>
> Ferrucio "Ferry" Guccione was a hunk of a man, all
seven feet and two
> hundred-sixty pounds of him. He had the kind of pale
green eyes that gave
young
> girls ideas, the swarthy good looks that made the
fathers and brothers of
the
> young girls sit together and eye his neck with
interest. They said he had
been
> measured for a coffin more than once, but he had
always broken the lease.
> Ferry liked to skate.
>
The girls, like most of the men, kept their their heads and
their distance. They didn't look at him directly as much as
out of the corner of their eye, furtive like. But they
watched. He was a glider, silky and fluid. And if a giggly,
young thing was bold enough to ask him how he learned to
skate like that, he'd reward them with a smile and tell them
how he once won the Harvest Moon, and no one could be sure he
hadn't. Then he'd buy her an orange soda or maybe even a snow
cone. Ferry was a smooth one all right, but Wanda was
different. She wasn't giggly and she didn't give a toss about
ballroom dancing. She had other things on her mind. "How did
you get that scar?"
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