by Patricia Bellomo | Jan 10, 2011 | Mob Blog
Tramonti’s Restaurant
Tramonti’s Restaurant, Delray Beach, Florida
[dcs_p]Everyone knows Tramonti’s Restaurant is my favorite restaurant in my adopted town of Delray Beach. But I don’t always come here to eat. Today, I’m hanging at the bar with my friend, Nathan Roth. Or I should say I’m hanging because Nathan’s a little paranoid, watching everyone entering the restaurant, which is no small task because the place is packed. But what do you expect from a former spy?[/dcs_p]
[dcs_p]I’m doing a little Famous Grouse on ice, and Nathan’s got a glass of Cabernet in front of him. We actually had a meet, discussing some business. Tramonti’s manager, Glen, comes over and offers to seat us, but I say, “Not yet.”[/dcs_p]
[dcs_p]I’m enjoying the restaurants elegant ambiance, plus there are two attractive ladies at the bar next to us. One of them, a blond, looks like she’s advertising a recent tit job—they’re sticking up, and she’s showing. She notices me looking and flashes me an inviting smile. Nathan catches this and smirks—he’s not a player and is probably the only guy I know who doesn’t indulge in a little extra-curricular activity. But then, his wife is something special, and I don’t think I’d cheat on her, either. In fact, she used to be my girl.[/dcs_p][Tramonti’s Restaurant Delray Beach is written in the voice of Patricia Bellomo’s main character, mobster Louie Morelli. Bellomo’s books are available on Amazon.com, Barnes and Noble, and on all e-readers.
by Patricia Bellomo | Jan 8, 2011 | Mob Blog
Mob Blog: Sands Waterfront Bar
Sands Waterfront Patio Bar, Pompano Beach, Florida
[dcs_p]I did Louie Morelli an enormous favor without ever having met him. It had something to do with his punk son-in-law Johnny Romano, who happens to be from my hometown of Clinton Township, Michigan—a suburb of Detroit. I know Johnny’s father, a stand-up guy, but Johnny isn’t anything like his old man, and it’s too bad for Morelli that Johnny married his beautiful daughter, Stella.
[/dcs_p]
[dcs_p]Today, I met Morelli for the first time. He’s got his eighty-foot Hatteras, the Stella di Mare, docked at the Sands for the day. I’m sitting at the tiki bar with my friend Dominic, his blond lady friend, and a young looker I’ll be taking from the dinner table to my hotel room later tonight. I’m seventy-five and married, and some people might think I’m too old to fool with women, but those people don’t know me or my lifestyle.[/dcs_p]
[dcs_p]The bowl games are on and I’m taking action, two phones running and a sheaf of paper with the lines and my bettors bets scribbled across it. I’m trying to be discreet—you never know who might be watching. I know a group of guys who went down to the Keys one year, and the Feds followed them, waiting on them at the resort they were staying at. So you’ve got to be careful.[/dcs_p]
[dcs_p]
Anyway, Morelli likes me, and he’s very grateful for the favor I did him, and he’s going to let me blog on his website. By the way, my name is Vito. I’ve been on the street fifty years—and I’ve seen it all. So check in from time to time. I might have something interesting to say.[/dcs_p]
by Patricia Bellomo | Jan 3, 2011 | Mob Blog
Atlantis Casino, Bahamas
[dcs_p]This is a beautiful casino. I lost twenty grand playing dice, but I’m not complaining. I know the game—hell, half my family’s early fortune was made in the gambling business. My favorite casino is the Bellagio in Vegas, although I’m sentimental about Caesar’s Palace. I used to stay there with my old man in the seventies—when Vegas was the boy’s town and they rolled out the red carpet.[/dcs_p]
[dcs_p]Today Vegas is so-so, a little too hyped, a little too square. But there isn’t really anything to compare with it, and there shouldn’t be. I’m going to be a bit hypocritical here, seeing as how I built a casino in my hometown of New Orleans. Ironically, I’m the only original investor who still gets a cut of the profit, and someday I’ll tell you how I managed to pull this off.[/dcs_p]
[dcs_p]My beef is with the abundance of casinos. They’re everywhere—in every hick town and province across the country. I was recently in Detroit, and they’ve got three casinos with two across the river in Windsor. The casinos are swank and glossy, but they’re built in a depressed urban area and their patrons are poor and disadvantaged and elderly. They’ve ruined whatever local economy was happening. It’s overkill, especially since the government is the main beneficiary.[/dcs_p]
[dcs_p]
It was different when guys like me got rich off of craps and card games and sports betting. We were in the community and always gave back to it, but these shysters are building casinos the way Sam Walton built Wal-Marts. It’s cheesy and cheap and worse … it’s boring. So, my advice is … if you want to go to the casino, make it a destination: Vegas, Atlantic City, the Caribbean, even my little hotel and casino in New Orleans. Blow your money and have a good time—that’s what life is about. But in your crappy backwater town or crumbling ghetto, forget it. The Feds are rich enough, why give them more?[/dcs_p]
by Patricia Bellomo | Jan 1, 2011 | Mob Blog
Louie’s oceanfront home, Delray Beach, Florida
