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to worse. First there was the dinner, when Manny proceeded to display the table manners of an ape, chewing on his steak like a food-deprived caveman. This was followed by a long gambling session on the slot machines at the Sands. When Manny and Henry were finally through, they suggested a stroll round the large outdoor pool, whereupon Manny grabbed her in a tight embrace, his pudgy hands roaming all over her breasts.

‘Get off me,’ she said, shoving him away.

‘Don’t gimme that hard-to-get crap,’ he sneered. ‘You know you want me.’

‘Oh, please,’ she said heatedly. ‘I never did and I never will.’

He did not appreciate her reply. ‘Who the hell d’you think you are?’ he said angrily. ‘Some dumb hoofer in a bad show. You’re lucky t’be out with a guy like me, an’ dontcha forget it.’

Henry and Angela had walked ahead of them and were now standing by the deserted outdoor bar, locked in a deep French kiss. Obviously it was no use trying to attract their attention.

‘I’m leaving,’ Dani said, attempting to remain calm.

‘Not until you’ve paid for dinner,’ Manny said, scowling. ‘I ain’t gettin’ stuck with your part of the check. Fact is, you owe me.’

‘Excuse me?’ she said, outraged.

‘You heard,’ he said, grabbing her again.

‘Take…your…hands off me,’ she said, struggling out of his grasp.

‘What is it with you good-lookin’ broads?’ he snarled. ‘You’re all the same–think we should treat you like fuckin’ princesses.’

‘How much was dinner?’ she asked, desperately trying to control a flood of tears.

‘What?’ he snapped.

‘Here,’ she said, groping blindly in her purse and shoving a bunch of dollar bills at him. ‘Take this–and do me a favour. Forget we ever met.’ And with that she was on her way.

‘Hoity-toity bitch!’ he yelled after her. ‘You’ll get yours.’

She didn’t look back.

Chapter Fourteen

Michael: 1964

In New York things were heating up. Vito Giovanni suddenly found himself in the headlines. The Feds, who’d been tracking his activities for quite a while, had decided to go after him on a tax-evasion charge and it was infuriating him.

His high-powered lawyers assured him the Feds had no case, but in the meantime the newspapers latched on to him. They began calling him all kinds of names, and dogging his movements. Every time he left his house there was a bunch of photographers gathered outside pushing and shoving to get the best shot.

Mamie loved the attention. ‘Makes me feel like a movie star,’ she exclaimed, trying on yet another recently purchased expensive outfit.

‘Don’t,’ Vito informed her, his face grim. ‘In my business the trick is to stay outta the newspapers.’

‘But, honey,’ she answered playfully, ‘we’re famous.’

‘Fuck that famous shit,’ he growled. ‘Who needs the attention?’

Meanwhile, Michael was learning how to use a gun. Vito had arranged for a tall, brooding man, known as the Chronicle, to teach him. The two of them drove out to a shooting range three mornings a week, where the Chronicle instructed him on every aspect of handling and shooting guns.

‘It’s like I’m gettin’ me a crash course,’ Michael boasted to Max when he picked him up from his job. Max, who was currently selling women’s shoes in a discount store on Seventh Avenue, threw him a disapproving look.

‘How come you wanna learn to shoot?’ he asked, scratching his head.

‘Gotta know how to protect myself,’ Michael explained, as they set off down the street.

‘From what?’

‘You never know,’ Michael answered, with a casual shrug.

‘Yeah,’ Max said, quite exasperated. ‘I guess ya gotta protect yourself from all those low-lifes you hang out with.’

Max was always carrying on about Michael’s connection to the Giovanni family. It pissed him off. So far his so-called connection had made him nothing but money. ‘You’re beginning to sound like my grandma,’ he remarked.

‘Thanks a lot!’

‘Don’t mention it.’

They continued on down the street, both busy with their own thoughts.

Why am I learning to shoot? Michael thought. It is kind of a crazy thing to do, an’ the Chronicle is a total freak with his flat dead eyes and creepy attitude. But, hey, if Mr G wants me to learn, I gotta go along with it. He’s the boss.

Max was thinking about other things. He had something to tell Michael, and he wanted to get it over with as soon as possible before Michael heard it from someone else.

‘Uh…I got news,’ he ventured at last.

‘Yeah?’ Michael said, waving at a girl he knew.

Max hesitated a moment: he wasn’t sure what kind of reaction he was about to get. ‘Tina an’ me,’ he finally blurted, ‘we’re…uh…gettin’ married in a coupla weeks.’

Michael stopped short. ‘Whaaat?’

‘You heard,’ Max said quickly. ‘An’ I’d like you t’be my best man.’

‘Aw, c’mon,’ Michael said disbelievingly. ‘You only just got engaged.’

‘We’ve decided we don’t wanna wait.’

‘You’re nuts,’ Michael snapped. ‘There’s no way you can afford to get hitched.’

‘I can do it,’ Max answered stubbornly.

‘Jeez!’ Michael said, in disgust. ‘You’re not even twenty yet, you work in some lousy women’s shoe store, an’ you still live at home. What’ve you got to offer a girl like Tina?’

‘I don’t suppose you’ve ever heard of bein’ in love,’ Max said, defending his decision. ‘I’m not like you, Mr Fuck ’Em an’ Leave ’Em. I’m different.’

‘Yeah,’ Michael said flatly. ‘You’re different all right. You’re a jerk.’

‘Better than bein’ some gangster’s boy,’ Max shot back.

‘Who’re you calling a gangster’s boy?’ Michael demanded, putting up his fists.

‘You’re so far up Giovanni’s ass you got a brown nose,’ Max responded.

They started getting into a fake fight, fists flying, a scenario they’d been playing out since they were kids.

Passers-by stared. They didn’t care: it was all about cutting loose.

After a few minutes Michael got bored. ‘Let’s go grab a burger,’ he suggested. ‘I got a hot date later, so I’m gonna need all the energy I can get.’

‘You an’ your hot dates,’ Max scoffed. ‘Dontcha ever plan on settlin’ with the right girl?’

‘Why would I do that when I got pussy comin’ out my ears?’

Max shook

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