Angela had no idea Dani was still only sixteen; like everyone else, Angela was under the impression she was almost twenty.
“Actually,” Angela continued, “a guy stopped by the stage door the other night who’d be perfect for you.” She paused for a moment. “’Course, I kinda went for him myself, but if he comes back I’ll be generous and let you have first shot.”
“Who was he?” Dani asked curiously, not at all sure that she wanted first shot.
“Gorgeous!” Angela exclaimed, applying thick black fake eyelashes with a practiced hand. “That’s all you need to know.”
“I’m not sure I’m ready,” Dani began.
“Oh, please,” Angela said, spidery eyelashes firmly in place. “I’m sick of hearing you say that.”
“Sorry,” she murmured.
“Now,” Angela said, reviewing her reflection, “when are you telling Sam you’re sharing my apartment? ’Cause if you don’t do it soon, I gotta get someone else.”
“This week,” she said quickly.
“Promise?” Angela said, reaching for her scanty costume.
“Yes, I promise,” Dani said, deciding that she’d tell Sam soon.
A few days later, she cooked Sam his favorite meal. They sat at the kitchen table eating chicken and french fries, while Frank Sinatra serenaded them on the stereo. After a while she broached the subject. “Sam, I’m, uh . . . moving out,” she ventured.
He pretended he didn’t hear her.
“Are you listening to me? I’m leaving,” she repeated. “Angela needs a roommate, and I’ve decided it’s a good idea for me to move in with her.”
“What?” he said, crinkling his forehead.
“I’m sharing an apartment with Angela,” she said, speaking fast. “I mean, you and I—we’ll still be friends and everything, and I’ll see you all the time, but we’ve both got to get out and meet other people.”
“Why?” he said, putting down his fork.
“Because right now we depend on each other too much.”
He stared at her for a few moments. “Is this how you want to treat me?” he said at last, “by telling me that you’re leaving me by myself?”
“Of course not,” she said patiently. “It’s just that a year has gone by, and I feel it’ll be better this way.”
“No, Dani,” he said fiercely, “it won’t. You’re too young to be on your own. It’s my job to make sure you don’t get into trouble.”
“I keep on telling you, Sam,” she said, quite exasperated, “I might be young in years, but I do know what’s going on. I can look after myself.”
“Emily thought she could look after herself, and look what happened to her,” he pointed out. “You need my protection.”
“We don’t know what happened to her, do we?” Dani said.
“She could be anywhere,” he answered, grim faced. “She could’ve been white-slaved and taken off to . . . I dunno—one of those countries where they keep girls in brothels. Do you even know what a brothel is?”
“Yes.”
“Is that what you want for yourself?” he said sternly. “Somebody to stick a needle in your arm, smuggle you onto a boat, and take you off to a foreign country?”
“What’re you talking about?”
“That’s probably what happened to Emily,” he said dourly.
“Look, Sam,” she said, determined not to weaken, “I love you very much. You rescued me, and I’ll never forget it. Now I have to go.”
“No, you don’t,” he said stubbornly. “ ’Cause if you do, I’ll tell them how old you are, an’ you’ll lose your job.”
“I’m almost seventeen, Sam,” she said, upset by his weak attempt at blackmail. “I can work then.”
“Yes, but they’ll realize you’ve been lying to them all this time, so they’ll fire you anyway.”
“Please don’t threaten me,” she said, close to tears. “I want us to stay friends.”
He pushed his plate away and stood up. “And what if I want more than that?”
“Excuse me?” she said, startled.
“What if I want to be more than best friends?” he demanded. “Don’t you think you owe me that?”
She tried to pretend she didn’t understand what he was getting at, but she understood only too well, and it made her cringe. Sam was Emily’s husband; she had never thought of him in a physical way.
“I’ll be moving next week,” she said, starting to stack the dishes.
“You can’t do this to me,” he said plaintively.
“I’m not doing anything to you,” she said, wishing he would stop making her feel so guilty.
