Yes, she thought to herself, and I’m sure there’s a fine room with a fine bed right next door to the fine dining room.
Dani was no longer the naive young girl who’d arrived in the city three years previously. She’d learned plenty along the way, and it seemed to her that staying away from men was the wisest path to take.
“That’s very generous of you, Mr. Lomas,” she said politely, “only it’s not such a good idea.”
“Why?” he asked, a nerve twitching on the left-hand side of his narrow face.
“Because you have a wife.”
“I’m not asking you to marry me, dear,” he sneered, refusing to accept defeat gracefully. “I’m merely inviting you for a spot of dinner.”
“I understand, Mr. Lomas,” she replied, wishing he’d leave her alone. “And perhaps if your wife were to join us . . .”
“Forget I asked,” he said, marching off in a huff.
Fiona, one of the floor maids who’d been standing nearby, quietly applauded. “You told him,” she said. “Mind you, he might’ve given you a raise.”
“Who wants a raise if that’s the way I have to get it?” Dani said scornfully.
“Dead right,” Fiona said. “That man is a big old married lech. The worst kind.”
“He sure is,” Dani agreed.
“Y’know,” Fiona continued, “my boyfriend has some really nice friends. So . . . if you do want to go out and celebrate . . .”
Dani shook her head, thinking that was the last thing she wanted. “No thanks,” she said quickly.
“Why?”
“I’m not interested.”
“In what?”
“Getting involved with anyone.”
“One date’s hardly gettin’ involved,” Fiona sniffed.
“Besides,” Dani added, taking the edge off, “my sister’s throwing me a party.”
“Nice,” Fiona said snippily. “Thanks for the invite.”
“Not a big party,” she added hurriedly. “Actually, it’s only me, my sister, and her husband.”
“Sounds like a laugh a minute.”
She couldn’t care less what Fiona thought, it was her birthday and she would celebrate it any way she chose. Besides, Sam and Emily were the only two people she cared about.
By the time she finished work and got over to their apartment, it was past seven. Emily had promised to cook, and she was looking forward to her sister’s delicious roast chicken and home-style potatoes—Emily’s specialty.
Sam answered the door looking agitated. “Where is she?” he asked, peering past her.
“Who?” Dani asked, disappointed because there was no smell of cooking in the air.
“Emily.”
“How would I know?” she answered, shrugging off her knit jacket. “I thought she’d be here.”
“So did I,” Sam said. “But as you can see, she’s not.”
“Then where is she?”
“I’m asking you,” he said, exasperated.
“Haven’t seen her. I came straight from work.”
“Damn!” Sam said, frowning. “She was due home three hours ago.”
“Did you call the restaurant?”
“Yeah.”
“What did they say?”
“That she signed off her shift at four o’clock.”
“Maybe she went shopping.”
“She did all her shopping yesterday. The food’s in the kitchen, waitin’ for her to cook.” He ran his hand through his tousled red hair. “It’s not like Emily to screw around.”
“Do you think something might have happened to her?” Dani asked tentatively.
“Dunno,” he said, grabbing his jacket. “I’m gonna run over to the hotel, see if she’s there.”
“I’ll come with you.”
The restaurant at the hotel where Emily worked had no news of her. She’d signed off at four o’clock, exactly as the manager had informed Sam over the phone.
“Is there anyone here who was workin’ with her today?” he asked.
“I think Sharon’s still around,” the manager said.
“Can I talk to her?”
“Wait in the back. I’ll see if I can find her. No need to disturb the customers.”
“You got it,” Sam said.
He and Dani made their way to a small stockroom at the rear of the restaurant and waited.
Five minutes later Sharon appeared. “What’s up, Sam?” she asked.
“What’s up is Emily ain’t come home,” he said agitatedly. “Did she say anythin’ about where she was goin’ after work?”
“No,” Sharon replied. “She told me she’d see me tomorrow, that was it.”
“Maybe we should check the hospitals,” Dani suggested, joining in.
“I’m sure she’ll turn up,” Sharon said cheerfully. “You know Emily. Miss Reliable.”
