by Patricia Bellomo | May 4, 2011 | Mob Blog
The Russian Revolution, May 3, 2011
A Russian oligarch showed up at my Miami Beach nightclub last night. I wasn’t there, mind you–I’m the silent partner, but the guy who runs the place for me, Franco, tells me the Russian had an entourage of at least fifty people. The Russian booked Franco’s upstairs lounge and VIP room, and proceeded to throw a party that lasted until five the next morning. The guy ordered four bottles of Dom Perignon White Gold Jerobaum, the forty thousand dollar stuff, but the best Franco could do was the Dom’s 2002 champagne at the bargain price of 189.99 a bottle. The Russian wasn’t too happy, but Franco’s is a South Beach hotspot, not a Monte Carlo casino.
The Russians went through eighteen bottles. Franco only had ten in the cellar, and he called me when they uncorked the eighth, and I placed a call to a wine distributor I know in Fort Lauderdale, and he hustled over another ten bottles. It was two in the morning, mind you, but the distributor owes me. He calls me the next day and says, “Lou, I’ve never seen anything like it. There were about a dozen women working the party, all blond and Eastern European, and by the time I arrived, most were naked.”
Hmm. It’s probably just as well that I missed it. I asked Franco what the take was, and he said the Russians are welcome anytime.
The Russian Revolution was written from the point of view of Patricia Bellomo’s main character, mobster Louie Morelli. Bellomo’s mafia thrillers are available on Amazon.com, BArnes and NOble, and on all e-readers.
The Russian Revolution – Bellomo
by Patricia Bellomo | Apr 26, 2011 | Mob Blog
Eye-Candy for Breakfast, April 26, 2011
[dcs_p]Victor and I meet an acquaintance for breakfast at the Marriott on the corner of Atlantic and A1A in Delray Beach. The guy’s an investor, and it’s strictly a business meeting–everything on the up and up. We’re sitting with our fruit and coffee and talking high finance when the dining room begins to fill with dozens of beautiful young women. They’re blond and brunette and some are black, and they are all so damned lovely our meeting grinds to a halt. They enter in groups of two and fours, and join their friends at long tables, and suddenly the Marriott’s looking like a sorority club.[/dcs_p]
[dcs_p]One perky young thing next to us is even entertaining her grandmother, the two of them exchanging Easter baskets. The room fills with chatter and high-pitched laughter, and I’m reminded of the parties Stella used to have when she was in high-school. These girls are older, but not by much–early to mid-twenties, and they are all fit and toned and wearing tiny shorts and bikini tops and gauzy little outfits. There’s a lot of fake tits and bleached teeth and bright smiles, and Victor, who hasn’t missed a meal since he did his two year stint in Angola twenty-two years ago, shoves aside his banana pancakes. “Jesus,” he says, “what is this, some kind of modeling thing?”[/dcs_p]
[dcs_p]My guest says, “It’s quite a show, isn’t it?”[/dcs_p]
[dcs_p]Two beauties plop down on Victor’s side of the table, and he gets the story. They’re New England Patriot cheerleaders, and they’re in Delray Beach to do their annual calendar shoot. Soon we’ve got five gorgeous young girls sipping orange juice at our table, and Victor’s telling stories. He casually mentions that we’re planning to take the Stella di Mare down to Lauderdale this afternoon, and the young ladies get all excited. They’d love to go on a boat ride. So guess where I’ll be later?[/dcs_p]
by Patricia Bellomo | Apr 21, 2011 | Mob Blog
Millionaire Mobster Blog: My son hired a hooker, May 17, 2012
[dcs_p]A few years back when my oldest son, Tony, got married, he proudly announced that he was going to remain faithful to his wife. Yeah okay, I said. Tony was always his mother’s favorite, and she might have influenced him, but after seven years, two kids, and a wife who can barely zip up her blue jeans, he’s suddenly a player.[/dcs_p]
[dcs_p]Before we go any further with this, let me just say that Tony is a great son. A man couldn’t ask for better, but sometimes I wonder how I raised such a dork. The guy’s got it all–looks, money, personality. He could get any girl he wants. But what does he do? He gets involved with one of those Craigslist escorts–paying for it when he could get better for free. When I asked him to explain his reasonings, he said he didn’t want a “personal involvement”. Well, he got one alright. A couple weeks after playing hanky panky with the hooker, he gets a FedEx at the office. You guessed it: A dozen compromising photos along with a request for ten thousand dollars.[/dcs_p]
