Free Chances by Jackie Collins Page B

the toilet. “Philadelphia!” she moaned. “Can you imagine?”
    Yeh. He could imagine. Total chaos.

Gino
    1923-1924
    The job Gino did for Charlie Lucania—wheelman on a bootleg hijack—was to change his whole life. It was a grudge set up against people who had doublecrossed Lucania. Gino was chosen to replace Zeko because they needed someone clean; if the gang was caught there would be no threads leading back to Lucania.
    So Gino found himself out on the road behind the wheel of a brand new Packard which he had picked up at a designated spot. Two freelance hoods rode with him.
    He was nervous as hell, but when the King of Booze asked you to do something you couldn’t exactly turn him down. Anyway, it was his fault that Zeko was out of action, although the creepy little bastard deserved more than a busted arm.
    In a way, Gino was flattered to have been picked out. The fact that he had a reputation was a buzz—and he certainly wasn’t about to let anyone down. It was a well-known fact that Charlie Lucania was always on the lookout for fresh young talent. “You build an empire out of loyalty—” he had been known to say, “catch ’em young and treat ’em right and they ain’t gonna stab you in the balls.”
    He drove the Packard well. The job went without a hitch. And the next day Eddie the Beast turned up at the garage and handed him a packet containing fifty crisp one-dollar bills. “You done good,” Eddie stated. “We’ll be callin’ on you again.”
    Gino was knocked out. Fifty bucks! For driving a car! Shit, he had never had fifty bucks in his life.
    He wanted to celebrate, and what better way than buying himself a new outfit? He had seen a suit he wanted in a tailor’s window, black with a white pinstripe, the sharpest goddamn suit he had ever set eyes on. And now he could have it!
    He didn’t wait until work was finished, he just walked, with Pinky Banana calling after him, “Hey, Gino, what’ll I tell the boss?”
    “Tell him he can shove his job up his ass,” he replied confidently. After all, hadn’t Eddie the Beast said “We’ll be callin’ on you”? Why the hell should he be busting his ass fixing other people’s cars for a few lousy bucks a week, when he could pull in fifty crisp new singles for a couple of hours’ work?
    He bounced off down the street, walking on air. He felt his eyes had been opened. Suddenly he knew what he wanted in life. Money. Plenty. And you didn’t get what he had in mind working your balls off nine till five. No sirree. Charlie Lucania had had no golden beginning, but he had grabbed opportunities when they came his way—and look at him now. A big man. A hero. Tough, sure, but when you were brought up on the streets, tough was the only way to survive.
    The tailor took the suit out of his window reluctantly, and then only after Gino had flashed money before his eyes. It was too big, the jacket ludicrously long and the pants at least three sizes too large. He stared at himself in the tailor’s mirror, frustration mounting. “It don’t fit,” he stated blankly.
    “I can alter it,” the tailor offered. He had seen the money and wanted it. “A week. You come back and it’ll fit you perfect.”
    “Tonight.”
    “Impossible.”
    Gino narrowed his eyes. “Tonight,” he said in his toughest voice. “How much extra?”
    A deal was set, proving to Gino that if you had money you could buy anything.
    He swaggered off down the street well pleased with himself. He had money to burn and time to spare.
    He headed for Fat Larry’s, but there wasn’t too much action there. Sliding into a booth, he ordered himself a double chocolate soda.
    He hardly noticed the pretty little blonde at first, but she kept on swaying past his booth, firm breasts jutting purposefully out. Then he remembered. Little Miss Cuteness from the other night. He fingered the ugly black stitches still holding his cheek together. “Hey, you!” he called to her.
    She stopped beside his