[dcs_p]New Year’s is a family day. After a swank night at the Boca Beach Club, we slept in today. I actually slept in my wife’s bed last night—after thirty-five years of marriage this doesn’t happen too often. But Angie likes the holidays, and she was happy to invite me in.[/dcs_p]
[dcs_p]
Victor came over at noon. He’s in the kitchen with my mother-in-law, Maria, both of them bantering over whose sauce is superior. I’ll tell you, Maria makes the better sauce, but Victor is an awesome cook. I don’t tell her, but she doesn’t even come close. Today, he’s pounding veal and preparing it in Marsala gravy—he’s also got lasagna baking in the oven, and I can smell it.[/dcs_p]
[dcs_p]
I’m sitting on the terrace with my oldest son, Tony. His wife and two young boys are in the pool. I’ve got a hell of a spot here—my view is awesome, looking out over the Atlantic, my pool and spa defined by tall white columns. It’s a gorgeous day, seventy-three degrees and not a cloud in the sky. Angie is on the beach with our daughter, Stella. They are standing at the water’s edge, both wearing sunhats.[/dcs_p]
[dcs_p]I’m feeling sentimental and wondering if I should make a New Year’s resolution to stay faithful to Angie. She’s priceless and I do love her, but fidelity doesn’t seem possible. I mean, I tried it once … the first year of our marriage I remained loyal. But I was twenty-one years old, and there have been a lot of years and a lot of women in between.[/dcs_p]
[dcs_p]
Even as I’m thinking this, the phone clipped on my belt starts vibrating, and I pick it up and glance at the display screen and I see that it’s a girl I’ve been dating—her name is Rachel, and she is a raven-haired stunner. I don’t think I’ll answer, but then I recall how she looks in her shorts, and my New Year’s resolution is suddenly over and done with.[/dcs_p]
by Patricia Bellomo | Dec 30, 2010 | Mob Blog
Bob Amante’s Restaurant, Deerfield Beach, Florida
Mob Blog: Amante’s Restaurant
[dcs_p]I’m at the bar with a dish of spaghetti and a glass of Chianti, but I’m not in a good mood. These dog bettors have been beating me up for three weeks running, and the Vegas lines are killing me. I was talking to a buddy of mine in the business, and he was telling me Vegas is moving the line with only a few thousand on one side, and we shared a laugh at this. Back in the day … in my day, it took thirty grand on one side for me to move a line. And I never laid off.[/dcs_p]
[dcs_p]
It’s a fact that the lines stink nowadays. Once upon a time Jimmy the Greek put out a line and it was solid—we all won. But now you’ve got to wonder about these geeky college boys and their computers, and you just know they haven’t got a clue.[/dcs_p]
[dcs_p]
That’s the problem with the world today: Too many rules and too little initiative. I say get rid of the frat boys and bring back the men, the risk takers. I’m trying to make a living here.[/dcs_p]
[dcs_p} Guest blogger on Mob Blog[/dcs_p]
[dcs-P]Bellomo’s books available on Amazon.com. Also in digital format for ereaders.[/dcs_p]
by Patricia Bellomo | Dec 28, 2010 | Mob Blog
Shooters Waterfront Café, Fort Lauderdale, Florida
[dcs_p]Some ball-buster got pissed at Victor because he called her “doll”. Hey, Victor calls every woman doll. None of my girlfriends have ever complained and my wife thinks he’s cute. But there we were, sitting at Shooter’s Waterfront Café in Fort Lauderdale, and the skinny broad at the next table was eyeing us, and Victor looked up and said, “How you doin’ today, doll?”[/dcs_p]
[dcs_p]I knew she was trouble. First off, she looked like she hadn’t eaten a decent meal in weeks, and she was wearing a pantsuit on a hot, sunny day. All the other chicks were showing skin, and some were really showing, if you get my meaning.[/dcs_p]
[dcs_p]I had the Stella di Mare pulled to the dock, my three crew on board. In case you don’t know Shooters is on the Intracoastal, a real party spot. On the weekends they do those hot bod contests and the place is rocking. But on the afternoon Victor and I stopped in with some of the guys, it was fairly quiet.[/dcs_p]
[dcs_p]We were sitting dockside, in the shade of the big awning. I have to tell you the Stella looked beautiful, and I could see people eyeing her, wondering who the eighty-footer belonged to. I don’t like to brag, but I do have money, quite a lot of it, and not all of it honestly come-by. I’m not cheap, either. So if you’re hanging with me, you are guaranteed a good time.[/dcs_p]
[dcs_p]Victor always hangs with me. First off, he’s my muscle, and he’s a pretty good guy all around. Sure, he can be a little corny, but he’s always a gentleman. So when the skinny bitch went ballistic, accusing Victor of being a chauvinistic pig, we all laughed. This pushed her over the edge and she called for the manager. As soon as the poor guy saw who she was complaining about, he got nervous. And who can blame him? He knows who I am—plus, I’m in there fairly regularly, and his wait-staff loves me.[/dcs_p]
[dcs_p]
To make a long story short, she got the boot. She stormed off, muttering threats, and the manager apologized for our inconvenience. Later that day I relayed some of the incident to my wife, and Angie suggested maybe Victor shouldn’t address a woman as doll until he gets to know her. But I say screw that. If Victor wants to call a woman doll, that is his prerogative. I don’t see what the big deal is, do you?[/dcs_p]
