How do I convince him of this?
Hmm … gotta think about it. Gotta come up with a plan.
* * *
I am right, Bel Air it is. Lush, beautiful Bel Air, a maze of winding streets filled with mysterious gated mansions and an abundance of greenery and palm trees. Home. My home.
We arrive in the afternoon, and all I want to do is throw myself in the welcoming blue swimming pool and wash away our miserable travels.
A woman is at the door to greet us. An athletic type in a jogging suit, with mousy hair pulled back into a ponytail. She is thirtyish, not my father’s type at all. “This is Miss Drew,” Gino says. “She’ll be keepin’ an eye on you.”
I should’ve known. Miss Drew must be my latest prison guard. Great!
“I don’t need anyone to keep an eye on me,” I say sulkily. “I’ll be sixteen in a few weeks. I can look after myself.”
“Sure you can,” Gino says with a sarcastic twist. “Just like your girlfriend the whore.”
Oh my God, is he actually calling Olympia a whore? Wow! That’s major cold. Besides, if she’s a whore, what does that make him? I can’t keep track of all the women he’s been linked with, and I certainly don’t want to.
Gino the Ram or Gino the male whore?
I giggle at the thought.
Miss Drew shoots me a look.
Gino scowls and vanishes into the house.
“I’ll take you up to your room,” Miss Drew says.
“Excuse me?” I retort, standing tall. “This is my home. I don’t need you taking me anywhere.”
“Your father said I was to—”
“What?” I say, giving her a baleful glare.
She backs down.
Ha! Perhaps this is one tutor/guard/housekeeper I can control. After all, I’m not Gino’s daughter for nothing.
I take off to my room and fling myself on the bed. Miss Drew chooses not to follow me. Smart woman, she knows when she’s not wanted.
I start reflecting on everything that’s happened. Running away from school in Connecticut; the crazy drive to the South of France; Olympia’s aunt’s villa; Olympia hooking up with Warris; ah, Pippa. Poor Pippa. No future stardom for her. And finally, Jon. I guess I’ll never see him again. Too sad.
Miss Drew appears at the door to my room shortly after seven.
“Your father wishes you to join him for dinner,” she says, all crisp and proper. “Seven-thirty in the dining room.”
Oh yippee! I can’t wait. Another silent evening of fun.
As I change my clothes for dinner I decide that whether Gino wants to talk to me or not, I am having it out with him. He needs to know how I feel. I am not his little puppet that he can control. I cannot be ignored. It’s not fair, and I refuse to stand for it. Surely he must realize that by now?
When I enter the dining room, Gino is already there, sitting at the table reading a newspaper. He lowers the paper when he sees me and throws me a quizzical look. “So, kiddo,” he says in quite a friendly fashion. “What are we gonna do about you?”
Relief floods through me. It seems I don’t have to force anything—he’s opening up a dialogue and I am thrilled.
“I’m sorry,” I blurt, ’cause I’m sure that’s exactly what he wants to hear.
“For what?” he retorts.
“For dragging you halfway across the world to get me.”
He raises an eyebrow. “That’s all you’re sorry for?”
“Well … yes,” I answer sheepishly, because I’m sure as crap not sorry about ditching school. Why should I be? He shouldn’t’ve sent me there in the first place. Bad move, Daddy.
Gino doesn’t say anything for a moment. He picks up his tumbler of Jack and Coke and takes a hearty swig. “You remind me of someone,” he says at last. “Yeah, I gotta say that you really do.”
“Who?” I ask.
“Me,” he says, accompanied by a throaty chuckle.
I give him a long bold look. “Surely that’s a good thing?”
“If you were a boy—yeah. Only you’re not a boy, Lucky, you’re a girl an’ you gotta learn how to behave like one.”
“Says who?”
“Says me.”
We lock eyes. Matching eyes. Black and intense. I can feel myself becoming more like him every day, and it’s not a bad thing. I want to have the strength that my father has. I want to be the female Gino. I want him to accept me for who I am.
