She left and brought him his pill and a glass of water, then went downstairs to get him a brandy. When she came back he was stretched out on the chaise longue. She gave him the brandy then got out her horoscope book. She read to him and told him that really there wasn’t anything to worry about. It was all there in the stars—really there wasn’t a thing to worry about at all.
“What about Nick?” he asked finally, when she was done telling him that really there wasn’t anything to worry about. “What’s it say for Nick?” he asked.
She looked up Nick in the horoscope and said there really wasn’t anything to worry about Nick. After all, Nick was a Leo. A lion, truly. Really that was why Nick and Old Pete argued. Not because they didn’t love each other but because Old Pete was an Aries and Nick was a Leo. They were bound to argue.
“I don’t care what the stars say,” Old Pete said. “The stars will help you, sure. But you gotta help yourself, too. You gotta help the stars to help you. That’s what worries me.”
“Nick’s a good boy.”
“You don’t understand, dolly. I’m looking for his future. For his place in the business world. People aren’t the same in the business world. You gotta be able to take care of yourself. What does he know about taking care of himself? He never worked. He didn’t learn the hard way like I did. You gotta have experience.”
“Yes, Pete. How do you feel?”
“A little better,” he said sipping on the brandy. “The Greeks make the best brandy in the world,” he said. “I wonder if that kid delivered that brandy to John Rakis down in Atlanta.”
“Nickie will deliver it.”
“If he’d marry that girl he’d be set. Set, I tell you,” he said and pounded his fist down onto the arm of the chaise longue.
“Be calm, Pete. Calm now. I’ll go to church today and have a mass said for our special intention. The success and happiness and marriage of our son.”
“Will you, Dolly?” he said. “Will you?” the tears began to come into his eyes.
She moved up the chaise longue and put her arms around him and he cried softly for a moment, then he gently pushed her away and gulped down the brandy, then set the glass on the night table and took her in his arms and kissed her passionately on the mouth.
“Oh, Pete, Pete,” she said. “It’s only five thirty.”
“I know it,” he said. “I know it.”
“Are you sure you feel all right, Pete?” she said, holding his head in her hands now and kissing his cheeks and eyes and ears. “Are you sure, Pete?”
“Yes, Dolly. Yes,” he said. “I feel fine. Fine,” he said. “Lock the door. Lock the door.”
And she got up and went to the door and locked it.
Charlie Stratos, the Elder, had arrived home late the night before. His wife and daughter had already gone away to the country for the summer and he was glad that he was alone. He went out to the kitchen and took some Greek cheese from the icebox and put it on the kitchen table. Then he made a sauce of olive oil, vinegar, salt and pepper and put several pieces of dry bread in the toaster. He ate the milky white soaked-in-brine goat’s cheese sloppily breaking it off with his fingers and stuffing it into his mouth, then would dip the dry rye toast into the olive oil and vinegar and stuffed that in his mouth with the cheese until his mouth was so full he could hardly chew. Sitting there, enjoying himself thoroughly, with his hands all covered with goat’s cheese and the pockmarked area around his mouth covered with cheese, and the sweat pouring from his face because he had forgotten to take off the old gray imitation flannel suit coat that he had worn for over three weeks now and which was much too warm a suit for this time of year. He was really very glad that his wife and daughter were in the country and that he had the apartment all to himself and really thoroughly enjoying the milky white soaked-in-brine goat’s cheese and dry rye toast with oil and vinegar. It had been a long day, and a long evening in a secret meeting.
There was actually, as he stuffed his mouth, a wry quarter smile of satisfaction on his face. Had he realized this he would have been considerably shocked. He did not smile. He had never, since he was a child, smiled. When he had had the chicken pox when he first came to this country complications had set in and he had lost all his teeth except two in front. It was three years before he had ever gotten the money to buy teeth. Other Greek boys had made jokes about him being toothless, and ugly, and he had lost three jobs as a delivery boy because the customers had complained he might be diseased. Finally, he had gotten a job working in a nickelodeon for an old Greek on the promise that he would not smile, and because he was the only one that would take the small amount of pay the old Greek was offering. He did not want to work for such meager wages because he didn’t have a chance to save hardly a thing, but he had to have the job and the Greek said if he would sweep out the place every night he could stay and sleep on the floor in the back room by the alley. Since that time no one could ever remember having seen him smile.
