Chances

by Jackie Collins

  “You know what I’d like?”

  “What?” The bow tie fell out of his hands.

  “I’d like to learn to drive.”

  “This goddamn tie!” he exclaimed. “It’s makin’ me nuts!”

  She ran to pick it up, then proceeded to knot it on him expertly. “Can I?”

  “Drive? Why?”

  “I just do,” she replied earnestly. “It would be fun, and think how useful it could be. I mean, take tonight. You gotta drive all the way out someplace with Aldo. Two fellas with a trunkload of booze. If the police stop you you’ve had it. Now if a girl was driving…”

  She had a point. Only what she didn’t know was that the booze had been delivered to Westchester early in the morning. And what she also didn’t know was that Aldo was at this very moment hosting a party to celebrate his engagement to Barbara Riccaddi. And the third thing she didn’t know was that Gino was driving out to Westchester to attend Mrs. Duke’s party as an invited guest.

  “It’s not a bad idea,” he mused. “I’ll give you a few lessons.” He put on his new dinner jacket and admired himself in the mirror. He had bought the suit in a real high-class store on Fifth Avenue. It had cost, but it was worth it.

  “When?” she demanded.

  “Soon,” he replied absently, standing back from the mirror. “Hey, kid, whaddya think? I look O.K.?”

  “Sharp, Gino. Reee-al sharp.”

  The Party

  1928

  “I need a bang in the arm,” Carrie whined.

  “Don’t worry, woman,” Whitejack soothed. “Daddy is fillin’ the gun full of beauteeful H. Soon you will be ridin’ a wave.”

  She lay impatiently back on her bed. She didn’t feel so good. Whitejack was a mean son-of-a-bitch to keep her waiting. If she didn’t have to depend on him to get her the stuff, she’d scratch the motherfucker’s eyes out.

  She tossed about on the bed restlessly, the sleeve of her kimono rolled up, her left arm exposed and ready. “Hurry up,” she snapped impatiently.

  He checked out the liquid in the syringe. Little Carrie was a real pinhead. Took to dope like a dog to a bone. Dolly was right. If they didn’t get rid of her soon they would all be in trouble. “Here we go, woman,” he drawled.

  She held out her arm, tightening the belt she had around it so that the veins stood out good and ready. Her arm was already full of puncture marks, but there were still spots left where the needle entered nice and easy.

  She groaned aloud as it went in.

  “Any minute now you are gonna feel good, woman, real fine an’ good,” he crooned, “an’ you are gonna get that lazy black ass off’n the bed, an’ start fussin’ with your pretty hair, an’ pilin’ cosmetic shit on your pretty face, an’ we are all goin’ to a real fine party.” He withdrew the needle.

  She rolled around on the bed, hugging her knees to her chest. Whitejack stood looking down at her. Gradually she straightened her body out and stretched luxuriously. A change was coming over her. The tenseness in her face was falling away like a mask, and she was smiling and reaching out languorous arms. “C’mere, honey.” She sighed. “Let’s have our own party, just the two of us.”

  Wow! She felt so good. And Whitejack was such a wonderful man.

  “Get up,” he said sharply. “You got half an hour.” He left her room.

  She got off the bed and danced around the floor, starting to sing in a shaky little voice, “You’re the cream in my coffee….”

  Lucille scurried into the room, shutting the door behind her. “What’s the matter with you?” she demanded. “Don’t you know what they’re doing to you?”

  “What?” asked Carrie lightly, still dancing.

  Lucille glanced nervously at the door. “You’ve got to get out of here,” she muttered urgently. “They’re plannin’ to… get rid of you.”

  Carrie pealed with laughter. “Lucille! Wait till I tell Whitejack what you said!”

  “Only joking.” Lucille backed off quickly, biting on her bottom lip so hard she drew blood.

  “Oh, yeah?” teased Carrie, amused by the little woman’s obvious consternation.

  “Sure,” replied Lucille, forming a grotesque smile. She was frightened. She had no idea what to do. She had overheard Dolly and Whitejack plotting to do away with Carrie. She had stood outside the kitchen door and heard them. But what could she do? It was information that put her own life in danger.

