A Bookie's Odds (4 page)

On a dare, the boy had snatched an orange from the stand outside the grocery store. Too busy looking back at the store owner yelling at him, he ran into her father.

After boxing William’s ears, her father made him return the fruit. He then took the boy under his wing. During the school year, he made sure the youngster attended classes and kept up with his work. He also made sure the boy had productive activities to occupy his free time.

Thanks to her father, William avoided the gangs that destroyed the lives of many young men. He graduated from high school and headed to college, yet he stopped by the bar whenever he came to the city to visit his mother and sisters.

“He was by the other night. Do you know he’s a lawyer?”

“Is that so? Ow, mother—”

Georgia bit back the curse that nearly escaped when she bumped her hip on the handle to the brown refrigerator. In their house, profanity did not get one popped upside the head. Instead, she would have to endure an hour-long lecture on more ladylike methods of expressing herself.

She kicked the appliance, then instantly regretted her mini-tantrum as pain shot through her bare toes.

“Are you okay in there?”

“Yes, Daddy.” She muttered one more curse under her breath before adding, “I just bumped into the refrigerator…again.”

“Don’t know why you keep bumpin’ into it.” Her father strolled into the room. “It wasn’t a problem when you were younger.”

“I was a lot smaller back then.” She placed the bag in one end of the double basin sink and opened the cabinet overhead.

He chuckled. “Yeah, you were a skinny little thing. Looked like a twig with arms and legs.”

“Thanks a lot, Daddy.”

“You don’t look like that anymore.” Her father pulled out the chair next to the wall and sat down at the table. “You’ve grown into a pretty young lady.”

She pulled out two chipped, blue-trimmed white plates and the stainless steel cutlery. Though they had better dinnerware stored in the breakfront hutch by the entrance to the kitchen, her father preferred the older plates and cutlery that had been a wedding present.

When he married Georgia’s mother, people were still dealing with the aftermath of the stock market crash of 1929. Jobs were scarce and money was tight, so few could afford to purchase dinnerware, much less the food to put on them. However, determined to get the newlyweds a present, his family had taken up a collection amongst the immediate and extended members until they had enough for a gift.

Georgia placed the dinnerware on the table that took up most of the floor space. She added two glasses that had once served as jelly jars, to appease the little girl inside her. Though she had traded her bobby socks for stockings eight years earlier, she could not completely turn her back on everything from her youth.

“I showed William your graduation picture.” Her father resumed his previous conversation. “Don’t know what impressed him more…the beautiful woman or your degree.”

Certain of the direction the conversation was about to take, she did not bother to glance up. She spooned a healthy serving of chicken onto his plate.

“I told William you’d be workin’ on the books tomorrow and suggested he stop by.”

Georgia raised an eyebrow. Her father was going all out to impress the man. He never allowed her near his books.

“You’ll have one of the old ledgers open on the table; make it look like you’re workin’.”

She fought back the desire to slam the bowl onto the table. She should have known better. Her father had believed education was the key to her future, and when she walked across the stage to receive her diploma, his cheers drowned out all the others. But once she had her degree, they could not agree on how she would use it.

Georgia had dreamed of working in the bar with her father. On the few occasions he had been short of help, he permitted her to pour drinks. She assumed once she obtained her degree, he would let her take on a more active role in the business.

Instead of accepting her help, he acted as if anything pertaining to the bar was too complicated for her to comprehend. At times she expected him to pat her on the head before sending her off to buy a dress, get her hair done, or something equally trivial.

“Daddy—”

“Now hear me out, young lady. William’s got a good head on his shoulders. He knows the value of hard work. And since I know that silly stuff means a lot to young women, I’ve heard other gals commentin’ on how good he looks.”

She dropped into the chair in front of the stove. “Not every woman’s impressed by looks.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” He reached across the table and covered her hand with his. “Won’t you give him a chance?”

