The Santangelos

by Jackie Collins

  “Yet you do it so easily,” she said, springing open a can of 7-Up.

  “I understand people,” Chris said quietly. “I spot their weaknesses.”

  “Which is why you do it so well.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Now, don’t go getting all modest on me,” she said with a warm smile. “That’s not your style.”

  “Put a little effort into it, and one can find out plenty,” he answered, taking a swig of beer.

  “So…” she said, eager to hear what he had to say. “What exactly did you find out?”

  “There’s something I have to show you,” he said, producing a DVD.

  “What’s on it?” she asked, feeling a shiver of apprehension.

  “You’ll see. But in the meantime, I was wondering if Lennie is around?”

  “Why do we need Lennie?”

  “’Cause I think you might want him with you when you view this.”

  “Lennie’s working,” she said impatiently. “And it’s me you’re talking to. I don’t need Lennie or anyone else holding my hand, never have.”

  “If you’re sure…”

  “For God’s sake,” she said roughly. “What’s on the goddamn DVD?”

  “I got it from one of the neighbors,” Chris said. “It’s of the crime scene, so I don’t know if—”

  Gesturing toward her computer, Lucky said, “Let’s get on with it, shall we?”

  Chris inserted the DVD into the computer.

  After a few moments, an image appeared on the screen, revealing the front area of a house and the sidewalk beyond. Blue skies. Palm trees. Perfect landscaping. Solid iron gates.

  The gates slowly opened and a dark-gray repair truck drove through them.

  Lucky leaned forward as an attractive woman in a short floral dress emerged from the house and ran to greet the muscular man getting out of his truck. They embraced in a very sexual way before vanishing into the house, arms entwined.

  “Christi Yassan,” Chris said. “Husband’s out of town. Boyfriend comes to visit. Which explains why she wasn’t prepared to give this to the cops.”

  “But she gave it to you?”

  “I have a way with people.”

  Lucky waited, holding her breath, for she knew what was to come next.

  There was a clear view of the empty sidewalk—nobody on it. Until … Gino and Paige came walking into the frame. Gino, so robust and alive in his tracksuit and tennis shoes. Gino. Her Gino. Ninety-something and still bouncing around as if he were twenty years younger. Paige strutted beside him in a bright yellow jogging outfit, wearing overly large shades, her frizzy red hair gleaming in the morning sun. It appeared that Gino was speaking, but there was no sound on the DVD. Lucky couldn’t help wondering if Gino was telling Paige that he was coming to Vegas the following weekend, and that she wouldn’t be accompanying him.

  Then a man came into view. A medium-height man dressed all in black, with dark-lensed sunglasses, a full beard, and a baseball cap pulled low obscuring his face. Watching the screen closely, Lucky took in every detail. The man had dark skin and a barely noticeable limp. On his feet were gray Nike tennis shoes with a white stripe down the side. He didn’t look American, more European. She noticed the flash of a silver wristwatch. He was heading toward Gino and Paige, passing them before walking out of the shot.

  She saw that Gino glanced over his shoulder and stopped to say something to Paige.

  Was he suspicious? Had there been something about the stranger that alarmed him?

  She’d never know, because Paige pulled on his arm and they continued walking all the way out of the shot.

  For a few seconds the screen was empty, except for a profusion of tall palm trees swaying in the breeze. Then the man in black came back onto the screen, retracing his steps.

  Lucky held her breath. The inevitable was about to happen and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

  Choking back a swirl of emotions, she watched as the man raised his gun and pulled the trigger before turning and walking calmly away, like killing a man was no big deal.

  Everything was still for a moment, her mind refusing to compute what she had seen.

  It was like a silent movie. A deadly silent movie.

  “Who is he?” she muttered at last.

  “I have someone working over at face recognition,” Chris said. “It won’t be easy identifying him. There’s not much to see.”

  Lucky was quiet for a moment before speaking. “I … want … him … dead,” she said at last, her voice cold as ice.

  “No, you don’t,” Chris argued. “You want him alive so he can tell us who ordered the hit.”