“Yes, you are.”
Taking a long, deep breath she uttered her final words on the subject. “Next Monday, Sam. You’ll just have to accept it.”
A week later she moved.
“So you’re actually doing this?” he said, fixing her with a malevolent glare as she carried her two suitcases to the front door.
“I told you I was.”
“I don’t believe it,” he muttered.
“It’ll work out fine,” she assured him. “I’ll probably spend more time over here than at my place.”
“Don’t bother,” he said sulkily.
Angela’s apartment was on the fifth floor of a smart building complex. Dani was impressed and also a little surprised that Angela could afford such a nice place. They’d discussed how much rent she’d contribute; only, as soon as she saw the apartment, she knew it couldn’t possibly be enough.
“Don’t worry about it,” Angela said airily when she brought the subject up. “One of my boyfriends owns the building. He gave me a sweet deal.”
Angela had plenty of boyfriends, but as far as Dani could tell, none of them meant much to her. “Horny guys are a dime a dozen,” Angela explained. “Use ’em for what you can get out of the poor bastards, then move on.”
“I’d like to find someone special,” Dani said wistfully, remembering what Sam and Emily had once shared.
“Dream on!” Angela exclaimed. “Guys are only after one thing. An’ once they get it, they are history.”
“Surely there’s some nice ones out there?”
“You are so naive,” Angela said scornfully. “I bet you’ve never even slept with a guy, have you?”
She shook her head.
“Ha! You must be the only twenty-year-old virgin in Vegas.”
For a moment Dani was tempted to tell her how old she really was, then she decided against it. Angela might not want her as a roommate if she revealed the truth.
Two nights later Angela informed her they were going out on a double date.
“We are?” Dani said, wide eyed at the thought.
“Two hot guys, it’ll be a blast,” Angela assured her.
For almost four years Dani had been repelling all advances, now Angela was expecting her to go out with a stranger on a blind date. It didn’t make sense, and yet she feared coming across as a bad sport. Besides, she’d made up her mind to discover what all the fuss was about the male sex.
Angela lent her a sexy gold lamé top and jangly rhinestone earrings. “Be nice to the guy,” Angela instructed. “Tell him he’s a stud an’ shit like that. They get off on flattery.”
“I don’t even know him,” Dani demurred.
“You will!” Angela said with a coarse giggle.
Dani’s half of the double date was short and overweight, with greasy hair and the biggest sticking-out ears she’d ever seen. His name was Manny Spiven, and the moment he opened his mouth she knew she’d made a big mistake agreeing to accompany Angela on this adventure.
Henry, the guy with Angela, was scrawny, with lank blond hair and tinted aviator glasses perched on the end of his long, pointed nose.
“Henry’s training to be a dealer,” Angela boasted. “That’s a pretty important job.”
“Don’t make that my claim to fame,” Henry objected, winking knowingly. “I got other assets, y’know.”
“Oh, yes,” Angela said with a low, sexy chuckle. “And I’m lookin’ forward to seeing them!”
“That can definitely be arranged,” Henry said before switching his attention to Dani. “So how long you been in town, cupcake?” he asked.
“Long enough to know it’s safer to avoid you,” Angela said, giggling.
“Why?” he said proudly. “You think I got me a reputation?”
“You know you have,” Angela retorted, which pleased Henry no end.
Manny decided it was time to join in the conversation. “How ya doin’?” he said, leering at Dani. “Feelin’ good? ’Cause I’m feelin’ real good. We’re gonna rip the town tonight, little lady. You an’ me. Dani an’ Manny—some combination!”
Trapped, Dani thought. I’m trapped. Why did I allow myself to get in this position?
Because I wanted to please Angela. I wanted to show her that I’m not some naive girl who doesn’t know how to behave.
“Where are we having dinner?” Angela asked, clinging to Henry’s arm.
“Wherever you want, doll,” he replied.
