"The Perils of Elena"
Gotham, the Big Apple, New York City, the city of dreams where anything can happen. The Great White Way, Broadway where a girl's dreams of a theatrical career is just out there for the taking. At least that was what all the Movie magazines said. But there was another side to this hustling and bustling town. One that "Spat's" Dugan knew only too well. A town of broken dreams and innocence lost.
"Spat's" had grown up on the lower East side, Hell's Kitchen among the teaming rows of tenements the squalid of the Irish ghetto. He had been a tough runny nosed kid without a future just another poor kid distend to be a nobody, and that is just what he was until the Great War, and he went to France to fight the Kaiser. He had made a name for himself in the old Fighting 69th, the "Irish Gangsters" of New York. When he got back there was not an honest job to be had, so he went to the Irish gangs that ran the lower East side. He had worked his way up in the mob and was now a "made man." Spats ran everything from Broadway down to the Bowery on the East side. He had picked up the moniker of Spats because he dressed like a dandy right down to his spats. He was sitting at the little club her ran his empire from down at 42nd and Broadway. A ritzy little place he called "Chez Paris." It was a posh night club where only the swells came, and was noted for its singers and show girl's.
Tommy Hennessey had come in a cigarette dangling from his mouth. The little pug Irishman was Dugan's enforcer. "Hay Spats the boys down in Chinatown are getting uppity and says they ain't goanna pay no more." Spats ran his hand through his copper red hair. He was a big bull of a man, all muscle, but with that infamous Irish charm, and sparkling hazel eyes. "Look into it Tommy and find out who's the mug make trouble."
"Sure, thing boss."
There was a knock at the manager's door and a little bleached blonde poked his head in. "Hay jimmy Aubrey's friend is here the one she told you about from back home and she is quite the looker." The girl froze as she saw Spats. She began to tremble. " I'm sorry Spats I didn't see you....I... Well..I" The girl stammered and swallowed hard; she fidgeted nervously as she looked from Jimmy to Spats. "Aubrey isn't that the little corn fed Miss you been banging Jimmy?" The manager just smiled and nodded giving Spats a knowing wink. "Hay Tricky this gal is a real looker is she?"
"Ya Spats but the kid's real innocent just got in town today."
"Send her in Tricky I'll give her, her an interview." The bleach blonde made a hasty retreat, glad to be anywhere but in that office. No one wanted to cross Spats Dugan for it meant working in a brothel down in the Bowery or worst, at least that was the rumor. Tricky whispered in Aubrey's ear that Spat's would be interviewing her friend and not Jimmy and that he was waiting in the dingy, smoked filled, little office of the manager.
Dugan sat behind the manager's desk; half shadowed in the dim light of the grimy little office. He had heard that Jimmy Hennessey's new babe's girlfriend was quite the looker and innocent as the new driven snow, fresh off the farm, and a real looker. As the office door creaked open Spat's looked up from the papers on the desk and he liked what he saw. Her hair was shimmering, a rich thick chocolate brown. Those tresses framed her face giving her a sweet, angelic look. The girl's bright blue eyes where stunning and even with no makeup her skin was a flawless peaches and cream complexion, and her lips were full and a soft coral color that most lipsticks just couldn't match. The rumors where right, she was a looker and a tasty little morsel that Spats had every intention of enjoying to its fullest.
She held out her hand, her voice low and warm, like velvet, as she spoke, "Good evening Mr. Dugan Sir, I'm Elena Armstrong. It's a pleasure to meet you Sir," Her manners were impeccable as she waited to shake his hand. Dugan slowly rose from his seat behind the desk and stepped out into the halo of light in the office. He towered over the petite little beauty and extended his had to give her a firm but gentle handshake. "Good evening Miss Armstrong my name is Michael Trance Dugan I am the owner of Chez Paris my manager Mr. Hennessey informs me that you are looking for a potion her at the club."
Spat's voice was a rich deep voice lost somewhere between a bass and a baritone with just a teasing hint of an Irish brogue. His manner of dress was impeccable and to the latest up to date fashions right down to the stylish spats that he wore and despite his huge size he moved and spoke with a cultured grace. He was the very personification of a Broadway producer and theater owner. "So, Miss Armstrong what kind of employment where you looking for? Do you have a portfolio, or a book of your reviews?"
Spats slowly took in the young Midwestern farm beauty from the tip of her little nose to the tip of her toes. He slowly eased back to sit on the edge of the office's desk.