Deadly Embrace (14 page)

"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 lame top and jangly rhine-stone
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 feme," 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.

"yoity-toiry
bitch
!" he yelled after her. "You'll get
yours."

She didn't look back.

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.

"Oh ... 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?"