C.C

Lorenzo stepped out of his agency building, and slid into his waiting car. Mike closed the door behind him with a polite nod. As they pulled away from the curb, Lorenzo leaned back against the plush leather seat, puffing on his cigarette.

"Mike, take us to the Grauman's Chinese Theatre, will you?" he said, exhaling a cloud of smoke.

"Yes, boss," Mike replied, tipping his hat as he started the engine.

The car rolled to a stop in front of the grand theater, its oriental facade glowing under the sun. In the distance, the Prospect Avenue that's now known as Hollywood Boulevard.

Lorenzo glanced down the street, where the future site of the Hall of Fame on Hollywood Boulevard would one day stand. It was nothing but an empty lot now, so he hatched a plan to build it sooner, but in his name and under his company's banner. However, he knew that was a task for later.

Lorenzo and Mike emerged from the car. They strolled up to the ticket booth, where a pretty blonde in a red uniform greeted them with a smile.

"Two tickets, please," Lorenzo said, flashing a five-dollar bill. Mike discreetly slipped her a two dollar tip, eliciting a blush and a grateful curtsy.

With tickets in hand, they made their way inside the opulent theater. The lobby was bustling with people, all dressed in their finest attire. The air was thick with the scent of popcorn and perfume, punctuated by the sound of laughter and chatter.

"After you, sir," Mike said, gesturing to the auditorium.

Lorenzo nodded his thanks and led the way, cigarette in hand.

Lorenzo and Mike made their way down the aisle, weaving through the sea of elegantly dressed patrons. Women in their finest gowns and pearls, escorted by dapper gentlemen in suits and fedoras, filled the plush velvet seats. The two men found their seats just as the lights began to dim, signaling the start of the show.

Mike sat in the darkened theater, his curiosity piqued as to why they were here. He glanced at his boss, who seemed entranced by the stage. The lights dimmed further, and the host took the microphone, warming up the audience with a few jokes that elicited laughter from the crowd.

Finally, the show began. The red curtains parted, revealing a group of actors on the elaborately designed set.

Lorenzo's gaze drifted to a young man near the back, playing a poor, unassuming character. He couldn't help but chuckle to himself. He knew exactly who the young man was. This unknown actor is the iconic Charlie Chaplin, a name that would be synonymous with silent films and slapstick comedy. But for now, he was just starting out, a nobody in a sea of hopefuls.

The young man on stage was a far cry from the iconic Charlie Chaplin that Lorenzo knew from his previous life.

In this timeline, Charlie Chaplin was still an unknown face, his features clean and unlined, without the trademark mustache and wrinkles that would one day become his trademark.

It was incredible how a few makeup touches, a mustache, and a simple costume could transform him into the beloved Tramp character.

Lorenzo observed the young actor, comparing him to the memory he had of the legendary comedian. The audience around them, including Mike, seemed to be enjoying the play, the story of which depicted the hardships of the Great Depression and the rise of organized crime.

As the first act came to an end, Lorenzo stood up, drawing Mike's attention. "Stay here, Mike. I'll be going somewhere. I'll be back," he said, slipping out of his seat.

"Okay, boss," Mike replied, a hint of confusion in his voice as he watched his boss leave.

Mike settled back into his seat, wondering what could be so important that Lorenzo would leave in the middle of a show. He glanced at his watch, noting the time. It was still early, and the second act was about to begin. Shrugging to himself, he decided to enjoy the rest of the performance.

***

Lorenzo made his way backstage, weaving through the maze of props and curtains. Stagehands and actors bustled about, preparing for the second act. He spotted the young man who had caught his attention earlier, now in the process of removing his makeup.

"Excuse me," a stagehand stopped him, "You're not allowed back here."

Lorenzo flashed a five-dollar bill, "I have important business with this young man," he said, nodding towards the actor. The stagehand's eyes widened, and he stepped aside, allowing him to pass.

Lorenzo approached the mirror where the actor, Charlie Chaplin, was removing his makeup. "Mr. Chaplin, I presume?"

Charlie looked up, eyebrows raised in confusion. "That's right. And you are?"

"Lorenzo," he extended his hand, "I'm an old friend of your... previous employer."

Charlie's expression shifted, "You're from the agency?"

Lorenzo smiled, "In a manner of speaking. You see, I've just acquired your agency. As of today, you and the other actors are all under my management."

Charlie's eyes widened in surprise, but he quickly regained his composure. "You're the one who bought the agency?" he asked, unable to hide the skepticism in his voice.

Lorenzo chuckled, "I can understand your skepticism, Mr. Chaplin. It's not every day that a young man like myself takes over an established agency." He reached into his pocket and produced a business card, handing it to Charlie. "Lorenzo Lupo, at your service. Pleased to officially meet you."

Charlie took the card, eyebrows raised as he read the name. "So, you're the one who changed the agency's name to Lorenzo Lupo Agency?"

