowly.

"I think she does too, but she's got me for a dance partner at the moment and I'm no Fred Astaire." He put a hand on the small of Isadora's back and led her to the front door.

"If you need anything before I get in touch with you to finalize details, you can always find me here." He turned and took a briefcase from Jimmy, handing it over to Isadora.

"You'll find when you get home, if you count it, it's all there, and there's a car waiting for you out front, can't have you losing my investment too quickly now can I?"

He smiled and handed her off to one of the other bodyguards who he hadn't gotten to know yet before turning back to the restaurant. Today had been a good day, and the fact that someone knew who his family was, well, that could be a good sign. Not everything was always doom and gloom, no matter how the man he was named after saw the world.

"And somehow...this place is still standing, I have to wonder..is this all we have to see for the new regime of Detroit? I have to say, will there ever be anyone like Isabella Luciano, I have to say, my ancestor...from another whole different line of my family tree, Charlie was right. She was a visionary, I guess that's why he always adored her a little too much in his journals..."

Brisa had to agree with his wording, this place was something else. Something that them questioning her quest for talent and wondering if she had a lot more to give before she was taken from the world. 

"Get us a table will you Brisa, I need to go handle some things before I come back, just make sure to hold the seat."

Scott looked around for the man in charge or rumoured to be in charge, Lordian, from what he remembered, the man was an investor of some kind. Maybe he could something of that variety, it would certainly help with some things in the future. A sly smirk crossed his lips, he moved over to the bar, the smirk still in place.

"What's your poison?"

Scott tilted his head, looking at the elderly bartender. He did seem to be looking at him with a slight smirk, it was safe to say that he was pretty well known around some cities now. Maybe he should stop building a presence like the one he had, he shrugged and shook his head, that would leave him with nothing. 

"Information, do you know when your boss will be getting here?"

The elderly man took a look around, shrugging and Scott seemed to think that was his way of letting him that wouldn't be happening today. Looking around, maybe he could do something on the way back here. He thanked the man, giving him a fifty before walking back over to Brisa, finding her in a booth. 

"I'll be back soon, order something...I heard the steak was good and ooh, make sure to not be too bold, Brisa. We do need to come back here eventually."

Brisa flipped him off and Scott scrunched up his face mockingly cute before walking away and deciding to head out for a moment. He needed to check up on something, his ancestor had something back at the Tops Casino, that place had fallen into bad times and now it was his time to see how it was doing.

"Speak of the angel and he shall appear with a golden halo and a briefcase in hand, I shall await his wise words..."

Brisa sarcastically spoke, knowing that the young man was an angel in many ways that people did not seem that way. He was something of bad luck, seemingly never having anything good other than for himself.

"Did you get me a steak?"

Scott asked, almost drooling as he could see the two plates and knew that his had to hold a steak or else he was fighting someone. He didn't care, he needed his steak!

"And such wise words I heard...it's right here, where did you go, Scottie?"

Brisa eyed Scott with a small uneasy smile, he did not seem to like what was going to be happening here.

"The Tops, can I sit down now?"

Shrugging, Brisa smirked and let him sit down next to her and for a moment, it was quiet before Brisa opened the briefcase and saw all the dollar bills. This was big money, how had the tops made something this big? It was not something she expected from that old casino, this was a big deal, something out there that only the big bosses made. 

"I see that the old joint is still making money, I remember being in school when this place was at the height of its success. Of course, it declined, I'm just surprised that it made it this far. Truly something I never saw happening but here you are, proving some things wrong."

Scott would have enjoyed the praise but he was trying to enjoy the meal right now, he did wonder if Lordian was here. He needed to make a deal with the young man, hopefully for the betterment of both of their businesses. They needed one another, of course, Scott knew that but he hoped for the love of everything that was holy, Lordian did as well. 

"I always do that, it's nothing new, I'm just hoping I can get something done here. Detroit was a hotspot in the past, I want to see that happen again, this is the way it can happen. This is the chance for all of us to make a little money, I haven't forgotten about you or your favour Brisa. My guy will contact me as soon as everything becomes clear."

Scott knew that this could have been something truly big and maybe some of the crews in Detroit could have been involved. He didn't know but this had to be it for them. Maybe he would not need to rely on the Mancini's too much here, the business was all that mattered, for all of them and he could finally begin his earning of the big checks.

"Thanks, Scott, now eat your veggies and finish the steak, maybe we can get some cookie dough ice cream after."

Scott smirked and enjoyed the moment, for now, he was a kid and later on, he would have to put on his mask and wonder where he would land with this deal for The Tops Casino.