“Girls can do anything a boy can do,” I remind him. “Or at least this girl can.”
“So stubborn,” Gino says, with a heavy sigh.
“And you’re not?” I respond.
“Jesus!” Gino shakes his head. “You need protectin’ from yourself. You’re a wild one.”
“No wilder than you were when you were my age,” I throw back at him.
“Once again, little lady, I’m gonna remind you that you’re a girl, an’ my job is t’see that you don’t go gettin’ into any more trouble.”
How are you planning on doing that? I want to ask. Only I don’t, because I sense this conversation has gone far enough for now, and I know I shouldn’t push it. Cleverly I move on to another subject.
“How’s Dario?” I ask.
“He’s doin’ fine,” Gino answers. “He’ll be comin’ home this weekend, so you two can catch up, spend some time together.”
“Is he liking his school?”
“Better than you liked yours,” Gino answers dryly. “At least he’s stayin’ there.”
“Maybe we can all do something together,” I venture. “Like as a family.”
“No chance, kiddo,” Gino says, holding back a yawn. “Vegas calls.”
“Can we come with you?” I ask boldly, knowing the answer will be no.
My father doesn’t disappoint. “Sorry, kiddo,” he says, like it’s no big deal. “Vegas is not a place for you kids to be hangin’ out.”
Okay then. But one day it will be, ’cause one day I am going to take over the family business, and build my own hotels. You can bet on it, Daddy. Because I, Lucky Santangelo, am eventually going to rule!
CHAPTER THIRTY
I hug Dario tightly when he arrives back from his school. He’s so freaking handsome and major tall. He could be a surfer with his longish blond hair and athletic build. It seems that while I haven’t been watching, my little brother has grown up, and although not exactly a man, he’s definitely on his way. It feels so amazing to see him. I keep on hugging him until he finally shoves me away.
“Quit bein’ so clingy,” he says gruffly.
What? Me clingy? Who’s he kidding?
“Excuse me?” I say with a haughty shrug. “You should be so fortunate.”
“You look better than last time I saw you,” Dario says, squinting at me, his eyes so clear and blue. “What’ve you been up to?”
“Stuff you’re too young to know about,” I answer mysteriously.
Dario snorts with laughter. “I know plenty,” he says.
“You’re still a kid,” I respond.
He cocks his head to one side. “You think?”
“I know.”
“Bullcrap.”
“Language!”
We both break into giggles, and for a moment I feel the unbreakable bond we’ve always had. It’s a warm and wonderful feeling. I have a brother and he loves me and I love him back. My one and only real family connection.
“Uh … did Marco drive you here?” I ask, attempting to keep it casual.
Dario throws me a knowing look. “You still got a big fat crush on him?” he teases.
“What?” I say vaguely.
“You heard.”
“Of course not,” I say with a fierce frown.
Dario grins. “Yeah, sure.”
“Well,” I continue, determined not to crack. “Did he drive you or not?”
“He’s downstairs. Why don’t you go catch up before he leaves for Vegas with Dad? You know you want to.”
“Marco’s going to Vegas, t
oo?”
“Yes,” Dario singsongs, mimicking me, “Marco’s going to Vegas, too.”
Oh God, I forgot how annoying Dario can be.
“Maybe I will,” I say, making a dash for the mirror to make sure I am presenting my best self. After all, Marco hasn’t seen the new sophisticated me. It’ll probably be lust at first sight and I’ll have to fight him off.
“He’s never gonna notice you as anything more than Gino’s kid,” Dario remarks. “You realize that, don’t you?”
I favor him with a creative scowl. “You know nothing,” I say.
“I know plenty,” Dario replies.
“You’re still a kid and I’m so not,” I inform him.
He narrows his blue eyes. “Wanna bet?”
We lock stares. I have to admit that he certainly doesn’t look like a kid anymore.
“You found yourself a girlfriend?” I ask.
“More like a boyfriend,” Dario blurts.
There follows a long silence while I digest this piece of crazy information. Surely Dario isn’t telling me he’s gay?
