The bar Josh's family owned was quite busy most nights of the week, as it sat in the center of the busiest spot in a sleepless city. Tonight, however, it felt as if all of Chicago had packed themselves into the mossy brick walls of House of Gold.
Everyone knew why; it was the first time that the leaders of both the Romanian Mafia and Sicilian Mob were together in one place without a shootout occurring. Nearly every customer they were hosting was either part of the mob or there to see how it all went down.
Uptown folks Josh had never seen before filled every booth and table in the small renovated speakeasy he worked at. Criminals from both sides of the city stood near the stage, drinks in hand and guns on their waist. Regulars like Patrick, Pete, and Debby sat at the bar.
Lucky enough, he was bartending that night, because if he had been waiting tables like his poor sister Ashley, whose mousy brown ponytail he could see bouncing back and forth down the floor, he would've disowned himself then and there. As much as Josh hated serving criminals, he had to if he wanted to survive.
Swing music floated through the alcohol scented air as the regular band kicked the moment happy hour began. Two mob bosses of both sides of the street sat in the center table, all other tables directed away from them.
It was 1940, and the threat of the war waging across the Atlantic hung heavy in the chill February air. The folks of Chicago were scared, and scared they should be. Even with the United States keeping to themselves after the Great War, most people were waiting for the bomb to drop and the draft to start. It wasn't a matter of if, but of when.
Josh was pouring whiskey for a low level mobster a couple hours into his shift when the swing band a flash of sparking red caught his eye. He looked up to see a rich looking lady and fella joining the band on the stage.
Hushed whispers overtook the silence left in the wake of the swing music. Everyone kept glancing from the couple on the stage to the two mob bosses.
The singer was a slender blonde broad in a skin tight sequined dress. It matched the bold cherry color of her lipstick and illuminated to brilliant crystalline blue of her eyes. She wore makeup but not enough to hide her natural beauty. Strings of pearls hung around her pale neck. Her heels made her just as tall as her accompaniment.
If the woman alone was magnetizing, then he was heaven sent. This man oozed confidence, and a single glance over the crowd made people cower in terror. He had a sleek matted suit that matched the color of the singer's. A white rose was pinned to his jacket. His hair, dark like his hungry shark eyes, had been slicked back.
They both looked oddly familiar, though Josh couldn't place it. Perhaps they'd performed at House of Gold before.
As if he felt him staring, the man looked up at Josh, who felt a cold rush of fear wash over him. That was when he finally recognized them. Josh was staring at none other than Tyler Joseph, the oldest son of the Romanian Mafia's leader. The woman was Jennifer Black, the last of the Black Family.
As if a Second World War wasn't petrifying enough, the mobsters had infected what Josh once knew as his home into a city infested with guns, hard liquor, and even harder men. And they were standing in his speakeasy, radiating intimidation and looking around dully as if they owned the place.
The Romanian Mafia, headed by the Joseph family, owned the half of Chicago House Of Gold resided in. Every resident paid fees to the Mafia for protection. Josh could barely feed himself. Every dollar he earned waiting tables went to keep himself from getting killed by rogue gangsters and rent. The only upside to the iron grip the Joseph's had was that they fended off the Sicilian Mob, who, after splitting off from Al Capone's group years ago, developed a taste for blood on the streets.
