Chapter 17
Hi everyone, I have reached over 400 people collecting this story, with over 150,000 views. So I just want to give a shout-out to all of you who follow me and say thank you. It means a lot that you all enjoy the story. In fact, as it stands, this is my number one story out of the three I have started.
Now I am going to jump right in to answering some questions and whatnot left in comments.
Poposwitch, she is a truth, American profiteer, I mean patriot. You can just feel she bleeds green…. I mean red, white, and blue.
D_eta015 I hear you on the pacing, it's just hard to do as there is so much to cover between here and there. I tried to add some more discussion and planning scenes as well as interactions because you don't want to forget about the characters.
VeggieBlue21, that is a great idea. I looked him up, and he is perfect. I put it in my notes. Stephanie St. Clair is also a good pick. She can be very useful in getting black talent to work for her, as well as going after the KKK when Ruth pushes south. Plus, I can add her fairly easily, as Ruth's connections to the Mob run deep through her father. I plan to make it clear that the most successful woman in the world follows Ruth's example rather than that of an extreme feminist. Again, her rep is mixed with the movement as she forwards it, but at the same time, they don't think she did enough.
Okay, I think that is everything except for one thing. I have already chosen the next song for Ruth's follow-up single, but I need a side B. I feel it is too early for her to do anything politically, but she wants something more upbeat. Money-that is all I want seems like a good pick. Up tempo but not too far out there. Thoughts?
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"Jake was a good man. He was in my life for only a short time, but he was one of the few genuinely good individuals I have ever encountered. The impact he made on me and on the film industry cannot be overstated. Without him, *Raging Bull* would not have been possible. I will just come out and say it, he was perhaps one of the first great, if not the greatest, Method actors of all time." - A Dream Come True by Ruth "Morris Lucky" Luciano.
-1940-
-Ruth POV-
As I stepped into the meeting room, the boys and Orson were already waiting for me. I smiled and said, "Sorry, I'm late, everyone. I couldn't find a dress that matched my shoes."
Groans filled the room, and Toby remarked, "Yes, because you don't have like a dozen other dresses or shoes you could have changed into."
His tone was mocking, but I just smiled and replied, "I did consider that, but it would have taken another couple of hours, along with a new hairstyle. I didn't want to be rude and keep you all waiting, so I settled for this."
"Settle, she says," Orson said, shaking his head.
If this was Ruth's idea of settling, he genuinely feared what she looked like when she tried to look her best. Right now, she was wearing a form-fitting red pantsuit that showcased her curves perfectly. With a matching beret and her hair styled in soft curls, she was a vision that would stop anyone in their tracks and make them do a double-take.
"Did you say something, Mr. Welles?" I asked with a teasing smile.
"Nothing, Miss Luciano," Orson replied, returning my playful smile of his own.
We both chuckled before I took my seat and said, "So, let's get started. Orson, are you ready to go?"
Knowing it was time to discuss business, Orson responded, "Everything is set with the actors. Jenny is a joy to work with and quite easy on the eyes if you know what I mean."
I couldn't help but laugh as I agreed.
"However, the set design is lagging behind, but we're not at the point where it will impact our release date just yet," Orson said.
"Can I ask what the holdup is?" I inquired.
"Most of it's about the effects. Since you refused to buy asbestos for the snow effects, we are left using paper and soap as you suggested, but that takes time to prepare." Orson says with a frown.
Orson wasn't particularly pleased with Ruth's interference in his production, but he accepted it because it was the only issue on which she stood firm. He didn't quite understand why, but in exchange for complete control over the rest of the filming, it was a minor concession he was willing to make.
I can't help but smile at this. I understand why Orson was frustrated; I didn't like being micromanaged either. However, I was concerned that my employees' health would be at risk, so I explained to him that asbestos was dangerous, based on a paper I had read. Which was only partly true, as the past me had watched a documentary about asbestos that went into great detail on how harmful it could be to the human body. Of course, with this being the 1940's, Orson, along with the Boys, didn't fully believe it, seeing as it was used everywhere, but as a woman, I was able to play it off as the mother hen worried about her chicks. In their mind, they would have better luck telling me the sky was green instead of blue, so Orson, along with the Boys, reluctantly agreed to no longer use it, which was good enough for me for now.
