Chapter 1
One of my favorite cinematic genres is Gangster movies. I also love the rich characters from the world of sports entertainment. Characters I don't own, but wish to use nonetheless. I hope you like it…
The hot summer sun beat down on the group of young men as they waited anxiously outside of Rosa's Floral Shop. The name on the truck said "Platelli's Fine Seafood," but in Manhattan, every delivery held the potential for something other than what appeared to be.
For these four young men from Canada, the heat of the midday in midtown Manhattan grew nearly unbearable. For Christian Copeland, in particular, the humidity beat down like a rain shower. Except that rather than the cool, refreshing downpour of water, only the relentless, grimy, blistering heat of the afternoon sun bathed the four men standing around the green wooden painted truck. Finally, a huge older man came out the front door of the florist, held up two fingers in the air, and motioned towards the men to bring the mysterious barrels around to the back door.
Such was the life in New York during Prohibition. Clandestine deliveries to nameless recipients, paid for in cash and returned favors. For the group of young men who'd crossed the border from Canada to pursue this highly lucrative (and dangerous) line of work, it was just another day in paradise.
It was a wonderful time in the history of this great nation. While the papers and politicians called it "The Great Depression," the four childhood friends from North of the Border saw it as the opportunity of a lifetime. Even that meant different things to each of them. For Christian and Adam Copeland, it was the envelopes full of cash they sent home to their widowed mother in Edmonton. For Andy Martin, it was the path out of his dead-end hometown and away from the destitute lifestyle his family lived. For their unofficial, lighthearted leader, Chris Jericho, it was the chance to spend every night in the bed of the girl he was head over heels in love with, and spending every evening drinking whiskey until he started losing feeling in his legs.
"Girls," thought Christian. "Can't live with them, but your friends will look at you funny if you don't." His brother had recently taken an interest in a young girl named Amy whose parents lived in the Latino section of Brooklyn. He'd heard Andy rave for days about the tall, long-legged blonde who they'd all met while making one of their deliveries to Marella's Dance Hall and Café in Little Italy. And Jericho? Well, he was practically married to the generously-endowed blonde Canadian girl who owned the Stratus Inn just off 34th St. in Midtown. Truth be told, Patricia was the closest thing to a mother that the boys had in the huge city. He couldn't count the number of times she'd invited them all for dinner, cooking them hot delicious foods from their homeland. And he really loved the fact that they all had a warm, clean bed to sleep in (for free) every night that they were in the area.
He himself had an eye out for one of the Preston sisters that they'd met while on Staten Island. Her father was one of their companies' most loyal clients until his mysterious, untimely demise. Her sensual, warm eyes remained at the forefront of his consciousness even weeks after their meeting, and he looked forward to becoming better acquainted with the voluptuous young lady.
His stream of consciousness was interrupted by the familiar voice of his brother. Their delivery complete, the boys piled back into the flat panel truck that had become like a second home to all of them. Done for the week, the boys now had the weekend in the city to soak up the lifestyle before the conference Monday. Their boss required them to be there, and these boys weren't ones to miss appointments.
Paul White walked his beat every day with a sense of pride, and everyone in his neighborhood knew that the freakishly tall cop wouldn't ever let the safety of the citizens on his watch be compromised.
Everyone on his block loved him. Children all smiled and waved when he walked by. Pretty girls giggled and blushed. The old men tipped their hats towards him. It was all a poor kid from Ireland could've dreamed of.
He'd once been in the employ of the McMahon Family. Widely known at a young age for his superior size and strength, he'd become a hot commodity about the time most men his age were beginning to shave. The result was three years of living the city high life and outrunning what parts of the law the McMahon's hadn't yet bought and paid for. At first, he'd loved it. After all, it was ten times the money he'd be making in some factory or shop. After a while, however, he'd begun to notice the looks of horror people gave him as he walked down the street. His inner sense of right and wrong told him that the beatings and attacks he was making a living carrying out for the McMahons were wrong, and over time, his conscience eroded his will to make money. He'd used a contact at the Police Office to land a job as a beat cop, in the process earning a full pardon for the crimes he'd committed, and began walking his beat as a member of the New York City Police Force.
Across the street, Patricia Stratus leaned out of her second-floor bedroom window and waved at Paul. She liked when she saw him walking her street. Made her feel safe. "After all," she thought, "no one's looking out for our safety but him and us." The "us" to which the young blonde woman was referring to were the handful of orphaned or runaway girls she boarded at her hotel. Her family's only legacy, the management of the fairly small, but well-kept, hotel, fell squarely on her shoulders. And so here she was, another day, cleaning vigorously for guests she knew would be here regardless of whether or not her rooms were clean. In this business, after all, location was everything, and her hotel's location near several key city locations made almost certain the place would be full. From her upstairs perch she noticed a familiar green paneled truck turn left onto the street than ran directly in front of her hotel. A huge smile crept slowly across her face, and she ran excitedly down the stairs to rush into the arms of the man she loved more than anything in the world…