Patrick O’Donnell eased his heavy frame into the Ritz bar. He was there to meet his fellow old-timers Jacques Pierre and S.P. Youlcie.

At the bar, O’Donnell orders a peaty whisky. Pierre has a glass of wine. But O’Donnell was worried about his countryman, Scotty O’Conner.

Young Scotty O’Conner was easily led. He might be falling under the influence of his peers, the womanizer Dennis Silvio and the dashing Norwegian Eric Saghnt.

O’Donnell’s worry stemmed from reports of a raucous night at Silvios, where several underage girls were discovered. Rumors tied the event back to earlier gun-and-drug smuggling from Ireland and later human trafficking involving countries that the police determined to be fictional (not akin to say the Rise of the Moors and their ill-fated trip to target shooting in Maine, but rather real fictional countries with long-established cultures and histories).

Roughhousing was often reported at the parties. In one instance, there were reportedly violent squeals some witnesses compared to a rabbit or other small mammal being devoured by a coyote or larger predator. It all made for salacious fodder in the big American cities of the club teams. But the real hell to pay would be back home among fans of the national teams. These minor stars, after all, were ambassadors.

Pierre, for one, was a promising writer of rom-coms until he rather abruptly lost the writer’s touch. …