Moving on, I ask, "What about the miniature models?"
"Things are actually going really well. You were right; hiring college students was the right decision," Orson said.
"And it saves costs," Sam replied, noting something down.
Orson nodded in agreement. He wasn't primarily focused on cutting costs, especially since he had a million-dollar budget at his disposal—far more than he had anticipated. But then again, Ruth was full of surprises. He was also surprised that the movie was being filmed in color, something he hadn't expected. Additionally, he had permission to exceed the budget if necessary. Ruth wasn't kidding when she said she prioritized quality films over cheaply made ones.
While most of the crew on set, including makeup artists and other staff, were fresh out of college or still in school, they all had something to prove. They were very receptive to new ideas, and many of them had their own concepts to help bring his vision for *Citizen Kane* to life.
"Good. And how is the HLS-1 functioning? Any problems?" Ruth inquired.
At the mention of the HLS-1, Sam frowned. He was unhappy about having to accommodate that particular expense. He was willing to admit that the new film camera had its merits. Being seven percent smaller and lighter than the current model on the market, he didn't believe the 'Hedy Lamarr Special', as it was called, was worth the $5,000 investment. If anything, he considered it a novelty and nothing more.
"It is impressive. I still can't believe Miss Lamarr managed to make it so lightweight without sacrificing the film's quality. I can already think of several ways to use it," Orson said with a wide smile.
Orson had met Hedy on multiple occasions and, like Ruth, had recognized her intelligence. That said, if asked, he wouldn't have believed that she was capable of building her own movie camera. Nonetheless, build one that was slightly better than those currently available. It was a humbling moment when he was told she had done exactly that, and he quickly realized what Hedy had done in reducing the camera's weight. After all, while seven percent may not seem like much, it opened many new possibilities in filmmaking. It genuinely intrigued him to consider what else she might accomplish.
I shared Orson's perspective, even though I wasn't fully aware of his thoughts. I was also contemplating innovative ways to use the lighter HLS-1 camera. Unfortunately, due to our limited time, I had only managed to have three custom units made so far, but I was already in the process of commissioning more. I was pleased that I had hired Hedy as an independent contractor; she was already proving to be a wise investment. One that MGM had no idea they possessed. While it was true that the HLS-1 was more expensive to produce than other cameras on the market, the patent alone justified the cost. Hedy had undoubtedly demonstrated her brilliance as a technological genius.
I already knew this from the documentaries that my other self had watched, but seeing it in action was different. In just three short months, while working on the set of 'Boom Town', she had developed the HLS-1. It was impressive and gave me all the reasons I needed to give her an additional $10,000 to enhance it. If things went well, she might be able to create something to replace the Bell & Howell camera, which had been used to film most of World War II. It might be a long shot, but even a camera on par with it could be sold to the U.S. military for a substantial profit.
That can wait; right now, I need to focus on the present. "I am right there with you, Orson. Just be careful with it. Both *Citizen Kane* and *Raging Bull* will really test the HLS-1. We've filmed some shots with them, but we still don't know how well it will hold up."
Giving me a mocking salute, Orson responds, "You got it, boss."
"Speaking of *Raging Bull*, how are things going on your end, Toby?" Raimondo asks.
With his hands behind his head and looking very relaxed, Toby says, "Things are going well. Dealing with pro boxers is much easier than working with actors. They're not afraid to take a hit and know what looks good versus what looks fake."
I reply, my tone a bit worried, "You're taking precautions, right? I mean, they may not be scared to get hit, but I don't want them getting injured before we even start filming."
After all, the men of this era are quite different from those of the 21st century. I wouldn't say they're tougher—it wouldn't be fair to compare them to a generation that has grown up in peace. Both Joe and Jake experienced the hardships of the Great Depression and witnessed the aftermath of World War I. They faced unfair labor practices and lived without safety nets. It's a reality that 21st-century men simply don't know. So, while I won't label them as tougher, I would call them bullheaded. Their willingness to put themselves on the line for a job makes me more than a little concerned that they might take things too far.
