A Bookie's Odds Read Online Free Page A

Because of her loyalty, she was more than a friend…she was family.

Chapter 2
    The door clicked behind Georgia, muffling Nicholas’s laughter.
    There were times his ego got too big and he needed to be taken down a peg or two. She would have volunteered for the job if it didn’t inconvenience others.
    She was certain he had already told his father she had an escort to the party. Therefore, she would not ask the older man to change his plans and give her a ride at the last minute.
    Georgia retrieved the mail before heading up the steps. The tapping from her shoes against the marble floors echoed through the hall. Thanks to her father, the glow from the overhead fixture lit the stairway.
    Though it was the landlord’s responsibility to maintain the hallways, her father stepped in and made repairs whenever something was broken. He figured the twenty-five cents it cost to replace the bulb was nothing compared to the cost of visiting her in the hospital if she should trip in the dark.
    The aroma of fried chicken and okra greeted her when she reached the second floor. The mouthwatering smell was courtesy of the woman in the rear apartment. Despite having six mouths to feed, she would share the meal with the elderly woman who lived next door to her.
    The odor of stale cigarettes seeped from the apartment across from the Collinses’. Whenever the bachelor opened the door to accept deliveries from the Chinese restaurant down the block, a thick cloud hovered in the air behind him.
    Georgia turned the knob to the first apartment to the right of the stairs. As expected, she did not need her keys. Like most people in the neighborhood, they did not lock their door unless no one would be home.
    “You’re late,” her father announced.
    She stepped into the one-bedroom apartment they had lived in since arriving in New York when she was three. When she turned ten, well-meaning busybodies had suggested her father move them into a two-bedroom apartment so each of them could have privacy. Her father waved off the suggestion, stating he preferred the pullout in the living room, as it allowed him to see everyone who travelled between the front door and her bedroom.
    Georgia never took the joke seriously. Her father never had to worry about young men slipping into the apartment. His size alone kept guys from making advances toward her.
    He turned from the window, fumbling with his necktie, his forehead wrinkled. “I told you I don’t like you hangin’ out with that thug.”
    Georgia pushed the door closed. Her father had never hidden his dislike for Nicholas. She suspected it had to do with the younger man’s choice to forego college and pursue a career as a bookie. Of course, Nicholas’s insistence on solving problems with his fists instead of talking things out did not help.
    “I wasn’t hanging out with him. I was with Celeste this afternoon.”
    “I didn’t see her in the car with you.”
    “Celeste and I had a little trouble. We ended up back at her home.”
    “And you couldn’t’ve taken the bus from there?”
    “You know Mr. Santiano wouldn’t have allowed that.” She held up the shopping bag. “He sent food and said hello.”
    “Tell him thanks for me. By the way, what time is that thug pickin’ you up?”
    “How’d you know he was picking me up?” Georgia was certain she and Nicholas had not been talking loudly enough for anyone inside the building to hear their conversation.
    “Who else would he take to his grandmother’s party? One of his huzzies?” He snorted. “His grandmother may be in her seventies, but she’s still capable of takin’ out trash.”
    “You shouldn’t assume the women Nick dates are easy, just ’cause their skirts are tight and they wear a bit too much makeup.”
    “That’s not what I base my assumptions on.”
    “What then?”
    “He’s a skirt chaser and only goes out with women who’ll drop their drawers for a meal and a movie.” He walked out of the room. “Put the food