After he got the teeth things were no better for him. His mother and father were too poor to support his younger brother and had stowed him away on a ship and sent him to him. He got permission from the old Greek for George to sleep in the back with him. George was too young to work and, besides, couldn’t speak any of the language. That was when Charlie had begun to steal. At first it was just food to eat. Then he had begun burglarizing restaurants and groceries and sweet shops in the cheap neighborhood where the nickelodeon was near Maxwell Street. He never told George anything of these forays. Finally he began to steal some of the receipts from the nickelodeon and the old Greek caught him and beat him until his face was swollen almost twice its size. And beat George up, too. George never did understand what the beating was about, being only eight years old at the time. Charlie had told him it was because the old Greek had gone crazy but, for some reason, George would never believe the old man was really crazy.
They moved out of Chicago then. Charlie bought his own nickelodeon in Calumet City with the money he had stolen and saved. They went broke in sue months. Charlie took the first of the three bankruptcies he was to take. He began to steal again. He bought a lease to a theatre in Indiana and sent George to grade school there and George worked in the theatre after school. They bought their own pictures, ran their own cameras, sold and took their own tickets, cleaned up at the end of day, did all their own repairs and lived in an old dressing room backstage. At the end of six months the theatre began to show a profit. He bought a lease to another theatre in Gary on time. He wanted lots of theatres and couldn’t wait. He didn’t seem to care what he looked like any more or whether or not he smiled if he had lots of theatres. He would be a big man. He would show them all. Every one of them. Everyone who had laughed at him and made fun of him. He bought a third theatre before he had paid for the second one. There was a slight recession. He couldn’t meet his rents and payments and went broke again.
He salvaged the receipt money for several days before the sheriff closed him up. He took this money and went into partnership with Lou Duck in a bawdy house in Calumet City. (The beginning of an enduring friendship.) Young George didn’t know anything about the bawdy house. Charlie made him stay in school and study hard. He knew that some day George’s education might come in handy. After six months of running the bawdy house he and Lou Duck sold out to some pimps from around the First Ward. Lou opened a restaurant and Charlie heard of a theatre down in Paris, Illinois, and went down there and bought it. Then he began to expand again. And again too rapidly. And he went broke. Then borrowed some money from Lou Duck who was already back in the bawdy house business and then Charlie started all over again and was doing fine until the crash came.
Now Charlie wondered why he was so hungry. He couldn’t remember having been so hungry in years. He got up from the kitchen table and wiped his huge flat nose with a soggy old handkerchief, then opened the icebox door and took out another piece of cheese. He had eaten over half a pound already. He sat back down with the milky white cheese an
d broke another piece off with his fingers and stuffed the big piece into his mouth, then stuffed some more toast soaked in the oil-vinegar sauce in his mouth, wondering if he ought to tell his young brother about the secret meeting he had had that night with the Irish financier, Paddy Crowley. That was something he would have to give a lot of thought to—telling George. After all, he was doing this for George too. Although George might not like the idea, being young and soft-hearted and inexperienced as he was. But George, too, stood to make a lot of money if they could take Old Pete out of the business which, he thought with a wild excited hunger, they might be able to do without Old Pete even knowing he was being taken out, he thought even more excitedly. Of course that would make Paddy Crowley a partner of theirs. At least for a few years it would. And Paddy was no fool. No man come from hod carrier to investment finance house man worth over five million in twelve years was anybody’s fool. In spite of his heavy brogue and the way he drank and would sometimes even fight, all six-foot-seven sixty years old of him, still fight and brawl in the Irish bars on the West Side.
It was really some plan, he thought so satisfyingly. Jesus but that cheese is good. I think I’ll have another piece. And some more toast, too. And got up and went to the icebox for the cheese and put some bread in the toaster and made some more sauce and wiped the perspiration from his pock-marked forehead with the soggy old handkerchief and blew his wide nose and sat back down
Sitting there he was really quite pleased with himself. It was really pleasing to know that you were capable of formulating such a plan as he had presented to Paddy Crowley this very evening. And the amazing thing about it, the goddamn truly amazing thing about it was that it was such a very simple plan, as most good plans were (he was beginning to learn), a plan preying only on the greed of Old Pete Stratton. And if that wasn’t living proof that Old Pete Stratton wasn’t exactly what I have suspected for some time—greedy—I mean if he takes this which, if I know him at all, it is almost one hundred percent that he will take it would only be because of his greed for money, his greed for more power. One thing for sure, Charlie Stratos said to himself, is he won’t be thinking about anybody but himself when it comes time to think about taking the deal.