Waving me off, Toby said, "Don't worry about it, Ruth. Joe has some experience from his movie 'Spirit of Youth,' and Alan is helping as well."
I nodded and responded, "Good. How about the other actors with fight scenes?"
"They are coming along too, but a bit slower than Joe and Jake. That's because they are just actors, not actual fighters," Toby answered.
Just then, Orson interjected, "I have to ask a question, and I want to apologize in advance if I offend you, Raimondo, but is the death of your father going to be a problem in any way? I read in the paper that you are currently under investigation for the murder."
At first, Raimondo didn't say anything, but his jaw did clench, and his face took on a grim expression. He wasn't angry. Not really, anyway, but the question did unsettle him somewhat. Mostly because it reminded him of the troubles he was now facing at home, his mother, bless her soul, had struggled to cope with his father's death. She had become nearly catatonic, speaking to no one and hardly eating. Her tired, fearful eye had turned hollow. He had always hoped that when his father died, she would finally be free of him, but the damage his father had inflicted on her ran deep, and he wished to believe. The once-beautiful woman he remembered from his childhood was truly lost and had been for a long time.
Taking a deep breath, Raimondo replied, "It's just a formality. The police are aware of the fight I had with him several months ago. With no suspects, they are grasping at straws. Unfortunately for them, I was in meetings all day when he was killed."
"Is there any chance his debts could follow you?" Orson asked. He understood how mobsters operated; they typically didn't stop just because the person who owed them money had died. Instead, they often went after the family at that point.
I responded for Raimondo, saying, "None. I've already talked with some friends, and while they have no idea who did it, they assured me that his debt died with him."
At this, Orson nodded. He knew about my connections—everyone did—so he recognized that what I said was true.
"Okay, with that out of the way, Raimondo, how are negotiations going with the distribution?" I asked.
Letting out a sigh of frustration, Raimondo replied, "It's just as you predicted, Ruth. The independent theaters are no longer interested in a flat rate for our showings. They want a percentage instead."
"Fucking leeches," Toby interjected angrily. "Those motherfuckers are still making money from screening the copies of 'Shane' and 'Boom Town' that we let them keep. We don't even get a cut of the concessions stands—not a damn dime from it—and now they want more."
"It's the nature of the beast, Toby. Everyone saw how much we made from our last two films, and now they want a cut. You can call it greed if you want, but if you were in their position, you'd do the same," Sam says calmly, having anticipated this reaction.
I was prepared as well, so I simply asked, "What are they asking for?"
"Forty percent," Raimondo replies.
This prompts Toby to let out a mocking laugh. "Forty percent? They can kiss my ass!"
Ignoring Toby's outburst, I ask, "Is that across the board?"
"More or less. Most want around forty percent, with some asking for a bit less. It's worth noting that this is only for the major cities. The rural towns are still content to take a flat rate," Raimondo explains.
"Sure, that's good news, but those towns only make up 20 percent of our box office," Sam says with a frown.
Letting out a sigh, I said, "Well, it was expected. What about the major studios?"
"I'm still in negotiations, but right now MGM is offering the best deal. They loved what we did with Hedy and want to continue working with us," Raimondo replied.
"Ah, so they plan to use us as a training ground—a place to send their actors to gain experience and hopefully make a breakthrough," I commented, quickly understanding their perspective. It was a smart strategy, much like the minor leagues in baseball. Build them up till they are ready for the major leagues. Can't say I was against it either, as it would hopefully give me access to some prime talent.
"That's smart," Orson says. Technically, his part in the meeting had already ended, but since no one asked him to leave, he decided to stay on his own.
"Very smart. What are they offering?" I ask.
"They want 30 percent but are guaranteeing a wider release than our last two movies," Raimondo replies.
"Not bad. And what about the others?" I ask.
"Well, Fox isn't interested. They're pretty upset that we signed Miss Temple behind their backs, so their offer is basically an insult," Raimondo explains.
"Oh, and what is their offer?" Toby asks.
