A Change of Heart

By Jay Greenstein

Life is placid for Christmas Baker. She has her son and her career as a graphic artist. To warm her dreams she has the memory of her husband. She wants nothing more.

But this night her sister has dragged her to a party, one which will change her life. This night she finds a magic ring. And this night she meets Victor Lucci, a handsome gangster, who tempts her to discard chastity as a way of life.

But Victor’s view, that love is an illusion, coupled with his casual attitude toward sex, repels. Worse, he appears to be sleeping with the daughter of the local crime family leader—a thoroughly unpleasant woman—to gain favor in the mob. But Victor isn’t what he appears. Exactly what he is, is something Chris must learn quickly, because somehow, she seems to have become Victor Lucci, and now must face the fact that people working hard to end his life.

As if that weren't enough, there's the matter of who will care for her son, with her gone. And of more importance, if she took over Victor's body...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jay Greenstein
• Release date: Oct 14, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301712625

Jay Greenstein

I'm a storyteller. My skills at writing are subject to opinion, my punctuation has been called interesting, at best—but I am a storyteller. I am, of course, many other things. In seven decades of living, there are great numbers of things that have attracted my attention. I am, for example, an electrician. I can also design, build, and install a range of things from stairs and railings to flooring, and tile backsplashes. I can even giftwrap a box from the inside, so to speak, by wallpapering the house. I'm an engineer, one who has designed computers and computer systems; one of which—during the bad old days of the cold war—flew in the plane designated as the American President's Airborne Command Post: The Doomsday Jet. I've spent seven years as the chief-engineer of a company that built bar-code readers. I spent thirteen of the most enjoyable years of my life as a scoutmaster, and three, nearly as good, as a cubmaster. I joined the Air Force to learn jet engine mechanics, but ended up working in broadcast and closed circuit television, serving in such unlikely locations as the War Room of the Strategic Air Command, and a television station on the island of Okinawa. I have been involved in sports car racing, scuba diving, sailing, and anything else that sounded like fun. I can fix most things that break, sew a fairly neat seam, and have raised three pretty nice kids, all of who are smarter and prettier than I am—more talented, too, thanks to the genes my wife kindly provided. Once, while camping with a group of cubs and their families, one of the dads announced, "You guys better make up crosses to keep the Purple Bishop away." When I asked for more information, the man shrugged and said, "I don't really know much about the story. It's some kind of a local thing that was mentioned on my last camping trip." Intrigued, I wondered if I could come up with something to go with his comment about the crosses; something to provide a gentle terror-of-the-night to entertain the boys. The result was a virtual forest of crosses outside the boys' tents. That was the event that switched on something within me that, now, more than twenty-five years later, I can't seem to switch off. Stories came and came… so easily it was sometimes frightening. Stories so frightening that one boy swore he watched my eyes begin to glow with a dim red light as I told them (it was the campfire reflecting from my ...

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Jay Greenstein

Jay Greenstein

All rights reserved

Published by Continuation Services at SmashWords

Copyright 2013

Other Titles by Jay Greenstein:

Science Fiction

As Falls an Angel

Samantha and the Bear

Foreign Embassy

Hero

Monkey Feet

An Accidental War

Starlight Dancing

Wizards

Trilogy of the Talos

(Sci-fi)

To Sing the Calu

Portal to Sygano

Ghost Girl

Sisterhood of the Ring

(Sci-fi)

Water Dance

Jennie’s Song

A Change of Heart

A Surfeit of Dreams

Kyesha

Abode Of The Gods

Living Vampire

(Sci-fi)

An Abiding Evil

Ties of Blood

Blood Lust

Modern Western

Posse

Romantic Suspense

A Chance Encounter

Kiss of Death

Intrigue/Crime

Necessity

Betrayal

Hostage

Young Adult

My Father My Friend

Romance

Zoe

Breaking the Pattern

Short Story

A Touch of Strange

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. It may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This novel is a work of fiction. All characters and events in this book are fictitious and created by the author for entertainment purposes. Any similarities between living and non-living persons are purely coincidental.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

But Mom, you promised.

Chris placed a fingertip on her son’s nose.

What day is it, Kitty-Kit?

Small features aligned themselves in planes of stubborn determination.

Today is the day we go to the circus. You said so.

What day is it, Kit?

Six-year-old shoulders slumped. It’s Monday.

And did I say I’d take you on Monday?

... Not exactly.

She smiled, and pointed her son toward the dinner table, spanking him gently on the rump. Well then, ‘not exactly,’ yourself to the dinner table, kiddo, because I want you fed and watered before anyone gets here—scrubbed, too.

Kit went, his expression showing how unhappy he was over her going out—the real reason for this confrontation.

