Act 1 - Scene One - The Invitation

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Giovanni Chronicles IV - Nuova Malattia

Act One of Four - First Communion

Let every soul be subject to the governing authorities.
-Romans 13:1

Scene One - The Invitation

"Will you walk into my parlour?" said a spider to a fly;
" 'Tis the prettiest little parlour that ever you did spy.
The way into my parlour is up a winding stair,
And I have many pretty things to shew when you are there."
-The Spider and the Fly, Mary Howitt, 1829

The date is August 14th, 1929. Boston is still in the grip of a summer heat wave. As the heat rises, tempers grow short. Arguments that would have been resolved with words spill over into violence. Kids on the north end knock open fire hydrants to cool off. Those not stuck at work seek refuge by the Charles River. Even so, times are good. Europe, still bleeding from the wounds of the Great War, is dependent on US-manufactured goods, and so industry is thriving. Unemployment is low. Automobiles are everywhere. These Roaring 20's have been good to America, and yet organized crime infests the big cities. The Prohibition has been in effect for a full decade, and where there is a demand for alcohol a black market will inevitably rise. Boston is no different. Bootleggers, moonshiners, smugglers, mafiosi - all are getting rich supplying the public with their illicit needs. This is the stage where our story begins.


Serafina

Tuesday morning has started off like every other morning for you. Mother is in the kitchen, on her second cigarette, making breakfast for you and your sister. After breakfast she will divide the day's errand list between you and your sister before rushing away to her office job. You remember her being happier when father still lived at home. Then she didn't have to work for a living. He would show up late, usually, always with some new present he'd picked up during his workday - one day a mink coat, another day five pounds of salami - kiss mother in the hallway, then pour himself a drink.

The ringing of the doorbell breaks you out of your daydreaming. "Sera, get the door!" Mother shouts from the kitchen.


Leonard

It's almost noon when you wake up. Your head hurts and your mouth is dry. You've been sleeping on the bed this evening at least, so that's progress. Leaving the bottle on the bedside table, not so good. But then you're not expecting anyone, and you're pretty sure you locked your front door, so the chances of anyone stumbling on your secret stash is not likely. Truth be told, you could easily stay in bed, but the sun's rays are cutting through the blinds right into your eyes, and besides it's too hot. Better to get up, splash some water on your face and become presentable.

There's a knock on your door. "Knock-knock, Doc. Time's a-wastin'." Well, so much for making yourself presentable. At least you fell asleep in your clothes.


Moses

It's late afternoon when you're down by the wharf. It's been a busy, if entirely ordinary day. Abner's been doing the books all day and quizzed you for legitimate sounding phraseology to cover up your less legal business ventures. The two of you like to make a game of it, finding increasingly absurd yet technically legal, language for the books. Eventually, Abner's pleased with what he's got, telling you to call it a day. He can handle the rest from here. And a good thing. The heat in the office was getting to be too much. So, you're down by your trusty boat, enjoying the peace and quiet.

"Permission to come aboard, captain?" You know that nasal whine, mixed with a thick Boston accent. It can only be Harold Rothenstein, aka Hank the Fixer. Hank's got his fingers in all manner of pies, and he's been your go-between with Mr A. Giovanni.


Isabella

It's in the evening by the time you make it to the Flamingo. It's been a dull day of working on your essay, hammering keys on your typewriter and wiping the sweat from your brow. You'd rather have been outside than cooped up in your little fief, but deadlines are deadlines. Finally, when you felt your conscience was clean enough, you took a shower, put on your best suit and made it to the Flamingo, hoping for a night of swing dancing and drinking. The Flimflam is double jeopardy - not only is it a speakeasy, but also a place for Boston's queer underground to hang out and be themselves.

By the time you make it to the bar you've made all of the familiar faces. The one seating himself down next to your stool is not a regular but you recognize him instantly. Hank the Fixer. A friend of the family. Hank's a short, stout, man with traditional Semitic features. He's wearing unnecessarily thick glasses and a clearly expensive suit that he doesn't look quite right in. His face splits into a big, mischievous grin. "Izzy! What's shaking? Fancy meeting you a place like this."


[spoilers]Here we go, gang! Tell us a little bit about your character: how they look, how they dress, their surroundings, how they feel about Hank. Any mistakes on my part about your character I apologize for in advance. This scene is here to establish who you are, so I'm not against making minor edits during this scene to fit the narrative.