“Yes,” Dani agreed, trying to stay positive.
Six hours later, after checking the hospital emergency rooms, Dani and Sam were sitting in the police station attempting to file a missing persons report.
“We don’t consider anyone missing until they’ve been gone for twenty-four hours,” said the desk cop, a big man with weary eyes and plenty of attitude.
“She is missing,” Sam said forcefully. “She should’ve been home by four-thirty. It’s now one in the morning.”
“Sorry,” the cop said. “There’s nothing we can do.”
“Goddamnit!!” Sam yelled, banging his fist on the desk. “You gotta do somethin’.”
“Can’t,” the cop said. “Come back when it’s been twenty-four hours.”
Muttering under his breath, Sam strode from the station, Dani right behind him. She’d never seen him so angry.
“I’m gettin’ on my bike an’ searchin’ the Strip,” he decided. “Y’know, check out every hotel, motel, casino. She’s gotta be somewhere.”
“I’m sure she’s all right,” Dani reassured him.
But deep down she had a wretched feeling that they’d never see Emily again.
Michael—1964
I’m comin’ to your grandma’s funeral,” Mamie Giovanni announced as she flounced around the store picking out canned goods and tossing them in a basket carried by one of her husband’s henchmen, who trailed behind her.
“You don’t have to do that,” Michael answered, surprised that she’d suggested it.
“Yes, I do,” Mamie insisted. “I knew her, I should be there.”
“That’s real nice of you, Mrs. G.”
“Nice, schmice,” she said with a casual shrug. “It’s the least I can do.”
Grandmother Lani had passed away in the middle of the night. She wasn’t alone; Michael had hired a nurse to sit with her. Unfortunately the nurse had fallen asleep, failing until early morning to notice that her patient had died. Then the woman had panicked and run around the house yelling hysterically that it wasn’t her fault.
Filled with guilt that he wasn’t with his grandma at her passing, Michael had immediately called the doctor, who came over and later issued a death certificate. It was all very depressing.
He wasn’t sad that Grandma Lani had died. At the end she was senile and in pain, so it was almost a relief to see an end to her suffering. He’d miss her, though; she’d always treated him well.
Vinny didn’t seem too upset. “She’s better off where she is,” he’d said, staring at a rerun of I Love Lucy. “This is a shitty world. Now at least she can have some peace.”
Michael was glad he didn’t share the same attitude. He had no desire to follow his dad into a life of doom and gloom. He wanted more, he wanted everything he could get. In fact, he wouldn’t mind being like Vittorio Giovanni, a man who had respect and money. Everybody talked about Vittorio being a gangster, but he’d seen no signs of it. As far as he could tell, Vito Giovanni was a smart businessman who did things his way.
Two years ago, Mamie had kept her promise and introduced him to her husband. She’d told Vito she’d known Mich
ael since he was a kid, and that they should be good to him. To please his wife, Vito had put various small jobs his way—such as occasionally delivering a package or storing stuff at his shop.
“I gotta say I like ya, kid,” Vito had told him after a few months. “You’re smart—you’ll do okay ’s long as you don’t fuck up.”
“Fuck what up?” Michael had asked.
“Anything,” Vito had said, and roared with laughter.
“Don’t expect my husband to come to the funeral,” Mamie said as she roamed around the shop in her usual outfit of high heels, tight skirt, and low-cut sweater.
“Didn’t think he would,” Michael answered.
“You’ll ride in the car with me,” she added, tossing two cans of tomato sauce into her basket.
“Can’t,” he said, going behind the counter. “Gotta go with my dad.”
“Hmm,” she mused, walking over and leaning on the counter, revealing quite a bit of deep cleavage. “It’ll be somethin’, seein’ Vinny again.” She paused, licking her overglossed lips. “He ever talk about me?”
“Uh . . . I never heard him say anythin’,” Michael replied, trying to avert his eyes from her generous bosom.
“Does he know you’ve been doing things for my husband?”
