his eyebrows, put a finger to his lips, and shook his head.
“What are their names?”
“Vittorio and Roberto Ranelli.”
Needless to say, the New Year’s Eve party was one of the best evenings of my life. I had so much fun. Got pretty drunk, too. Nevertheless, I met Don DeLuca and his wife at some point. He was very gracious. He, too, kissed my hand. I could feel the power oozing off of him, but my animal instincts didn’t like him one bit. I started getting those weird tingles as soon as his eyes fell on me. He was definitely a very dangerous and cruel man. From the wife I detected a palpable amount of fear and resignation. She was probably extremely unhappy with the marriage, despite their wealth and status in the Italian community. When I met the don, the two creepy twins looked me up and down. I really got the bad feelings about them. I didn’t even want to say hello to them. Fiorello didn’t introduce me, thank goodness. At any rate, I knew for a fact those two were killers.
In the limousine on the way back from the party—at two o’clock on the morning—Fiorello asked me if I’d like to come to his apartment.
I accepted.
And, dear diary, I won’t go into any details about that , ha ha!
To make a long story short, we became an item. For the next two months, we were together all the time . Well, not really. I still did my lessons with Soichiro three times a week and trained with Freddie the other two days. My job as assistant manager of the Second Avenue Gym was still in full force. So, there was all that. But when I wasn’t exercising, training, working, or sleeping, I was with Fiorello. I had a real boyfriend for the first time. And I loved it. And I loved him. He loved me, too, I could tell, although he never said it in so many words. He was kind to me, though. He showered me with gifts, clothes, and jewelry, took me to dinner, went dancing with me, and we had sex—lots of sex. I had qualms about it, believe me. It wasn’t something I jumped into without thinking about it. We took precautions. I didn’t want to get pregnant. Even so, there was a part of me that thought I was being a very bad girl. But then I watched all the other girlfriends at the parties and places where Fiorello took me—and they were having sex with their men, too. I could sense it. This sounds crude, but my heightened sense of smell affirmed it. People were very sexually repressed on the outside, but in private a lot more went on than you’d think. They just didn’t talk about it. There was the Kinsey Report thing that came out recently, and all the women read it and still talked about that . Lucy said it was her Bible. Fiorello had copies of a fairly new magazine called Playboy that actually had photos of naked women in it. I was shocked at first, but as I looked at some of the issues, I understood it took a very healthy approach to the idea of sex between unmarried people. It was really society—and religion—that made people feel guilty about doing that stuff outside of marriage. The truth was they were doing it anyway. I didn’t know that then, but I do now.
In March of 1957, I moved out of the gym and started living with Fiorello. Now that was sinful, I suppose. And yet, it felt like the right thing to do. We sometimes talked about getting married but ultimately laughed about it. Neither of us really wanted that,although Fiorello did mention he’d like to have several children “someday.” Freddie wasn’t happy that I moved out. Like I said, he thought of me as a foster daughter, and he wasn’t comfortable with me associating with Fiorello’s “crowd.” It’s a wonder they accepted me—I wasn’t Italian, I was a hillbilly Texan with a funny accent, and I was very naïve about what those people did.
Over the next several months, though, I learned. Fiorello never talked about what he did for the family. Eventually I found out he was considered a “soldier” and an “earner.” As a soldier he was a
“What are their names?”
“Vittorio and Roberto Ranelli.”
Needless to say, the New Year’s Eve party was one of the best evenings of my life. I had so much fun. Got pretty drunk, too. Nevertheless, I met Don DeLuca and his wife at some point. He was very gracious. He, too, kissed my hand. I could feel the power oozing off of him, but my animal instincts didn’t like him one bit. I started getting those weird tingles as soon as his eyes fell on me. He was definitely a very dangerous and cruel man. From the wife I detected a palpable amount of fear and resignation. She was probably extremely unhappy with the marriage, despite their wealth and status in the Italian community. When I met the don, the two creepy twins looked me up and down. I really got the bad feelings about them. I didn’t even want to say hello to them. Fiorello didn’t introduce me, thank goodness. At any rate, I knew for a fact those two were killers.
In the limousine on the way back from the party—at two o’clock on the morning—Fiorello asked me if I’d like to come to his apartment.
I accepted.
And, dear diary, I won’t go into any details about that , ha ha!
To make a long story short, we became an item. For the next two months, we were together all the time . Well, not really. I still did my lessons with Soichiro three times a week and trained with Freddie the other two days. My job as assistant manager of the Second Avenue Gym was still in full force. So, there was all that. But when I wasn’t exercising, training, working, or sleeping, I was with Fiorello. I had a real boyfriend for the first time. And I loved it. And I loved him. He loved me, too, I could tell, although he never said it in so many words. He was kind to me, though. He showered me with gifts, clothes, and jewelry, took me to dinner, went dancing with me, and we had sex—lots of sex. I had qualms about it, believe me. It wasn’t something I jumped into without thinking about it. We took precautions. I didn’t want to get pregnant. Even so, there was a part of me that thought I was being a very bad girl. But then I watched all the other girlfriends at the parties and places where Fiorello took me—and they were having sex with their men, too. I could sense it. This sounds crude, but my heightened sense of smell affirmed it. People were very sexually repressed on the outside, but in private a lot more went on than you’d think. They just didn’t talk about it. There was the Kinsey Report thing that came out recently, and all the women read it and still talked about that . Lucy said it was her Bible. Fiorello had copies of a fairly new magazine called Playboy that actually had photos of naked women in it. I was shocked at first, but as I looked at some of the issues, I understood it took a very healthy approach to the idea of sex between unmarried people. It was really society—and religion—that made people feel guilty about doing that stuff outside of marriage. The truth was they were doing it anyway. I didn’t know that then, but I do now.
In March of 1957, I moved out of the gym and started living with Fiorello. Now that was sinful, I suppose. And yet, it felt like the right thing to do. We sometimes talked about getting married but ultimately laughed about it. Neither of us really wanted that,although Fiorello did mention he’d like to have several children “someday.” Freddie wasn’t happy that I moved out. Like I said, he thought of me as a foster daughter, and he wasn’t comfortable with me associating with Fiorello’s “crowd.” It’s a wonder they accepted me—I wasn’t Italian, I was a hillbilly Texan with a funny accent, and I was very naïve about what those people did.
Over the next several months, though, I learned. Fiorello never talked about what he did for the family. Eventually I found out he was considered a “soldier” and an “earner.” As a soldier he was a
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