Oh … my … God. It can’t possibly be true. If it is, Gino will kill him. Gino could never accept having a gay son.
Dario is busy giving me a look that screams, Well, aren’t you going to say something?
I am too shocked to open my mouth. It’s not as if I have anything against gays—the truth is I barely know any—but Dario, my own brother. How did that happen?
“Have you told Dad?” I gasp, torn between being horrified and supportive.
“No freaking way,” Dario replies. “And don’t you dare.”
“As if,” I snort. “It’s your deal, not mine.” I pause for a moment, then add, “Are you sure?”
“Sure ’bout what?”
“Uh … being gay?”
“I hate that word.”
“Well, what else would you call it?”
“How the fuck would I know?” Dario snaps, glaring at me balefully as if this is my fault.
It’s all becoming a bit surreal—when I first left for boarding school Dario was a lanky teenager into cars and comics. Now he’s telling me he’s into other boys. Wow!
“So,” I say, treading carefully. “How did this happen?”
Dario shrugs. “It didn’t just happen. I think I’ve always known, but I was too scared to face it.”
I nod understandingly. It’s quite obvious that Dario has been dying to tell someone, and here I am—his big sister—the person closest to him. I am touched that he feels safe enough to confide in me.
“There’s this art teacher at school,” Dario continues. “His name is Eric.”
I nod my head again, encouraging him to tell me everything, although I’m kind of shocked that it’s a teacher he’s hooking up with.
“Well … Eric invited me to spend the weekend at his place, ’cause he noticed I never went home on weekends. And … uh … I went there, and stuff just kinda happened.”
I don’t press him for details, not my business. However, I do warn him that he’d be wise to keep this information to himself. Then I hug my not so little brother, and tell him that I love him and that eventually he’ll be able to come out and announce his gayness to the whole world—but not now, not while we’re living under Gino’s roof.
He agrees, and we hug some more, and somehow or other seeing Marco before he hotfoots it to Vegas with Gino does not seem so important.
Family first. That’s my new motto. And Dario is my only true family.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Since Gino took off for Vegas, it’s been extremely quiet at the Bel Air house. This suits me and Dario fine, ’cause I’ve kind of enjoyed bonding with my brother again. Now that I know he’s not such a kid, I tell him about some of my adventures. He eats it up, and starts to tell me more about Eric—not the sex bits, more about what a nice guy Eric is, and how much he likes him. Hey—as long as my little brother is happy, I only want the best for him. Most nights we are able to dodge out of the house, escaping Miss Drew’s watchful eye. We hang out in Westwood taking in a movie and scoffing pizza.
Do I miss Jon?
Not really, especially when I eyeball the amount of talent cruising Westwood, mostly students from UCLA.
Dario and I make a good team. Between us we start hanging out with various kids we meet along the way. I am in desperate need of a new crush, and just in time, along comes Scott.
Scott’s black, and black is beautiful—which just about sums him up. He’s tall, plays basketball, speaks three languages, and has a smile to die for.
Scott is from New York, where his parents are both lawyers. He’s twenty. I inform him that I’m eighteen. We originally ran into each other at a pizza parlor and it was lust at first sight. For a couple of nights we hang out with Dario in tow, then Eric arrives in town for a visit, so Dario is off and running, leaving me and Scott to do our thing.
He takes me to a movie, and after we settle comfortably in the back row we create magic that has nothing to do with the film playing on the screen.
Wow! This is a boy with all the moves, and suddenly Jon is a very distant memory indeed, and Scott is front and center.
I can’t help giggling when I think about what Gino’s reaction would be to his two darling children. One gay, and one making out with a black guy. Oh yes, Gino would throw a freaking fit!
Miss Drew makes a vain attempt to keep Dario and me in check, however she soon realizes she’s fighting a losing battle and pretends not to know what we’re up to.
We’re out every night, and I am having the best time. My only worry is—what does Gino have in store for me? He dragged me back from the South of France, plonked me down in our Bel Air house, and pissed off to Vegas—now what?
