Chapter 26: An Interesting Proposal

Chapter 26: Chapter 26: An Interesting Proposal

"Oh god my head~"

Ricky woke up on a plush mattress, surrounded by bottles as he rubbed his tired eyes and took a moment to survey his surroundings.

Eventually, he stumbled off the mattress with the bottles clinking around and made his way to the door, opening it to reveal Booker and his family.

"Looks like you recovered." Booker laughed along with two older people as they watched hysterically while Lucky stumbled over to the open seat.

"Where am I, what happened?" Ricky asked while covering his head in his arms as the scent of bacon and eggs flooded his nostrils.

"PUAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" The old man cracked up hysterically forcing Ricky to cover his ears before the old woman hit the old man's shoulder.

"Can't ya see the poor boy is hurting!" The old woman started beating the man as he held up hands of surender.

"God dammit woman, I get it!" The man held up his arms to stop it.

"Slick, this is my pops Louis Rhodes and the angel right next to him is my mama Marie Rhodes." Booker happily introduced his parents to Ricky who waved.

"Ricky Luciano, but you can call me Slick." Ricky introduced himself as they nodded.

"We know sweet thing, in fact, almost everyone in Harlem knows who you are after what you did." Marie grabbed Ricky's hand with a gracious gaze as Ricky raised an eyebrow.

*DING*

'Nope.' Ricky thought Marie wasn't entirely out of his age range but the face didn't do it for him.

"Yeah I don't remember a single thing, refresh my memory about what I said?" Ricky asked, scratching his head in confusion while Louis sighed heavily as both Booker and Marie cracked up in laughter.

"Damn white boys, always making me lose my money." Louis clicked his tongue, fiddling through his pocket while looking at Ricky raised an eyebrow.

"I ain't nothing against you Slick, but I didn't think you'd be so kind even when you were sober." Louis handed some change to both Booker and Marie as they pocketed it, indicating there was some bet taking place.

'This is kind?' Ricky thought to himself, leaning back in his chair.

"It's fine, so what happened last night?" Ricky asked, seeing Booker patted his shoulder.

"Slick, you've been on a drunken bender for not just a night but for the last two days." Booker informed Ricky who became slack jawed.

"You're kidding." Ricky said incredulously since hadn't had a bender like that in a while.

"If I was in yer shoes I wouldn't believe his black ass either but I ain't no fool, everyone saw and heard what you did." Louis took a bite of bacon, a little grumpy from losing his money before telling Ricky, currently rubbing his head as if that would help him remember.

"Here honey, this will help the hangover." A woman walked over and placed a plate of food as well as a drink beside it.

"Oh Slick, this is my wife Tania Rhodes." Booker introduced as Tania smiled appreciatively at him before going over to kiss Booker's cheek.

"Don't forget to tell him, alright." Tania whispered as Booker adjusted his collar before looking at Ricky eating.

"Alright, I'll start at the beginning."

*Booker First Person POV Of Ricky*

After being sent off following the incident with the Irishmen, I returned about an hour later to find you drinking with some of your family at the bar.

The night progressed until some of the white patrons walked up to you, the new owner, with some complaints.

From what I heard from second hand whispers, they started to complain about some of the blacks coming near their white only section.

However instead of hearing them out, you ignored them until they voiced their complaints louder until you punched one of them after they laid a hand on your shoulder.

What I witnessed next shocked not only me but also your friends since after you beat the snot out of him, you stormed out of the club, only to return somehow with a sledgehammer.

You proceeded to smash all the "white" and "black only" signs while screaming, "BLACKS AND WHITES, IT DON'T MATTER CAUSE YOU'LL BOTH GIVE ME YOUR MONEY!"

At first, I thought you were gonna rob my ass, but color me white and put me in the suburbs as you actually got rid of Owney's 'White Only' policy at the Cotton Club out of pure spite.

I mean, The Cotton Club was originally brought up by Jack Johnson, but those two fire crotches forced him to sell.

But when you started charging not only whites but also letting us blacks in and taking our money, I swear it made me tear up and—

"Alright, alright, I get it. You're thankful, but just get to the f*cking story and why I'm here," Ricky interrupted, stopping Booker's brown-nosing and making him get straight to the point.

*Ahem*

Apologies. Anyhow, you mixed the crowd, which caused clear dissatisfaction with the white patrons.

