A Bookie's Odds (20 page)

Nicholas spit out the wine he was about to swallow. What the hell was Gianni thinking? He knew anyone married to Celeste had to be straight.

“Have you lost your mind?”

“I know what your old man said, but he’s being damn hypocritical. He’s not Mr. Model Citizen.”

Nicholas would not argue with the truth.

“He needs to think about his little girl,” Gianni continued. “What I’m proposing is the difference between a hole in the wall in the slums and a brownstone on Quality Row.”

“I’m sure you haven’t reached that point.”

“I’m always seeing folks from darktown wandering in our neighborhood. The moment I can afford it, I’m packing my bags and getting away from them.”

Though they had not stayed in touch, Nicholas knew the newlyweds had moved into a house in Williamsburg, not far from where Georgia lived. He frowned at the less than flattering name some called Bedford Stuyvesant, where the majority of the population was colored.

“All I’m proposing is taking what you already do and turn it into a larger scale operation.”

“No.” He would not dishonor his mother by running his business in the venue named after her. “If you need help restoring the club to what it used to be, I’ll be there. Otherwise, forget it.”

“Whatever.”

Gianni’s dismissive tone conveyed his intention. He was going ahead with his plan, with or without his friend’s help.

Nicholas needed to do something before Gianni incurred the wrath of Marco Santiano.

“Listen, why don’t I come over for dinner one night, and we can throw around a couple of ideas. Bring the books. Georgia could look them over for you.”

“Not a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“Celeste isn’t ready to entertain.”

Nicholas felt like someone had punched him in the gut. As much as he wanted to believe the excuse, he could not pretend his friend was not full of bull. And the more Gianni talked, the less Nicholas wanted to listen.

After another half hour, Nicholas could no longer tolerate the company or the atmosphere. He made a halfhearted excuse, mumbling something about getting up early in the morning, before he dashed out of the club and into a cab that had stopped for another fare. As he barked his address to the driver, he tossed a couple of bills out the window as reparation for stealing the ride. He had not bothered to pay attention to what he gave the waiting couple, though he was certain it was enough to pay for another cab and the time the man planned to spend with the woman.

As the car moved down the street, Nicholas tried to block out everything that had happened after Celeste walked into Mr. Collins’s hospital room. As long as he pretended nothing had happened, he did not have to face the fact that there could be something to Georgia’s feeling.

“This is good enough,” Nicholas said as the taxi stopped across the street from his building. He tossed a couple of bills over the front seat and jumped out. As the taxi drove away, he spotted his car parked in front of his building. Georgia leaned against the passenger side with her back to him.

Once the traffic was clear, Nicholas sprinted across the street and around the car. In the glow from the streetlight, he saw the tears, glistening in her eyes.

“He’s hurting her, Nick.”

He had expected a lecture about the state of the club and Gianni’s jokes at Celeste’s expense, but not an accusation of abuse.
One of the codes of the Santiano family was that no man should ever take his aggression out on a woman. For the times a man felt an overwhelming need to strike out, he should go to the gym. If that was not possible, he could use the wall for a punching bag. He’d probably walk away with a broken hand, but at least he’d still have his honor.

“Did she tell you that?” He feared her reply. Gianni hitting Celeste would be considered worse than him cheating on her, and the consequences would be harsher.

“No, but there’s that bruise on her arm.”

“Celeste said she walked into a wall.”

“How can you believe that? Celeste has never walked into anything before.” She shook her head. “And how about the things Gianni said to her tonight?”

“He was just kidding around. Maybe he had a bit too much to drink and he took the jokes too far.”

Georgia pulled away from him. “I can’t believe you’re defending him.”

“How can I not? This is Gianni we’re talking about.” Nicholas raked his hand through his hair. He fought the temptation of yanking it out in frustration. “I’ve known him most of my life. There’s no way he’d ever lay a hand on Celeste.”

“That’s your final answer?” She took a step away from him.

“Georgia, please.” He reached out for her.