I guess I’ll just have to wait and see. Meanwhile I’m enjoying every moment with Scott, although he’s getting a bit impatient about my “everything but” rule. “Y’know, Lucky, you’re not a kid,” he informs me after one particularly heavy necking session. “You’re eighteen, so what’re you waiting for? You can’t stay a virgin forever.”
I’m waiting to be legal, I want to say. But I don’t, because that would freak him out, and I’ve decided that Scott is a keeper. So I continue stringing him along, making sure he’s always a satisfied customer—if you get my drift.
Dario is delighted to see Eric and spend time with him. So Dario and I are two happy little campers until Miss Drew informs us that Gino will be home tomorrow and we’d better curtail our out-of-the-house activities—whatever they might be.
Ah … she should only know.
* * *
Gino is back from Vegas and he’s in an excellent mood. Apparently he has two new best friends, Senator Peter Richmond and his wife, Betty. He has invited them for dinner, and he wants me and Dario to be present at the dinner. What a major drag—neither of us is thrilled.
I encounter Marco in the hallway. He is still so handsome—dark and brooding. For a moment I almost forget about Scott, but only for a moment.
“How are you, Marco?” I ask, wondering if he is regarding me with new eyes.
“Doin’ okay,” Marco says, walking away from me and heading for the kitchen.
Hmm … he’s obviously attracted to me and doesn’t care to show it.
I follow him into the kitchen. “So,” I say, reaching for an apple. “How was Vegas?”
“The usual,” Marco says, refusing to make eye contact.
I take a bite of apple and edge closer to him. “What does that mean?”
“It means that you don’t wanna know what goes on in Vegas.”
“Oh yes I do,” I say, eager to hear whatever he has to tell me.
“Y’know somethin’,” Marco says, finally looking at me. “You are some piece of work, Lucky.”
“I am?”
“You am.”
“And why’s that?” I ask boldly.
“’Cause your act is gettin’ old.”
I glare at him. “Excuse me?�
�
“Y’know exactly what I mean. Running away to Europe. Givin’ Gino a ton of crap. How about growing up for a change? Actin’ like a person.”
My mouth drops open in surprise. How dare he talk to me like that. He’s an employee. I’m Gino’s daughter. He has major nerve.
I decide that I hate him.
“Screw you, Marco,” I spit in his direction, and before he can respond, I back out of the kitchen and make a dash for my room.
* * *
The Richmonds are middle-aged and superboring. Why Gino wants me and Dario at this dinner is beyond me.
Betty Richmond has one of those long horsey faces you see on the society pages, while Peter Richmond obviously fancies himself as a charmer. He’s also a major letch, ’cause I catch him ogling my tits through my T-shirt. Obviously a pervert.
“What a pretty young lady,” he remarks to Gino.
I loathe being called pretty; the very word conjures up images of a stupid blonde girl with a fixed smile and perfect teeth. That is not me at all—I like to think of my looks as edgy and unusual.
“She’s smart, too,” Gino says, joining in.
Huh? Compliments from Daddy Dearest? What’s up with that?
Dario and I exchange disgusted looks. Neither of us wants to be at this dinner—unfortunately, we were given no choice.
“Lucky, dear,” Betty Richmond says in a thin, tinkly voice.
“Yes?” I answer politely, noting that she has lipstick on her teeth and cold dead eyes.
“Why don’t you tell me about yourself.”
Again, huh? Is she kidding? What does she want to know?
I run over what I could say. Hmm … my name’s Lucky Santangelo; Gino saw fit to name me after a notorious Chicago gangster. When I was five I came across my mother’s naked blood-drenched body floating on a raft in the family swimming pool. After that I was kind of kept locked away from the real world until I was sent off to boarding school in Switzerland, where I discovered the joy of boys. Bingo! I like nothing more than major make-out sessions and seeing how far I can take it without going all the way.
“There’s not much to tell,” I answer vaguely.
Betty purses her thin lips, while Peter takes another surreptitious glance at my boobs.
Confessions of a Wild Child Page 11