  “And then I want him fucking dead,” Lucky said. “He shot my father, and he will pay for it with his life.”

  * * *

  Later, after Chris had left and everyone was home, there was dinner on the terrace. Lennie barbecued steaks, while Lucky tried to put on a normal face for the boys’ sake, although it seemed they were doing fine, jostling and wrestling with each other while playing games on their iPhones.

  She understood that they didn’t really get it. She’d tried to shield them from the truth, saying that Gino’s death was the result of a robbery gone wrong. As far as the boys were concerned, death was something that happened to old people, so to them the loss of Gino was inevitable.

  “Your uncle Steven gets here tomorrow,” Lucky announced. “Anyone want to come to the airport with me?”

  “We’re goin’ surfing again,” Gino Junior said, quickly adding, “If that’s okay, Mom?”

  “Sure it is. Seems like you’re having fun,” Lucky replied, thinking how like his grandfather Gino Junior looked. The same unruly mop of black hair, the same features. She’d named him well. Gino Junior was pure Santangelo.

  “Beats school,” Gino Junior said, with a cheeky grin. “Course, I’m way better than Leo. He falls off every time.”

  “No freakin’ way,” Leo argued. “You like stink.”

  “Get it together, boys,” Lennie ordered. “The thing to remember is that it’s not a competition, it’s a sport. It doesn’t matter who’s the best.”

  “Oh yes it does!” Gino Junior yelled. “Leo sucks. He sucks at everything big-time.”

  “Okay, okay—too much noise,” Lucky said. “You want security to take you for ice cream?”

  “Can I drive?” Gino Junior demanded.

  “You got a permit?” Lennie asked.

  “Not yet.”

  “Then no way.”

  “C’mon, Dad,” Gino Junior whined. “Why not? Nobody’s gonna know.”

  “I’ll know. That’s enough. Now get your asses out of here.”

  The boys ran off. When she was sure they’d gone, Lucky sat down and told Lennie about the DVD.

  “Did you hand it over to the cops?” he asked.

  “What do you think?” she responded.

  “I think you didn’t,” he said with a weary sigh, knowing exactly where this conversation was going.

  “Damn right I didn’t,” she said, challenging him with her dark eyes. “They won’t do anything with it.”

  “Jesus, Lucky,” he groaned.

  “Don’t worry,” she said calmly. “I’m handling this myself.”

  “Yeah, and that’s what frightens me.”

  “You don’t have to be involved. I can deal with it on my own.”

  Shaking his head, he turned away, resigned to the fact that there was nothing he could do or say. His wife was Lucky Santangelo, and like the old Sinatra song, she did it her way. There was nobody in the world who could stop her.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  By the time Bobby had taken a shower and changed his clothes, M.J. was back upstairs in the hotel room.

  “What did I do?” Bobby raged, pacing around the room. “What the fuck did I do except get myself caught in a shit situation?”

  “Hey, you know Denver better than anyone,” M.J. said, attempting to soften the blow. “She’s impulsive. S
he’ll get over it.”

  “Over what, for crissake?” Bobby said, running a hand through his thick black hair. “Was she the one in jail? Is she the one who just lost their grandfather? Shit, M.J. Denver’s not the woman I thought she was.”

  “You gotta give her props for flyin’ to Chicago to be with you,” M.J. pointed out. “That’s something.”

  “Yeah, she flew here to fucking accuse me of God knows what,” Bobby said, still steaming. “She’s under the impression I was trying to get laid.”

  “It kinda does look that way.…”

  “Fuck you, M.J. You know what happened.”

  “I do, ’cause I was there. The thing is, to an outsider—”

  “She’s not an outsider!” Bobby yelled. “She’s my fucking girlfriend.”

  “Stay cool, my man. It’s all gonna work out.”

  “You think?”

  “We are on the road to you being vindicated of all charges,” M.J. stated confidently. “This’ll be over soon.”

  “Says you,” Bobby muttered.

  “Says your lawyer,” M.J. said with a decisive nod. “Beverly’s waiting for you in the lobby. I like her style—she knows what she’s doin’.”