However, now that you owned all of Owney's nightclubs, you also owned the Stork Club.

So when countless white patrons continued to come over to your section and complained, you became completely angered and said, and I quote, to a disgruntled white boy,

"GO TO THE F*CKING STORK CLUB, B*TCH." Then you spit in his face before jugging another bottle.

Well, needless to say, they did, and only a handful of whites made up the club before the word spread.

However, you weren't simply done since you paid me forty dollars to drive you around the rest of the night, though you continued to drink heavily.

I think it was around midday when you passed out on top of a table at a nearby deli shop and when the owner complained, I promptly told him who you were and he quieted down.

Your friends were also passed out next to you, but unlike you they were having a harder time keeping up with your drinking habits.

A couple of hours later, you woke up and started throwing up which seemed to breathe life into your tired being, and you started parading down the street with only a pair of pants.

You kept grabbing bottles of alcohol and challenging random people to have a drinking competition with you.

However, you usually scared them off and after a while of drinking alone, you started throwing up once more before falling flat on your face.

*Booker First Person POV Of Ricky END*

"Then you passed out so I took you here and let you sleep in the master bedroom." Booker notified him as he nodded while patting his shoulder.

"Well thanks Booker, if you ever need something then all you need to do is ask." Ricky gave him a stern handshake as a reward, gobbling up the rest of the eggs before downing the hangover drink.

"Whoa, that's good." Ricky became surprised at the hangover cure and Tania promptly walked over to fill his plate and give him a refill.

"Slick, if I may, my HUSBAND actually does want something." Tania raised her eyebrows while refilling Ricky's plate.

"U-U-U-U-Uh t-t-t-the thing is I-I-I-I-I-"

"My boy wants to headline at the Cotton club, Slick." Louis shook his head and finished for him as Booker shut his mouth.

"Sure why not." Ricky shrugged while easily offering the coveted spot as Booker showed an enthusiastic smile.

"SLICK I PROMISE I WON'T LET YA DOWN, I'LL BECOME THE BIGGEST TRUMPET PLAYER THAT EVEN LOUIE CAN'T COMPARE TO!" Booker jumped to his feet as Tania hugged him in congratulations.

*Knock*

*Knock*

Two polite knocks sounded on the door, piquing Booker's curiosity as he glanced at the door, momentarily puzzled, before recalling Ricky's expected arrival.

When Booker opened the door, he was surprised to find not a white Italian man, as he had anticipated, but a black man and a woman standing before him.

"Booker Rhodes, correct?" The lavishly dressed black woman asked with a charming smile as Booker's eyes widened.

"M-M-M-M-Madame St. Clair." Booker stuttered out upon seeing the infamous women who gripped Harlem by her delicate hands.

"The one and only." Madame St. Clair smiled as an intimidating man pushed him backwards before gesturing for her to come in.

"Oh Bumpy, be gentle." Madame strolled in while Ricky watched without a care in the world.

"Yes Madam." Bumpy respectfully answered as she walked in front of Ricky before holding out her hand.

"Madame St. Clair, Ricky 'Slick' Luciano I presume?" Madame asked without even the slightest inkling that he would actually shake her hand until he took it with a charming smile.

"The one and only." Ricky winked before kissing her hand which made her raise a curious eyebrow.

*Ding*

[Mission received: Madame St. Clair

Difficulty: Medium

Character Sheet: B

Description: Stephanie St. Clair aka Madame St. Clair is one of, if not the most, notorious individual in the entirety of Harlem and is well respected. Her underground and activist activities keep her busy which has made relationships almost impossible.

Objective: Fill her lonely womb with a plentiful serving which will knock her up.

Missions Received:

Impregnante Madame Once:

Rewards: 200 Gacha or The choice of Madame's skills

"Everything you mean to this community, to little Bumpy over, and all the good you've done up until now won't have mattered since it would all be ruined." Ricky snickered, Bumpy standing helplessly to the side with a guilty expression to the side at the position he had put Madame in.

"I first believe an apology is in order for not only the way my associate acted, but how I conducted myself." Madame promptly apologized, Ricky curiously watching to see what she would respond to his clear threats.

"Slick, I believe we got off onto the wrong foot and I'd like to start over if you wouldn't mind." Madame regained her bearing, knowing where she stood almost immediately as Ricky laughed but shrugged.