"Sixty percent with a limited release," Raimondo says with a straight face, and we all laugh at that.
Though I found it amusing, I was considering whether to teach some people a lesson in fair play. It wasn't like I couldn't do it, but I thought it was too early to strong-arm anyone; I didn't want to make that my go-to move with difficult individuals.
"What about RKO?" Orson asked.
"Better than Fox, but more than MGM. They want 35 percent," Raimondo replied.
"And the other two?" I inquired.
"They're the ones I'm still negotiating with. Warner Bros. is interested, but they're holding firm at 32 percent, with only a limited screening to start. Paramount is in the same position. The fact is, like everyone else except Fox, they don't even know what these movies are about. Our unwillingness to share details has made them nervous," Raimondo explained. Honestly, they had every right to be.
Everyone was betting big here, considering Ruth's back-to-back hits. However, if they truly knew what the movies were about, they might run for the hills, leaving us to fend for ourselves.
I paused for a moment, considering my options. Out of the two movies, "Citizen Kane" would be the tougher sell. Its bold criticism of Hearst, who was much less powerful than he believed himself to be, could create complications, especially since he had many connections in Hollywood. However, I felt confident I could navigate around that. After all, my friends had plenty of connections with the press too, and the tide was shifting towards the idea that a bit of controversy could actually benefit a film. Everyone loves a good scandal, provided it isn't completely outrageous.
On the other hand, I had already invited Hays to come down and discuss the script for "Raging Bull." He wasn't aware of the movie's content yet, but I was optimistic about pitching the idea to him. "Raging Bull" could be marketed in various ways, and I intended to sell him on my version of the rating system as part of my plan. If he still wasn't receptive, I would simply ignore his objections. Hays wielded no real power, and while the major studios could go either way, I wasn't breaking any laws with what I planned to do.
After thinking it over for a while, I said, "Go ahead and tell MGM what they want to know and see if you can lower the percentage even more—let's aim for 20 or 25 percent. Since we are handling marketing ourselves, perhaps they will be more willing to consider our investors' interests. If they don't agree, we can explore other options, but regarding helping to train their stars, let them know we're all for that as long as the asking price isn't too high."
"You got it, Ruth," Raimondo replied with a smile.
"What are you going to tell our investors?" Toby asks.
Looking at him, I say, "I made it very clear to them from the start that what we pulled off the last two times was a limited event. So they will understand that doubling their money may no longer be possible. That said, it was all about the 10 percent. So long as we can give them that much in return, be happy for the most part."
I then turned to Orson and said, "Orson, would you be so kind as to accompany Raimondo and explain your vision to major studios? Don't get me wrong, Raimondo is great with words, but I think they will be more receptive if you present the movie concept."
"Not a problem, Ruth," Orson responded.
"Wonderful! Let's get on with it—time is of the essence, and I want to release these movies by the end of the year." With that, I stood up and left the room with everyone else following close behind.
-Later that evening-
It's amazing how the simplest things can bring such joy or relaxation to a person. Before the advent of TV or video games, simple pleasures like cooking or solving crossword puzzles helped people pass the time and relax after a long day at work.
One of my favorite ways to unwind was the simple act of cleaning my girlfriend's ears while she rested her head on my lap. There was a peace in that moment that felt incredibly intimate. Despite any misconceptions about Japanese culture, they really know how to create meaningful experiences. Mimikaki, as they called it, is the practice of cleaning someone's ears, and it was truly a bonding moment for us. I was grateful that Naru taught me this, even if my girlfriend didn't fully appreciate it, as she often read a newspaper while resting her head on me.
Hearing her sigh, I looked down and saw Liz say, "That crazy guy is in the paper again?"
"Hmmm, who?" I ask, pretending not to know who she's referring to.
"That Concerned Japanese Citizen guy," Liz says, and I can almost hear her eyes roll.
I can't help but smile at that. If there's one thing Liz despises, it's nonsense. She doesn't really lean politically in any direction, but she can't stand what she perceives as absurdity—especially when it comes to conspiracy theorists, or those she calls "nut jobs." To her, my alter ego represented a troublemaker and little more. Someone who somehow finds a way to pay for articles in The New York Times, Chicago Tribune, and basically every other major publication just to spread his crazy conspiracy theories.