Lorenzo smiled, "Guilty as charged. I believe a fresh start calls for a new identity, don't you agree?"

Charlie's expression shifted from surprise to fear. "You're not here to... let me go, are you?"

Lorenzo chuckled, "Of course not, Mr. Chaplin. Quite the opposite, in fact."

Relief washed over Charlie's face, "Then, what can I do for you, Mr. Lupo?"

Lorenzo's smile widened, "I'm here to offer you an opportunity, Mr. Chaplin."

Charlie furrowed his brows, "An opportunity?"

"Yes," Lorenzo nodded, "I'd like to offer you a role in our upcoming film project. I believe you have what it takes to be a star, and I'd like to help you get there."

Charlie's eyes widened in disbelief, "A-Are you serious?" he stuttered.

"As serious as can be," Lorenzo replied with a genuine smile. "I see potential in you, Mr. Chaplin, and I think it's a waste to have talent like yours relegated to the background. I want to help you shine on the silver screen, not just here in this city, but around the world."

Charlie couldn't believe his luck. This was the opportunity of a lifetime, and it came from the most unexpected way.

"What do you say? Are you in?" Lorenzo asked, extending his hand.

"I-I'm in!" Charlie stammered, excitement evident in his voice as he shook Lorenzo's hand.

"Wonderful," Lorenzo said, nodding approvingly. He reached into his pocket and handed Charlie a card with an address on it, "Be at this studio tomorrow morning, nine sharp. We'll discuss your upcoming projects under Lupo Pictures."

"I'll be there!" Charlie said, grinning from ear to ear as he took the card.

With that, Lorenzo tipped his hat and made his way back to the exit, leaving a stunned but elated Charlie Chaplin in his wake.

Charlie watched Lorenzo's retreating back, his mind reeling from the conversation just had. His friend, another actor in the play, approached him, draping an arm around his shoulders.

"Charlie, who was that guy?" he asked, nodding in the direction of the exit.

"That," Charlie said, still in disbelief, "was the new owner of our agency, Lorenzo Lupo."

His friend's eyes widened in surprise, before skepticism clouded his features, "You're kidding, right? He looks our age!"

"I know, but he said—"

"Maybe he's one of those thugs you've been telling us about, trying to trick you," his friend interrupted, referring to the recent harassment Charlie had been facing.

Charlie's expression darkened at the mention of the thugs, but then he shook his head. "No, it doesn't add up. Why would they go through all this trouble? Besides, he didn't seem like the type."

His friend shrugged, "I don't know, man. Just be careful, alright?"

"I will," Charlie said, tucking the card with the studio's address into his pocket. "I'll check it out tomorrow. If it's legit, I'll let you know."

***

Meanwhile, Lorenzo and Mike left the theater, opting not to return to their agency or the mansion in Beverly Hills. Instead, they headed to Melrose, just off Santa Monica Boulevard.

Lorenzo met with his team of scriptwriters, discussing the upcoming film projects, including the one he had in mind for Charlie Chaplin. After hours of brainstorming and planning, they finally emerged from the building, the sun already setting.

As they pulled up to the mansion, Lorenzo spotted Deborah and Mica in the living room, engaged in conversation with Tiffany and Peggy.

Max, Patrick, and the others were still out, presumably handling the business he'd assigned them, while Adam and Richard were engrossed in a game of poker.

Lorenzo's gaze lingered on Deborah and Mica, feeling a twinge of... something as he watched them laugh together. It was strange to see his two lovers getting along so well.

"You two finished with the business I gave you?" he asked, sitting down next to Adam and Richard.

Adam and Richard exchanged glances, and Richard replied, "Aye, we're even wearing masks while conducting our gang business, just like you said, boss."

Lorenzo nodded in approval, "Good. As long as we ain't got a tight grip on this here city, our gang's best to keep a low profile."

Adam and Richard both nodded, and then Adam leaned in to whisper to Lorenzo, "Boss... who's this dame named Mica? I heard she's got somethin' goin' on with you?"

Lorenzo chuckled, while Richard piped up, "I remember her. She's the nurse that took care of our boss when he was on the mend from the war wounds."

Adam's eyes widened, "No kiddin'?"

Lorenzo nodded, "That's right. She's the one." He glanced over at Deborah and Mica, who were chattering away like old friends. It seemed like Deborah's plan to teach Mica how to defend herself and handle a gun had paid off, judging by how chummy they'd become.

As for the rest, Lorenzo would find out later. Turning to Richard, he said, "Richard, I've got my eye on a new talent. His name's Charlie Chaplin. He's under my agency. I just met the fella, but I want you to keep an eye on him. Find out where he lives, and if he's tangled up in any kinda trouble, I want you to handle it, understand?"

"You got it, boss." Richard nodded in agreement.