Free Lucky by Jackie Collins Page A

still . . . he was mad – at himself more than anything. If he thought she was so horny-looking why hadn’t he taken her up on her offer? Wham bam thank you ma’am . And goodbye, Charlie.
    For Christ’s sake, what was so threatening about a woman instigating the proceedings? He could deal with that.
    She had probably not shown because she figured him for a jerk. And rightfully so. No doubt he had turned down a great experience. Jesus! He couldn’t wait to tell Jess about it. They would at least get a few laughs out of Lennie Golden – the reluctant fuck! Hey – he might be able to work it into some great comedy schtick.
    He thought he might call her. What did he have to lose? And maybe it wasn’t too late.
    Suite eleven twenty-two – the memory never let him down. He hurried to a house phone. No answer. Maybe she was out cruising, busy finding a replacement for Mr Reluctant.
    Why was he feeling jealous of someone he didn’t even know?
    Why could he see her face, that beautiful face?
    And why could he feel her lips, full and sensual and . . .
    Knock it off, schmuck. You blew it. Don’t sweat it. Forget it . At least his routine had been a smash.
    Tonight the Magiriano.
    Tomorrow the Carson Show. Why not?
    He had worked his balls off for it.

Chapter Seven
     
    ‘Fire the comedian,’ said Lucky.
    Matt frowned. ‘What?’
    ‘Lennie Golden. That’s his name isn’t it?’
    ‘You mean Lennie Golden who went on tonight in the lounge?’
    ‘Do we have two Lennie Goldens working for us?’
    ‘I don’t understand. He opened great. The audience loved him. Even you said he was good.’
    Coolly she lit a cigarette and stared out at the spectacular view over the Strip. ‘I never said he wasn’t good. I just said I want you to fire him.’
    ‘Is that what you summoned me for?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Jesus Christ, Lucky.’ A vein throbbed angrily near his temple. ‘Jesus Christ! I’m not some lackey you can jerk around on a string. It’s two o’clock in the morning. Why didn’t you tell me on the phone?’
    She wondered if he would dare speak to Gino like that. Decided he wouldn’t.
    ‘Do you like your job here?’ she asked mildly.
    ‘It’s not a job. I got points in the place. I’m a director of the company.’
    ‘Sure. I made you a director, and I can move you out any time I want.’
    ‘So do it,’ he snorted.
    ‘Maybe I will.’
    They glared at each other. He broke the stare first. Working for the Santangelos gave him more power than he’d ever had in his life. He didn’t want to blow it. ‘So what is it you want me to do?’ he said sourly.
    ‘Pay him. Fire him. Get him off the premises.’
    ‘May I at least ask why?’
    ‘Because he’s too good for the lounge. He makes people think. He makes them laugh. He stops them drinking and playing the tables. I want you to fire him tonight and get him out of here.’
    ‘If that’s what you want.’
    ‘It’s exactly what I want.’
    After he left she finished her cigarette, then went to the bureau and fished out a joint. She would get high instead of laid. Probably more satisfying in the long run.
    How nice to phone Gino now, have a father/daughter chat.
    Ha! She laughed aloud. They had never had that sort of a relationship. Not since she was five years old. Not since her mother was murdered . . .
    Flashes of white hot pain. She could still picture the scene as vividly as if it were yesterday. The pink pool . . . Maria’s naked body floating on a raft . . . her long blonde hair fanning out in the water . . .
    Abruptly she closed her eyes, but the image became even more vivid. For a year she and Gino had been wonderfully close, but never close enough to discuss what had happened to Maria, never close enough . . .
    She began to cry. But she didn’t know she was crying until the tears rolled down her cheeks.
    Lucky Santangelo crying. Never!
    Angrily she wiped her face. Goddamn it! Gino found himself a girlfriend and she went to pieces. She hadn’t even