Lucky Bastard 2 and Opportunity

Lorenzo strolled down Santa Monica Boulevard, a smirk plastered on his mug. It had been a few days since he'd had the mayor of Los Angeles in his pocket, and boy, was it paying off. His business was booming like never before. He'd managed to get his mitts on an "Entertainment Agency," two brothels, a couple of swanky clubs, and a few small casinos in Boyle Heights and Hollywood. But it was the properties he'd snatched up along this very strip that had him feeling like a million bucks.

The agency also now bore his name in shining letters: "Lorenzo Lupo Agency" or LLA for short. The sign gleamed in the sun. As he passed by, a couple of dames in sequined dresses and victory rolls sauntered by, shooting him sidelong glances. He tipped his fedora their way, a grin tugging at his lips.

Lorenzo leaned back in his leather chair, puffing on a Cuban cigar. He knew that the agency he'd acquired, as swanky as it was, couldn't hold a candle to the likes of WMA up in Hollywood. But Lorenzo wasn't one to back down from a challenge. He had a few tricks up his sleeve, courtesy of his previous life's knowledge and a little help from the Godfather System.

Lorenzo's mind raced with ideas, his fingers drumming on the mahogany desk. He'd start by poaching some up-and-coming talent, actors and actresses who were hungry for their big break. He'd give them the roles of a lifetime, and in return, they'd sing Lupo Pictures' praises to anyone who'd listen.

The Raven Corps, Lorenzo's private security outfit in Boyle Heights, had been working overtime lately. But it was all part of the plan. With the mayor in his pocket, Lorenzo had him sing their praises at every opportunity, lauding them as heroes for stopping a string of robberies plaguing the neighborhood.

As the Raven Corps patrolled the streets, the locals couldn't help but gawk at the well-dressed men and women in their sharp uniforms. They were a far cry from the usual mugs in blue who patrolled the beat. And with each successful "bust" or "rescue," the Raven Corps' reputation soared higher than a kite on a windy day.

There are even headlines in the Los Angeles Times: "Raven Corps: Boyle Heights' Saviors." It was all going according to plan.

His organization had been making strides in Los Angeles, forging deals with various gangs across the city. It didn't hurt that he had the mayor and the police chief of LAPD in his pocket, thanks to the information the mayor had so willingly provided.

The editor-in-chief of the Los Angeles Times was no exception. The man had been a tough nut to crack, but after a few "persuasive" meetings, he too had joined the fold. As insurance, Lorenzo had given each of them a seemingly innocuous tarot card, a cursed memento that would ensure their loyalty.

The old police chief and the editor-in-chief, both new pawns in Lorenzo's game, experienced the same unsettling phenomenon as the mayor.

They tried to discard the tarot cards, but to their dismay, the cards always found their way back to them, as if by some supernatural force. The police chief, a man who prided himself on his rationality like the mayor, couldn't shake the feeling that the "Wolf Familia" had eyes and ears everywhere.

The editor-in-chief, on the other hand, was more inclined to believe in the superstitious nature of the card. Either way, both men were now firmly under Lorenzo's control, just like the fearful mayor before them.

His organization had been striking deals with the Chinese, Mexican, and African American gangs alike. But there was one group that still eluded him: the Cohen Crime Syndicate, the powerful Jewish mob led by Mikey Cohen.

Lorenzo knew that if he wanted to be the undisputed boss of the Los Angeles underworld, he'd have to eliminate the competition. And that meant taking out Mikey Cohen himself. The problem was, Mikey wasn't exactly hiding out in some fortified compound. No, he was living large in a swanky mansion on Moreno Avenue in Brentwood, of all places.

But Lorenzo knew that taking down Mikey Cohen wouldn't be a walk in the park. The Cohen Crime Syndicate's members weren't just confined to their boss's mansion; they were also living in the surrounding area, turning the entire residential neighborhood into a fortress. He need to tread carefully, gathering intel on the syndicate's operations, routines, and weaknesses. And when the time was right, he'd strike at Mikey Cohen like a wolf in the night, leaving the Cohen Crime Syndicate in tatters.

***

Lorenzo sat hunched over his desk, the dimly lit office of his talent agency casting long shadows on the walls. He thumbed through the stack of contracts in front of him, each one representing a life hanging in the balance. He glanced at the next file, trying to decide whether to let the client go or give them another chance.

"This agency is swell," a voice purred from the doorway.

Lorenzo didn't need to look up to know who it was. Deborah sauntered into the room her stiletto heels clicking against the hardwood floor. She stopped at his desk and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Lorenzo, can I be part of this agency? How do I apply?"

He looked up from the sea of files, his gaze meeting hers. "Babe, don't you worry," he said with a smirk, "I'll find a spot for you. After all, you're my gal."

Deborah pouted, her lower lip jutting out in a way that would have melted the heart of any other man. "Even if I'm your fiancée, I don't want to take advantage, Lorenzo." She said, her eyes flashing with determination. "I want to prove my talent as a performer!"

Lorenzo couldn't help but smile at her feistiness. "Of course, of course." He nodded, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "But from the performance I've seen from you when we're alone together..."

"Stop!" Deborah interrupted, her cheeks flushing a deep shade of crimson. "I'm serious, Lorenzo!"

