poly_chromatic | 9th Opportunity

Entry tags:

boardwalk empire - meyer lansky

9th Opportunity :: Action/Video

[Meyer doesn't always take a day off work. In fact, this is his first day off since the casino opened. That's why, on this lovely afternoon, he's wandering a little aimlessly now, cigarette in hand, looking for something to pass the time that isn't work.

For awhile, he wanders around the area by the fountain, occasionally stopping to sit down and write something down in a tiny spiral bound notebook, then standing up and wandering again. After awhile, though, he seems to get bored, and turns on the video to ask a question -- or rather, make a proposition.]

I'm going for drinks. Does anyone want to come?

[It may be a bit early in the day for drinking, but it's his day off -- this is what people do on their days off, right? With that question posed to the entire City, he strolls off in search of a bar that has relatively inexpensive and plentiful alcohol.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[If she wasn't completely drunk, she wouldn't throw herself at him in an attempt to hug him, the table wobbling and wine spilling from their glasses as she puts her arms around him, not so much as to comfort him as that she needs it herself.]

The pictures that came out of those places... Whatever you think hell is like, it's worse. And I know things were bad in Russia then, and I don't mean to trivialise anything your family went through either. ...Or mine.

[She adds that almost as an afterthought, the Flint side of the family is still something quite distant to her, although since she'd been forced to confront other aspects of it thanks to the House Committee, she'd been thinking about it a lot more again. The Fleigs - they'd changed it to Flint on arriving at Ellis Island - escaping the pogroms in Lithuania, the hopeful immigrants to America. She wished she could identify with it more.]

[Very few people feel inclined to hug him, and he's somewhat taken aback when she does, although he doesn't back away from it as he might if he weren't drunk and not thinking clearly. In fact, he doesn't even notice the fact that some of the spilled wine has dripped from the table onto his pants, something that would hugely irritate him were he sober.]

I'll see it all for myself soon enough.

[Truthfully, he has no idea whether he'll be alive in twenty years to see the next war and the devastation that comes out of it. That's not something he thinks about, or at least, tries not to. Being confronted with the future does force you to consider where you'll be when that future happens, however.]

What my family went through was no better or worse than what any other family went through in that time and place. Yours included, I'm sure.

[He can afford to be stoic about it now. New York hadn't been ideal, not by a longshot, but it had been far, far better than Grodno ever had; even when he'd been very young he'd known that.]

[It suddenly clicks in her head that she's drunkenly hugging her boss and she sits up, rather sheepishly, reaching over for the wine.]

You'll be safe in America, just make sure you don't get any idiotic notions about going over and helping out like I did.

Yeah, but that doesn't make it right. I'm just glad you got out of there.

I wouldn't go back even if they deported me.

[That whole... not actually an American citizen yet thing? Yeah. He finally notices the wine on his trousers and dabs ineffectively at it with a napkin, shaking his head.]

Good. [She hesitates, feeling like she's betraying some grand secret, but she's divulged enough already, she's sure it can't hurt.] ...Well, you're still around in 1952, at least. If I haven't screwed up the space time continuum somehow by telling you all this, anyway.

How do you know?

[Regardless of whether he's pleased by that information or not -- he is, with the caveat that he hopes he's both alive and not in prison -- he's confused as to how she'd know it.]

I was born and raised in New York City, you really think I've never heard of you? It just took a while to make the connection, that's all. You're so ... young.

Yeah, yeah, people keep reminding me how young I...

[There's a long pause as his brain finally catches up to what she means by that.]

You've heard about me in what context?

I mean, you're mostly just a name in the newspapers to me, but you're definitely one of the names I'd associate with gangsters. Even if you make it sound far less glamorous than the movies want me to think it is.

[He can't help but laugh at the absurdity of all of it. He's kept his name out of the newspapers for the most part so far, but apparently, almost thirty years on -- at the age of fifty, which is almost inconceivable to him -- he's being talked about.]

What others names would you associate with gangsters?

Al Capone. [That's an almost instant reply, although it's still said as though it's the name of a complete stranger.] Lucky Luciano. Any character ever played by James Cagney. And that guy who fixed the World Series.

Have you told Al that? You don't want him to get fuller of himself than he already is.

[Yes, he just assumes she knows that she works with him.]

So he finally got people calling him "Lucky." Figures.

[Oh. The guy who fixed the World Series. Not his favorite person at the moment.]

That's AR -- Arnold Rothstein.

[A moment as she figures that out.]

You're kidding.

[She sounds way too excited, like she would be if she worked out that she knew a movie star or something.]

This is so surreal. I mean, of course you know these people - apart from Jimmy Cagney, I mean - but still.

Yeah, you know the only reason I know him? The Great Gatsby is my favourite book, and there's a character based on him. Not a very flattering one.

I'm not kidding. Like I said, he has a high opinion of himself. Don't inflate it much further.

[He's a little amused at her excitement. These are just people he works with. ~~One of them may be his gangster husband, but still.~~]

I've never heard of The Great Gatsby...

[Probably because it doesn't exist yet...]

... but I can't say I'm surprised there's a character based on him in something.

But-- but he's Al Capone. [She's not sure she's doing a good job at conveying just how impressive this is.] I don't know, who's a famous historical figure from when you were a kid? Imagine Theodore Roosevelt was tending bar at the place you work, okay?

I'm sure they have a copy in the library here. It's definitely worth a read, although I end up crying every time I go back to it. ...Not that I think a book would make you emotional. [Especially since some of the other things they'd talked about tonight hadn't.]

[A nod of acquiescence.]

Admittedly, that would be strange. I can see your point.

[Although he's not sure exactly when Al became a famous historical figure. Last time he checked, he was like the rest of them -- an up and coming gangster, fighting to find his own niche in the world.]

I can't say books make me emotional, no. I'll look into it, though.

[He does enjoy reading, after all.]

Excellent. Something else to do with your time off.

[She picks up the bottle to top off their glasses, and is almost confused to find it empty. She certainly doesn't feel anywhere near as rough as she thinks she ought to after three martinis and two bottles of wine, but she's not complaining, it just means she can drink more.]

[He's surprised the bottle is empty, too. They can't possibly have gone through that much alcohol so quickly, but apparently they have, and he's not even falling down drunk yet.]

Reading, learning to swear in other languages, getting drunk... sure, I think I'll keep myself occupied.

That sounds more or less like my idea of fun, anyway.

You like singing, too, but I don't think I'll be taking that up anytime soon.

Well yeah, but that's my job. Even if I do still have to practise every day on my days off. And I'm sure you've got a lovely voice. How many more bottles of wine would it take for me to hear it?

[He considers this very seriously for a moment.]

Probably one more.

Challenge accepted.

[She strikes a match on the side of the table and lights another cigarette as a fresh bottle is delivered.]

You don't want to hear it. Really. It'll offend your sensibilities.

[He lights a cigarette, too, laughing slightly.]

With how much we've drank tonight, I'm sure neither of us will remember it in the morning anyway.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject