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Godfather System C111 Wedding
🕑 Added 2024-07-13 11:12:10 +0000 UTCIn the pitch-black night, Deborah anxiously tapped her high-heeled shoe against the hardwood floor, her gaze transfixed on the clock ticking away the seconds. The hour hand crawled past the gilded 9, and then the 10, yet Lorenzo still hadn't arrived. She fingered the delicate strand of pearls around her neck, an increasingly familiar knot forming in her stomach.
"Lorenzo must be caught up with wedding preparations," Mica, a warm presence at her side, offered. "You know how he insists on everything being perfect."
Deborah shook her head, the tension in her neck traveling down her spine. "He swore he'd leave it to his men this time. Said he wanted to spend more time with me before... well, you know."
Mica's knowing smile was almost palpable in the dimly lit parlor. "Well, who can blame him? After all, it's the most important day of your life, Deborah."
Apollonia, perched on a velvet settee, remained silent, her azure eyes betraying a storm of emotions. Happiness for him, tinged with a hint of jealousy.
The grandfather clock bellowed out the midnight chime, each reverberating gong resounding in the hollow space where her heart once beat.
As the grandfather clock chimed once more, the heavy oak double doors swung open, revealing not only Lorenzo, but Deborah's entire family. Simeon, Delilah, and Moe, all dressed in their finest attire, filed in, their faces a mix of surprise and joy.
Deborah's hand flew to her mouth, surprise etching its way onto her features. "What in the world are you all doing here in L.A.? I thought you were busy with the delicatessen in New York?"
Simeon's warm, bear-like hug enveloped her, his bristly chin brushing against her cheek. "We found some time to visit our favorite daughter, of course."
Delilah, a smaller but no less formidable version of her husband, wrapped her arms around her daughter next. "Deborah, my star, I've missed you so much. How are things here? I hope you're taking care of yourself."
Deborah felt her cheeks flush as she caressed her slightly swollen belly. "I've been... well, you see... I'm..." She couldn't bring herself to say the words, so she settled on a smile.
"Oh my," Delilah gasped, a hand flying to her chest. "Oh, my goodness!"
Lorenzo stepped forward and placed a protective hand on Deborah's shoulder. "She's about two weeks pregnant, Mother."
"Oh my." Simeon's eyes widened, his bushy eyebrows shooting upwards. "Grandchildren so soon?"
Deborah's cheeks flushed a deeper shade of red as she nodded in agreement. Pride and love swam in Simeon's eyes as he pulled her into a heartfelt embrace. "Mazel tov, my little Deborah. I can't wait to be a grandfather."
Delilah, on the other hand, couldn't help but notice the way Mica and Apollonia were looking at them. "Deborah, who are those two women?" She asked, her voice tinged with curiosity.
Deborah hesitated, unsure of how to introduce her partner's other partners. In the end, she decided on a half-truth. "They're... close friends of ours, Mom."
Lorenzo, sensing the slight tension, interjected. "They're indeed very close to us, mom. Now, Deborah, why don't you take your parents upstairs to their rooms? They must be exhausted from their long journey."
"Of course, Lorenzo's right," Delilah agreed, shooting an apologetic smile at the other women. "We'll have plenty of time to catch up later."
Deborah led her parents upstairs, leaving Mica and Apollonia behind with Lorenzo.
As they walked up the stairs, Simeon Gelly was impressed by the opulence of the mansion. "Your husband's doing very well for himself, isn't he?" he commented, his eyes roaming over the expensive furnishings and artwork.
Deborah blushed, feeling a surge of pride for her man. "Yes, Dad. His businesses are thriving."
"What kind of businesses is he into, exactly?" Delilah interjected, her curiosity piqued.
Deborah hesitated for a moment before rattling off a list of legitimate businesses that she knew of. "Well, there's a construction company, a few import-export ventures, and some investments in real estate." She left out the more unsavory aspects of Lorenzo's empire, not wanting to worry her parents.
"Impressive," Simeon said, clearly impressed. "He must be a man of many talents."
"And connections," Moe added, grinning mischievously.
Deborah shot him a warning look, but it was too late.
"Connections?" Simeon's eyebrow raised in interest. "Political or... other?"
"Dad, it's nothing to concern yourself with," Deborah cut in, steering the conversation back on track. "Here are your rooms. I hope you'll find them to your liking."
The Gellys entered their respective bedrooms and over the luxurious accommodations. Deborah breathed a sigh of relief, glad that they hadn't pressed further about Lorenzo's connections.
***
The sun had yet to fully rise above the horizon when the plane landed at the Los Angeles airport, a small hub of activity that was far from the bustling hub it would one day become. In those early hours, only a select few were privileged to witness the arrival of the Corleone family.
The first to descend the plane's staircase was Vito Corleone, his tall and broad figure draped in a fine, tailored suit that, though muted in color, could not be mistaken for anything but the finest money could buy. His fedora, tilted at a slight angle, cast part of his face in shadow, lending him an air of mystery and power. In his wake, his son, Michael, followed, every bit as immaculate in a crisp white suit and matching fedora.
Following closely behind the Corleones was a burly man, Luca Brasi, a silent but deadly force in his own right. Luca's eyes were as sharp as his suits were impeccable, his gaze darting around the tarmac, assessing any potential threats. As the staff scurried to collect the Corleones' luggage, Luca's vigilance paid off.
A group of men in black suits and fedoras, identical in their approach, began to approach the Corleone entourage. Luca's right hand instinctively moved to the holster at his side, his instincts honed from years of protecting the Don.
"Don Corleone, it seems we have some company," Luca Brasi said in a low, gravelly voice.
"We mean no harm," the man at the front of the group said, his hands held out in a placating gesture. "We're here to ensure the Don's safety while he's in LA," the man in the front of the group continued, a disarming smile on his face. "We've been sent by an… associate of yours." His choice of words was carefully measured, as if he was treading on thin ice.
Vito Corleone patted Luca Brasi on the shoulder, silencing his protests. "It's fine," he said, his voice a calm, soothing rumble. "If it's for our own safety, then we shouldn't complain. After all, it was prepared by our friend." Vito's lips curled into a humble smile, but his eyes remained as cold as ice.
Luca, understanding the unspoken order, reluctantly acquiesced. "As you say, Don Corleone."
With that, the Corleones and their entourage, now joined by the additional security detail, began to make their way through the airport. As they walked, Vito's gaze swept over the bustling city of Los Angeles, a knowing smile playing on his lips.
"It's been a long time since we've been here, Michael," Vito said, settling a hand on his son's shoulder.
Michael glanced around, taking in the sights, sounds, and smells of the city he once called home. "It's more lively than I remember," he said, his voice tinged with a hint of nostalgia. "But not as lively as New York."
Vito chuckled, a deep, hearty sound that belied the danger he and his family represented. "Of course, haha," he said, nodding. "But this place... it's got potential. Lorenzo has a good eye."
Michael nodded in agreement. "Maybe I'll have a vacation here with Kay once in a while," he mused aloud.
***
In the opulent halls of the Theodore Roosevelt Hotel, every detail had been meticulously planned for the upcoming nuptials of Lorenzo and his bride-to-be, Deborah. The atmosphere was electric with anticipation as staff scurried about, ensuring every chandelier sparkled and every rose petal laid out just so.
Despite some initial reservations from Deborah's parents, Simeon and Delilah, about the Christian-style wedding—given their Jewish heritage—the couple had won out in the end, and preparations had been made. The receptionist at the hotel greeted each guest with practiced poise, welcoming a veritable who's who of Los Angeles's elite: congressmen, the mayor, the chief of the LAPD, and executives from powerhouse film studios like Warner Bros., Universal Pictures, and Walt Disney.
The room buzzed with hushed whispers and muted laughter. But the air of civility was shattered when Vito Corleone, the feared Don Corleone himself, entered the fray.
Spotting the Corleones' arrival, Lorenzo excused himself from his conversation with a well-known Walt Disney executive and made his way through the sea of guests to greet his esteemed guests. "Don Corleone," he said, a genuine smile on his face as he kissed Vito's ring in a show of respect.
Vito Corleone smiled warmly in return, his eyes taking in the opulent surroundings. "You've done quite well for yourself here, Lorenzo," he observed. "It seems like no time at all since you left New York, and yet, look at what you've built for yourself."
Lorenzo chuckled modestly, "To achieve such things, one must work tirelessly," he said, but the pride in his voice was evident as he gestured to the grand hall around them.
Michael, equally impressed, stepped forward and embraced him. "Congratulations, amico mio," he whispered sincerely, clasping Lorenzo's shoulder.
Lorenzo beamed with gratitude as he led the Corleone's to a table, reserved for them and their entourage. The table was situated on a raised platform, offering a panoramic view of the glittering ballroom below.
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