A Bookie's Odds (15 page)

She sighed.

He glanced over her head. “Drive her home.”

Nicholas stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray next to him. He hopped off the windowsill, walked over to the chair, and held out his hand.

Georgia looked from his hand to the bed and then back. After a second, she slipped her hand into his and allowed him to pull her from the chair. She leaned over the bed’s railing and placed a kiss on her father’s head.

Nicholas’s father slapped him on the back before dropping into the chair Georgia had vacated. He sat back, rested his elbows on the arms of the chair, and folded his hands. His shirt sleeves were folded back to his elbows. Around the cuff, spots of blood stained the white material.

Nicholas held Georgia’s hand as he escorted her to the elevators. As they stood waiting, another nurse walked by, noticed the intimacy between the two, and frowned. With his middle finger, he scratched the side of his nose, and she walked off in a huff.

Georgia reached up, laid her free hand over his, and gently pushed his appendage down. She then pulled him into the elevator, which had arrived during the quiet exchange.

****

Georgia ignored the glares and sneers from those they passed in the lobby. She could care less whether or not people approved of her holding hands with Nicholas.

It had been him, not them, who had waited by her side through the night to see her father. By staying, he, not they, had shown her what it meant to be a true friend. Therefore, it was only his, not their, opinion that mattered to her.

Without a word, they walked to his car. Nicholas drove for three blocks toward her apartment before he made a sudden turn. Trusting him, Georgia sat back as he moved farther and farther away from her residence.

Nicholas finally parked in front of the Santiano home. He used the shortcut of hopping to the back and then out of the car to reach the sidewalk. He opened the door for Georgia, took her hand, and helped her out.

As before, he did not release her once she was on her feet. He held her hand as he escorted her through the garden entrance.

“Nonna, we’re home,” Nicholas called out as he pushed the door closed behind them.

The older woman rushed out of the kitchen with her arms out. Georgia let go of Nicholas and moved into the woman’s embrace. Sophie Santiano had been as much a grandmother for her as she had been for her children’s children. And Georgia knew she could always depend on the other woman for comfort.

“How’s your father?”

Georgia pulled back and shook her head. “He was still sleeping when we left.”

“Evil. That was nothing but pure evilness. I hope the ones responsible rot in hell.”

“I’m sure they are.”

Sophie brushed a stray lock of hair from Georgia’s brow. “You don’t look good. You need to rest.”

“I have to take care of some things first.”

“Psst. Whatever you have to take care of can wait.” She grabbed Georgia’s wrist and dragged her toward the kitchen. “First you’ll eat. Then you’ll rest.”

Georgia glanced over her shoulder and mouthed, “Coward,” to Nicholas. She suspected he wanted her to do the same but knew she would’ve argued with him had he made the suggestion. He therefore brought her to his grandmother, knowing she would never argue with the older woman.

His grimace shifted to a smirk. Instead of following the women, he turned toward the stairs.

Sophie released Georgia’s arm when they reached the table, while she continued toward the stove, picked up the wooden spoon, and pointed to a chair. Obeying the unspoken command, Georgia plopped down.

“How will you manage until your father’s better?”

“I just have to clean the bar, and then I’ll be able to open again.”

“You remember, if you need any help—”

“I’ll call Mr. Santiano,” Georgia insisted, though things would have to be really bad before she did so. Her father was a proud man and would consider any financial assistance a handout.

“Good girl.”

Georgia watched as the woman fussed over each pot on the stove. She always timed everything so the entire meal was ready at the same time. One dish did not have a chance to get cold or dry out as she waited for another to finish. She had tried to teach Celeste the same skill, but her granddaughter was more concerned about thumbing through fashion magazines than she was about doing anything in the kitchen. She figured whatever instruction she needed she’d get from a cookbook after she was married.

Georgia wondered how successful the lessons were. She had tried following a recipe in a cookbook once, and though the meal was edible, it was merely okay.

Nicholas entered the kitchen as his grandmother drained the pasta. He carried a snifter with a generous amount of what she assumed was brandy sloshing around inside.