The amazing thing was—how simple it was, he chewed. So really amazingly simple: And really amazing, absolutely amazing that he hadn’t thought of it before, it was so simple, he thought going over it again.
Of course it would take time. It would take at least a year to pull it off. Maybe more. And he wasn’t absolutely committed to Paddy Crowley. I mean things can happen in a year. Like maybe my daughter and Nick. Now if they got together it would put a whole different picture, he thought in English in that inarticulate way of his. I could handle that kid. He wouldn’t be hard to handle. And maybe he would be a real help to the business instead of what Old Pete wanted to make of him: a flunky of himself. A nice kid like that deserved better than what Old Pete had in store for him. Damn if he didn’t. If Old Pete knew how to handle that kid it wouldn’t be no trouble matching him with my daughter. Then we’re one big family. One family. Then there wouldn’t be nothing for us to be afraid of each other anymore But you can’t handle that kid that way. He’s a hothead. And that’s no way to handle a hothead, the way Old Pete does.
It was really too bad about Old Pete. He meant well, all right. But you couldn’t let the business go to hell just because he meant well, Charlie Stratos told himself. You couldn’t miss all those opportunities waiting for him to make up his mind. Sure, he knew real estate. He knew a good buy on a piece of property when he saw it. And he was a great cabaret man. But what does that have to do with the theatre business? God, Charlie Stratos said to himself, remember a few years back when we were running vaudeville through Indiana—what a hell of a time we had with Old Pete, always trying to get us to book them old time acts that were on the skids. God, he about drove us crazy.
Besides, could they trust Old Pete? Everyone knew how Old Pete Stratton was. Old Pete was no fool. He didn’t help us out at that Gary jail ‘cause he was friendly. Everybody knows that. He wanted to get in the theatre business, that’s why he helped us outa there. Old Pete knew the cabaret business was over, at least the great cabaret days. And he knew we knew this business. So he did himself a favor, too, didn’t he? Didn’t he? Ha! I’ve made him a fortune since I’ve been with him. A small fortune. No, you couldn’t trust Old Pete Stratton. He didn’t become just about the most famous Greek in America being good to people. And associating with all those hoodlums, besides. God, Charlie said to himself, I gotta family to protect. I wouldn’t want my daughter to grow up thinking I was partners with any gangsters. The way I’ve worked for my family. It would kill me if my daughter ever thought that her father associated with anyone that associated with gangsters.
Well, he chewed, it was a hell of a plan. And if Old Pete had to go he had to go. Besides, he’d be getting a hell of a price. A hell of a price, when you come to think of it, for all the work that he put into it. But what a plan, Charlie thought again excitedly. And I’m the only one that can pull it off. Of course, I’ll need some help from George. But I could get that help from George without him even knowing it. That is if I handled it right.
All I would have to do to begin with is to buy some bad pictures. Make some bad buys. Of course, I couldn’t do it all at once. It would take time. Just a bad buy here, one there, until the business began to take a drop. Maybe over a year’s time. At least a year so that it wouldn’t, couldn’t possibly look suspicious. Of course, Old Pete will be the first one to begin to worry. He always worried—Me, I’ll play like I’m not worried at all. At least at first I’ll play that way to Old Pete. But if George isn’t in on it I’ll worry like hell to him secretly and tell him not to tell Old Pete, Charlie calculated, a one-quarter grin of satisfaction on his face again, knowing that if he did worry like hell to George secretly (and George wasn’t in on it) that Old Pete was bound to get it out of George eventually. George was such a sucker that way. Then suddenly when Old Pete comes to me and asks me am I really worried, asks me as if he knows I’m worried, I will tell him—yes—after all I go broke three times in this business.