She shook her head.

“Listen, how about I talk to Gianni. Tell him to cool it with the jokes.”

“What about the bruise?”

“If Celeste said she walked into a wall, I’m going to believe her. She’s never lied to me before; there’s no reason for me to believe she’d start now.”

“How can you be so sure?”

Because he had to believe his friend was not as bad as all the signs were pointing him out to be.

Chapter 17

“What are you doing after church?”

Georgia peeped over the top of the newspaper at Nicholas. He knew she did not attend service regularly. Her visit a few weeks back had been the first time she’d stepped foot inside a house of worship in three years.

“What are you doing after mass?” she countered.

Nicholas cocked an eyebrow. He attended church less often than she did. Whenever he was invited to a wedding or baptism, he skipped the ceremony and joined his relatives at the banquet hall for the party.

“Exactly.” She raised the newspaper to finish the comic she had been reading before he interrupted her with a silly question.

“You want to go to the movies?”

“I have to—”

“I know you want to finish cleaning the bar, but how about afterwards?”

Georgia lowered the paper again. She stared at Nicholas, searching for signs that he was mocking her. Instead, she saw his concern. The man was determined to look after her.

Sighing, she folded the paper and placed it on the table. “It depends on what you want to see.”

“How about a comedy? I know you’re not into war or horror movies, and I can’t sit through a romance or a drama…not without wanting to smack my head against the wall.”

Georgia smiled at the compromise. Unlike William, Nicholas never forced his wishes on her. It was why she sat across from him in his kitchen for the second morning in a row.

After he promised to speak to Gianni about Celeste, Nicholas had invited her to spend the night. Not wanting to be alone in her apartment, she accepted.

“Whaddaya say? I’ll throw in dinner.”

“Aren’t you tired of hanging around me? Wouldn’t you prefer to hang out with one of your other women?”

Nicholas shook his head. “At the moment, none of them have what I’m looking for.”

“And what’s that?”

“Intelligent conversation.”

****

The other women were also lacking the ability to offer him comfort with simply their presence. They always needed a verbal, physical, or monetary confirmation about how he felt about them.

It was different with Georgia. She understood what he needed and when. They were able to enjoy each other’s company without having to waste a whole bunch of words affirming that the other was great.

It felt right to have her sitting across from him while they each read different sections of the newspaper and ate the breakfast he’d cooked. It was like they had established a comfortable routine years early, though it was only their second morning together.

Nicholas mopped up the last of his syrup with his French toast before rising from the table. He dropped his silverware onto his plate and was prepared to carry it to the sink when Georgia reached out and placed a hand over his.

“I’ll take care of the dishes.”

His body reacted to her touch as if she was grinding against him while wearing her lace underwear instead of standing two feet from him, dressed in her capris and one of his old red shirts. The electricity coursed through him, awaking his buddy once again.

His reactions to her were getting too intense. It was getting to the point where she was affecting him with simply a glance.

Nicholas nodded as he slid his hand from under hers. “Thanks. I’ll take a shower while you do that.”

He rushed out of the room before she could remind him that he had already taken a lengthy shower before breakfast.

Nicholas emerged from the bathroom, and Georgia did not comment on his sudden obsession with cleanliness. Instead she finished folding the bedding he had spread over the sofa the previous evening.

“I really wish you’d let me sleep on the sofa,” she said.

“You wouldn’t be comfortable. It’s meant for sitting, not sleeping.”

“At least I fit on the sofa. You’re either crammed into the small space or hanging off it.”

“I’ll be fine.”

Georgia sighed. “Why do you have to be so stubborn?”

“It’s a pleasure meeting you, pot.” Nicholas stepped forward and extended his hand. “I’m kettle.”

Georgia shoved the bed sheet and pillow into his arms, and he laughed as she headed to the bedroom. He followed and dropped the linen on the chair.

“You’re aggravating,” she said as she slipped on her shoes.

“But you love me anyway.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

She laughed. He preferred the sound over the stress that had been in her tone the past couple of days.

