Chances

by Jackie Collins

  She shook her long white-blond hair out and closed her eyes, offering her face and body to the sun. Costa and Jennifer had gone out for the day to visit friends. They had wanted her to go with them, but she declined the invitation, pleading a headache. She had no headache. She had just felt like spending a day alone. One of the dogs began to bark. She reached out her hand and called softly, “Here, boy, here.”

  The dog ran to her quickly, wagging its tail.

  Gino pulled his Mercedes convertible up in front of the Montauk house. He could hear a dog barking, but there were no other cars in the drive.

  He got out of his car and rang the doorbell, hitting the button sharply several times. When there was no reply he roamed around the small house, impatiently shading his eyes and peering through windows, then he made his way around the back, where a shaggy spaniel loped over to greet him.

  And then he saw her, lying by the swimming pool. Leonora. His Leonora. His heart began to beat double-time, and sweat broke out all over his body, and his throat went dry.

  He stood rooted to the spot and stared. Like a kid. Like the village idiot. And a sharp pain twisted in his gut as he said, very very quietly, “Leonora.”

  “Huh?” She moved her arm from across her eyes and sat up.

  It was not Leonora.

  It was a girl who looked exactly like her.

  He realized that this must be her daughter, Maria. Costa had mentioned something about the girl’s coming to stay.

  He felt like a fool. How could he have possibly thought—

  “You’re Gino Santangelo, aren’t you?” she said, getting up and hurriedly covering her bathing suit with a terry-cloth jacket.

  He took a deep breath. “Yeh. How’d you know that?”

  “Oh, I’ve seen your picture in the newspapers, and—well, I met you once before, at Costa and Jennifer’s wedding.” She laughed selfconsciously. “I was only a child—I guess you wouldn’t remember me. I’m Maria, Leonora’s daughter.”

  “Yeh. Well, you sure grew some, didn’t you?” He was as uncomfortable as hell and didn’t know why.

  She wrapped her jacket tightly around her and said, “They’re out.”

  “Who?” he asked foolishly.

  “Jennifer and Costa.”

  “Oh. Yeh.” He stared at her intently. The resemblance to Leonora when he had first met her was uncanny. And yet… something was different. Something made this kid more than just a mirror image of her mother.

  As if reading his thoughts, she said, “You thought I was mommy, didn’t you?”

  “Hell, no.” Hell, yes.

  She smiled sweetly and brushed a lock of damp hair from her forehead. “It’s all right. I’m quite used to it. Lots of people are amazed by the resemblance. People who knew mommy a while ago, that is. She looks… different now.”

  He fingered the scar on his cheek. “How’d you like to come with me to look at a house?”

  “What house?”

  “A place I might buy.” He had not the faintest idea why he had asked her. “Go get dressed, I need another opinion.”

  “Is it far?”

  “What difference does that make? You’re lyin’ here doin’ nothing.”

  She nodded, feeling strangely excited.

  “Hurry up.”

  “Yes.”

  She rushed into the house, flew upstairs to her bedroom, and quickly slipped into a cotton dress. Then she brushed her wet hair and wondered with a shiver of excitement why she was going.

  The big bad Gino Santangelo. Murderer. Gangster. Hoodlum. She had developed a crush on him when he had twirled her around the dance floor at the tender age of nine, and ever since, over the years, she had read about him in the newspapers. He had a fearsome reputation. Her mother called him “scum” and forever berated Costa for being his lawyer.

  “You comin’?” he yelled up the stairs.

  “Yes, yes.” She rushed from her bedroom and clattered down the stairs in clumsy sandals.

  “I raided the kitchen,” he announced. “Jen won’t mind.”

  He had taken bottles of Coca-Cola, a loaf of French bread, and a packet of ham. “We’ll have lunch there.”

  “I’d better leave them a note,” Maria decided, “just in case they get back early.”

  “Good idea.”

  He watched her as she scribbled out a message, her long hair falling over her exquisitely beautiful face. She was so clean and innocent and lovely. Just like Leonora had been all those years ago. Just like Leonora….