  “We’re goin’ to a party,” Carrie sang. “Ain’t that fun, bun?” She collapsed in giggles.

  “Want me to brush your hair?” Lucille asked, tears stinging her eyes.

  “Ooh, that would be de-light-ful.”

  Lucille picked up a brush and started to attend to her friend’s hair.

  Gino fairly zipped along in the old souped-up Ford. He had been planning to buy himself a new car but had somehow not got around to it. So the old Ford it was. All the way to Westchester. And if Mrs. Duke didn’t like it, too bad.

  He had expected a fancy house, but the mansion that greeted his eyes surpassed even his expectations. Set in sixty acres of lush countryside, it was lit up like a fairy palace.

  He drove through wrought-iron gates, following the sparkling lights that lay ahead. Scattered around the driveway was the most impressive group of automobiles Gino had ever seen. Shiny Rolls-Royces parked next to sleek foreign roadsters. A gleaming bronze Duesenberg with whitewall tires. Pierce-Arrows, Cords, and a black-and-white Mercedes-Benz SS that Gino could easily imagine killing for.

  Who needed the party? He would be perfectly happy just checking out the cars.

  He parked the Ford, got out, and headed for the fun.

  Clementine Duke was a wonderful hostess. She knew how to make people relax and feel at ease. She filled her house with flowers, marvelous food, comfortable furniture, and attentive servants.

  She also served excellent liquor (contrary to what she had told Gino), imported cigars for the men, and handmade chocolates and truffles for the ladies.

  She mixed her guests, entertaining movie stars, politicians, writers, and jazz musicians. They all mingled freely and enjoyed it. New romances happened often.

  But the main reason why Clementine’s parties were so successful was because nobody was ever quite sure what would happen at them. Nude bathing in the huge marble swimming pool A Charleston dancing competition. A private screening of a new movie. Live jazz bands. Clementine had been the first to feature all these events.

  “What do you have in store for us tonight, Clemmie darling?” giggled one of her women friends.

  “Wait and see, Esther, wait and see,” Clementine said mysteriously.

  Esther clapped fat beringed hands together, and her large bosoms, clearly visible through a chiffon dress, jiggled in anticipation. “Something naughty? Oh, I do hope so!” She smiled lasciviously, displaying unfortunate buck teeth. “What time is the surprise?”

  “Soon enough,” murmured Clementine, and was annoyed to find herself looking around yet again to see if Gino had arrived.

  “Don’t know why we had t’take a bookin’ all the way out in the country,” complained Dolly. “It ain’t like our asses ain’t shakin’ in the city.” She sat up front in the white Oldsmobile next to Whitejack, who was driving.

  “Shee…it!” he spat. “Will you stop moanin’, woman? I ’splained to you ten times that this is a special show. Like it’s a party fulla ’por-tant people. We go down big here, an’ we kin up our price.”

  “Yeah. An’ what if any those big important people of yours get to takin’ an interest in us?”

  “What you talkin’, woman?” His voice rose. “I tole ya. Tonight we takes it easy. Just the strippin’.”

  “Yeah. An’ what if they get to wonderin’ how old she is?” She jerked a finger at Carrie, sitting quietly in the back with Lucille. “An’ what if they get to wonderin’ ’bout the holes in her arms?”

  Whitejack pulled the car abruptly off to the side of the road and brought it to a shudderin
g stop. He crossed his hands over his chest and stared straight ahead. “I go out my way to please you, woman. You want to bitch my fuckin’ head off, we just gonna turn this here automobile ’round an’ go right on back to the city.”

  Gino paused in the entrance hall and took a quick glance at himself in a magnificent Venetian glass mirror hanging on the wall. Hmmm…. He didn’t look bad at all. Certainly not out of place in his wing collar and expensive tuxedo.

  He looked over the setup. A bar occupied one wall of the hall. It was liberally stocked and attended by two barmen in stiff white jackets and striped trousers. Beyond the hall was a large living room with french windows leading out to a tented terrace. All around was the smell of big money. Gino took a deep breath and smiled. He liked the smell a lot.

  “I say, aren’t you drinking?” A girl had swooped down on him, a large girl with reddish curled hair.