Not to be left out, Manny grabbed Dani’s arm. “I could go for a big juicy steak,” he announced. “Me an’ my girl—we’re gonna need all the strength we can get, don’t we, babe?”
As the evening progressed, Dani decided that things were rapidly going from bad to worse. First there was the dinner, where Manny proceeded to display the table manners of an ape, chewing on his steak like a food-deprived caveman. This was followed by a long gambling session on the slot machines at the Sands, and when Manny and Henry were finally through, they suggested a stroll around the large outdoor pool, whereupon Manny grabbed her in a tight embrace, his pudgy hands roaming all over her breasts.
“Get off me,” she said, shoving him away.
“Don’t gimme that hard-to-get crap,” he sneered. “You know you want me.”
“Oh, please,” she said heatedly. “I never did and I never will.”
He did not appreciate her reply. “Who the hell d’you think you are?” he said angrily. “Some dumb hoofer in a bad show. You’re lucky t’ be out with a guy like me, an’ don’tcha forget it.”
Henry and Angela had walked ahead of them and were now standing by the deserted outdoor bar, locked in a deep French kiss. Obviously it was no use trying to attract their attention.
“I’m leaving,” Dani said, attempting to remain calm.
“Not until you’ve paid for dinner,” Manny said, scowling. “I ain’t gettin’ stuck with your part of the check. Fact is, you owe me.”
“Excuse me?” she said, outraged.
“You heard,” he said, grabbing her again.
“Take . . . your . . . hands off me,” she said, struggling out of his grasp.
“What is it with you good-lookin’ broads?” he snarled. “You’re all the same—think we should treat you like fuckin’ princesses.”
“How much was dinner?” she asked, desperately trying to control a flood of tears.
“What?” he snapped.
“Here,” she said, blindly groping in her purse and shoving a bunch of dollar bills at him. “Take this—and do me a favor, forget we ever met.” And with that she was on her way.
“Hoity-toity bitch!” he yelled after her. “You’ll get yours.”
She didn’t look back.
Michael—1964
In New York, things were heating up. Vito Giovanni suddenly found himself in the headlines. The Feds, who’d been tracking his activities for quite a while, had decided to go after him on a tax evasion charge, and it was infuriating him.
His high-powered lawyers assured him the Feds had no case, but in the meantime the newspapers latched on to him. They began calling him all kind of names and dogging his movements. Every time he left his house there was a bunch of photographers gathered outside, pushing and shoving to get the best shot.
Mamie loved the attention. “Makes me feel like a movie star,” she exclaimed, trying on yet another recently purchased expensive outfit.
“Don’t,” Vito informed her, his face grim. “In my business the trick is to stay outta the newspapers.”
“But, honey,” she answered playfully, “we’re famous.”
“Fuck that ‘famous’ shit,” he growled. “Who needs the attention?”
Meanwhile, Michael was learning how to use a gun. Vito had arranged for a tall, brooding man known as the Chronicle to teach him. The two of them drove out to a shooting range three mornings a week, where the Chronicle instructed him on every aspect of handling and shooting guns.
“It’s like I’m gettin’ me a crash course,” Michael boasted to Max when he picked him up from his job.
Max, who was currently selling women’s shoes in a discount store on Seventh Avenue, threw him a disapproving look. “How come you wanna learn to shoot?” he asked, scratching his head.
“Gotta know how to protect myself,” Michael explained, as they set off down the street.
“From what?”
“You never know,” Michael answered with a casual shrug.
“Yeah,” Max said, quite exasperated, “I guess ya gotta protect yourself from all those lowlifes you hang out with.”
Max was always carrying on about Michael’s connection to the Giovanni family. It pissed him off. So far his so-called connection had made him nothing but money. “You’re beginning to sound like my grandma,” he remarked.
“Thanks a lot!”
“Don’t mention it.”
They continued on down the street, both busy with their own thoughts.