  Carrie

  1943

  The scraggy teenager with saucer eyes, a sulky mouth, and dirty flaxen hair cut in a series of spiky ends stared at Leroy in horror. “I can’t look after some kid, man. You crazy or somethin’?”

  Leroy stood over her, legs planted firmly apart, and brought his hand down hard, smacking her across the face with a resounding wallop. “You will do what’n I want. You hear me, girl?”

  She made a face at him and tried not to cry. “Bully,” she muttered.

  “What you say?”

  “I said sure, Leroy. If that’s what you want. But how’m I gonna work if we got a kid here?”

  He scratched his stomach. “You stooge. We only gotta keep the kid a day or two. Then the bitch pays up to get him back, an’ we hightail ourselves off’n somewhere nice.”

  “Florida?” Her bovine face lit up. “I always wanted to go there.”

  “Sure ’nuff.” Florida like a rat’s ass. No way would he head anywhere that pointed south. But it didn’t matter what the Swedish tramp wanted. When he had the money he would dump her—fast. She was useless. Enjoyed her job too much. Kept johns lingering on her bed for hours at a time. Not like Carrie. She had had them in and out in five minutes. And they left with a smile on their faces. He should never have sold her. He’d be ass deep in luxury by this time. But sold her he had, and the bitch owed him, and he planned to get what was rightly his. Money. Plenty of it.

  “I’ll be back in a coupla hours,” he said. “Have everythin’ ready so’s you don’t have to leave here for a week at least.”

  “I thought y’said two days.”

  Leroy sighed. “If’n things don’t go as we planned, it might be a day or so longer. We gotta be prepared. Now move your ass.”

  “I don’t—”

  He didn’t wait to hear what she had to say. He slapped her again and repeated, “Move your lazy ass.” She obeyed. Leroy grinned. He sure knew the best way to keep ’em in line.

  Young Steven’s nursemaid was a gawky black girl, too large in every department. Her hair was unruly frizz, braces decorated her teeth, and glasses perched on her nose. Her appearance was one of the main reasons Carrie had hired her. She wanted Steven to have as stable an upbringing as possible, and by engaging a plain-looking nursemaid she was ensuring that the girl wouldn’t go running off to get married.

  Leroy had moved in on the girl weeks before when she went to the market for the groceries. Leroy had charm he had never even used, and it all came pouring out to bewitch Steven’s nurse.

  She was flattered beyond belief, simpered, smiled, went on a diet, bought new clothes.

  On her Sunday nights off, Leroy took her dancing or to the movies. And he found out everything about Carrie and Steven that he wanted to know.

  Snatching Steven was going to be one big piece of chocolate cake.

  Carrie stirred in her sleep and woke up with a start. She reached for the bedside clock and was surprised to see that it was only ten o’clock in the morning. Usually she slept until at least eleven thirty, giving her just enough time to shower, dress, and be ready for her walk with Steven at noon.

  She lay back in bed and stretched her arms, arching her whole body. Another day. Another grind.

  There was plenty to do. Enzio Bonnatti sent his collector around every Monday to fetch the money and replenish the drug supply. Then there was a police detective who had a regular three-o’clock Monday appointment. Monday was also laundry day and
payoff day for the cop on the beat.

  She rolled over in bed and tried to get back to sleep. It was impossible. She just felt… strange. Couldn’t put her finger on it.

  She thought, as she did every morning, about the drugs in the cupboard. How easy it would be to start the day off lost in the hazy smoke of a reefer. Then, in the evening, a few blows of cocaine to get her through the long working night.

  How easy… and how wrong. She knew what it would lead to.

  Leroy goosed the girl from behind, causing an alarmed but happy squeak to emerge from her lips.

  “Bright ’n early, doll, jest like I said.”

  She gazed at him through the thick lenses of her glasses and jiggled the blue stroller where Steven sat contentedly sucking his fingers.

  They stood in the middle of the street and chatted idly. Then, quite naturally, Leroy took over pushing the stroller. “I got a beeg surprise for you,” he said.

  “What?”