  “I hope so,” Bobby said. “’Cause being locked up is something I never want to repeat.”

  “An’ you never will,” M.J. assured him, as if he were the oracle of everything. “Beverly’s got a team workin’ on findin’ out why this happened to you. An’ I spoke to Lucky. She’s sendin’ that PI she works with to Chicago. He’s on a plane now.”

  “Chris Warwick?”

  “That’s the dude.”

  “He’s good.”

  “That’s why she’s sending him. We have footage from the security cameras at the club. We got images of the guy who Nadia claimed was her cousin. He shouldn’t be that hard to track.”

  Bobby clenched his jaw. “I can’t believe she was a call girl,” he said.

  “Yeah, she fooled both of us. An’ I’m here to tell you that if you hadn’t gone for her, I would’ve taken a shot.”

  “Get this straight, M.J.,” Bobby said evenly. “I didn’t go for her. I was helping out.”

  “Sure.”

  Bobby decided not to get into it with M.J. He knew what it must have looked like.

  Good Samaritan or horndog?

  There was no way he’d ever know.

  “I should call Lucky,” he said.

  “Do whatever you feel like, man,” M.J. said. “It’s your life, an’ you just got it back.”

  * * *

  Denver flew to L.A. alone and full of regrets. She regretted losing her cool. She regretted not being more understanding. Worst of all, she hadn’t even told Bobby how sorry she was about Gino, and knowing how much the old man had meant to him, that was an unforgivable mistake.

  She was so mad at herself. Bobby must hate her for behaving like an unfeeling, jealous bitch.

  Now what? Bobby was on his way back to L.A. Would he come to the house? Or had he had enough of her?

  The overweight man sitting next to her on the plane attempted conversation. He smelled of stale cigarette smoke and cheap aftershave. She politely shut him down.

  Her thoughts were flying everywhere. Not only had she ruined everything with Bobby, Leon was probably pissed as hell, not to mention her boss.

  You screwed up big-time, she scolded herself. I thought you were supposed to be so damn smart.

  Yeah, smart as a fourth grader.

  Arriving at LAX, she decided not to go home. Instead she took a cab to Carolyn’s, thinking she might stay the night.

  It was lesbian charade night, and eight pairs of female eyes stared curiously at her as Carolyn enacted a movie title in front of them.

  The only person she knew was Carolyn’s partner, Vanessa, who got up and beckoned her into the kitchen.

  “Thank goodness you’re here,” Vanessa—a comely blond woman with a bountiful figure—said. “I am so over game night. I only suffer through it for Carolyn,” she added, reaching for a half-full bottle of red wine on the kitchen counter. She filled two glasses, one of which she thrust at Denver. “Drink up,” she encouraged. “You look as if you need it.”

  “I do?” Denver said, thinking that, yes, a drink was exactly what she needed.

  “So, sweet pea,” Vanessa said. “Carolyn tells me you’ve got a hunch that Bobby’s cheating on you.”

  Oh my God, Denver thought. What is wrong with Carolyn? Why is she sharing?

  “All men are pigs,” Vanessa said with an affirmative nod. “You simply have to decide how much piggery you’re prepared to put up with.”

  “Bobby is not a pig,” Denver said defensively.

  “Handsome men are the worst cheaters of all,” Vanessa continued matter-of-factly. “They feel it’s their right. And I should know—I was married to the biggest cheater of all. He didn’t care if the sex was with a man or a woman. Lovely, huh?”

  Denver tried to think of an exit strategy, for this was exactly the kind of conversation she did not wish to have, especially now when she was feeling so conflicted.

  “I didn’t mean to interrupt your game night,” she said quickly.

  “Like I told you—I hate game night,” Vanessa complained, making a face. “And you, sweet pea, are the perfect distraction.”

  “Carolyn seems to be busy, so I guess I’ll be going. Can you tell her I’ll call her in the morning?”

  “Don’t go,” Vanessa pleaded, leaning drunkenly across the kitchen counter and placing a warm hand over Denver’s. “You and I should get to know each other better.”

  Denver was horrified. Was Carolyn’s partner coming on to her? It certainly felt like she was.

