"…"
Nail put down his soda bottle and didn't respond to Charles Luciano. It wasn't that the question was difficult to answer; it was that Nail simply didn't know how to answer.
Because Nail was very clear that in the next decade or so, the world would erupt in the largest, most widespread, and most destructive war in human history, causing the most significant loss of life and property. By that time, the only place on earth that might be untouched by the war would be the Americas. Or rather, not untouched—but at least safe from the flames of battle.
We're just ordinary people, with no high aspirations or noble ideals, just wanting to live a peaceful life. We don't seek wealth, fame, or notoriety.
Like the turtle's method—when it's time to retreat, retreat!
So Nail was certain of one thing for the future: don't run around recklessly, stay in America, at least this way he wouldn't be blown up by the fascists' bombs.
As for what job he would pursue in the future, whether he'd settle down on a small farm and live a simple life, getting married and having children—those were all things for later, things he hadn't really thought about yet.
But even so, Nail was well aware that joining the mafia was definitely not a good path. Despite the Italian mafia's dominance now, and the prospect of enjoying a few decades of success, once the war was over and the federal government got around to dealing with them, they'd have all the means to wipe out the mafia.
By then, forget about getting rich—if they weren't sentenced to a thousand years in prison, sitting at the bottom of a cell would be a blessing. And frankly, Nail was an ordinary person. Who among the people here truly understood the reality of prison? Who had the mental fortitude to face it calmly?
No one, right?
"I plan to go to college later, maybe study law, history, politics, or social sciences," Nail didn't have a good answer, so he simply gave a vague response to Charles Luciano.
"Ah, I see!"
Despite Nail's refusal, Charles Luciano seemed not the slightest bit upset. In fact, his eyes brightened, and Meyer Lansky shared the same sentiment. They now looked at Nail with a much higher regard.
"If you're planning to go into politics, your background is truly perfect for it…" Meyer Lansky brought up a possibility that Nail hadn't considered before.
But once he said it, Nail immediately realized he might be onto something. As for "background," it could mean coming from a political family or a business mogul—both great starting points—but that wouldn't make for much of a story.
Nail's background, however, was exactly what the public loved—a small-town young man, a third-generation Irish immigrant, his father dead in a mining accident, and raised by his aunt after her husband died in World War I. It was a genuine working-class background, a martyr's widow.
He worked hard to save money, scraped together enough tuition for high school, then earned his college education through sheer effort. When he eventually ran for office, the common people would fully support him. They would see themselves in Nail—an everyday person working hard to overcome life's challenges.
Nail's background was the perfect fit for a political career!
He had never thought about it like this before.
"Do you have enough money for college?" Charles Luciano, having finished his meal, regained his calm demeanor.
"Plenty, more than enough," Nail nodded.
"When you graduate, I can help you find a good position, let you work for a few years, and build connections," Charles Luciano said, smiling.
Since Nail wasn't willing to become an underboss in the Italian mafia, Charles Luciano didn't push him. He understood that everyone had their own path. If Nail was set on going into politics, Luciano was more than happy to help, leveraging his vast financial resources and connections to give Nail a head start.
The Italian mafia needed not only underbosses but also politicians with influence in the right circles. In two or three decades, if Nail became a congressman, he would be in a position to do the mafia countless favors, giving them immense benefits.
What's wrong with that? From Charles Luciano's perspective, with Nail's intelligence, all he needed was a little push and some opportunities, and he could rise to the top.
"Hmm." Nail didn't reject the offer, but he didn't fully accept it either. He just nodded.
To be honest, going into politics had never been one of Nail's options. After all, he had no political resources or connections. In America's electoral system, it would be hard to get support.
Sure, he could make promises and try to win votes, but it had to be effective. If he couldn't see a possible future in it, Nail wasn't interested in pursuing it.
Now, it was clear that Charles Luciano and Meyer Lansky were willing to invest in Nail. They would ensure he got a good education, then work at a law firm, prosecutor's office, or judge's chambers for a few years to build connections.
Who knew what the future might hold?
"Hahahahaha… Let's not talk about that for now. Let's settle the current business first."
Seeing Nail's calm demeanor, Charles Luciano could only appreciate him. Of course, what he didn't know was that Nail had never considered this path before. He was simply a little confused by it all.
"Bring me a map," Meyer Lansky instructed one of his men. Of course, he wanted a map of Nevada.
The idea of building a casino on Indian reservations had been discussed before, but with so many reservations, they needed to plan it carefully. Ideally, it should be near highways or railroads, making it easy for people from all over to come and gamble.
After all, the casino couldn't just cater to the 1.1 million people in Nevada—most of them were farmers and herders with very little money. They wouldn't even be able to scrape together enough for a bottle of oil. The key was to attract wealthy people from the West Coast.
And building a casino wasn't just about gambling—it needed to be a one-stop experience. Starting with hotel rooms, they'd need a full service package. They had to build a luxurious hotel, recruit well-dressed, beautiful women—at least five hundred or even a thousand—to make all the gamblers feel at home.
As for the business details, Nail didn't need to get involved in those. He didn't know much about it. Perhaps his buddy Frederick knew something, but that guy was currently busy with Meyer Lansky in Chicago and other cities, scouting locations to build hotels and recruiting special industry workers.
Frederick was certainly going to make a name for himself. In the future, he'd become a real "entertainment mogul."
By the way, once Frederick finished his work, Nail could remind him to invest in the film industry. It'd be a great way to launder money cleanly. Wouldn't that be wonderful!