  “Don’t know if’n I kin trust you.”

  “What? What?” Her glasses jumped onto the end of her nose and she pushed them back up.

  “O.K.” He laughed. “This is what I want you to do….”

  Carrie dressed slowly. The uneasy feeling had not left her. She tried to shake it off but it would not go.

  She played a favorite Bessie Smith record while drinking her morning coffee, and as usual considered all avenues of escape. All avenues needed money. She was saving, but it would take time.

  Suzita came into the kitchen and flopped down into a chair. “Honey! I eez tireder than a beetch een heat!”

  Carrie didn’t feel like conversation. She felt like seeing Steven. Holding his baby warmth up against her body and absorbing all his goodness and innocence. Soon he would be five years old.

  How was she ever going to get out of the life she led without his discovering what she did for a living?

  Steven’s nursemaid did not disappoint Leroy. She left him with the child as though she had known him for years and waddled off to the jewelry store where he had told her a “surprise” would be waiting for her if she just gave the man behind the counter her name.

  She’d get a surprise, all right. A big surprise when she came truckin’ on back and found him and Steven gone.

  He cackled aloud and began to push the stroller at a very fast pace indeed.

  “Toofast, toofast!” Steven chirped.

  “Shut up, kid,” Leroy muttered. “I is in charge of you now. An’ I say shut your goddamn mouth ’fore I slap it shut.”

  Gino

  1949

  Jennifer opened the front door, and the dogs came bounding through the house to greet her. She sat on the floor petting them and realized with a feeling of regret that soon it would be time to leave the Montauk house and head back to the city.

  “Costa, can we get a dog?” she pleaded.

  He considered the question. “If you want one I don’t see why not.”

  “I think maybe a French poodle, or perhaps one of those funny little sausage dogs.”

  “Good idea.” He stroked the back of her neck. “How about some iced coffee and chocolate cake?”

  “You can’t possibly be hungry. It’s only five o’clock and you ate an enormous lunch,” she exclaimed.

  “I’m hungry.”

  Laughing together, they walked into the kitchen, the dogs trailing behind.

  “Where’s Maria?” Costa asked, and then he saw the note. He picked it up, read it, and frowned. Silently he handed it to Jennifer.

  She scanned it quickly and said, “Oh, dear!” Leonora had given them one strict rule concerning Maria’s trip east. Under no circumstances was she to be allowed to meet Gino Santangelo. “What are we going to do?” she wailed.

  Costa shrugged. “I don’t know.” He read the note again. Maria’s neat handwriting: Have gone to see a house with Mr. Santangelo. Back later. Love and kisses, hope you had a nice day. M. He laid the note carefully on the table, smoothing it out with his fingers. “I just don’t know.”

  Jennifer made an angry noise. “Honestly! What do you think happened? Do you think he just turned up here?”

  “Yes. Knowing Gino.”

  “But we invited him all summer long and he never came.”

  “I know.”

  They stared at each other.

  “Shit!” exclaimed Jennifer.

  Costa burst out laughing. “Shit! You said shit! I’ve never heard you swear the whole time we’ve been married!”

  “Well, you’ve heard me now. How could he do this? Leonora will be furious.”

  “Listen,” Costa said quickly. “She doesn’t have to find out. We’ll tell Maria the situation. She’ll understand. She knows what her mother’s like.”

  Jennifer nodded. “You tell her.”

  “Sure. No problem.”

  Jennifer smiled. “No problem.”

  “Say shit again. I like to hear you talk dirty.”

  “Costa!”

  Gino broke through a side door to gain access to the house.

  “You can’t do that,” Maria admonished.

  “I just did it.” He laughed.

  “Hmmm… so you did.” She couldn’t help laughing with him. “May I look around?”

  “Sure. Be my guest.”

  Maria fell in love with the old house. She ran around exclaiming about this and that, her cheeks flushed, her eyes shining. “You have to buy it,” she insisted. “It is absolutely the best house ever!”

  “You think so?”

  “I know so!”