When she had grabbed her handbag and the two other dresses she’d found in his closet, he escorted her out of the building. On the drive to her apartment, she listed everything she needed to do in order to have the bar ready for business the next evening. They then discussed movies until they came up with one they could both sit through.

“You sure you want to get Chinese food?” Nicholas asked as he pulled up in front of the bar. “I’m in the mood for smothered chicken.”

“I had that the other night with William.”

Nicholas tensed at the mention of the other man. If he could make the potential boyfriend disappear off the face of the planet, all would be right with the world.

“How about some oxtail stew from Miss Yvonne’s?”

Georgia smiled. She could never turn down a hearty oxtail stew, and the restaurant also served smothered chicken.

“Fine,” Georgia agreed as they stepped into the building and started up the stairs. “Maybe I’ll have a slice of black cake for…what the hell?” she mumbled when she reached the landing.

Nicholas stared at the body sprawled on the floor in front of the apartment door.

“Celeste?”

He gasped as his sister raised her head. A patch of hair had been torn from her head. Her left eye was swollen shut, her nose appeared broken, with dried blood underneath, and her upper lip was split in two places. She grimaced as she clutched her abdomen.

“What happened?” Georgia dropped her dresses and knelt next to her friend.

“I didn’t think he’d mind.” Celeste’s body shook with her sobs.

“Who?” Nicholas knelt on the other side of her.

“Gio.” She whispered the name so softly, he barely heard her. “I didn’t think he’d mind me visiting Mr. Collins in the hospital.”

“He did this ’cause you visited Georgia’s father?”

Celeste nodded.

“Has he done this before?”

Celeste dropped her head.

“Has he?” he barked.

His sister flinched.

“Nicholas, stop yelling,” Georgia scolded.

He opened his mouth but then snapped it shut. How could she tell him not to yell? She should be lucky he was not cursing up a streak and tearing things apart. The man he had considered a brother had laid hands on his sister. The worst part of it all was that he had refused to listen to the warnings or see the signs.

“Celeste, can you stand?” Georgia asked.

The battered woman shook her head.

“Nicholas, carry her inside.”

She stood and unlocked the door as he gathered his sister in his arms. He felt the moisture from her soiled skirt and wondered how long she had waited in the hall for them to return. He stood, and Celeste cried out as Georgia muttered an expletive.

“What’s wrong?” he asked as Georgia shook her head.

“She needs a hospital,” she said as she kicked her dresses into the apartment. She stepped back, closed the door, and led the way back out to the car.

She opened the passenger door and pushed the seat forward. With a bit of maneuvering, Nicholas laid Celeste in the rear seat and backed out of the car.

As Georgia climbed into the front passenger seat, Nicholas ran around the car and slid behind the steering wheel. With no concern for anyone else on the road, he sped to the hospital, where he parked in the middle of the street. Ignoring the blare of the horns behind him, he jumped out of the car and retrieved Celeste from the back.

Georgia ran ahead and was yelling for help by the time he stepped into the building. A nurse brought a wheelchair, and he placed his sister in it.

“Go move the car,” Georgia ordered. She shoved a handkerchief into his hands before she followed her friend.

Unable to move, Nicholas stared down the hall, long after they disappeared. He had had more than his share of fights during his life, but he had never seen anything as vile as Celeste’s injuries.

How could Gianni raise his hand to someone as beautiful as Celeste? There was nothing the woman could have done to justify such cruel treatment. She was a kind and gentle soul whose only sin was caring too much for her family and friends.

“Is that your car outside?”

Nicholas ignored the voice as his breakfast jumped in his stomach. Pushing the body aside, he raced down the corridor to the room marked “Utility.” He yanked open the door and released the contents of his stomach into the sink.

“What are you, drunk or something?” The voice asked.

“Give me a second,” Nicholas gasped as he grasped the sink. He could not appreciate the person’s persistence. He needed a moment to process everything that was happening, his role in it, and how he could make things better.