For a moment she glowed a hidden smile as he sat himself at the table, bottom lip extended and arms crossed, Jim’s willful nature echoed in both posture and expression.

But he’s such a great kid.

Then she turned to the business of placing their dinners on the table, wishing, as she did so often, that Jim had never gotten on that plane. Kit needed a father.

° ° °

So, what’s the big secret, April? Chris asked, as she slid into the passenger seat of her sister’s car. You said this place would be special, but I’m still waiting to hear why.

It’ll come. Telling you would spoil the surprise.

Well, if it’s like the last surprise, you can keep it. At least tell me who’s going to be there.

April smiled. What was wrong with the last place? As I remember, you were the one who got hooked up, even if it didn’t work out.

She stared at her sister. Hooked up? April, that man was a prizefighter, for God’s sake. He had the manners of a pig—the brain of one, too. And to top that, he gobbled down more in one meal than Kit does in a year. It made me sick just to watch.

Well, it wasn’t his table manners I fixed you up for.

She snorted as she snapped her seatbelt in place, making sure it was securely latched. When April drove, the belt was more than a safety device—it was a necessity.

Blithely ignoring the chorus of horns that followed her U-turn through oncoming traffic, April said, Well, you’ll like this place better, and everyone we know is going to be there. It’s Penny’s birthday and also the six-month anniversary of her divorce, so we’re determined to get her laid tonight...or at least pointed in that direction. She needs to get back in the game.

April....

As do you, sweetie. As do you.

Drive, April, don’t talk...at least not about that. She complied, but the subject was definitely not closed.

There it is, April said, pointing, as she searched for a parking place. It’s an interesting place, and from what I’ve heard, a Mafia hangout.

I’m not sure that’s a plus.

Maybe not, but it’s also a popular spot, and if the Mafioso like it, it probably has good Italian food. Right?

That rated nothing more than a rueful shake of the head. April, as always, was April.

The bar didn’t look like much, and the sign, Sand Castle, did little to dispel concern, as they approached the entrance.

Tell me again why I’m here, Chris said, catching a whiff of mildew as they left the car. Music spilled from the bar’s door and that, at least, sounded promising.

April locked the car, then turned and joined her, deliberately bumping her hip against hers as she said, To get you naked, lady, to get you naked.

I think I already am. By the entrance, several men stood, laughing. One of them, the largest, was studying her, and the laughter appeared to be the result of something he’d said, presumably about her.

She should be used to having herself mentally undressed by the passing parade of males—her body probably invited such thoughts. Still, this man’s gaze, in particular, repelled.

Yuck. April said, If that’s what the well-dressed Mafioso’s wearing these days, I’ll take a pass.

Me, too, but that may not be easy. The man straightened at their approach, sucking in his gut and smoothing his narrow tie. Inwardly, she winced, but kept her eyes focused on the door, her expression determinedly neutral. Meeting the man’s eyes would only encourage him.

Evening, gorgeous, he said, apparently needing no encouragement. I’ve been wondering when my date would get here. He took a step to block their path, extending his arm for her to take. A wash of alcohol-scented breath announced that while the man was steady on his feet, he’d been partying for some time.

Before she could respond, April said, I’m sorry. You must have us confused with someone who’d be interested in someone like you.

Zip the lip, lady, the man said, his mouth twisting in disgust. I’m talking to your friend, here, ‘cause ugly don’t interest me too very much.

She suppressed a wince at April’s remark. It might be nice if she’d occasionally think before opening her mouth.

But what was said was said, so she tried to smooth things with, Thank you, but I’m meeting someone inside. Hopefully, April would have an attack of good sense and shut up.

You already met me, sweets, and I’m all the man you’ll need. He took a step closer, deliberately intimidating her with his bulk, clamping a hand on her arm as he added, You ain’t gonna do any better in there.

This man usually got what he wanted. That was obvious. But she wasn’t afraid...yet.

Let go, and do it now, she ordered—quietly, so as not to make the confrontation obvious to his friends and force him into a situation where he couldn’t back down.

It might have worked, had April not chosen that moment to say, Screw you, asshole. Not one of her more brilliant choices of wording.

The hand on her arm tightened, rendering her a prisoner, while the man turned to his cohorts and said, Anybody want the mouthy bitch?

For what? one of the other men said with a laugh.

Then somebody stuff her in the God-damned van till I’m through talking with cutie, here.

The grip on her arm tightened, and he leaned toward her.

You’ll zip it, too, you got any sense.

In her purse lay a small container of pepper spray. The probability of getting to it, though, wasn’t good unless she could get free.

April opened her mouth, probably to shout for help, but closed it again when the man held up a massive hand, curled into a fist. Good sense had arrived. Unfortunately, it had come too late to do them any good.