  “Uh, I’m sorry,” she said quickly, pulling her hand away. “I really have to go.”

  Vanessa gave her a long, meaningful look. “Have you ever crossed over?” she asked, lowering her voice. “Ever taken a walk on the wild side?”

  “Excuse me?” Denver said, feigning innocence.

  “Well…” Vanessa continued with a suggestive wink. “If you haven’t, I can take you places no man has even thought of.” She let out a knowing chuckle. “Multiple orgasms, here we come!”

  “Uh … I’m not sure if this is a conversation we should be having,” Denver said, placing her wineglass on the counter. “Quite frankly, I find it inappropriate and awkward. You’re Carolyn’s partner, and she’s my best friend.”

  “I’m sure she’s told you we’re not exclusive,” Vanessa revealed with another throaty chuckle. “Carolyn wouldn’t mind.…”

  “Oh for God’s sake!” Denver exclaimed, making a dash for the kitchen door. “I’m out of here. Good night.”

  * * *

  On the flight back to L.A., Bobby made a futile attempt to get some sleep. It was important that he have his wits about him. He had an urgent need to regain control of his life, for being locked up had left him feeling humiliated and helpless, a feeling he had not enjoyed. Denver hadn’t helped with her fleeting visit full of accusations. She was a deputy DA, for crissake. Shouldn’t she be trying to help him discover how this had happened to him? Wasn’t that her job?

  Instead she’d acted out her frustrations and to hell with how he felt.

  Fuck Denver. Fuck women in general. He was angry and sad and there was no Gino to give him wise counsel. Gino was gone. It didn’t seem possible, and yet it was true.

  He’d had no time to grieve, to find out exactly how it had all gone down. All he knew was that he no longer had a grandfather, and it was a painful thought.

  Soon he would be with his mom and the rest of his family. He couldn’t wait to feel safe again.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  “What are you doing here?” Max asked, her heart racing with excitement.

  “What am I doing here?” Billy said, staring at her. “How about you?”

  “Washing my hands,” she answered lamely, taking in every inch of his dirty-blond masculine beauty. Oh God! He wa
s as gorgeous as ever, with his crystal blue eyes and deep surfer’s tan. Six-foot-tall Billy Melina. Ex-husband of Lucky’s best friend, Venus. Major movie star. Max’s first real lover.

  And … a cowardly asshole who’d dumped her on the advice of his so-called “team,” who didn’t think it was advantageous for his career to be hooking up with Lucky Santangelo’s teenage daughter, especially in light of the scandal that had taken place at the Keys, involving a murder and a robbery during which Billy had gotten his cheek slashed.

  The best plastic surgeon in L.A. had taken care of his face.

  His advisers had taken care of distancing him from Max.

  “You’re lookin’ fantastic, Green Eyes,” he said, fixing her with “the look.”

  The look involved his intense blue eyes gazing into hers as if she were the only girl in the world.

  She knew the look well. It was the same look he used on his costars. The same look he used in photo shoots. It was the famous Billy Melina look that had women the world over fantasizing about what it would be like to make love to him. It was the classic movie-star look.

  Max cleared her throat while attempting to compose herself. She was older and wiser since last they’d met. She no longer harbored a teenage crush. He’d dumped her, plain and simple, and even though she’d tried to move on, it still hurt, and she still had feelings for him. He’d broken her heart, crushed her, and now here he was again like nothing had ever happened.

  Simply being in his presence was devastating, yet at the same time her heart was continuing to pound and she couldn’t help flashing onto the first time they’d made love on the beach in Malibu while an out-of-control party she’d thrown while her parents were away was raging up at the house. What a night that had been. Going all the way for the first time, lying on a moonlit beach with the surf pounding, and Billy’s arms around her, his body pressed tightly against hers.

  It was a night she would never forget.

  But she had to, didn’t she?

  No more heartbreak.

  No more Billy.

  “Thanks,” she said to Billy, going for a flippant approach.

  “Hey—I mean it,” he said, edging closer to her, his blue eyes doing their best to draw her in.