Deadly Embrace (15 page)

"Why would I do that when I got pussy comin' out my ears?"

Max 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'outyet?"

"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?"

"Don't worry, it's legit."

"Says you."

"You wanna come, or not? My treat all the way."

"Vegas," Max said, deeply tempted. "Tina'll kill me."

"Run it by her," Michael said as the girl behind the counter slid
their orders in front of them. "Maybe she wants her own night out
with her friends."

"You think?" Max said hesitantly.

"Yeah," Michael said, reaching for the ketchup. "I'm sure she
does."

"Maybe..."

"Look, you're comin'. I don't want no argument."

Later, Michael hooked up with his hot date, an Asian waitress with
a penchant for gymnastics.

She arrived at his small, one-room apartment carrying cartons of
takeout food and an insatiable sexual appetite. They fucked, then
ate, three times in a row. She was so agile that she managed to tire
him
out, and that was some feat.

Eventually she went home. He liked a girl who knew when it was
time to leave. Clingy females were not for him; he appreciated his
freedom too much.

Now that he'd invited Max to Vegas he had to figure out a way to
mention it to Mr. G. Then he decided no way was the best way. Since
he was paying for his friend to make the trip, there was no reason he
had to tell.

A week later he picked Max up in a cab and they headed for the
airport.

Max was excited. "I didn't tell Tina where we're goin'," he
confessed. "She thinks we're on our way to Atlantic City."

"Atlantic City?" Michael said, raising a quizzical eyebrow.

"Yeah, an' let me tell you—she wasn't too happy about
that
."

"How come?"

"Considers you a bad influence."

"Jeez!" Michael exclaimed. "She got you by the short and curlies
already?"

"It's not like that," Max said quickly. "It's just that I don't
want her feelin' left out. She'd
kill
to go to Vegas."

"She would?" Michael said, not convinced. When
he'd
been
dating Tina she'd never wanted to go anywhere.

"Yeah, she's into all those rat pack movies, so I couldn't let her
know I was goin' without her—right? An' who knows, maybe I'll
get to take her one of these days."

"On
your
salary? Forget it."

"I ain't
always
gonna be workin' in a shoe store," Max
responded indignantly.

"I should ask Mr. G. to hire you, that way you can make some real
money."

"I wouldn't work for that scumbag."

"You wouldn't, huh?"

"Noway."

"He's sure been good to
me
."

"Read the papers.
Mr
. Giovanni is bein' accused of all
kinda shit."

Michael knew exactly what Mr. G. was being accused
of—extortion, blackmail, loan sharking, even murder. None of it
had been proven, so he chose to ignore it.

"Aw, c'mon," he said. "You don't believe that crap they write, do
you?"

Max thought it prudent to drop the subject. Pissing Michael off
was not a good idea—especially since he was paying for the
trip.

* * *

By the time they arrived in Vegas it was late afternoon. Michael
swaggered off the plane feeling quite proud that he was about to show
his friend the sights. "I got a room at the Estradido Hotel," he
announced, showing off. "You'll bunk in with me. An' if you score a
little honey to have fun with before Tina cuts off your nuts, I'll
hang out in the casino till you're finished."

"I'm not
lookin'
t' get laid," Max objected.

"You're not, huh?" Michael said, poking him in the ribs. "Wait
till you get a load of the girls in Vegas. Not
only
will you
wanna get laid, but believe me—you'll be
beggiri
t'
spend the rest of your sorry days here."

"Not me," Max said firmly.

Michael grinned. "We'll see."

* * *

Vito Giovanni's right-hand man, Tommaso, had issued explicit
instructions about how Michael was supposed to handle delivery and
collection of all packages. The package on this trip was bigger than
usual, so instead of carrying it on his person, he'd had to stuff it
in a nylon carry-on bag. "Do
not
let it outta your
possession," Tommaso had warned. "Not until you make the switch."
Boldly, Michael had inquired what was in it. "Ask Mr. Giovanni," was
Tommaso's cryptic reply.

Yeah. Sure. Like he'd dare to do that.

The routine was always the same. Meet Manny Spiven for a drink and
dinner, spend a few hours with him, make the switch, and be on the
early morning plane back to New York.

Michael failed to understand why he was supposed to spend time
with Manny. It was dumb, but Tommaso had assured him it was
necessary.

This time he'd make the exchange and split. Manny wouldn't care;
their dislike of each other was mutual. That way he could spend the
evening showing Max the town, and nobody would be any the wiser.

After checking in, he got the usual message to meet Manny outside
the entrance to the Starburst Lounge at eight.

Crap
! Now they'd get stuck with the jerk. And what was he
supposed to do with the nylon bag—lug it around with him all
night?

"We gotta go meet this guy," he explained to Max. "It won't take
long."

"What guy?"

"Relax. You'll have a few drinks, eat good, see a show..."

"I wanna gamble," Max announced.

"How much you got to lose?"

"Who said anythin' about losin'?" Max joked.

"Shit!" Michael said. "Amateur gamblers are what this town was
built on."

"Lead me to the tables," Max said confidently. "I'm gonna bust the
bank!"

* * *

By the time they met up with Manny Spiven, Max had lost every dime he
had with him and was in a miserable mood. "Told you," Michael
couldn't help saying. "Gambling's a mug's game."

"You gotta lend me fifty buck," Max begged. "You gotta do this for
me."

"Uh-uh."

"Then what chance I got of gettin' even?"

