The Royal Hotel Pt. 1

Edited By English Rose

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CHAPTER 1 THE PAST:

RAT: TAT: TAT! A Thompson submachine gun administrated the punctuation of the roaring twenties. F Scott Fitzgerald named it the Jazz age. It was a time of excess. Tough guys wearing expensive tailored suits and diamond rings came to power by selling bootleg booze on the streets of Chicago and New York.

This all started a long time ago. I wasn’t even born yet, but I would become involved never the less. This story is about something that happened to me. It had something to do with my father and his grandfather before him. Let me tell you the whole story.

It started in the 1920’s. The 18th Amendment and passage of "The Volstad Act" prohibited possession and use of alcohol. Certain men who came from the poor and violent neighborhoods of Chicago and New York saw a way to rise from the depths of poverty. They knew that people would drink beer and whiskey even if it were illegal. Prior to this time, hoodlums were independently conducting illegal activities without a central focus. This was to come to an end with the organization of the rag tail mobs.

These men would use the profits from the sale of illegal alcohol to build one of the most powerful and feared crime syndicates to date. In Chicago, Big Al ran the show. In New York, Lucky Luciano would become the architect of the modern crime syndicate.

A new breed of nightclub known as the speakeasy was born. If you had the price, you could buy a drink and almost anything else you wanted. The New York mob specialized in gambling, booze, and babes.

In those days, New York became a wide-open town. The big boys carved New York up like a fattened turkey. Five families took their share of the trimmings. In the Bronx, it was the Gallabraizzy family. They seized total power of the territory and held it to the death. It was about this time when my grandfather Nick Roselli came over from Sicily. It was 1925, and my grandfather was a boy of fifteen. He went to work for the Gallabraizzy Family. His first job was as a runner for the numbers game and later he became one of the most feared soldiers in the Gallabraizzy Family. He married my grandmother in 1935 when he was twenty-five years old. He had two children who were named Mary and Gweeto. It came to pass that he would die in a gunfight over territory by a rival gang who was trying to take over.

My father was what you call a friend of the family. Gweeto Roselli was the guy that you could go to if you needed some quick cash. Of course, you had to pay the 20% per week or get your legs broken.

My father never seemed to be able to stay with one woman for any period of time. However, on one of those times in 1976, I was born. Being true to the family, I was named after my grandfather, but more about that later.

My father lived a life of violence. I suppose it was the nature of the business. There was always some deadbeat who couldn’t or wouldn’t pay, and you had to rough him up or maybe cancel his ticket.

In my father’s world, there were certain boundaries, which could not be crossed. Apparently, my father crossed such a boundary. On a warm and pleasant evening, my father sat in Cristoforo’s, which was his favorite restaurant, and was gunned down by two men who were rumored to be members of the old Don’s private guard.

They say, “If you live by the sword, you die by the sword.”

In the case of my father, I could understand something like this happening. However, I had a feeling that something was not quite right. On the night that my father was assassinated, I made two promises. The first was that I would not become a friend of the family like my father. The second was that I would try to find out why my father was killed.

CHAPTER 2 NICK ROSE:

On that night when my father was killed, I decided to live a life which would be different than my grandfather’s and my father’s, and I changed my name from Roselli to Rose.

There would be more changes to come. For one, I would become a legitimate businessman. To that end, I set out to find a suitable space for a nightclub. I had an idea of a new kind of nightspot, which would bring together both a Blues bar and an upscale gentlemen’s key club. I had the idea, but I didn’t have the cash needed to make my plans come to life.

Now, don’t get me wrong: I’m no angel. With my family history, you can imagine that I have always have had one foot in the fast lane while keeping the other foot on the straight and narrow.

Let me tell you a little about myself. This way you will better understand what I am about to tell you.