Though it had been phrased as a question, Georgia took her father’s comment as the order it was meant to be. She, however, could not resist the urge to toss in a sassy reply.

“Is there a particular dress you want me to wear? My lavender one matches my ‘Desperately Seeking a Man’ sign.”

“Don’t be a wiseass, young lady.” He pulled his hand back and pointed his fork at her. “You just make sure you’re downstairs tomorrow afternoon at four. You hear me?”

“Yes, sir.”

With a smug grin, her father dug into his food. Between swallows, he recounted a story of William that she had heard so many times she could repeat it word for word with each inflection and gesture he made during the tale.

Georgia pushed the food around her plate with her fork as she considered Joey Santiano’s offer. Though he had not gone into details, she knew Nicholas’s objections to her working at the diner stemmed from her relationship to Celeste. He extended the determination that his sister not be around illegal activities to her. However, she did not share his concerns.

There was a separate entrance to the gambling hall so the clientele did not come in contact with the diners. And, since Mr. Santiano had only mentioned the diner’s ledgers, she assumed the man would hire someone else to keep the books for the den.

Despite Nicholas’s concerns, Georgia could not turn her back on the opportunity. Not when no one else, including her father, was willing to give her the chance to prove herself.

Chapter 3

Where the hell did she get those curves?

Nicholas’s gaze slowly moved from Georgia’s low-cut bodice to her narrow waist and the full skirt that covered her hips. Though her hem stopped three inches below her knees, he could still admire her shapely calves.

A few seconds passed before Nicholas noticed the two-inch-high heel on her right foot tapping the wood floor in the foyer of her apartment. He reversed the direction of his gaze, moving to the manicured fingers on her hips up to the frown on her face.

“What?” he asked as he forced his eyes to meet hers.

“I said, you asked me that already.”

“Asked you what?”

Georgia sighed, yet all he could focus on were the thin strips of material that held her bodice in place. They would reduce the number of eyes he had to blacken for ogling her too hard that evening. At the same time, his body would have appreciated a better view of what was underneath.

Nicholas realized he would not score any debonair points. Only his loose pants would help him save face…that and not walking into something because he was too busy staring at her.

“You’ve asked me if I was ready three times since I opened the door.” Her head tilted slightly to the side, and her brow wrinkled. “Are you all right?”

He was not aware he had asked the question once, much less three times. He needed to pull himself together before she stepped back and slammed the door in his face. In the best scenario, she would call the bar and ask her father to come upstairs to get rid of him. The worst scenario would be if she called the club and asked his father to send someone for him.

He did not have much to lose when it came to Mr. Collins. He knew the other man disliked him. There was not much he could do to lower the man’s opinion of him. However, if word got out around his family or friends that he had turned into a blithering fool in the presence of a beautiful woman, he’d never be able to live it down.

“I’m fine.” Nicholas took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. “Are you ready?”

“As I told you the first time, yes.” She pointed to the silver-wrapped box on the end of the marble-topped console table.

Nicholas stepped into the apartment and grabbed the gift. She glanced in the mirror above the table and straightened her soft curls. After a slight nod, she draped a white shawl over her shoulders and grabbed her handbag.

Her light jasmine scent hit him as she walked past. Following her, he began to second guess his decision to escort her to the party. His father wouldn’t have had a problem sending a car for her. Celeste would have ridden along, and the two women would have gossiped and giggled in the back like two schoolgirls.

Nicholas admonished himself. What was he thinking? Georgia was not like the women he went out with. Her drawers would stay up, her skirts would stay down, and her legs would stay closed until she had a ring on her finger. He therefore needed to pull it together and concentrate on protecting her from lecherous suitors. If he could appreciate what he saw, he was certain others would, too.

While he accepted the only relief he would get would be by his own hands, not all of his male relatives were as honorable. There were a few who would not have a problem trying to bed her simply to know what it was like to be with a colored woman. Others would not care about the color of her skin, only that she had the right equipment to relieve the itch in their pants.