Someone with bad skin and a thousand-dollar suit took her sister by the shoulders from behind—not gently, judging by her expression. Unable to come up with anything other than prayer, she could only watch as the man pushed April forward, steering her in the direction of a dark-windowed van, parked in a loading zone a few steps away. Her options were limited, and a shout for help would probably be as much a waste of time as pleading for April’s release.

Then, from her right came, Hi, honey. You made good time. I didn’t expect you till later. A welcome arrival, especially since he seemed to have sized up the situation and was trying to help. But he was alone.

The grip on her arm loosened, but before she could take advantage of it, the hand tightened once more, hard—warning her. There would be a bruise.

The new arrival, a stranger, stood at least six-three. He wasn’t as bulky as the man holding her, but had a look that said he could more than hold his own in a tight situation.

A deep olive complexion accentuated features rivaling those on Michelangelo’s, David, while impeccably groomed chestnut hair provided perfect complement to them. But his eyes were what seized her attention.

Wow! Despite the situation and the fear it brought, those eyes—midnight black and intent—brought the urge to say yes to whatever he might ask.

With no trace of fear, the man moved to take her free hand, raising it to his lips to be kissed, retaining it as a challenge to the other man.

Now who the f— The man stopped, as one of his cohorts urgently whispered in his ear. He turned to look at the man, who nodded and mouthed the words, No shit.

The pressure on her arm ended as the man took a step backward, spreading his hands to show they were empty and saying, Sorry, Mr. Lucci, no offense intended.

None taken, the stranger said, placing an arm around her and extending the other in the direction of April, who’d been released, and now stood gazing at her rescuer as though turned to stone.

April, wake up, she called. It’s time to go.

Huh? Go? Oh.... She shook her head, then came to take the man’s arm, as they headed toward the entrance, her eyes still locked on his face, as she said, You’re beautiful. Will you spend the night with me?

He responded with a laugh, followed by, Thank you, I’d love to.

Because the doorway was narrow, the man dropped back to allow her and April to enter. As they did, April whispered, Please, Chris...please let me have this one.

° ° ° °

Chapter 2

The place was a lot more promising than the exterior façade seemed to indicate, the décor, pleasant in a provincial Italian style. To the right, a small bar serviced those waiting for dinner. The dining room, accessible through an archway on the left, was busier than might have been expected on a weeknight, the aroma teasing her nostrils a pleasant surprise. Seafood with an Italian flair seemed to be the specialty of the house, and the scents were quietly enticing. Perhaps April had been right about gangsters and Italian food.

Safe now, at least for the moment, she turned to the man entering behind them, taking his hand, surprisingly warm in hers.

Thank you. I...well you were of more help to us than you may have realized.

The men outside recognized him on sight—or at least one of them had—and the others knew him by name. Who was he, to have brought fear to the eyes of a bully such as that? Certainly, he didn’t look fearsome, he looked...well, delightful, was the only word that fit.

He cradled her hand for a long moment, then gave a trace of an old-world bow, as he said, My pleasure. He spread his hands in a shrug, as he added, After all, what more could a man wish for but the chance to play hero to a pair of beautiful women?

I....

Before she could decide how to respond he said, I’m Victor Lucci. He had a grin to die for.

And I’m Chris—

Hi, Vic, I’m April Donnelly. April ripped the man’s hand from hers and enveloped it in both of hers, saying You have no idea of how glad I am to meet you.

Oh April, will you never learn? But if she did, she wouldn’t be April: brash and outspoken, prone to act before she thought, but also loving, witty, and great fun to be with. As much as this man appealed, personally, it was time for her sister to have some good luck in men. Both her marriages ended badly, and without children, and she deserved better.

I’m Chris, she said to the man’s back as he permitted April to drag him toward a sign at the rear of the waiting area that said, To the Beach. Music spilled from the opening so it probably led to their destination.

The man looked over his shoulder and smiled, waving his free hand, seeming a bit bemused. He flashed a shrug that said he enjoyed the attention but didn’t take it seriously. She’d have to have a talk with her sister on the virtues of moderation—again.

The doorway to the club section led to a ramp, but before they could pass through, April stopped at what appeared to be a coat-check room. Bracing one hand on the counter, she removed her shoes—which she placed in a bag and handed to the check-girl in exchange for a chit.

You can put your shoes in with mine, if you like, Vic.

Thank you, April, I’d love that, but I’m meeting someone, and won’t be staying long. He removed his shoes and handed them to the girl, while Chris looked on, mystified. One thing was clear, though. She now knew why April told her not to wear stockings.

April’s disappointment showed, and it was gentlemanly of Victor to add, But I’ll be glad to take a rain check—and a phone number. April positively glowed in response, but at least she had the good sense not to immediately dig in her purse for paper and pencil.

April? Uhh....

