Birmingham, 1926

It was well known that Luca didn't care for Birmingham, nor it's inhabitants, regularly comparing the scenery and people to his beloved Italy, though he held his tongue in the presence of his hosts, another family with similar sentiments towards the Shelby's, also caught in the crossfire of the vendetta.

You'd first been made aware that your father was hosting the Italian mob by surprise one afternoon after you'd come home.

Upon your arrival, you saw a fancy Ford Model A parked outside, even your father didn't own such an automobile, peeking your interest, you hastened your entrance.

"Darling!" your father called from his office as he heard you come in, "come here a moment would you?" he asked.

Poking your head round the door, your eyes found the backs of several sharply dressed newcomers.

"Darling, these are some associates of mine, their ship docked this morning," your father said, "come in and say hello."

Feeling your new guests eyes follow you as you rounded your father's desk, you greeted them politely.

"Bellísima, your family, my friend." one of the men spoke in a heavy accent, rich and raspy. You could only wonder how it sounded speaking his native Italian.

"Darling, this is Mr. Changretta and Mr. Jurossi." your father introduced you with a proud smile.

Your father passed several cigars to your guests, a toast to their safe arrival in Birmingham.

"Be a dear and light Mr. Changretta's cigar would you, darling?" your father spoke around his own.