As long as she was with him, she was considered off limits. No one would consider touching another man’s woman…at least, not while her man was in the same building.

Nicholas drove to Gracie’s, the club named after his mother. It was the only business owned by his father that did not have a game room in the basement or back. He kept all questionable practices away from the club out of respect for the woman it was named after.

His father had hoped Nicholas would eventually take over running the club. He, however, had decided he preferred a career in “finance” and dreamed of one day taking over the other businesses from the older man.

Nicholas pulled up in front of the club. After helping Georgia out of the car, he tossed his keys to the valet, who understood the consequences of not returning the vehicle in the same condition it was given to him. He then escorted her past the line of people waiting to get inside.

By the time they reached the entrance, the door was being held open for them. An older, colored man wearing a black tuxedo greeted them as they stepped into the building.

“Everything looks wonderful, Al.” Nicholas shook the man’s hand.

“When have you ever seen it look otherwise?”

On his watch? Never. Alton McRae had been with the club since it opened, working his way up from busboy to maître d’. In his hands, Gracie’s flourished, turning a nice profit for Nicholas’s father.

“I thought so.” Alton slapped Nicholas’s arm. He then kissed Georgia’s cheek. “Go enjoy yourself. And, keep him out of trouble.”

Georgia laughed. “You’re asking for the impossible.”

“Come on.” With a hand on her lower back, Nicholas maneuvered Georgia through the clusters of partygoers. They briefly greeted a few acquaintances with promises of longer conversations after they paid their respects to the lady of honor.

At the front of the club, they climbed the steps to the dais to the right of the stage. Sophie Santiano watched the band playing the popular songs, her dark tresses (well maintained with the help of her hairdresser) bobbing gently in time to the music. The cane that usually swung from her hand—but never touched the ground when she walked—leaned against her chair.

“
Mi carina
, I’m glad you could make it.” Sophie held up her hands.

Georgia leaned forward and embraced the older woman. “You know I couldn’t miss your birthday, Nonna.” Georgia reached back and took the box from Nicholas. “This is for you.”

“Is it the shawl I was admiring in the catalog last month?”

“You’ll have to open and see.”

“Open it, nothing. I already know.” Sophie turned to the white-haired woman to her right. “This young lady can look at a design and then crochet it without a pattern. Such talent.” She glanced back up at Georgia. “So when are you going to stop hanging around that bum and settle down with a decent man?”

“Nonna, I’m standing right here,” Nicholas grumbled. “At least wait until I’m outta earshot before talking about me.”

“I don’t believe in talking about people behind their backs. I believe in calling you a bum to your face.”

“Feisty.” Nicholas leaned forward and kissed the woman’s cheek. “That’s what I like about you.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere.” She waved her hand toward the dance floor. “Go on and get. I’ll speak to you later.”

“Nicholas, I want to go to the powder room,” Georgia said as they stepped off the dais.

“Why? You look fine.”

“I want to make sure.” She fussed with a curl. “You did have the top down.”

“And you can trust me…” His gaze moved down her body again. “There ain’t a strand out of place.”

****

Georgia rolled her eyes.

How would he know if there was a strand out of place? He had barely been able to keep his eyes above her neck since he arrived at her apartment.

If it had been any other man, she would have closed the door in his face and called her father to make sure the offender left the building. However, she knew Nicholas was teasing her and that she did not have anything to worry about around him. As far as he was concerned, she was nothing more than a friend of his sister.

Georgia strolled to the other side of the room and headed down a corridor. As she placed her hand on the door to the women’s room, she heard a familiar giggle. She walked past the room, turned the corner, and froze at the sight of Gianni pressing Celeste against the wall.

As he leaned toward her, Celeste glanced over his shoulder. Her eyes grew wide, and her cheeks reddened. She placed her hands on the man’s shoulders, turned her head to the side, and whispered something that did not travel back to Georgia’s ears.