Have fun![/spoilers]

What an absolute horseshit of a day. Sure, The Family had got her a job in the typing pool after her attempts at actual independence had floundered in the face of institutional sexism but clawing her way out of that place into the upper-level secretarial pool was all her. No way was she going to stay in a place that sounded like a construction site for eight hours a day. Oh, and lovely. Four-thirty and Susie was finally allowed to leave that manager's office. Poor thing's dress and hair were completely tousled, and her makeup was a mess. She got up and put an arm around Susie's shoulder, leading her to the washroom where she helped her regain her composure after a two-hour "planning meeting". Thank God she was a Giovanni - none of those pigs were going to even think about touching her like that.

By the time Susie had gotten herself put together it was time to go home, and she rushed back to her small apartment, throwing off her work dress before peeling off her tights - at least hemlines were getting shorter, so she didn't have to wear crap all the way down to her ankles now. Ugh. She brushed her shoulder-length brown hair a bit after her shower before putting on a fresh white blouse and her black suit, leaving a few buttons open. She finished the look with a leather necktie that she left artfully loose around her throat, before applying some light makeup to add some contrast to the look. With that set up, she headed off to The Flamingo. Hopefully Kate was working the bar tonight - she could pour a mean cocktail.

Once inside she spent a few moments talking up the girls - and getting a good drink from Kate, slipping a nickel into her shirt pocket with a wink and a kiss to the cheek. And then Hank showed up. Ah well, time to get to work. "Hank, if you're ever actually surprised by something, at any point in your life, I'll eat my fucking tie. And don't call me Izzy. Only my girlfriends get to call me that, and you're not one. So, what's bringing you here, apart from the charming clientele?"

Serafina had been getting ready for the day. She had already picked out todays dress before she went to bed the night before. A powder blue dress that went sufficiently below her knees and and was overlain with a lace pattern that covered both the collar and waist. She had been meaning to wear it out for quite some time but today she finally decided to wear it when she and a couple of girls from the neighborhood were going for a walk. before lunch. As she was finishing dressing, she was considering what else had to be done for the day.

She had to do some studying. Even though Aunt Isabel had stopped sending her new reading materials, she had still continued reading and re-reading the books and letters she had sent her before, and kept finding new things that were interesting to her in them. Then it would be time to help mother with some chores before they were having guests over, some of fathers old associates. They came by once in a while to check up on his wife and children to make sure everything was well, she would have to be well prepared.

She was taken out of her thoughts when the door rang, and her mother called for her to open, so left her and her sister's bedroom, and went to open the door.

She immediately recognized the man outside, Hank she believes was his name, and gave him a pleasant smile, the one reserved for people she did not particularly like but whom she knew she had to make sure liked her, and greeted him. "Hank. Che ci fai qui così presto? La mamma sta ancora preparando la colazione."

[Hank. What are you doing here so early? Mother is still preparing breakfast.]

"I heard you the first time," Leonard shouter into his pillow. He had heard and prayed they would go away and leave him alone. He was certain he had no appointments scheduled that day. The University didn't make him teach on Tuesdays, and his office hours were, at best, a suggestion only. No one cared where he went or what he did on Tuesdays, which was always what made Monday nights a source of temptation. He opened his eyes. The hateful light of day was a knife across his corneas, and Leonard cursed as he sat upright. At least he'd taken his glasses off before he'd passed out. They were right there, earpieces over the bottle like they were giving it the hug Leonard wanted to. He slid them on his face, pressed them up the bridge of his nose in a familiar gesture, and got up. His shirt didn't stink too badly of sweat, but he'd taken his collar off and couldn't be asked to find a new one to pin on. Besides. No one needed to wear a collar and jacket to answer their own front door first thing in the afternoon.

"What?" he asked, opening the door and bracing himself for the light that would assault his aching head like a battering ram.

Moses turns to greet Hank, hands still pulling in the line he was preparing to stow. The afternoon sun hadn't yet touched the water, so Moses held one hand to his forehead to get a better look at Hank's face. "Permission granted." He is hopeful that this means Mr. A is looking to procure his services again. Despite showing up a bit worse for wear, he had made a valiant effort to secure his last delivery. He offers his guest a hand aboard, knowing Hank isn't one for boats himself.

"What's the word? I wasn't expecting company, but if you're thirsty..." Moses nods to one of the hidden compartments that makes this boat so useful to him.