  “Ain’t got around to it yet.”

  She peered at him curiously. “Delightful champagne. You simply must try some.”

  “Yeh.” He edged away. He had no plans to get trapped by just any piece of gash. The talent in the place had to be seen to be believed. Aldo would split a gut if he got a load of the skirts around this joint. And all classy.

  He grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing waiter. Leonora would look good here; she’d fit right in.

  Fuck Leonora.

  He wished he had.

  Mustn’t think about her. He had made himself a promise that he wouldn’t. Wasted enough of his life being a mug about her.

  Clementine noticed him the instant he walked out onto the tented terrace. “Excuse me, Bernard,” she said to the distinguished theatrical impresario, “but I have to greet a new boy.”

  Bernard Dimes nodded agreeably and turned back to his elegant companion.

  Clementine walked briskly across the terrace to discourage any of her guests from delaying her. She was right in front of Gino before he even noticed her, so intent was he on drinking in his surroundings.

  “Do you like my house?” she questioned softly.

  He jumped, spilling some of the champagne from his glass. Quickly he recovered his swagger. “Quite a joint.”

  “Hardly a joint.”

  “Yeh, well… er, it’s a joint t’me.” His eyes jumped instinctively to her nipples. Yes. They were still on show. Never let up. He had never seen a woman with permanently erect nipples before.

  She took his arm. “I’m going to introduce you around.”

  He felt out of his depth. He didn’t want to be dragged through the place like some pet puppy. “Sure, later.” He dislodged her grip on his arm and took a swig of champagne. He hated the stuff and grimaced.

  She noticed and gestured for a waiter. “Get Mr. Santangelo a scotch,” she said, gently removing the champagne glass from his hand. “I like your tuxedo, Gino,” she murmured, her deep green eyes exploring his.

  “Yeh?” He felt like a chump. He had nothing to say to her. He had never in his life made small talk, and he wasn’t about to start now.

  Esther Becker giggled girlishly and poked Senator Oswald Duke playfully in the stomach. “I understand our surprise tonight is going to be naughty!” she gushed.

  Oswald looked at her blankly. He had never really liked Esther Becker. He found her insincere and fatuous.

  “I really don’t know,” he said stiffly. “It’s Clementine’s surprise.”

  “Ah, yes, you do always allow her to have her way, don’t you?” Esther batted weak blue eyes at him. “So modern of you, Oswald, but then you do have such a very modern marriage.” She grinned, displaying truly awful teeth. “I wish Gordon would allow me some freedom. Just think of the things I could get up to—maybe even with you, Ozzie!” She giggled naughtily.

  Oswald had a horrible vision of a naked Esther Becker getting up to things with him. Her idea of naughty things. He visibly blanched.

  Her grin widened. “Who does Clemmie have hold of now?”

  He followed her gaze across the terrace and observed his wife talking to some young dark-haired chap.

  He offered Esther his arm. “Shall we go and see, my dear?”

  Gino had just accepted a hefty glass of scotch from the waiter when Clementine murmured, “My husband is coming over. Be nice to him. He can do you a lot of good.”

  Gino was more than confused. She was standing next to him sending out silent signals of lust that even a dumb idiot couldn’t mistake, and now she was going`to introduce him to her husband. What was going on?

  Before he could give the matter too much thought, the husband was upon them and an unperturbed Clementine was handing out introductions like she hadn’t a care in the world.

  He decided that maybe he was reading her signals wrong.

  “Delighted to meet you,” Senator Duke said, pumping away with his limp right hand. “Clementine has spoken of you often.”

  Often? Gino snatched his hand away and studied the skirt with the Senator. His eyes were immediately drawn to the floppy breasts encased in chiffon. What was it with these rich numbers? For some reason all of them were out to give a free show.

  Clementine gave him a little shove. “I want you to go with Oswald and get the business matters out of the way, then you can relax and have fun.”

  “Quite,” agreed Oswald. “We’ll go to my study.”

  Clementine and Esther watched them depart.

  “Hmmm,” observed Esther. “And where did you find him?”

  Clementine smiled. “My secret.”

  “Shee-it!” exclaimed Whitejack. “Will y’all get a load of this place!”