“Nicholas, set the table,” his grandmother ordered. “Georgia, go freshen up.”

Georgia stood as Nicholas placed the glass in front of the chair across from where she had been sitting. She shuffled into the bathroom a few steps from the kitchen and closed the door.

Not in the mood to see her reflection in the mirror over the sink, she ignored the overhead light. She already knew her hair was disheveled and her clothes were dirty and she felt grimy.

She washed her hands and dried them on one of the two navy blue hand towels that hung on the rack by the door. When she returned to the kitchen, a plate of fish, pasta with sauce, and bread sat on the table in front of her chair.

“I can’t eat this.” She slipped into the chair. “You made it for yourself.”

“You eat it. I’ll have chicken.”

“But—”

“You should know better than to argue with Nonna,” Nicholas said. “You never win.”

Georgia frowned.

“Don’t tease her, Nicky,” his grandmother scolded as she added a chicken breast to the pan in which she had fried the fish. “Though he is right. Now, sit down,
carina
, and eat.”

Georgia sighed before slipping back into her chair. Nicholas sat across from her and sipped his brandy as she took a bite.

“Speaking of fish,” the older woman said, “I had a dream about one last night.”

Georgia swallowed the bite she had taken. “It’s not me.”

“Of course not.”

“What’s going on?” Nicholas asked.

“If you dream about fish, that means someone you know is pregnant,” his grandmother replied. “A colored woman in my women’s group told me that.”

Nicholas shook his head. “You don’t believe that, do you?”

“Why not? Just ’cause you’re not raised on something, it doesn’t mean you can’t respect someone else’s belief.” The woman placed another plate of fish in front of Nicholas. “Now, eat up.”

Though Georgia would not admit it out loud, the meal hit the spot. It gave her the energy she would need to tackle the mess at the bar. After she cleaned, she would need to take inventory. She hoped there was enough liquor to get them to Monday, when she could place an order.

“Thank you for the food, Nonna.”

“Anytime, my dear.” The older woman removed the empty plate from the table. “Now you’ll go rest?”

“Yes,” she said aloud, while mentally adding, “once I finish working.”

****

Nicholas flinched as he read the not-so-ladylike thoughts going through Georgia’s mind.

Knowing she would go straight to the bar to clean up once he dropped her off, he drove toward his apartment after they left his father’s house. The moment she realized they were driving in a direction away from her residence, she glared daggers at him. However, the fact she did not verbalize her thoughts indicated how tired she was.

Once the elevator reached the fourth floor, she silently followed him down the carpeted hall to the apartment. It had been four years since the first and only time she’d visited him.

She had showed up on the night of her senior prom with an intoxicated Celeste, begged him to provide his sister a safe place to sleep, and insisted he keep the incident from his father, who would have placed his daughter under lock and key until she was thirty, had he found out.

That night, Nicholas gave the girls his bed and slept on the sofa that was a foot too short for him. In the morning, he had a crick in his neck and a foul mood he took out on the young man who got his sister drunk.

Though he was aware of the consequences of the sleeping arrangements, he planned to turn over his bed to Georgia. He led her past the kitchen and bathroom to the bedroom.

Georgia glanced longingly at the bed. Her eyelids drooped, and Nicholas knew she was fighting an internal battle. She wanted to sleep, while at the same time she felt an obligation to take care of the bar for her father.

He reached forward and pushed one corner of her lips up. “Stop frowning. It’s unbecoming.”

She slapped his hand away. “If you don’t like my frown, take me home where you won’t have to look at it.”

“If I do, you’ll go straight to the bar and start cleaning up.”

“I need to get the bar open as soon as possible. It’s bad enough that it’ll be closed tonight. Friday’s one of our busiest nights.”

“Look, if you’re concerned about the money—”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence.”

Her frown deepened, just like her father’s would, at the suggestion of taking money from someone. The only difference was her lips were full and inviting, practically begging for someone to kiss them.