Serafina

Hank offered a big, friendly smile in return, one that turned slightly confused as Serafina greeted him. He was a short, stout man of Jewish ancestry, with thick glasses and wearing an expensive suit that probably cost as much as Serafina's whole wardrobe. "Ciao, Serafina! You gotta slow down, kiddo. It's hard for us non-natives to keep up at times." Non-natives. Originally made up several different Mediterranean ethnicities, since the 20's Boston's North End was majority Italian-American. The growing influx of Italian immigrants had since turned the North End from the slum it had originally been, and they had taken a great pride in their restoration efforts. "How've you been, kiddo?"

Serafina's mother suck her head out the kitchen door again, a stern look of disapproval on her face as Hank took his hat off and proceeded to hang his coat. "Hank? We don't have the time. I have to go to work and then the girls are leaving for the day."

"Just a cup of coffee, ma'am."

Chiarina rolled her eyes. "Fine. But then you have to leave. The girls have their chores."

Hank's return smile was slightly unnerving. "Serafina's excused from her chores. In fact, I came here to talk to her."

*

The dining room had been cleared for Serafina and Hank. The man sipped his coffee, seemingly oblivious to the tension from Chiarina as she cleared out the breakfast plates, (but not before Hank snatched a pastry), leaving Sera and Rothenstein alone. "So how's your studies going?"


Leonard

Opening the door, Leonard was met by the sight of Harold Rothenstein, "Hank the Fixer." Hank had an uncanny way of finding what you wanted. Booze, gats, girls, legal papers... whatever you needed, Hank could connect you to a guy. Since Leonard's unfortunate change of circumstance, Hank had been a presence in Dr Test's periphery. And here he was at the front door.

"Jeez louise, doc! Crack open a window!" Hank grimaced playfully. "I'd offer you a cigarette but now I'm worried I'd ignite the fumes."


Moses

Hank accepted the proffered hand, stepping aboard Moses' boat. The stout man clearly didn't have his sea legs about him. "Hell, captain, why not? Such a beautiful day for refreshments." As the pair moved towards the cabin, Hank kept talking. "That last job you did? Our mutual friend was very impressed." The man seated himself at the table, hanging his hat on a nearby hook, licking his lips unconsciously at the prospect of a stiff drink.


Isabella

Hank chuckled at Isabella's comment, ordering a gin and tonic. "Would you believe me if I told you I'm here for you?" Hank's expression turned from one of levity to seriousness. "We need to talk about your family, Isabella." The impact of those words was interrupted by Kate sliding Hank's drink to him, earning her a crisp dollar bill from the guy.

She gave him an apologetic smile when he complained about now understanding her speech and nodded, and switched to her accented English as she responded to his query. "I am doing well, Hank, thank you." She stopped talking when her mother appeared, and was about to hand Hank back his hat, before he had talked her mother into letting him stay. So she in stead led him into the dining room, before she brought him his coffee, setting it down in front of him before she sat at the other end of the table.

She did not like Hank. It was not because he was Jewish, well not only because he was Jewish, he just had a way about him that made her skin crawl. She knew enough about the family that she knew that the Giovanni family and the Rothsteins had a closely knit business relationship, but she did not know how. she only hoped that Hank was not here to discuss what she was afraid he was there to talk about, because she did not relish the thought of having to marry this rat-like old man, but with the way he was taking charge with her mother about what she could and could not do, this was where she feared the conversation would go.

She did her utmost not to let any of this show as she sat down with Hank, smiling to him at his question. "I am doing very well, I believe, Hank. My aunt is helping me as much as she can, sending me materials to read and experiment with. And mother is helping me with understanding the job of a secretary, so that I can take on a job like that once I move away from home."

"Hank," Leonard said, genuine pleasure in his face and voice. He stuck out his hand, giving the Fixer a good shake. Hank was a good one. He reminded Leonard of one of his favorite professors from his days as a student in London. That man had been a Jew too. "Why don't you come in old man? I'm sure there's some coffee on the stove."

There was, in fact, a pot of hot coffee ready to go, because Leonard had been about to have his usual breakfast of bourbon and black coffee with a cigarette. He made the same meal for Hank, minus the booze and cigarette, and sat down with the man at his kitchen table. "What brings you around to see an old sinner like me?"