Lorenzo chuckled, enjoying her blush. "Alright, alright, Deb. I get it." He patted her hand reassuringly.

Meanwhile, Deborah couldn't help but feel a swell of pride in her heart for her future husband's achievements, mobster boss or not. Her heart fluttered at the thought of their life together, and she knew she'd stand by his side through thick and thin.

As Lorenzo and Deborah continued their conversation, a sharp knock on the door interrupted them.

"Who is it?" Lorenzo called out, his voice authoritative but controlled.

"Boss, it's Mike. There's someone here to see you." Mike's voice sounded muffled through the thick oak door.

"I'm in a meeting, can't it wait?" Lorenzo's brow furrowed.

"She says her name's Mica, boss. She insists on seeing you." Mike's voice was apologetic.

Lorenzo's expression didn't change, but he couldn't help the puff of smoke that escaped his lips. "Is that so? Very well, show her to the guest room. I'll be there shortly."

"Yes, boss." Mike's footsteps receded down the hallway.

Deborah's eyes narrowed, her intuition as a woman tingling. "Mica? Who is she, Lorenzo?"

Lorenzo stood up and gently guided Deborah to her feet, wrapping his arms around her in a comforting hug. "Deb, you know you're my first lady. Apollonia, Mica... they can't replace what we have."

Deborah's eyes flashed with jealousy as she tried to push away from Lorenzo's embrace. "You have another woman besides Apollonia in Sicily?" Her voice trembled with anger. "Who is she? I want to see her!"

"Calm yourself, Deb." Lorenzo whispered soothingly, his grip tightening around her waist.

"Is it the woman you started seeing in this city? We've only been here for a few weeks, and you're already picking up women?" Deborah's fist connected with his chest, but he didn't flinch.

"Deb, listen to me. Mica is indeed from here, but our relationship didn't start in this city." He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It started when I was at war in Europe, and she was a nurse!"

Deborah's eyes widened, her anger slightly abated. "Did you tell her about me?"

"Of course." Lorenzo's voice was firm but reassuring.

Deborah took a deep breath, her chest heaving with emotion. "Alright, then. Let me go and let me see her for myself."

Lorenzo reluctantly released her, and together, they made their way to the guest room where Mica was waiting.

The door swung open, and Mica's face lit up with excitement upon finally laying eyes on the man she'd been dreaming of. She stood up, ready to throw her arms around him, but stopped short when she spotted the stunning woman with flawless skin standing beside him. Her eyes darted between the two of them, understanding dawning on her features.

"Oh, so this is the woman you've been telling me about, Lorenzo?" Mica asked, her voice tinged with a hint of jealousy.

Lorenzo nodded, a wry smile playing on his lips.

Deborah stepped forward, her chin held high. "Listen here, I'm the woman that Lorenzo truly loves, and the only one who truly loves him." Her emerald eyes bored into Mica's. "If you're only after him because he's good-looking and... good in bed," she said, emphasizing the last part, "then I'm warning you to stay away from now on."

Mica's expression darkened, the challenge in Deborah's words not lost on her. "You don't know how much I've longed for him. Lorenzo's face has haunted my dreams, and his name fills my diary." She narrowed her eyes at Deborah. "Don't talk to me about love, because I know my feelings for him run deeper than yours."

Lorenzo and Deborah exchanged a surprised glance, but Deborah didn't back down. "That might be an obsession, but it's not love. Your obsession could end up hurting him more than helping him."

Mica's cheeks flushed with indignation. "I... I may have been a little obsessed, but it's still love!"

Deborah raised an eyebrow. "If you truly love him, then you must be willing to stand by his side, even with his lawless life."

Mica nodded adamantly. "I know what he does! I know he's a mobster!"

"Then you should also be willing to fight for him, to protect yourself and him. Otherwise, you're just dead weight," Deborah retorted.

Mica's jaw clenched, but she didn't back down. "Bring it on."

"Come with me, then." Deborah said, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Lorenzo watched the two women leave, unable to hide his surprise. "You're going to teach her martial arts? How to use a gun?" He asked, remembering how Deborah had secretly trained herself to protect both of them.

Deborah turned around, her eyes steely. "If she truly loves you, she'll do anything to prove it. And if she doesn't, then she'll be out of our lives for good."

Lorenzo watched as the two women left the guest room, a resigned sigh escaping his lips. He knew Deborah wouldn't hurt Mica, and vice versa, so he wasn't too worried. Instead, he returned to his office to focus on more pressing matters – like the talents under his agency's contracts.

As he scanned through the profiles, one name caught his attention: "Charlie Chaplin".

Lorenzo raised an eyebrow. Charlie Chaplin was a household name in his previous life, but thinking about it, he hadn't heard of him once since arriving in this world. The explanation lay right in front of him.

According to the actor's profile, Charlie was just starting out in the industry, despite it being 1945. In his original timeline, Chaplin should have been an old veteran by now, but here, he was still a fresh face.

What intrigued Lorenzo the most was the fact that Charlie Chaplin was part of his agency – albeit only performing in theaters and not yet venturing into films.

A slow smile crept onto Lorenzo's face. This could be the opportunity he'd been waiting for.