I grew up in the Bronx in one of the tougher Italian neighborhoods. In my neighborhood, you learned to throw a right cross by the time you’re twelve years old. Since I was a small kid, I always had it hard because the neighborhood bullies had it in for me. It was at that time I decided to join the American Judo and Jujitsu Federation. At this same time, I started weight training so that I could build my body. I began going to the neighborhood dojos. By the time I was eighteen, I had earned a black belt in Jujitsu. I had become as strong as a bull from pumping iron, and I had become a crack shot with both a hand and long gun. After that, the neighborhood bullies decided that I was too much trouble, and they left me alone.

I was a young man, and I was expected to go into the family business. I began to dress the part. I started wearing tailored Italian suits, and I wore a mustache like the old gangsters. I was not above taking the odd job from my father’s friends, if you get my meaning. It was a good source of ready cash.

At about this time in my life, I must say myself; certain people of the fairer sex began to notice me. Now, I’ll tell you about the ladies. I have to be honest with you. I am a short man, but I am not bad looking. You know Italians have those pleasing features. I have light brown hair, which is almost blonde. One of my girl friends says that my eyes are the color of honey. The weight training gave me a sculptured look to my body.

What can I say; somewhere along the line one of those genetic things was going on because I started to develop early. When I was about eight or nine, I started coming. My cock and balls were going into overdrive. It seemed like it was overnight that my cock grew to the size of a large banana. My balls grew to the size of tangerines, and there was a lot of fruit salad going on down there if you get my meaning. It seemed like I had a hard on all of the time. It was explained to me by my father that all of the men in my family are hung like that.

I was getting a reputation in the neighborhood for being a tough guy who could get things done. As far as the ladies are concerned, they like a guy who is a little dangerous. It seems to turn them on. To that end, I was dangerous enough to catch the eye of more than one babe in the neighborhood. So you see I didn’t spend a lot of Saturday nights sitting home twisting my crank as the saying goes.

I mentioned about getting a reputation in the neighborhood. Some friends of my father asked me if I would do one of those odd jobs that I mentioned to you. It turned out that one of the guys in the family was having wife trouble. It became known that this certain lady had been visiting some honey boy on a regular basis down there in Harlem. This kind of thing doesn’t go so good with the good fellows if you get my meaning. I was asked to go and visit this honey boy and set him strait.

So I get there, and I see right away that this is going to be trouble. I am standing outside the apartment door, and I hear moaning and groaning like these two people are fucking. I say to myself, what the fuck should I break down the door, or should I wait. Then I think this is what I was sent here for.

Shit! I step back and throw a kick into the door and bust in on them. The bimbo is lying on the living room floor naked as a jaybird and honey boy has about a yard of cock in her. Now, get this! Nobody tells me anything. I am expecting some skinny ass pimp. I look and I don’t believe what I am seeing. Honey boy turns out to be one the defensive linemen for the New York Jets.

Honey boy looks up and sees me standing there and our eyes meet. I even recognize the fucker from the God damned television sports shows. Usually I am carrying a Beretta Mini Cougar when I am expecting trouble. At about this time, I am starting to feel as naked as the bimbo because I am not carrying anything but a bad attitude.

I know that I have only one chance. I got to nail this fucker in one quick shot. Let me tell you, the fucker pulls out of the bimbo and sets up as if he is coming off the line strait at me.

A flash goes off in my brain, and I see Master Chow saying,” Only use this kick as a last resort. “

The next thing I know I am flying through the air in a 360 degree spinning kick to club the fucker right on the side of his head. You know, it’s like when you hit the sweet spot on a baseball while you are hitting a home run. The timing couldn’t be any better. It even sounded like hitting a home run. With a pop, the fucker collapsed on the floor right in front of me. Hot damn!

Well, the bimbo is now screaming, “please don’t hurt me. “

Honey boy is out cold on the floor, and I am feeling like Superman.

Just to be on the safe side, I rip out one of the lamp cords to tie the fucker up. Now, I got to do what I got to do.

I grab the bimbo by the arm, and I tell her, “Your husband sent me.” A look of absolute terror comes over her face when I tell her this. In my most forceful voice I say, “THIS ENDS HERE AND NOW!”