Isabella groaned and put her head in hands, before stopping Kate before she left. She passed her fifty cents, "Whisky neat, make it a double. I'm gonna need it." She waited for the drink to arrive, then took a long pull before putting it down.

"What the fuck do those assholes want, Hank? If it's about work or a husband, I swear to God I'm going to kill someone."

The interior of the boat is well-ordered, well-polished, but also well-worn. Moses wasn't willing to ask his family for the funds for a brand new vessel, and he and Abner agreed that it would be best to keep this one separate from any business records, so he got it himself. It has so far been worth every penny.

Moses takes down a pair of tin cups hanging from pegs, reaches into a concealed panel inside a cabinet, and produces a bottle of whiskey and pours some for both himself and for Hank. Handing one of the cups to his guest, Moses leans against the bulkhead and takes a long, slow sip. "I'm glad Mr. A was pleased with my efforts. Are you here on his behalf?"

Serafina

Hank smiled to himself as Serafina talked about becoming a secretary, as if enjoying some joke at her expense. He took a sip of his coffee and winced as her burned his tongue. Grimacing as he swallowed, he answered. "That's good. Having plans is good, but is that the future you want? Working a desk job when you could be having a family to take care of?" Hank blew on his coffee, not making the same mistake twice, then looked at Sera with a deadpan expression. "Do you think that's the future your aunt wants for you?"


Leonard

Hank Rothenstein had a strong, firm grip, which one'd never expect by looking at the man - he was of a stout build, but hardly a strong man. Hank doffed his coat and hat before he took his seat and eyed the steaming cup of coffee, a bit warily for some reason, before pulling a silver cigarette case from the inner pocket of his jacket. He picked a cigarette out for himself before offering one to Leonard. Producing a matchbook ("WINNERS - FOR THE SMOKER" it announced gaily), Hank struck a match.

"Well, doc. People are concerned." Hank leaned in, looking at Leonard from under his brow. "They helped get you away from that little indiscretion of yours, got you set up here till you got back on your feet... Then what? Is this what you should be doing? Teaching? Those who can't do, teach. Is that you, Lenny?"

Moses

"Ding-ding-ding! Got it it one, cap!" Hank raised his cup in salute to Moses before taking a sip of his own. "Mr. A wanted me to deliver something to you, for a change." Hank reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out an envelope, then stopped before handing it over. "Are you a man of faith, Moses? With a name like that I guess you get that question a lot."


Isabella

Hank chuckled, despite the seriousness of the topic at hand. "Look, I'll tell you what you already know first: Your parents haven't changed their minds. You come home and marry yourself a nice Italian boy, and they won't cut you off from the family fortune any longer." Hank shrugged and took a deep sip of his gin, smacking his lips. "But I'm not here on their behalf. I'm here because Andreas wants you back."

Andreas Giovanni. Isabella's shadowy uncle. While everyone in the family knew Andreas was the shot-caller in the family, few had actually met him, much less spoken to him at any length. He would show up at family functions in the evening, offer a perfunctory nod or greeting, before taking key family members aside to discuss business behind closed doors. As for the business? The Globe called him a "local businessman and philanthropist", which was true. When he arrived in 1920, Andreas had sunk a lot of the family wealth into restoring Boston's North End from the slum it had become to a bustling neighborhood for the Italian-American community. And yet, there was an aura of danger around the man.

Isabella frowned and took a drink as she thought. Andreas? That didn't make any sense. "That's odd. What would he want a disgrace like me for? All I do is be a raging bitch. There's a catch here, but I'll be damned if I can see it from here. Did he say anything about why or what's the idea here?"

Isabella

Hank shrugged his shoulders again. "Andreas cares about the family. 'A house divided against itself', all that jazz. He wants you to come back home, your parents' wishes be damned." Hank reached into his his jacket pocket and pulled out an envelope. "Consider this his olive branch."

Serafina nodded in response to Hank continuing down the line of questioning she expected him to. Nothing he was saying told her she had been wrong in her assumption but she did not want to come right out and tell him so for now so in stead chose to simply answer his questions more directly, looking down at her hands as she spoke.

"Of course, I am sure my husband will want children. Once I am married. But until then any new starting family will need extra income to start out on their own. And once the children are grown, I hope my husband will allow me to go back to working outside the house." She took a pause for a moment and then nodded again in response to his last query. "I am certain Aunt Isabel wants me to be the best I can be, both for the family and for myself."

With the last words she looked up at Hank again, reading his reaction to her words.