Why am I learning to shoot? Michael thought. It is kind of a crazy thing to do, an’ the Chronicle is a total freak, with his flat, dead eyes and creepy attitude. But hey—if Mr. G. wants me to learn, I gotta go along with it. He’s the boss.
Max was thinking about other things. He had something to tell Michael, and he wanted to get it over with as soon as possible before Michael heard it from someone else.
“Uh . . . I got news,” he ventured at last.
“Yeah?” Michael said, waving at a girl he knew.
Max hesitated a moment; he wasn’t sure what kind of reaction he was about to get. “Tina an’ me,” he finally blurted, “we’re . . . uh . . . gettin’ married in a coupla weeks.”
Michael stopped short. “Whaaat?”
“You heard,” Max said quickly. “An’ I’d like you t’ be my best man.”
“Aw, c’mon,” Michael said disbelievingly. “You only just got engaged.”
“We’ve decided we don’t wanna wait.”
“You’re nuts,” Michael snapped. “There’s no way you can afford to get hitched.”
“I can do it,” Max answered stubbornly.
“Jeez!” Michael said in disgust. “You’re not even twenty yet. You work in some lousy women’s shoe store, an’ you still live at home. What’ve you got to offer a girl like Tina?”
“I don’t suppose you’ve ever heard of bein’ in love?” Max said, defending his decision. “I’m not like you—Mr. Fuck ’Em an’ Leave ’Em. I’m different.”
“Yeah,” Michael said flatly, “you’re different all right. You’re a jerk.”
“Better than bein’ some gangster’s boy,” Max shot back.
“Who’re you calling a gangster’s boy?” Michael demanded, putting up his fists.
“You’re so far up Giovanni’s ass you got a brown nose,” Max responded.
They started getting into a fake fight, fists flying—a scenario they’d been playing out since they were kids.
Passersby stared. They didn’t care; it was all about cutting loose.
After a few minutes Michael got bored. “Why don’t we grab a burger,” he suggested. “I got a hot date later, so I’m gonna need all the energy I can get.”
“You an’ your hot dates,” Max scoffed. “Don’tcha ever plan on settlin’ with the right girl?”
“Why would I do that when I got pussy comin’ out my ears?”
Ma
x shook his head. “You should hook up with a girl like Tina. She’s the greatest.”
“I did. Remember?”
Max preferred to forget that Michael had once dated his future wife. It wasn’t something he cared to think about.
“So,” Michael asked, purposely needling his friend, “she puttin’ out yet?”
“Like I’d tell you.”
“How come?”
“Can it, Mike. We’re talkin’ about the girl I’m gonna marry.”
“Oh, now I get it,” Michael said with a knowing grin. “You knocked her up, right?”
“No freakin’ way,” Max said, his face reddening.
“Okay, okay,” Michael said, starting to laugh. “Hey—remember the time you was workin’ at that fleabag hotel, an’ I came in with Polly? You was green with envy.”
“I was?”
“Bet your ass you was.”
“What happened to her?”
“Married some jerk an’ went to live in the suburbs. She’s probably a fat old bag with a houseful of screamin’ kids by now.”
“It was only a coupla years ago,” Max pointed out.
“Those kinda women—they go downhill fast,” Michael said, turning into one of their regular hamburger joints. He winked at the girl behind the counter and ordered his usual—a double cheeseburger with everything on it. Max went for a grilled ham sandwich.
“So . . . you’re gettin’ married,” Michael said, as they sat at the counter, waiting for their food.
“Yup,” Max said sheepishly. “Guess I am.”
“Jerk!”
“Asshole!”
“I’ve been thinking,” Michael said on a sudden impulse. “How about I treat you to a plane ticket to Vegas an’ we celebrate your bachelor night there?”
“Why d’you keep on goin’ to Las Vegas?” Max asked, swigging a Coke.
“Business.”
“Business my ass.”
“No, really,” Michael insisted. “I gotta take care of stuff for Mr. G.”
“What kinda stuff?”
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