「LUCIENNE PICOU 」
25 • ROGUE • TAKEN BY LIL
TRIGGER WARNINGS: Mentions of racism, lynching, mob violence, murder, sex work, and drugs/addiction
DIRECT FROM LE PETIT JOURNAL:
If you sight Mademoiselle Picou in the audience of the Folies Bergère, you may think that our own beloved Josephine Baker has been putting together a double act, but you’re more likely to find this New Orleans import in her newest acquisition - a darling little bistro in Montmartre. While we know this new socialite comes from a Creole home bathed in le jazz hot, we find ourselves wondering where exactly the sometimes gauche jewels are really coming from. Does the girl have a society benefactor that has somehow escaped our notice? Or are the rumors of gambling in L’Ortolan’s back room true? Either way we must commend her on her enterprising spirit. Oh, Americans!
ABOUT:
One might begin by saying that the New Orleans mafia died on March 14, 1891. They’d killed the wrong man, a police commissioner. Arrests were made. Broad and quick ones without much evidence. 19 Italians entered the Parish Prison. All were acquitted or awaiting trial when a mob broke in, dragged 11 of them outside and killed them. One of them was Lucienne’s grandfather. An immigrant. A grocer.
Her mother fled to Storyville, New Orleans’ legal red light district, a place of music, light, and life. Her father was a Creole of color, a piano player with a touch on the keys so beautiful people would sometimes linger in the parlor of Mahogany Hall rather than going upstairs, just to hear him play (which was impressive, considering the girls Lulu White employed there.) Then Storyville shuttered. A whole culture was dissolved back into a city fighting for a respectability it was far too fun to keep for long.
But the Axe-Man came shortly after that, terrorizing New Orleans, with a threat to play jazz or die. Lucienne had been 16 and decided to pretend it was fun. She spent the whole night with her father in a club in the Quarter, dancing the night away, and then it was fun. Her mother clung to her tightly that summer. She’d always worried that the world would harm Lucy for the color of her skin and the ancestry of her parents, but now the Italian grocers like her grandfather seemed to have become targets once again, the only shared trait of the Axe-Man’s victims. Rumors swirled that the Matranga family had overcome their fears of mob rule and were looking for protection money.
But, strangely, the demands did not come. Instead, one day, Lucienne came home to find her mother talking in the kitchen with Charles Matranga himself. He was thanking her for her father’s role in helping him flee in 1891. He wanted to offer her a favor.
Her mother didn’t want it, but Lucienne died. She could sing well enough with her father or work at the bar with her mother, but she wanted something more. She knew she was more. Matranga gave her the side-eye, not believing at first that she was Italian at all. But she countered his arguments so fiercely that he agreed she was family.
She managed a slot hall first, charming customers into respecting her bit by bit. She was young, and she looked it, but she had a talent for numbers and for entertaining. Most members of the Cosa Nostra didn’t speak French and her acumen with the language allowed her to pitch a little business venture - Paris’ first, honest to goodness, (and highly illegal) public casino. It was an unprecedented idea and more than a little risky. But risky was what they paid her for.
It’s funny what people will think if you let them. It only takes a few words, Lucienne learned, to let them fill in the blanks. So when a beautiful American arrives on the Paris scene, flush with money and daring fashion choices, the rumors are a better misdirect than she could ever offer. She’s fine with them believing she’s a kept woman or the illegitimate child of some Vanderbuilt or Roosevelt. They can even think she’s frivolous. Until she speaks.
If you think she’s frivolous then… well, you’ve got another thing coming.
CONNECTIONS:
The Playboy: They think they know you, your type, your angle. And they couldn’t be more wrong. What a rube - but, at least they’re too busy having a good time to get in your way. In fact, they might be useful, what with all their connections, money, and questionable habits…
The Angel: You often see her entertaining clients in both sides of L’Ortolan, and when she needs an escape you happily provide one. She’s a friend, after all, not just a customer - and full of fascinating stories. The useful kind, occasionally…
The Smuggler: You’ve got an eye on their not-so-little business, and an ear out for the whispers of what they’re capable of. An alliance would open up all sorts of opportunities to expand the mafia’s dirty business and please those big bosses stateside, all while keeping your hands a little cleaner. Wouldn’t that be nice? Here’s hoping they’ll see reason.
Faceclaim & Pronouns: Zendaya Coleman, she/her
The Malefactor is taken by Lil, they/them.