“No,” Michael said quickly. “An’ I’d sooner you didn’t tell him.”
“Yeah, yeah,” she agreed, sucking on her lower lip. “Knowing Vinny, he wouldn’t approve.”
Just how well did she know Vinny? Whenever he pushed for details, she changed the subject, and every time he asked Vinny, all he got was a blank stare.
Now that Grandmother Lani had passed on, Michael started wondering who she’d left the shop and the house to—him, or Vinny? It didn’t make any difference—they’d be his eventually. He’d been running the shop by himself for the last year. Vinny rarely bothered coming in, and even if he did, he didn’t know shit about anything.
Lately Michael had found that women were tripping over themselves to get near him, which was okay because Polly was long gone. She’d married Cyril and moved out to the boondocks. No big loss. Even Mamie Giovanni occasionally threw out a hint that she might be interested—not that he’d ever think of going anywhere near her. First of all she was twenty years older than he was, and second, she was married to a man he wouldn’t dare cross.
Still . . . he’d noticed that flirting put him in good stead with women. They got off on being told how pretty they looked or how nice they smelled. He wasn’t stupid; he realized that his exceptional good looks gave him plenty of advantages.
He’d made a one-night-a-week deal with the local motel, and every Friday he took a different female there. Sex was his way of relaxing, getting his rocks off, which put him in a good mood for the rest of the week. None of his dates meant anything to him—they were all interchangeable. Women were easy, and in a way that took away the thrill.
The Giovannis treated him like family, inviting him over to their house on holidays and special occasions. He was closer to Vito than he was to his own dad.
He’d found out from one of Vito’s henchmen that Mamie couldn’t have children. She’d given birth once, and the baby—a boy—was stillborn. After that it was a no-go situation. In his mind he began imagining that he was the son they’d never had.
On the day of the funeral, Vinny was in a worse mood than usual. He wheeled himself into the kitchen, scowling with anger. “Do I gotta go?” he demanded, glaring at his son.
“It’s your mom,” Michael pointed out, feeling as if he were the adult in the relationship. “You havta show respect, Dad. It’s only right.”
He didn’t mention that Mamie Giovanni would be there. Truth was, he was interested in seeing how Vinny would react when he saw her.
“Shit!” Vinny muttered, slamming his coffee mug onto the table.
The neighborhood turned out for the funeral. Grandma Lani had been quite a force in her day; everyone liked her.
The simple ceremony took place in the local church. Afterward, a small procession of people trooped out to the burial ground to witness the coffin being lowered into the ground.
Pushing his dad’s wheelchair, Michael glanced around hoping to spot Mamie, who so far had not put in an appearance.
He couldn’t see her, so he decided she probably hadn’t meant it when she’d said she’d be there. Why would she want to come to his grandma’s funeral anyway?
As the priest chanted a prayer over Lani’s coffin, Michael stared straight ahead, thinking that things would be different now. He’d be in total control, with nobody to answer to.
His friend Max suddenly nudged him. “Take a look at that,” Max muttered.
He took a look.
Mamie Giovanni was tottering across the grass, clad in a skintight red suit cinched in at the waist, a revealing black blouse, and four-inch hooker heels. Her dyed blond hair was teased high on her head, and she was heavily made up. Her cousin Roy was with her. She hovered at the edge of the crowd, standing out like a beacon in a sea of somber black.
Max stifled a laugh.
“Shut the fuck up,” Michael whispered, sneaking a quick glance at his dad, who didn’t appear to have noticed her arrival.
Later, everyone came back to the house. Some of the women in the neighborhood had organized a spread of cold cuts, salads, and baked goods. As they all sat around eating and talking, there was quite a festive atmosphere. After a short interval, several of the women trooped up to Grandma Lani’s bedroom and began going through her clothes.
Michael stayed close to Max, Tina, and Charlie. Max and Tina were still together in spite of Tina’s no-sex edict. They seemed like the perfect couple. Tina broke his balls, and Max enjoyed every moment. She treated Michael with a mixture of coolness and contempt—still smarting because he’d dumped her. He suspected she was dying to break up the close friendship he shared with Max, only she had no chance. He and Max were tight—lifetime best pals, and no girl could come between them.