[dcs_p]Too embarrassed to come to me, Tony goes to Victor. He says, “You know I have to go to your old man with this.”[/dcs_p]
[dcs_p]Tony does know, and he’s not happy about it. But I’m the one who has to hire someone to track down this broad and her loser boyfriend, and then, after determining that it is a low-level operation, I send Victor and one of my old NOPD contacts, a guy named Gaspar, to pay a little house call. They put an end to the blackmailing business, but their services cost more than ten grand. A sheepish Tony offers to pay, and I give him a hug and say, “Forget about it. What are fathers for?”[/dcs_p]
by Patricia Bellomo | Apr 16, 2011 | Mob Blog
Don Knobel on the Radio, April 16, 2011
[dcs_p]I’m in Louisville with my cousin, Anthony Morelli. If you’re new to this blog, you may not know that Anthony runs what is left to run in the city of New Orleans. Anyway, Anthony likes his thoroughbreds, and we’re in Kentucky because he’s buying a horse. It’s a Saturday morning, and we’re driving on a country road en-route to a big name farm, and Don Knobel comes on the radio. He’s got a show called Down the Stretch on WKRD. It’s a weekly show, and Mr. Knobel knows his business. He’s talking horses, and then we find out he’s calling in from New Orleans because he’s down there reporting on the Louisiana Derby, which they run at the Fairgrounds.[/dcs_p]
[dcs_p]Since I’m formerly of the city, and Anthony lives on the north shore of Lake Pontchartrain, we’re getting a kick out of hearing him describe the wild things he’s been seeing on Bourbon Street. And then Mr. Knobel starts talking about the bad food he was served at one of Emiril Lagasse’s restaurants, and I’ve just got to laugh. Those big name restaurants in New Orleans are such God-awful tourists traps. They’re overpriced and overstaffed with snobby, white-gloved waiters who are trained to serve cold, uncooked steaks with an attitude. You can’t blame the waiters for the food, but I can’t tell you how many times Victor has had to set them straight. Not too long ago we were dining at one of those fancy uptown joints, and Victor got so fed up with the attitude and poor quality food that he went into the kitchen and started slapping the chef.[/dcs_p]
[dcs_p]I bet you’re thinking they called the cops. No way. They actually decided to cook our food. But if you don’t have the luxury of smacking around the help, you’re going to get a raw strip and cold soup and pay a buck-fifty for it. And the big names–the restaurants that get all the publicity–are the worst offenders. So I sympathize with Mr. Knobel. I truly do.
by Patricia Bellomo | Apr 12, 2011 | Mob Blog
The New Mob, April 15, 2011
A few months back my buddy, Leo, is getting out of bed on a Monday morning, and the cops break down his door. They came in like storm troopers, a whole friggin swat team with drug sniffing dogs and automatic rifles. Supposedly, they’re looking for drugs–they got a tip from some loser snitch trying to get brownie points. But my buddy is a sixty-six year old book with a wife and two daughters, both of whom they hold at gunpoint while they haul him off to jail.[/dcs_p]
[dcs_p]The cops are from a neighboring city, but they’re a special task force empowered by the Feds, and they can go anywhere in the state of Michigan. It sounds to me like the FBI is outsourcing their dirty work, and dirty work it is. The team spends twelve hours in Leo’s house. They order a series of pizzas and carry-outs, drink a case of Budweiser, and destroy his house. It’s unlivable when they’re done, and Leo has to bring in a contractor to repair the holes in the walls and ceilings. And what do the cops get for this? Two unregistered firearms and three joints.[/dcs_p]
[dcs_p]They’ll get him on the firearms, and he knows it. They busted him on a Monday during Football season–payday, if you’re in this business, and Leo had ninety-eight grand in the house. When his lawyer gets the roster on items seized during the raid, they’re showing ten thousand dollars in cash. How’s that for good police work? Sounds to me like there is a new mob in town.[/dcs_p]
