A Meeting of Fortunes
"All right, boss," Paul shrugged helplessly. Who made this guy boss anyway?
As for the kind of booze the Hicks brewed, that was up to divine intervention. Charlie Lee just hoped they didn't screw it up entirely.
"Take us to the casino." He dismissed the idea of going to the bar. Opera wasn't of interest to him either, especially since the hottest performances were reserved for the evening. The only sensible destination left was the casino.
As for standing by the seaside and taking in the breeze, Charlie Lee didn't have the luxury or patience for it. Time was a valuable commodity now, and if he was going to kill time, he'd rather be practicing boxing or sharpening his shooting skills.
"Boss, these people are loaded," the monk muttered, licking his lips as his eyes gleamed with envy. Watching a stack of crisp bills hit the table made him swallow hard.
"Soon, you'll have more money than all of them combined," Charlie replied confidently.
He handed out $200 to his men to try their luck, though he himself found gambling tedious. Cards were particularly not his game.
"Boss, your luck is really…" Paul couldn't help laughing.
"Luck? I'm cursed at cards. At 21, roulette is king. This whole thing is ridiculous," Charlie muttered under his breath in frustration, grumbling words unintelligible to those around him.
After losing his $100 stake, Charlie pushed back from the table, disinterested. His men gathered around him, some looking elated and others dejected.
"How much did you win?" he asked, noticing the monk's bright eyes.
"Fifty dollars," the monk grinned, pleased with himself. He'd started with $20 and managed to triple it.
"Boss, here's your share," the monk offered, holding out $20.
"Keep it," Charlie said with a wave of his hand, disgusted by the thought of gambling after losing $100 while the monk turned $20 into a profit. "Gambling's a waste of time. We'd all be better off avoiding it in the future."
Then a thought struck him. "Paul, where is Las Vegas?"
"Uh… Boss, I'm not sure," Paul admitted awkwardly. "Never heard of it."
Charlie felt a surge of excitement. If he remembered correctly, Las Vegas's rise to fame began with Luciano—a barren wasteland revitalized through gambling and entertainment. While the timeline in his memory was fuzzy, the lack of recognition for Las Vegas among his peers confirmed it was still an untapped opportunity.
"Opportunity," he muttered to himself, marking the name Las Vegas in his mind. This time, it would be highlighted in red—a priority.
For now, however, all he could do was wait for his plans to align with the inevitable stock market crash. Anticipation clawed at him, but patience was the game. He reminded himself, "Soon, a better life is coming."
An Uninvited Invitation
Before the party that evening, Charlie encountered an unexpected opportunity.
"Sir, Mr. Marasano would like to invite you for coffee," said a well-dressed man in a flat-topped hat and dark gray coat.
"Delighted," Charlie replied, glancing at a nearby café. A gentleman was seated there, smiling warmly as he raised his coffee cup in greeting.
"Charlie Lee, from the mysterious Orient. Please, have a seat," Marasano said, rising briefly to show courtesy.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Marasano." Charlie removed his hat as he sat, handing it to the monk, who silently took it and retreated to a respectful distance.
"You've got loyal subordinates," Marasano observed, his keen eyes fixed on Charlie. "Does loyalty stem from Chinese tradition?"
"Loyalty, filial piety, benevolence, righteousness, propriety, wisdom, and trustworthiness," Charlie replied in Chinese, enunciating each virtue clearly. Then he raised his hand to the approaching waiter and ordered with a smile, "A glass of milk, please."
Coffee and alcohol weren't his preferences. Besides, he had a busy evening ahead, and he recalled from some past-life internet rabbit hole that milk was good for the stomach.
"Last time, Nuki mentioned you. Did you hear about Luciano?" Marasano leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice.
"Yes," Charlie replied, his tone neutral. He picked up his milk, staring at its surface as though lost in thought. "A friend of mine happened to see a hitman who shot Marcellia meeting with Luciano afterward."
"Bastard, he did it!" Marasano's fist slammed onto the table, his anger barely contained.
"Isn't that common knowledge by now? Even the New York Times made a joke of it. What was it they said? 'He takes a long time to pee,' right?" Charlie smirked, unimpressed by Marasano's theatrics. He could see through the man's anger—it wasn't about justice, but power. Luciano was slipping out of Marasano's grasp, and the realization stung.
"Thank you for the information, my friend. I must go; Nuki's waiting." Marasano excused himself, his entourage of broad-shouldered men following closely.
Charlie watched them go, shaking his head in disbelief. If it came down to a fight, the monk could take them all, no contest.
An Introduction to Power
Later that evening, the reception was abuzz with chatter. Politics, territories, women, and money were the topics of choice. Marasano brought Charlie to meet a young man with a high forehead, sharp nose, and a sly demeanor.
"Charlie Luciano, meet Charlie Lee from the East," Marasano said dramatically, feigning surprise. "Two Charlies! What are the odds?"
"Seems like fate," Luciano said with a grin that reminded Charlie Lee of a predator sizing up its prey.
"Perhaps, Mr. Luciano," Charlie Lee replied humbly, keeping his composure.
He had no intention of getting entangled with Luciano just yet. Let Luciano and Marasano tear each other apart first. If they weakened the Mafia's grip on the city, all the better for him.
"Hey, Lee, I've been looking for you!" Nuki interrupted, waving enthusiastically. "Come on, I want to introduce you to some new friends."
As Nuki led him to a quieter area, Charlie noticed the calculated glances exchanged between Luciano and Marasano. Their tension was palpable.
Upstairs in a cigar bar, Nuki introduced Charlie to three powerful men: Walter Gadd, a rotund and boisterous governor; Sakil Rix, a congressman; and Nick Brandy, a senior senator.
"Li, our congressman here needs bodyguards—special ones with… let's say, unique skin tones," Nuki said, smiling slyly.
Charlie raised an eyebrow. "Starting with skin color, are we?" he asked, masking his distaste.
Nick Brandy chuckled. "Our friend seems to understand politics quite well."
"No problem. Two Chinese, two Black. Clean and reliable," Charlie promised.
As they continued their discussion, Charlie skillfully lit his cigar, mimicking the elegance of European aristocrats. His refined demeanor caught even Nuki off guard.
Inwardly, Charlie smirked. These men believed they were gaining a useful ally. Little did they know, he was playing a much bigger game—one that would reshape their world entirely.