Daddy's Little Girl

The news made her feel like she was stabbed in the heart. Gwen Stevens had worked as a make-up artist for Day-Glow Productions for the last ten years doing make-up and hair for every major stage event coming through Altoona from San Francisco to New York. It was her dream job and now because of the pandemic, Day-Glo was shutting down forever.

“We are terribly sorry, everyone,” said Max Gold, Gwen’s boss and mentor. “But there is nothing we can do to fix this situation.”

Gwen went home to her apartment, poured a glass of wine, and cried her eyes out. She had a little over four thousand dollars in savings so she knew she had a small window to feel sorry for herself, cry, and scream her anger out at the horrific situation she was facing.

“What to do?” she asked. “What are my options? Do I try to find another production company? Do I go back to waitressing or working at the local library?”

Nothing was making any sense to her except for the taste of the freshly cut cheddar cheese, the baked crackers, and the Cabernet. She put her feet up on the coffee table and took several deep breaths. Before she could conjure another thought the doorbell rang. She put down her wine and answered the door.

“Gwen Stevens?” the uniformed driver in the cute brown shorts asked holding a small package underneath his arm.

“Yes,” she replied in a surprised tone.

“Sign here, please.”

Gwen took his electronic pen and signed her name. He handed her the package and before she could read the label, the young man was back in his truck driving away. She sat down on the couch, put the package on the coffee table and took another sip of wine. The return address was local and the name above it read J. Fortunato.

She grabbed a knife from the kitchen and carefully opened the wrapping making certain not to disturb the handwritten address. Inside was a small black notebook. Its cover was very faded and looked to be several years old. She opened it up and a folded letter fell out onto her lap. She opened the letter and began to read.

“Dear Gwen, We have never met. My name is Joseph Fortunato. I am your father.”

Gwen quickly stopped reading and took a big sip of wine, two pieces of cheese, and another quick sip before continuing.

“I never knew you existed until last year when your mother passed. I am saddened we never had the opportunity to meet in person. I thought of coming to see you many times over these past few months but always talked myself out of it. I have led a life consisting of working alongside some unsavory people over the years and this letter and my notebook are my small tokens to hopefully make amends not only for all the bad things I have done to so many good people over the years but to give you a daddy’s little girl gift I think you will find quite interesting.

I have created a fool proof system to win at playing roulette. If you learn the system and do exactly how I have laid it all out in this notebook concerning your every move you will succeed beyond your wildest dreams. I have never lost using this system but in the last few months I became overly greedy, drew too much attention to myself, and certain gambling interests are not happy with me.

I opened a savings account in your name with twenty thousand dollars in it. The bank information is below. If you would like to meet me after all these years I would be thrilled to see you. Love, J.F.” At the bottom of the page was one last line, “P.S. Never let success go to your head.”

Gwen was stunned.

Her mother said her father left her when she was three months pregnant never hearing from him again but his name was John Stevens, not Joseph Fortunato. She took another sip of wine and decided she would go see this man. Ask him questions about her mother and find out for certain if he really was her father.

The ride to his house took less than twenty minutes but when she arrived she got a second shock to her senses. Neighbors and newspaper reporters were standing around watching three polices cars, a police forensics van, two unmarked cars, and the county coroner parked at the scene. Yellow police tape stretched around the house perimeter. She parked down the street and joined the crowd.

“What’s happened?” she asked a reporter from the Tribune.

“It was originally called in as a suicide but that’s Joey Fortunato’s house. You don’t commit suicide by shooting yourself twice in the back of the head. This was a mob hit.”

“A mob hit?” Gwen asked.

The coroner’s people rolled Joey’s body out. Everyone stretched their heads to see what was happening but Gwen turned away and went back to her car.

The following morning she went to the bank and to her surprise discovered there was an account in her name and it indeed contained twenty thousand dollars.

Gwen stopped at the liquor store and bought another bottle of wine. That evening at home a million thoughts ran through her mind. Her entire time growing up she never gave her real father a single thought and now she couldn’t stop thinking about him. The evening news ran a story on the shooting with a quick capsule of Joseph “Little Joey” Fortunato’s extensive criminal career and a photo of Joey taken about ten years ago.

Gwen grabbed the remote and froze his photo on the screen. He had a small scar above his right eye that looked like the pound sign on a telephone. Gwen looked at the scar and gasped. That same type scar was the one thing her mother said her father had when she asked about him so many years ago.

She shut off the television and took a breath. Joey Fortunato was her father. That small scar convinced her it had to be true. She picked up the small black book and began to read.

Three months later Gwen drove to her first casino in Pittsburgh and tested her father’s system. She walked up to a busy table and put twenty dollars down on seventeen.

“No more bets,” the croupier announced.

Gwen watched anxiously as the ball ran the rim of the wheel and finally dropped into slot number twenty-two.

“Twenty-two the winner,” said the croupier.

Gwen was not disappointed and didn’t run off or give up. She instantly went into automatic mode remembering exactly what Joey had written down. Thirty minutes later she was up just over a thousand dollars, tipped the croupier, and walked away. She got to her car, drove home, and packed a suitcase.

Gwen stayed on the road going from casino to casino working Little Joey’s Fortunato’s system for the next three years and accumulated close to three and a half million dollars. She bought a house on the west coast of Florida and started her own line of make-up called Daddy’s Little Girl. In two years the line went international bringing in profits over eleven million dollars a year. When she was asked by a reporter what the key to her success was she replied, “Never let success go to your head.”

Gwen finally married, had a little girl, and put her father’s black book in a safety deposit box knowing she could always save it for a rainy day.