Chances by Jackie Collins Read Free Book Online

in Sing Sing. Gino went with her once.
    Paolo greeted him with a sharp “You got any booze?”
    The first time he had seen his father in a year and that was his opening line. “No,” he mumbled, nervous in his father’s presence, ever mindful of the beatings he had endured at the hands of the thin miserable man in prison uniform.
    “Aw, c’mon, Pauly,” Vera said, “y’know we can’t bring booze in here. They search us, honest to God—y’know if I could I would.”
    “Bitch!” Paolo muttered, and turned his back on both of them.
    “He’s in a bad mood today,” Vera whispered to Gino. “Take no notice, he’ll be better next time you come.”
    But he never went back for a second visit. Fuck it. He was too big to get beaten now. If Paolo ever laid another hand on him… Yeh. One visit to Sing Sing was enough.
    Every week he reported to his probation officer, who gave him a sharp five-minute talking to. Funny thing, each week there was a letter from California waiting for him. Costa Zennocotti seemed to have decided to give him a blow-by-blow account of his life. And although Gino never bothered to answer, the letters kept on coming.
    Strange kid…. Whatever made him think that Gino would be interested in his life? And what a life? School. A nice home. A stepsister who sounded like a real pain. The kid was living in an unreal world.
    When his probation time was up he scrawled Costa a semi-literate note giving him a post office box number. If the kid enjoyed writing… well, who was he to spoil his fun?
    The night before Paolo was due to be released he took Vera to a movie. She seemed nervous and edgy, clinging to his arm as they trudged home through the snow.
    “Listen, kid,” she said, “when Paolo comes home it ain’t gonna work out. Know what I mean?”
    He nodded.
    “We could try,” she continued, “but—hell, you know your old man.”
    Yes. He knew. Paolo was a mean son-of-a-bitch. He beat up on women. Treated them like dirt. Vera was no angel but Gino liked her, she had been good to him, and they both knew that when Paolo started in on her there was no way he could just stand around and watch.
    “I’ll move out in the morning,” he said.
    “I’ll miss you,” Vera replied, tears stinging her watery eyes. She reached out, touched him on the arm. “If I can ever help y’out…”
    He nodded. Vera had given him more love and affection than he’d had in a lifetime from his father.
    The next morning he was packed and out before she even woke. He took his one suitcase to work with him and asked around about finding somewhere to live.
    A new mechanic, Zeko, said there was a room going over at his place. Zeko was about nineteen, swarthy-faced and greasy-looking. Nobody liked him much, but a room was a room, so after work Gino accompanied him to a seedy house on 109th Street.
    “Buildin’s a shithouse,” Zeko offered. “No heat, no hot water, no bath, crappers in the hall.”
    “So what else is new?”
    “I ain’t stayin’ long,” Zeko continued. “Gotta hot job comin’ up gonna take me away from all this.” He winked. “I’m the wheelman on a big one. I do O.K. I’m in. Get it?”
    “You ever been inside?” Gino asked.
    “Me?” Zeko cackled. “I’m too smart to get caught.” He wiped his nose on the sleeve of his jacket. “Listen, we’ll dump your case and go and get us a couple of beers and a couple of whores.”
    “I gotta date,” Gino replied.
    “She have a friend?” Zeko leered.
    “Never asked her.”
    “So ask.”
    “Yeh… sure. Maybe next time.”
    The room was even worse than he expected. But he took it anyway. He wasn’t exactly used to palaces. He didn’t have a date, he just had not felt like spending the evening with Zeko. Zeko the Creepo they called him at work.
    It took him all of five minutes to settle into his new home. The room consisted of a bed, a worn rug, and a peeling dresser in the corner. That was it. But at least it was his.
    Fat Larry’s,