About that time Paddy Crowley walks in with a big offer to buy us out. I remind Pete again about how quick you can go broke in this business and say I am convinced I would like to sell out, and, besides, just to flatter him a little (God what a sucker he is for a little flatter) I say I want to put my money in sound things, like he, Old Pete, has—like real estate. And would Old Pete, if they did sell out and get all that money, maybe go into real estate with them, Charlie and George. At least help them to learn a little about real estate. Of course, Old Pete would take the deal. He would have to take the deal. He couldn’t possibly resist taking the deal if they offered a million four hundred thousand like Paddy said they would be willing to offer. The sound of a million four hundred to Old Pete with a sinking business on his hand was bound to be too much for him. In fact, Old Pete would probably experience great joy by the very idea of selling such a smart man as Paddy Crowley a lemon—So they sell out.
Paddy’s got a man on the west coast, he tells them, an old theatre man, and he’s bringing him in to run the theatres when he takes over. Then, he thought still chewing satisfyingly and with a quarter smile of satisfaction on the mouth that it was almost impossible to have a quarter smile of satisfaction on because of the huge amount of food held in by it, then just as the deal is completed Paddy’s man decides he isn’t going to take it and Paddy asks the Stratos brothers to stay on at a salary for a year to do the buying and managing of the theatres. Of course, Charlie balks at this at first. He asks Old Pete his advice, then Paddy keeps raising the salary offer and reluctantly the Stratos brothers decide to stay on and work for Paddy until he finds the man he wants. Naturally, Old Pete wouldn’t become suspicious of this. There wasn’t going to be anything to become suspicious of because Paddy was actually going to go so far as to really line up a man on the west coast. A
nd Old Pete wouldn’t be suspicious because he wasn’t asked to stay because Old Pete knew his position at Interstate was to hold the purse strings and that Paddy Crowley, being a finance man, would naturally want to hold onto his own purse strings.
So Charlie and George Stratos stay on at Interstate. They not only stay on but have a secret under-the-table deal with Paddy Crowley to buy back all their stock any time within five years for whatever price Paddy paid, which any time during five years would give the Stratos brothers control, he grinned almost a half-grin as he visualized the lettering on the office doors. Stratos Theatres. No, STRATOS CIRCUIT. That was it. THE STRATOS CIRCUIT. With Paddy’s money behind them, God knows how far they would go.
And the ironic thing was, Charlie thought happily, Green would be in on the whole deal. Lawrence Green, Pete’s good friend, would be in on the whole deal with Paddy Crowley because Paddy Crowley never made a deal without Lawrence Green. Only, probably, according to Paddy Crowley, Lawrence wouldn’t know about the secret agreement between Paddy and the Stratos brothers. And, Paddy had said, by the time he did find out he wouldn’t be mad at all, especially if they made as big a success of the business as they planned. That was the way Lawrence Green was, Paddy had said, not about to get mad at anyone that withheld something from him as long as it made him money, the Irishman had winked and belted another half glass of Irish whiskey. God, it was terrible the way he drank. And chased women. And kept late hours.
God, he said to himself looking at his watch, it’s after twelve. I’d better get some sleep. I’ve got a hell of a long day tomorrow. I’d better make a note about getting Pete’s niece a wedding present. Something real nice. After all, we’re partners and all the Greeks know we’re doing good. They’ll expect us to give a big present. I shoulda had my wife get it before she went away. Maybe a nice diamond bracelet. Sure. From me and young George, together. I’ll spend maybe twenty-five hundred, three grand for a nice bracelet. I’ll go down to that loan bank. I know that Jew for years. He’ll give me a nice buy. He’s one hell of a Jew, that loan bank Jew. He really made some big money in that little store. No overhead, that’s why he made it, Charlie Stratos thought getting up. He didn’t clean off the table. Just turned off the light and walked down the hallway thinking maybe the bracelet he could get from the Jew would cost probably around six grand in a regular store. That would make a hell of a present for Old Pete’s niece. In the bedroom he took off his suit and laid it carelessly on the bedroom chair and took off the shirt that he had worn for three days and examined it and decided that he could get another day’s use out of it at least. And finally got into bed thinking that he would probably dream all night after eating all that cheese and toast, then set the alarm on the night table for five thirty in the morning and turned out the light and was asleep, snoring loudly, in a few minutes.
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