Picking at the food, he kept an eye out for Mamie, wondering if she’d turn up at the house.
Across the room, trapped in his wheelchair, Vinny couldn’t wait for them all to leave so he could get back to his TV. He hated the house being filled with people disturbing his routine. In fact, he hated the house, period.
He hadn’t told Michael, but his plan was to sell the business, then the house, and move to Florida, where he’d get himself a place on the beach and a big TV. They could all go screw themselves, he didn’t care. Michael was nineteen, he could fend for himself. The boy was big enough and handsome enough. And he was able to walk, for crissakes. Up until now Michael had had it too easy; it would do him good to be out on his own without his grandma fussing around him.
Sometimes, when Vinny looked at his son, he saw himself at the same age, when he’d had a future. Anna Maria’s murder and getting shot in the robbery had destroyed not only the use of his legs, but his spirit too. As far as he was concerned, everything had ended that fateful day. Now he didn’t care about anything.
Michael spotted Mamie the moment she walked into the house. She was hard to miss in her tight red suit and teased blond hair. People stared and whispered.
Mamie couldn’t care less; as Vito Giovanni’s wife she was used to it.
She headed straight for Michael. “Take me to see Vinny,” she commanded.
He jumped up and obliged. Behind him he heard Tina say, “Who’s that? What a tramp!”
He led Mamie across the crowded room until they reached Vinny.
“Hey, Dad,” he said. “Got a friend of yours here—she’d like to say hello.”
“Who?” Vinny said, shifting in his wheelchair.
“Mamie Giovanni.”
And to Vinny’s surprise, there she was—Mamie, his old girlfriend, standing in front of him, just as big and brassy and blond as ever.
“Hi’ya, big boy,” she drawled. “Long time no see.”
“Mamie,” he said, utterly shocked.
“Remember me?” she said, flashing him a big smile. “I’m the girl you dumped for that piece a trash you dragged back from Italy.”
“Don’t talk about my wife like that,” he muttered, his face twisting with fury.
“Oh, so sorry,” Mamie said sarcastically. “Have we made her into a Madonna now she’s gone?”
“Why don’t you get outta my sight?” he said, livid that she could be so disrespectful.
“Didn’t want you worryin’ about me, Vinny,” she said, savoring every moment. “Y’see, I did okay for myself. Married the most important guy in the neighborhood. Vito Giovanni. I’m sure you know who he is.”
“Did you hear me?” Vinny shouted, blinking rapidly. “Get the hell outta my house!”
There was a hush in the room as everyone strained to see what was going on.
“Dad!” Michael interjected.
“And you,” Vinny said, glaring up at his son. “What kind of fool are you—bringin’ her here?”
“She, uh . . . wanted to pay her respects to Grandma,” Michael mumbled, shocked at the way things were going.
“Respect, my ass,” Vinny said harshly. “Lani couldn’t stand the sight of her, and she knows it. The bitch came here to gloat ’cause I’m in a fucking wheelchair.” His voice rose. “Now get her out!”
Michael had never seen his father display so much emotion, and now the entire room was watching. “Uh . . . , Mrs. G.,” he said, quickly grabbing her arm, “I think we gotta leave. I’ll, uh . . . walk you outside.”
Mamie wasn’t going anywhere until she’d finished having her say. Shaking Michael’s hand off her arm, she leaned over Vinny’s wheelchair. “Still the same old Vinny,” she taunted. “Funny, I don’t remember you telling me to get out when I was sucking your little dick!” And with those final words she stood up straight and flounced her way to the front door.
“Jeez,” Michael said, running after her while everyone in the room stared at them. “Why’d you havta say that? This is my grandma’s funeral.”
“Why’d I say it, sonny?” she said, exiting the house and standing on the sidewalk. “ ’Cause it’s true. Before the Eyetalian came along, I was your dad’s girlfriend.”
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