  Dolly was unimpressed by the fairy-tale mansion up ahead. She had been to big houses before. She stared stoically to the front and said nothing.

  Carrie was singing softly to herself and not taking much notice of anything.

  Lucille felt she had better respond. “Wow!” she enthused. “It’s wonderful!”

  “’Course it is, woman. Din’t I tell y’all tonight was gonna be a special night?”

  “You sure did!” Lucille replied, nudging Carrie. “Look, hon, isn’t it beautiful?”

  Carrie glanced vaguely out of the window. Of course it was beautiful, she wouldn’t have expected anything else. Everything was beautiful, didn’t Lucille know that?

  Dolly drummed her fingers on the dashboard. “Where we supposed to go?” she asked impatiently. She just wanted to do the show and get the hell out. These rich parties were the worst, full of drunks and women. Whitejack didn’t know from nothing. Dumb black man. He only saw it as a step up in life.

  Senator Oswald Duke was a mug. Gino realized that immediately. He wasn’t interested in any accounting. He just asked, “How much do I owe you?” And when Gino told him—sticking an extra two hundred on for good luck—he paid in cash. Gino pocketed the money and felt flush. It was a wonder the rich managed to stay that way if they were all as dumb as the Senator.

  “You know Gino,” the Senator said, “sometimes I need a small favor.”

  “Yeh?”

  “A matter that I can’t personally be involved in.”

  “Like what?”

  “Oh”—the Senator waved his hand in the air vaguely—“different things. Maybe someone owes me money… and needs a little persuasion to pay. Or perhaps a former employee threatens to blackmail me over some imagined doing. Trivial matters that affect all men in public office.” He paused, picked up a box of fine cigars from his desk, and offered one to Gino. “If you were prepared to do the occasional favor for me, I would be more than happy to… say, advise you on your finances.”

  “Huh?”

  “I won’t beat around the bush. You deal in bootleg liquor. Cash. Right?”

  Christ! Maybe the old fart was in with the feds. He said nothing.

  The Senator continued, “Cash is a very valuable commodity, but there is not a lot you can do with it before the tax authorities are banging on your door asking questions.”

  Yeh. That was true. />
  The Senator lit his cigar and stared at Gino meaningfully. “I can make your money legitimate. Eventually—by doing that—I can make you legitimate. Are you interested?”

  He nodded. He was interested.

  Scott, the butler, materialized at Clementine’s side. “The—er, entertainers have arrived, madam. I have put them in the blue guest room as you requested.”

  Clementine nodded, her green eyes sparkling. “Take them some refreshments, Scott.”

  “Yes, madam.” The old butler bowed slightly and retreated. He had seen some strange goings-on in his time, but this group… he wondered if madam was aware of what a motley assemblage they were. He sighed deeply. She more than likely was. Mrs. Duke was a strange one herself.

  “Do tell,” Esther Becker insisted. “Come on, Clemmie, don’t be a meanie. Tell me what the surprise is.”

  Clementine smiled mysteriously. “I won’t reveal what it is. I will only say that it is disgustingly vulgar!”

  Esther shivered ecstatically. “How divine! I adore vulgarity!”

  Clementine’s eyes swept over Esther’s jiggling bosoms. “Yes, dear, I know.”

  Carrie dragged deeply on the reefer Whitejack handed her, loving the feel of the rich smoke filling up her lungs. It gave her a tremendous charge.

  Dolly peered at herself moodily in the dressing-table mirror. Every platinum blond curl in place. “What time we go on?” she asked Whitejack.

  He was in seventh heaven. He lay on the large double guest bed in his white suit and white patents and swigged from a full bottle of the finest scotch. “Who cares, woman?”

  “I care,” snapped Dolly. “We got a long drive back. An’ you better make sure we get paid ’fore we go on, not after.”

  “You leave the business t’me,” he said, reaching for a smoked salmon canapé.

  Business! He didn’t know from shit!

  The party was a success—as usual. Clementine stood back and watched her guests at play. Dinner was being served now: a succulent buffet table groaning with honey-roasted hams, chicken, cold turkey, beef, and whole fresh salmon.