"My words were entirely wrong and I not only see the power you hold now, but the compassion I was looking for and would ask for you to graciously overlook my previous ignorance." Madame understood that this situation was delicate yet potentially highly profitable, as her original intentions for coming here could still be realized.

"Sure, why not." Ricky honestly wasn't mad in the least and really didn't care that Bumpy shot him since he provoked him in the first place.

However, there was a reason Madame had come here, and after seeing even Booker recognize her, Ricky genuinely wanted to know what she wanted from him.

Which is what he would tell others but in the shameless reality he found himself in, he simply wanted to ogle at her for a little while longer.

Madame's fair, slim features accentuated her seductive allure, but it was her confidence that captivated Ricky, making it impossible for him to look away.

Her hazel eyes locked onto his, framed by black hair that curled delicately at the ends with a smile that made anyone's heart bubble.

"As you might know, I had a deal with Owney and-"

"Honestly Madame, I don't even remember getting here much less a conversation you had with the guy I shot, and before you say anything else, keep in mind I don't know jack sh*t about Harlem." Ricky interrupted Madame who opened her mouth before closing it, reassessing the matter at hand.

"I think it would be best to say what it is you want from Harlem before going forward." Madame gave the floor to Ricky who nodded.

"I'm going to use those clubs to clean my money, plain and simple." Ricky bluntly told his ambitions to this woman he had just barely met.

"And before we go onto this needless ramble about the color of peoples skin, I really couldn't care less if you're purple or french since the only color I care about is green." Ricky halted any further odd conversations since Booker had alreayd made him bored of these situations.

'French?' Booker thought from the side, looking over to his family only to his father nodding his head.

"Amen." Louis tapped his heart, Booker tried to play off the signaifinace but completely didn't understand what he meant by his words.

Madame smirking at his words, utterly amused by Ricky's background and character while leaning back in her chair.

"I see." Madame rubbed her chin while constantly looking at Ricky with a smile.

"You really don't care that I'm black do you?" Madame genuinely asked with an amused expression as Ricky shrugged.

"Not really no." Ricky replied honestly which even made Bumpy feel a little weird since the most racist group of white men in the city were the jews and Italians, at least to his perception.

"Wow, you're like a unicorn." Madame rested her head on her gloved hand, gazing at Ricky with fascination as he waved his glass, prompting Tania to walk over and fill it.

"Trust me Madame, I was the same way at first but it's the truth, this might be the only mobster to really not see color." Tania gestured to Madame who giggled at her words as she interlaced her fingers in front of her.

"Slick, do you want to know a way you can not only clean your money but also make a boatload of it?" Madame sought to intrigue Ricky which she did as he took two gulps of the hangover cure.

"Hit me, I always want to make money." Ricky motioned for her to start as Madame let out an excited smile.

"Start a bank and let black people deposit as well as take loans." Madame was very enthusiastic as she saw the perfect opportunity right in front of her.

Madame St. Clair is one of, if not the most, noxious black woman in Harlem due to the game known as the 'Numbers Game'.

St. Clair is involved in policy banking, which for her was a mixture of investing, gambling, and playing the lottery.

Many banks at this time would not accept black customers, so they were not able to invest and deposit legally.

Policy banking wasn't technically legal, but it was one of the few options offered to black Harlem residents who wished to invest their money.

It was also a predominantly Black industry which allowed many bankers to have a sense of agency that would not be possible in white-dominated fields and in this way, St. Clair used the underground economy in Harlem to address race politics.

"Ha!" Ricky thought this was the funniest thing ever as Madame waited for him to finish.

"Isn't that illegal-" Ricky suddenly thought, thinking he had heard their was a law aganist it.

"It is only frowned upon, not illegal." Madame quickly corrected making Ricky tilt his head before taking another sip of his drink.

While there were no explicit laws prohibiting black people from banking, in this time they faced significant obstacles due to discriminatory practices by banks and limited access to financial services.

Many banks refused to serve black customers, making it extremely challenging for them to open accounts, access loans, or participate fully in the financial system but also opened up a peculiar opportunity.

"Alright I'll bite, elaborate." Ricky leaned back in his chair as Bumpy was speechless as Madame moved her chair right next to him with an eager smile.