I shove her onto the couch and head into the kitchen to get some cold water to throw on honey boy. I find a big pot and fill it. Standing in front of him, I drop it on his head. The fucker comes to, and I give him the same message.

“Who the fuck are you? “, He asked.

I say to him, “a rose for your funeral. “

The look in his eyes tells me that bright boy gets the message. At that, I’m out of there.

This is what I mean. This is the shit you got to do sometimes even if you don’t like it. I needed the cash for my nightclub, so I did my share of the odd jobs. Besides that, some of my father’s friends owed favors, and I was able to bring in some of those markers. So I started to look around for a suitable place to open my business. I had the idea for a combination blues and gentlemen’s club as I mentioned to you before. I was serious about getting out of the old neighborhood. I was determined that my place would be a high-class watering hole, and not just some dump.

I knew about the history of jazz, and I knew enough to know that if you put together the right club the well to do would come and spend big money in a place like that. Years ago there was a place called the Savoy ballroom. It was part of New York’s jazz history. It was located over on 596 Lenox Avenue, between West 140th Street and West 141st Street. The neighborhood there still had a certain something to it so I went over to take a look for myself. I took a walk around the block and I came across an old worn down building, which was left over from the old glory days.

New York is like that. There are places all over New York, which come and go with the times. For example, during the Vaudeville days there were hundreds of old theaters, which just went out of business. A person could buy those old buildings at deep discount. The building I was looking at was one of those buildings, which had not been used for some years. I knew that if I bought the place and remodeled it I could have something good.

I knew that it would be tight as far as money was concerned. The building had two main floors, and it needed a massive remodel to make it work. I hit on the idea of making the second floor my own residence while the main floor was going to be the club. I figured that if I lived right on the premises I would not have to commute to work every day. If you know anything about New York, commuting back and forth to work is a major hassle.

So, I took the plunge. I bought the building, and had it fixed up to my own plans. I had to borrow a ton of cash to make it work, but it was O K because I knew some friends in the construction business. As they say in New York, the whole remodel kind of fell off the back of a truck.

CHAPTER 3 THE BLUE NOTE:

I decided to name the place the Blue Note. I wanted to key into the blues music so that I could take advantage of the history of the music.

The remodel went better than I expected. I had the club up and running in no time, and business began to come my way. I had a good location.

The Blue Note is located right around the corner from the old Savoy ballroom one block west of Lenox Avenue on 141St Street. As I mentioned, it also was my new home.

The nightclub is situated in this way. The main room is named Crossroads. I named it after that old blues song written by Robert Johnson. This being a gentlemen’s club as well as music bar, I wanted to put the mystery of the song into the club giving it the notion that you could do things here that you could not do in other bars.

There is an oval shaped bar. I made it that way purposely so that people could see and talk to each other. Most bars herd a bunch of people into a bar room and line them up as if they are drinking at a trough.

The Blue Note is designed to seduce down to the smallest detail.

The old saying “sex sells “was the prime motivator here.

I had some new ideas up my sleeve. The Crossroads room is decorated in a burgundy and black color scheme. The tables in the Crossroads room would be connected by closed circuit telephone. Each table would have a lamp rising up from the center of the table. On each lamp there would be a number for example, 1, 2, 3, and so on. A customer could then call any table in the room and talk to that person who was sitting at that table. The idea was that people would come here to meet each other.

That was just the beginning. I had a surprise in store for the people. This would be a new concept. The Blue Note would be a key club. It would be like the old bunny club, but it would go the extra mile. That is to say. There would be a back room area called Behind the Green Door. Couples could go in there, and they would find private booths and triple X movies. While they were in there they could get nude and get intimate.

In the main room, there is a bandstand for live entertainment. I planned to bring big name acts when I got the place going.

The dance floor was a stroke of luck. I was put in touch with a collector of jazz history. Believe it or not, I was actually able to buy a piece of the original dance floor from the old Savoy Ballroom.