"Oh, come on, babe, he's not that bad. I think he is kind of funny." I say in defense of my alter ego.
Looking up at me for a moment, Liz says, "Really? You think it's not that bad." She then holds up the paper and begins to read, "Beware, true Japanese patriots of freedom. The time is approaching when the so-called land of the rising sun, with its tyrannical government and puppet Emperor, will show its true colors. Despite what their so-called government claims, they do not desire this so-called Greater East Asia Co-Prosperity Sphere. They do not seek peace in Asia or the equality of all people who call it home. No, what they desire is the complete domination and subjugation of its people under the jackboot of their military rule. Remember, our ancestors left the land of dishonor and lies for a reason. Do not be deceived by Kensuke Horinouchi's call for continued peace, for he is the viper in the grass who will strike the moment you turn your back. The white man will not listen, and the black man has no voice, so it is up to us, and only us, as true Asian-Americans, to defend this great and peaceful land we call home."
"Well, that doesn't sound too bad," I say with a smile.
"Maybe, if it wasn't for the fact that it goes on to talk about how the FBI is taking bribes from Japan to allow them to plant spies in our government. How Hoover has his own castle right across from the Tokyo Imperial Palace, where he has secret plans now to become Emperor of New York. Then it goes on about FDR being the bastard child of the previous Emperor of Japan and how he loved nothing more than to help his half-brother become Emperor of the USA. Oh, and my favorite. How I, along with everyone else in Hollywood, am a shapeshifting reptilian because we are too perfect to be human."
"Ah, that's so sweet he mentioned you," I say in a teasing tone.
"Oh wow, how all my dreams have come true. A mention in the paper by a crazy man. What more could a girl ask for?" Liz replies in a dull voice.
I laugh and say teasingly, "Still, he wasn't that far off. After all, your tongue is nice and long when it needs to be."
I can practically feel her glare, even though her head is still in my lap and facing away from me.
I gently remove the tools from her ear and say, "Face the other way."
With an annoyed sigh, Liz turns around. Despite her reluctance to admit it, she loves it when Ruth cleans her ears. Though she didn't appreciate her joke, Liz did enjoy the way Ruth spoiled her.
Now facing me, Liz sniffs the air, and a frown crosses her face. "Really, Ruth?"
"What?" I ask innocently.
"You put Tabac Blond on your… intimate areas, and then you decided to make a joke about my tongue. Did that seem like a good idea to you?" Liz asks in a deadpan voice.
The room falls silent for a moment, and I finally say, "Okay, I didn't think that one through."
"Clearly. What a shame, too, and here I was in the mood for some fun before you opened your mouth," Liz replies. Her voice carries a certain sweetness, tinged with satisfaction at having denied her girlfriend something she wanted.
At first, it had hurt Liz's pride to admit it, but over time, she learned to accept that Ruth was the more dominant person in their relationship. Ruth never belittled her or treated her as anything less than an equal, but Liz often found herself going along with whatever idea Ruth had. Ruth's self-confidence and determination to accomplish her goals stood in stark contrast to Liz's more cautious approach to life. While Liz tended to second-guess herself, Ruth simply took action. This boldness was an attractive quality that often left Liz feeling overwhelmed, as if she were always on the back foot. Therefore, when Liz managed to outsmart her girlfriend, it felt incredibly satisfying.
Things went quiet again as I continued to clear her girlfriend's ear before asking, "How is the new place?"
Liz didn't answer my question right away; she chose to remain silent about her home, the one she bought with the money she earned from her modeling jobs.
Eventually, she replied, "It's cold and empty."
"I'm sorry to hear that," I said sincerely, and I meant it.
Things were changing quickly for both of us. While she wasn't a superstar just yet, Liz was well on her way, and her upcoming role in *Raging Bull* would only enhance her fame. Which sadly meant it was time for us to stop living together. There was simply no choice; we couldn't hide our relationship if we continued to share a home. The media was already asking questions about when she was moving out of her boss's place. They were innocent for now, but sooner or later, accusations about our relationship would start to be raised. Accusations that I was not yet powerful enough to stomp on.
