Read Online The Haunting of the Gemini by Jackie Barrett - Free Book Online

And he also happened to sell the hottest threads around out of his parents’ basement in an outer borough of the city. He’s a good ole Italian boy who looks like an extra in a 1970s Mob movie, living at home with his mama, and still looking for the right woman. I love going to visit—she feeds me like it was my last supper.
    My client couldn’t understand why we had to go all the way out there just to get a suit. He didn’t want to meet anybody’s family. Too nervous. I just shoved him in the car. He would be dressed to the nines in the finest sharkskin suit—that was one reason I was taking him. The other reason was because I thought it would be good for Mr. Big City Businessman to see how the other half lived.
    We stopped at a bakery first, to load up on Italian cookies and bread. Being half Sicilian, I know what to do. You take food as a sign of respect. And boy, did I respect Gino’s parents. The second we pulled into the driveway, they threw open the front door and greeted us with open arms. We had a huge, genuine Italian meal. His mama asked me as she served if I had a nice girl for her son. I just smiled.
    After dinner, Gino and I took my client to the basement. We felt our way down the stairs and then Gino hit the lights. He has the whole place tricked out. A long oak bar with leather sides lines one wall. The middle of the room is a tiled dance floor with a big disco ball hanging over it. And on the other wall is the clothes shop, with a blue velvet curtain and full-length mirrors.
    Gino put some music on, and I took a seat at the bar, coaxing my client to loosen up. Have some fun! Try stuff on! After a few hours of every color shirt and slacks, we decided on smoked silver sharkskin pants that fit like a glove and a sky-blue shirt, open at the neck. Which meant my client needed a lot less chest hair. So Gino and I broke out the wax strips . . . in hindsight, maybe not the best idea. My poor client howled in pain, and we didn’t have enough to do it properly. But we ended with enough done to make the look work.
    We put him in front of the mirror, and his eyes glowed. Then Gino put more music on. “Let’s see what you got!” he said. We sat back and watched him dance around the floor. “Work it!” I yelled. But, oh dear. The boy had no moves at all. We decided it would be best if he kept the date to dinner and no dancing.
    I told my client that no matter what he did, he had to keep his doll in his possession at all times. As he was putting it into his pocket, Gino saw it and started looking like a starved kid in a candy store.
    â€œOooh, you got a doll!” he said. “Let me see. Can I hold it?”
    I yelled at him. No way—only the owner holds it! Gino got his pout on, turned the music off, and stomped out. My client headed to the car in silence, but I could hear what he was thinking, loud and clear—
What the hell did I get myself into?
He quickly got into the car, leaving me outside with a sulking Gino. I made peace and thanked him for making my client shine. Then I thought,
Why doesn’t he help me finish it?
Come to dinner with me tomorrow, I said to Gino. I had to go to monitor my client’s date. If Gino came, then he could see the results of our hard work, too.
    Which was how we ended up at a table near my client and his pretty office colleague, watching them like hawks while trying to appear like we weren’t looking at them at all. But I started getting frustrated. He wasn’t doing what I had told him to. He wasn’t even reaching for her hand. We had gone over and over this! I had to do something.
    I was plotting my move when the waitress came over. “What can I get you?” she asked. “Your number,” said Gino. She rolled her eyes and walked away quickly after taking our order. I kicked Gino under the table. “That’s why you’re alone,” I hissed through my teeth. “You act