The nightclub came together nicely. I hired some drop dead gorgeous topless waitresses, and dressed them up in the most revealing uniforms. The uniform consisted of a skimpy tuxedo. The girls wore a top hat and a jacket with tails. Instead of full-length trousers, they wore hot pants. In addition, they wore black fishnet stockings and high heels. Instead of a shirt, they wore only a bow tie. The tuxedo was the color of burgundy.

Burgundy was the main color throughout the room. The walls were painted burgundy, and the tablecloths were burgundy as well.

For a finishing touch, I decorated the walls with erotic paintings. There were oil paintings of nude men and women in every sexual act.

The second floor was where my home would be. I had them put in a luxury apartment just for me.

The living space was about three thousand square feet. I told the builders to spare no expense. I figured that if I was going to be living there for a long time I might as well enjoy it.

I had an interior designer do the place up right. The very first thing that you saw when you entered the apartment was a big black leather couch. It occupied the far wall from the front door. Above the couch hung a large oil painting of a nude woman bathing in a tropical stream. In front of the couch was a low mahogany table. Situated around the living room were matching black leather swivel chairs.

I thought just for a twist, I would use the same colors, which I had used in the club. Only instead, I would switch them around. In the club, the carpet was black and the furniture was burgundy. In the apartment the carpet would be burgundy and the furniture would be black.

The main living room was large. It contained a full service wet bar also made of mahogany. There was a large entertainment center complete with a home theater and stereo located on the left wall of the living room opposite from the bar. Located to the left of the bar was the main corridor, which gave access to the rest of the apartment.

Arranged along the hall were the remaining rooms. First came the dining room with its’ adjacent gourmet kitchen. Farther down the hall were the bedrooms. There were four bedrooms. My bedroom was a large master bedroom complete with a full bath and hot tub. I used one of the bedrooms as my personal library or den. The two remaining bedrooms were used for guests. A guest bathroom completed the house.

There was a lot of room up there, and I didn’t need all of it. So, being the kind of a guy who likes to take advantage of an opportunity, I had the builders put in a few private suites for the V I Ps.

The private suites would go only to the very important people who could afford the cash. A man could take a woman up there and stay there all night if he so desired.

Well, you are almost up to date now. I became a successful businessman. My hunch was right on the money. The Blue Note became a success right away, and before I knew it, I had a steady crowd coming in each week. On a Friday or a Saturday, there might be as many as a hundred or two hundred people in the club, and they were spending money. You had to be a member of the club in order to take advantage of the special features of the club. Keys were being purchased as fast as I could supply them. This was mostly because you needed a key to enter the Behind the Green Door room. It worked like this.

A customer could come into the bar without charge. He or she could sit and drink and have conversation all night if they desired. If they wanted to enter the Crossroads room, they had to show proof of membership by using their key. In the Crossroads room, they could get a table and they could listen and dance to the music. Using the closed circuit telephone on the tables, they could perhaps meet someone. Then, if they so desired, they could use their key and enter the back room.

I had the builders put in a large green door with a lock. The customers would have to use the member key to enter the room. Once in there, a customer could change his or her clothes, and get nude and then receive a house supplied burgundy colored bathrobe.

The room was large. It was dimly lit, and resembled a Roman bath. In the middle of the room, there was a heated pool. Customers had the option of swimming in the nude.

All around the pool were lounging couches, which accommodated two people. Behind the lounges were private booths, which allowed intimate contact.

It was full service in there. People could drink and fuck to their hearts desire.

The most surprising thing was that women were buying the keys as fast as the men were. It was like having lightening in a bottle. Large parties were showing up, and they wanted to party big time. The high rollers were requesting the upstairs luxury suites without regard of cost.

CHAPTER 4 BEVERLY:

On this night, business was good. I always liked the sounds of the crowd in a nightclub. You could hear the clinking of glasses and the sounds of people having fun. The band was putting down some cool blues and a lot of people were on the dance floor making it happen.