"There is so much profit to be had in a bank that loans out to black folks like ourselves, the days of us being slaves are over, and we make money just like any white man or woman but at the same time, also require the same thing to hold it." Madame quickly started her sales pitch since this might be her only chance to do something that would be unthinkable for their era.

"But instead of banks, many black folks hold their savings in tubesocks, floorboards, and mattresses, which could be safely stored in a bank for a small fee." Madame continued, indicating that other banks were indifferent due to various reasons.

Madame explained to Ricky how the banking industries labeled many black areas and neighborhoods as 'hazardous' and would outright refuse not only black loans but black business loans.

However, this also created an untapped market, as there wasn't a single bank in the area, prompting many black people to engage in the numbers game as a means of accessing financial resources.

The irony was that Madame made a substantial amount of money through the numbers game which had labeled her a crime boss.

But despite her outward persona as a criminal boss, she was inwardly an activist, a true civil rights activist.

"You do know that the mob already has a bank, right?" Ricky shook his head, but Madame quickly sought to dissuade his current through process.

"It wouldn't be structured as a mob bank but would be presented as a bank for all." Madame corrected as Ricky pursed his lips.

"You don't have to make a decision now-" Madame felt nervous, knowing that this idea was going to be shot down and sought to reach a different angle.

"Why not." Ricky shrugged as he stood up along with Madame.

"Pardon?" Madame thought she heard wrong as Ricky started walking towards the door.

"Listen, I'm all for cleaning money but with the current depression, banks are popping up and dying off just as fast." Ricky shook his head, knowing how fragile the banking industry was at the moment.

"But it doesn't matter if you've convinced me since you'll have to convince my pops." Ricky then handed the glass to Tania over at the side.

"However, if you really are dead set on this then follow me." Ricky gestured, his throbbing headache now reduced to a minor annoyance, and decided to bring this intriguing proposal to his father, Lucky.

"A-Are you serious Slick, please don't josh me about something like this." Madame quickly rushed in her high heels after Slick who chuckled.

"Yeah I wouldn't lie, you got a car around here-"

"YES-"

*AHEM*

"I mean yes, I had Bumpy drive me here." Madame's excitement clearly showed through her usual steel faced expression.

"Madam!" Bumpy screamed in low whispers while grabbing the over excited Madame.

"Are you really going to trust that freak?" Bumpy asked, his eyes filled with clear worry, but Madame pried herself free from his grip.

"Well if he can trust a negro like myself then I'll give my all to this so-called 'freak'." Madame spoke in a sassy tone before hurriedly catching up to Ricky.

"You should take any proof you might have with us." Ricky informed Madame who quickly shook her head.

"Of course, we'll drop by my office but I have numerous documents to back up my words." Madame quickly informed while entering the elevator with him.

"Oh and I also have one more condition." RIcky suddenly said as Madame nodded her head.

"Anything-"

"Have dinner with me."

"Of course-what?" Madame immediately agreed before realizing Ricky's words.

"Have dinner with me." Ricky's reassuring words made Madame laugh.

"Honey I'm twice your age-"

"Then let me make you feel young again." Ricky smiled, inching closer to Madame who raised an eyebrow before patting his chest.

"Fine kid, I'll let you take me out to dinner." Madame spoke once Bumpy entered the elevator as it closed.

"B-Boss?" Booker spoke out from the end of the hallway as Ricky waved.

"See you when you headline at the club tonight and if you tell anyone about what happened earlier, I'll kill you!" Ricky waved with a smile as Booker nodded while holding a thumbs up.

"YOU CAN COUNT ON ME BOSS-wait what?" Booker excitedly jumped up and down before freezing in place after registering his words.

The door closed abruptly, cutting off Ricky's sentence and prompting laughter from both him and Madame, who patiently waited for the elevator.

Bumpy drove Ricky and Madame to her office first, where she instructed Ricky and Bumpy to each carry a stack of papers while she took a briefcase.

Ricky's presence helped them navigate through mafia territory, and he barged into Lucy's office without hesitation.

Lucky, unfazed by Ricky's abrupt entrance, didn't look up from his papers since while Ricky had been on his bender, Lucky had been busy acquiring actual ownership of the Stork and Cotton Club for the family.

"Glad you're here Slick, the clubs have been put in your names-who are these cats?" Lucky informed Ricky though showed a surprised expression as he saw Madame St. Clair and Bumpy.

"Pops, let's start a bank."