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Cheryl swore she’d give her child the best life and even though it was tough in the beginning, Cheryl always made sure Portia had security and love.
“Oh, Mommy, you always say that.”
“Because to me everything you do is perfect.”
Cheryl enveloped her daughter in a hug, then tickled her. She loved to hear her little girl giggle and be silly because sometimes she feared the child was way too serious for a ten-year-old.
“I saw the catering trucks.” Portia flipped her sketch pad closed. “Johnny’s having another big party?”
“Yes.” The fact Portia acknowledged it as Johnny’s party spoke volumes about her intuition. Johnny knew Portia was part of the package when he married Cheryl, and although he was never unkind to her, there was no emotional attachment on either side.
“Yippee.” Portia clapped her hands. “That means I get to eat whatever I want.”
“Ohhhh, you think so,” Cheryl teased.
Portia widened her ebony eyes as she flipped her wavy dark hair over her shoulder. Her daughter’s onyx colored eyes and pouty lips reminded her so much of?—
“Don’t tease me.” Portia’s words cut into Cheryl’s dangerous retrospection.
“What do you want?”
“First, I’d like mac and cheese,” Portia said. “Then some fried chicken.” Portia ticked off on her fingers. “Then a nice big brownie for dessert.”
“Sounds good, maybe I’ll join you.” Cheryl would much rather be with her daughter tonight.
“And don’t forget to tell Izzy to bring her pennies.”
On nights Johnny entertained, Izzy played cards with Portia for pennies. A tradition they started back in Los Angeles to keep her daughter occupied and away from random gossip. Cheryl didn’t want any pictures of Portia showing up on social media and Johnny didn’t want a child infiltrating his party and possibly getting more attention than him.
Cheryl gave Portia a hug and pushed off the bed. “I’ll look in on you before I go down.”
“I hope you’re not going to wear the backless black dress again.” Portia pulled a face.
“Now you’re my wardrobe critic?” Cheryl laughed as she stepped out into the hallway. She never wanted anything to interfere with Portia’s innocence.
Nick pulled his Maserati into the long driveway and the two men exchanged a look as he eased the car around an ornate fountain.
Samson unfolded his large body from the molded seats of the sports car, then pressed his hands against the small of his back. “Would’ve felt much better if I pulled up on my Harley.”
Nick handed the keys off to the valet and rolled his eyes. “I swear to fuck sometimes I think you’re gonna leave Club Wicked and join up with the Serpents.”
Samson threw him a smirky grin.
“Don’t get any ideas,” Nick warned.
“Let’s get in there, check it out, and see who’s on the guest list.”
Inside the vast foyer, they were greeted by servers with trays of champagne, and small hors d’oeuvres. They both passed on the food and drink as they pushed further into the room.
“If we make the right connections maybe we can duck out before dinner.”
“Sounds good to me. Lisbeth wasn’t happy I had to be out my one night off from the club.” Samson was one of the lucky ones. He had a good woman in his corner. Lisbeth was a complete opposite to Samson in every way but they made it work.
As expected there were the usual political hacks who went anywhere for a free meal. Movers and shakers from the upper echelons of the casino world, casino managers, casino controllers and their wives decked out in diamonds.
Nick recognized some customers of Club Wicked and even some guys from New York which made him wonder how the hell Johnny Russo made and kept all these potentially important people in his circle. Being connected with Frank Barnett was one answer but as everyone knew—it didn’t matter what game you were in, people wanted to be around money and from the looks of this place Johnny was rolling in it.
Samson already circled the room and in his usual fashion he summed up the night in a few words. “All I see is a bunch of assholes with nothing better to do on a Sunday night.”