  He began to see the old house through her enthusiastic eyes. When he told her about his plans for a big marble terrace and luxurious Hollywood swimming pool, she threw up her hands in horror. “No! You’ll ruin it. If you have to build a pool, make it a simple one. You can’t destroy any of the natural beauty. You mustn’t change a thing—just a coat of white paint and a few repairs.” Suddenly she realized that maybe she was being rude, foisting her ideas on him as if her opinion was of importance. “I’m sorry, Mr. Santangelo,” she said, stopping her whirlwind rush about the place. “I get carried away. Take no notice of me.”

  He could hardly believe she was twenty. She seemed more like a sixteen-year-old, so fresh and unspoiled. “Hey,” he exclaimed, unable to keep his eyes off her, “you can call me Gino.” He felt like Clementine Duke speaking to him the first time he had visited her house. Christ!

  He was getting old. Forty-three to be exact. And yet he still felt the same deep inside. As far as he was concerned he would always be twenty.

  “O.K.—Gino,” she said hesitantly.

  “That’s better.” He was pleased.

  Their eyes met in the still of the hot balmy afternoon, and Maria could have sworn that her legs turned to jelly. She felt distinctly faint. Spontaneously her hand reached out and lightly touched the scar on his face. “Where did you get it?” she asked softly.

  Nobody had dared to ask him that question in years, and yet it didn’t bother him. “A fight,” he said vaguely, “long time ago.” He thought about Cindy. Bright blond tarnished Cindy. And for a moment he was sorry it had ended the way it had. “Why d’you wanna know?”

  She took her hand away quickly. “I was just curious.”

  “Curiosity killed the cat….”

  “And satisfaction brought it back.” She laughed softly like a child. But she wasn’t a child, she was a woman, and he knew instinctively that she could satisfy him, and he wanted her like he hadn’t wanted a woman in a long time.

  She gazed at him expectantly, almost as if she was waiting for him to make a move.

  He took her hand and led her out to the garden. “Let’s eat,” he said. “You sit here while I get the food from the car.”

  Obediently she sat down on the grass, her long tanned legs tucked neatly under her.

  He fetched the loaf of French bread, the slices of ham, the warm Coca-Cola, and they sat in the garden eating the food ravenously.

  “How long you
bin with Costa and Jen?” he asked, striving for light conversation.

  “Six days exactly. It’s been lovely.”

  “Yeh. They’re a real swell couple.”

  “Oh, yes. They’re wonderful.”

  He studied her face, the soft skin lightly kissed by the sun, the huge blue-crystal eyes fringed with long lashes, the warm generous mouth. None of it touched with makeup. “And so you’re movin’ back to New York with them next week?”

  “Yes. Jennifer is busy planning my birthday party.”

  “Birthday party?” He was surprised. “How long you stayin’?”

  “Just until the end of September.”

  Gino swigged from the Coke bottle. “Kinda an early party. Your birthday’s not till December, is it?”

  “I’ll be twenty-one on September the fifteenth.”

  “December.”

  “No, September.”

  He was silent as he digested this information. If Maria had been born in September, that meant that when Leonora got married she was already pregnant. His virgin girl friend was goddamn pregnant! While he was pouring out his heart and soul in love letters and being faithful, she was out screwing around. Wonderful. Terrific. Shit. No wonder Costa hadn’t wanted to tell him.

  But it was all so long ago. Who cared, anyway….

  “Why did you think my birthday was in December?” she asked curiously.

  He shrugged. “My mistake.”

  She picked at the grass with her fingers. “Did you and my mother… um… was she ever… your girl friend?” Her heart was beating wildly, and she knew she should never have asked such a personal question, but she simply had to know.

  “Where’d you get that idea?” he asked in a guarded fashion.

  “Oh, I don’t know…. Mommy never said anything… but I just picked up on things here and there.”

  “Well, you picked up on the wrong things. I knew your mother. I went to visit Costa—we were friends. That’s all.”

  “You aren’t friends any more. She doesn’t approve of you at all. In fact, I’m not supposed to know this, but one of the provisions of my trip was that I wasn’t allowed to meet you.”