It was a sensitive topic for both of us, and while we agreed that I would visit as often as I could, it wouldn't be the same as living together. It was just another crack in our relationship that I refused to acknowledge, even though I knew it existed. Instead of facing the reality of the situation, I chose a more cowardly way to cope.
"Did you invest in what I told you about?" I asked in a soft voice.
"I bought several shares in Lockheed Martin, Chrysler, and Ford," Liz replied.
I huffed in annoyance. She knew how I felt about that motherfucker, Henry Ford, and most likely did it to provoke this kind of reaction. I could practically feel her smile right under me.
"Ruth, do you honestly think war is coming?" Liz asked in a voice that betrayed her worry about the future.
"I know it is, love," I told her.
"I hope you are wrong," Liz said, making me smile. Some might call her a cold fish, but Liz was anything but that. She had a gentle soul, possessing an innocence that I just didn't have. If she knew what I knew, she would undoubtedly try to prevent the war from happening despite being powerless to do so. I, on the other hand, wanted the attack to happen, not just because I believed it was necessary, but also because I was looking to profit from it in various ways. However, I had no plans to share that with Liz. It would not be in my best interest.
I said, "I hope so, too, babe."
After a little while longer, I finished removing the tools from her ear. "There I am, all done now," I said.
Sitting up slowly, Liz grabbed a towel from the side and wiped her ears. "Thanks," she replied.
"You're welcome, love," I said, then added as if I had just remembered something, "Oh, before I forget, I wrote something for you. It's going to be on my next single."
Liz raised an eyebrow at this. "Another one already? I thought you were too busy with the movies to write anything new."
I smiled at her as I got up. "I'm never too busy to think of you, babe."
She rolled her eyes at me and said, "That sounded so cheesy."
Despite her words, Liz sat up attentively as her girlfriend went to get her guitar, which she conveniently called Emma—her actual name. Was it a coincidence? Of course not. Ruth was a conniving bitch. Always looking for some way to get her out of her clothes. Yet despite knowing this, Liz kept falling for Ruth's little tricks. It was as annoying as it was satisfying afterward.
"You do realize that no matter what you sing for me, I'm still not going down on you tonight, right?" Liz said in a deadpan voice.
"That hurts love. I would never write a song for you just to get under your skirt," I replied with a smirk as I began to tune my guitar, and Liz just rolled her eyes at me. Knowing that was complete bullshit.
After I finish tuning my guitar, I start playing.
(A Thousand Years by Christina Perri, song by Jasmine Thompson)
"Heart beats fast, colors, and promises
How to be brave? How can I love when I'm afraid to fall?
But watching you stand alone
All of my doubt suddenly goes away somehow
One step closer
I have died every day waiting for you
Darling, don't be afraid
I have loved you for a thousand years
I'll love you for a thousand more
Time stands still, beauty in all she is
I will be brave, I will not let anything take away
What's standing in front of me
Every breath, every hour has come to this
One step closer
I have died every day waiting for you
Darling, don't be afraid
I have loved you for a thousand years
I'll love you for a thousand more
And all along, I believed I would find you
Time has brought your heart to me
I have loved you for a thousand years
I'll love you for a thousand more
One step closer
One step closer
I have died every day waiting for you
Darling, don't be afraid
I have loved you for a thousand years
I'll love you for a thousand more
And all along, I believed I would find you
Time has brought your heart to me
I have loved you for a thousand years
I'll love you for a thousand more."
(song end)
When the song ends, I look up and see Liz wiping her eyes, clearly trying to hide the fact that she's been crying. I can tell I've shaken her up, which was my intention.
After a few deep breaths, Liz simply says, "You are such a bitch."
She then stands, walks over to me, grabs my arm, and pulls me up, dragging me behind her.
"Where are we going?" I ask in a sing-song voice.
"Shut up," Liz practically yells in anger as we enter the bedroom.
"Tsundere," I think and laugh to myself with a pleased smile before she slams the door shut behind us.