In response to her pointing toward the shoes on the counter, April said, You have to check your shoes because the room’s got a sand floor. That’s why it’s called The Beach

Sand? What a strange night. She toyed with the idea of giving Victor her phone number, too. But best to wait until she knew him better. Too often pretty faces had nothing to back them up. There was also the matter of April, who had first claim, plus the unknown woman he was meeting. The evening was turning interesting, despite a rocky start.

After she put the shoe-check in her purse, she led the way down the ramp, deliberately, to keep Victor close to April. Unfortunately, she was looking over her shoulder when her feet hit the sand. Because of April’s announcement, she expected a layer of sand, but not a literal beach, so, tripped by the uneven and shifting surface, she went sprawling. The phony cabanas and palm trees should have alerted her, though. It was called the Sand Castle, after all.

Apparently, such falls were common because hers brought a scattering of applause from those already in the room.

As she struggled to her knees, muttering a wish that April had warned her to wear jeans—as she’d done—her hand encountered something small and circular: a coin, or perhaps an earring, though more likely, a piece of trash, just beneath the surface. Without thought, she pulled it from the sand and got to her knees.

Are you okay? Victor asked, offering his hand.

She accepted his help, and as she stood, smoothing her skirt, she glanced at what she’d retrieved. It was a ring.

Something? he asked, nodding toward her hand.

I just found this. She held the ring out.

He glanced at it and shrugged. Nice. It almost makes the fall worthwhile.

She couldn’t agree. Too heavy for her taste—it appeared to be stone, primitively carved, probably a souvenir from a Latin American vacation.

Someone called her name, so she slipped the ring into her bag, then waved to Jennie Carver, a diminutive blonde, who stood by a table where April’s office-mates were gathered. The ring could be investigated later—maybe make a check with the staff to see if anyone had reported it missing.

Walking to the table was like walking on a beach, a feeling she wasn’t entirely sure she liked in a club. It certainly was novel, though. April had that right. Happily, she wasn’t alone in her choice of blouse and skirt, rather than jeans.

As they approached the table Victor was being studied by the women, both attached and unattached. The looks she got were speculative, as the women made guesses on which of them, she or April, had a claim on the man, and how strong a claim it was.

Everybody! April shouted, vying with the music for their attention. Pay attention. This is Vic.... She threw a look in Victor’s direction and he mouthed Lucci.

This is Victor Lucci, and he belongs to me...thank you very much. At least for the next ten minutes. She waved a hand in the direction of the group, saying, Vic, this is everyone I work with.

Chris said her hellos, then placed a drink order before sliding onto a stool diagonally across from Victor, a bit unsettled, and wondering if it might not have been better to have said no to April’s invitation. Yes, she knew the others, and was comfortable in their company, but they weren’t friends.

Or were they? Certainly, she spent time with them whenever April dragged her to one of their get-togethers. And certainly, she enjoyed their company. The thought came that since Jim’s death nearly a year ago, the term social life referred only to the outings that April pressed on her.

Was it a mistake to want no more complication than taking care of Kit and working? Was she hiding from life? Certainly, she could never replace Jim, though Victor came close to making her waver in that decision. He definitely pleased the eye.

That idea—letting go of the feeling that Jim was simply away, not forever gone—would bear some thinking about when there was more time to devote to it.

Now, she sat nursing a Long Island iced tea and studying Victor, trying not to be obvious about it.

Was he as nice inside as outside? After ten minutes that still wasn’t clear. Urbane? Yes, he was. Witty? That too. And handsome, intensely handsome, with wonderfully expressive features and the prettiest hands she’d seen on a man. Men’s hands fascinated, for unknown reasons, and these were sensually attractive. Long slim fingers ended in wide, symmetrical nails that gleamed under the soft lighting, bringing speculation: professionally manicured, or personally fastidious? She fought the urge to take his hand and study it, faking a palm-reading to see if he wore polish or had buffed his nails to brightness. But that might seem to be a come-on. And she might enjoy it too much.

She studied the man as she sipped her drink. Busy with April’s chatter he paid little attention to anyone but her. It wasn’t clear, yet, if that was good or bad, but it did provide a chance to observe him.

His accent told of an upbringing somewhere in the Mid-West, perhaps Chicago. His choice of words spoke of a college education—a plus, as was his sense of humor. His attitude toward women, though, was less pleasing.

Me get married? he’d said during the lull while the band took a break. Thank you, no.

Haven’t you ever been in love? Susan Dresden asked.

"In love? Of course. I’m always in love with someone. Right now, it’s April, and I truly adore her. He bumped his forehead gently against hers, before kissing her on the nose and saying, At least until my date arrives. Tomorrow, maybe I’ll be in love with her again. Who knows?"

"She’s not