"No chance," Michael said grimly.

"Aw, give the poor bastard fifty bucks," Manny said as Max went
off to the men's room.

Michael shot him a look. He didn't need Manny Spiven's advice;
he
knew what was good for Max, and there was no way the idiot
could afford to lose one more dollar.

"He's through," Michael said. "This'll teach him a lesson."

"Who is he, anyway?" Manny asked.

"A friend."

"Mr. G. know he's with you?"

"Sure," Michael lied.

"That's funny. Mr. G. usually likes to keep things tight." Manny
slurped his drink. "I heard that when his old lady was makin' the
Vegas run she wasn't allowed no company."

"Mrs. Giovanni used to do this?" Michael asked, surprised.

"Sometimes. Only she didn't meet with me. She dealt with Mr.
Estradido." Manny lowered his voice. "Rumor is she was into dyke
city."

"What?" Michael said blankly.

"Dyke city. Suckin' pussy." Manny pulled a face as if to say,
How stupid can you get
? "Gettin' it on with snatch, for
crissakes."

Shocked as he was, Michael didn't let on. He kept his expression
blank while wondering if Manny Spiven was lying. Marnie Giovanni a
lesbo. If Mr. G. ever found out he'd go ape shit

As soon as Max came back from the men's room they headed into the
lounge, in time for the start of the show.

Manny knew the mattre d', so they always got a front table, and
Michael never had to show his fake ID, which he carried on him at all
times just in case.

He ordered a beer. So did Max, who was still busy bemoaning his
losses.

"Snap outta it," Michael said in a low voice. "You gonna enjoy
yourself, or what?"

"Lend me the fifty an' I'll enjoy myself," Max muttered. "I gotta
get even."

"No freakin' chance," Michael answered, figuring he was doing him
a favor.

Then the music started, and on came the girls clad in their
scanty, gold-fringed toy soldier outfits, boobs and legs out
front.

Michael immediately spotted the one he liked. Dani, that was her
name. Dani with the long blond hair, blue eyes, and dazzling smile.
Not to mention a body to die for.

Manny leaned over. "Ysee the cooze with the big tits?" he said,
leering and pointing at Dani. "I had her, an' she ain't so hot."

"What?" Michael said, frowning.

"You heard," Manny responded. "She fucks like a dead fish an'
smells like one too." He guffawed, rubbing his hands together.

"No shit," Michael said, his expression impassive.

"I've had 'em all," Manny boasted. "An' this one was a real
dud."

Michael stared straight ahead, refusing to give Manny the pleasure
of questioning him about the girl. She'd fucked Manny Spiven. End of
story. He wouldn't go near her with somebody else's cock.

"Fifty," Max pleaded in his ear. "Fifty lousy bucks. You gotta do
this for me, Mike. I gotta get even or Tina'll kill me!"

Angrily Michael reached into his pocket. "Take the lousy money,"
he said, thrusting some bills at Max. "An' when you blow this, don't
come runnin' back for more."

Max grabbed the money and took off.

Michael shook his head in disgust. This wasn't turning out to be
the evening he'd planned.

"Guess who's sitting at one of the front tables," Angela said as
they changed costumes.

Dani already knew. She'd spotted Manny Spiven the moment she'd hit
the stage for their first routine, and it had taken all her willpower
to block out his offensive presence.

"Manny," Angela continued. "
And
he's with that cute guy I
told you about, the one from New York."

Who cares
? Dani wanted to say.
Manny Spiven is a rude,
horrible, disgusting pig
.

"Want me to set you up?" Angela asked, adjusting her feathered
headdress.

"No thanks," she answered coolly.
I wouldn't go out with one of
Manny Spiven's friends if he was the last man standing
.

"Then
I'll
bag him," Angela said, quite happy at the
thought. "I'm not letting
this
one slip away."

As far as Dani was concerned, Angela could do what she liked.

Unfazed by her complaints about Manny, Angela had tried to fix her
up on several more blind dates, all of which she'd declined. It
seemed that Angela had an endless supply of men, and unfortunately,
most nights she brought one or the other back to the apartment.

Lying in bed at night, Dani could hear the vigorous sounds of
Angela's lovemaking coming from the next room. Had she made a mistake
moving in with Angela? Sam could be right—maybe she
wasn't
ready to be out on her own.

One morning she'd noticed money on the kitchen table. When Angela
emerged from her bedroom, wrapping a satin robe around her, she'd
asked her where it came from.

"That's from Petey," Angela had answered casually. "He told me to
buy myself a present. What a guy!"

Dani was naive, but not
that
naive. Was her roommate
getting paid for sex? Everything seemed to indicate that she was.

"I still don't understand what Manny did that was so terrible,"
Angela said, leaning into the dressing room mirror and adding more
blush to her already overrouged cheeks. "He's a man, honey, they're
all
horny. What's the big deal about
that
?"

"I told you," Dani answered patiently. "He grabbed me, then yelled
all sorts of rude insults when I pushed him off."

"The guy's feelings were probably hurt," Angela said. 'I see," she
added knowledgeably, "you gotta baby 'em. Deep down they're all
little boys."

"I don't have to baby anyone."

"You sure babied that Sam guy," Angela remarked. "By the way, he
called this morning."

"He did?" Dani said. "You never mentioned it."

She hadn't heard from Sam in over two weeks. She'd been wondering
where he was and why he hadn't called. She really wanted to see him.
He was her safe zone—always there to protect her.