Nicholas mentally slapped himself. Georgia was not like the women he took to bed. She was not to be used to satisfy his momentary desires and then forgotten about until he had another itch.

“It won’t hurt you to stay one night.” He opened the closet door and began rummaging through the clothes to get his mind away from the inappropriate thoughts he had been about to entertain. “I think there’s a dress in here you can wear in the morning.”

“You’ve got some nerve, giving me something another woman wore.”

“It belongs to Celeste,” Nicholas explained, suspecting she assumed one of his women had left the dress in his closet.

Aside from Celeste and her, no one had ever been invited into his bedroom. And Georgia was the only female not related to him who’d been allowed to step over the threshold of his apartment.

All his encounters occurred at the woman’s apartment, and he always left by sunrise. A few women had been put off by his behavior, yet he found it necessary to ensure no one took the relationship too seriously.

He found the yellow dress in the back of the closet and pulled it out. “She left this in my hamper the last time she was here. I sent it to the laundry with my clothes.”

“That’s my dress.” Georgia placed her hands on her hips. “I’ve been looking everywhere for it.”

“You know better than to turn your back on Celeste when she’s around your closet.”

“I don’t know why. Her clothes are more expensive than mine. I have to get my dresses on sale, or make ’em.”

Nicholas held up the dress. “She must think you have more talent than the ones who design her clothes.”

Georgia yawned widely, obviously too tired to remember her manners and cover her mouth. Shaking his head, Nicholas hung the dress back in the closet. He opened the fourth drawer in the six-drawer dresser and pulled out a pair of blue-striped pajamas.

“You can wear these.” When Georgia made no move to take the nightclothes from him, he added, “I’m sure a hot shower would hit the spot.”

With a sigh, Georgia snatched the pajamas from him and marched from the room. He followed her and stopped in front of the linen closet across from the bathroom. He passed her a washcloth and towel before grabbing a set of blue sheets.

“Do you mind if I use your detergent?”

Nicholas passed her the box of soap sitting on the floor of the closet.

While Georgia took advantage of the shower, he changed his sheets. Afterwards, he retreated to the living room and dropped onto the sofa. The cushions were comfortable enough to lounge on while watching television, but they were murder on his back when he slept on them.

Besides the night of her prom, Celeste invaded his sanctuary whenever Georgia made her annual trip down south to visit relatives. No sooner had her friend boarded the bus than his sister would be at his door claiming she was lonely. Last time, she had stayed the entire two weeks and his back had protested so fiercely he had considered asking his grandmother to help him pick out a sofa bed. However, when he finally had the time to go shopping, Celeste had married and he figured her sleeping-over days were over.

As he considered the benefits of sleeping on the floor, the bathroom door opened. The hinges to the linen closet creaked. He appreciated her consideration in returning the detergent. Though his apartment was not eat-off-the-bathroom-floor clean, he did not like to have anything out of place.

A moment later, Georgia leaned over the back of the sofa and stuck her head in his face. Her damp hair was pulled back into a single braid. Her skin smelled of his deodorant soap.

“Did you want to check behind my ears before you sent me to bed?”

Nicholas could think of a few things he wanted to do behind her ears—inhaling her fresh fragrance, licking her still damp skin, and kissing the spot until she sighed. He was beginning to feel the effects of her presence on his body, and he needed to get her away from him before he gave in to temptation.

He reached up and mussed her hair like he used to do when she was younger. As he expected, she pulled back and stood behind him. He peered down at his lap. To his relief, the effect of her presence was not noticeable.

“Did you want anything before you go to bed?” He dropped his head back to look at her.

She shook her head as she tried to stifle a yawn and failed. Once she finished sucking in air, she leaned down and placed a kiss on his nose.

“Thanks for everything.”

“You know I’ll always be there for you.”

“I do now,” Georgia said before she walked out of the living room.

Once the bedroom door clicked shut, he stood. He was sporting the hard-on Alice had been unable to coax from him the previous evening. With no one else available to help him, he needed to take matters into his own hands.