“Glad to hear it.”
“So, uh . . . you’ll come by the dressing room tomorrow before the fight. The place’ll be crazy, but you’ll sit in the corner, stay quiet, take a few notes . . . that kinda thing. It’s what you do, huh?”
“Yes,” Madison said. “It’s what I do.”
Jake didn’t even notice she was leaving. Hmm . . . so much for their supposed dinner plans. Not that she’d considered saying yes, but it would have been nice if he’d repeated his invitation.
Damn him! How come he was on her mind so much?
Well, why shouldn’t he be? They’d had such a great time together, so why did it have to end up like this?
Now she had nothing to do later, although Natalie had promised to call, and Natalie always had plans. “There’re a million parties in town,” Natalie had assured her. “And I’m gonna hit all of ’em. And there’s also the Kris Phoenix concert, which I’m supposed to be covering. So . . . if you don’t go to dinner with Jake, you’ll come with me.”
The last thing Madison was in the mood to do was party. Natalie was the party girl. She preferred staying home. And she certainly didn’t care to tag along while Natalie interviewed Kris Phoenix. Aging rockers were not her thing.
However, sitting alone in a hotel room wasn’t exactly tempting either, so maybe she would join Natalie.
Why not? It wasn’t like she had anything else to do.
•
Rosarita was talking nonstop in the limo taking them to the Beverly Hills Hotel, but Dexter wasn’t really listening, his mind was on Gem. He was thinking about how he’d finally met the girl of his dreams, and yet he was completely trapped in a marriage his wife had repeatedly told him she didn’t want. Because even though Rosarita was pregnant, deep down he knew she didn’t care to stay married to him. And now that he’d met Gem, he was inclined to feel the same way.
But Rosarita was carrying his baby, so therefore they were both stuck. And yet, how could he tell his mind to stop thinking about Gem—the wonderful girl with the innocent face?
“This is stupid,” Rosarita announced in her shrieky voice.
“What’s stupid now?” Chas growled.
“Stopping off in L.A.,” Rosarita complained. “I mean, if I wanted to come to Beverly Hills, I’d certainly plan on spending more than one night here.”
“You’re lucky we’re here at all,” Chas said. “An’ I got another surprise—I arranged for Matt and Martha to meet us. We’re all having dinner at Spago.”
“Shit!” Rosarita yelled, startling their limo driver, who immediately slowed down in case this turned into trouble. “Why did you do that?”
“What do you mean, why did he do that?” Dexter said, affronted that she would object to his parents meeting them in L.A.
“I thought they wanted to see Vegas,” she said sulkily. “Wasn’t that the whole idea?”
“I’m treatin’ ’em to a trip to Beverly Hills too,” Chas said. “You don’t mind, do you?”
“Of course not,” she said stiffly. “It’s just that it seems foolish. I would have liked to have spent the day shopping on Rodeo Drive, but no, we have to rush to the hotel, rush to dinner, then rush back to the airport tomorrow morning.”
“Ya got time t’shop,” Chas said.
“Not enough,” Rosarita replied.
“Anybody ever told you you’re spoiled?” Chas said.
“I may be spoiled,” Rosarita responded, pouting. “But guess who made me that way?”
“I spent a week in Beverly Hills once,” Varoomba offered, joining in the conversation.
Nobody took any notice; nobody was particularly interested.
The limousine pulled up in front of the Beverly Hills Hotel, and they all piled out.
“This is where I stayed,” Varoomba chirped. “In a bungalow.” She thought it prudent not to add that she’d been with two Saudi princes who’d won her in a poker game. But that was another story.
Dexter took a deep breath. California—it even smelled different from New York. He gazed at the palm trees and lush foliage surrounding the front of the luxurious hotel. Yeah, he thought, I could get used to this. And I bet Gem would love it.
“We got dinner reservations at seven o’clock,” Chas announced.
“Seven o’clock?” Rosarita screeched. “Why so early?”
“ ’Cause that’s the only time I could get a table at Spago.”
“Not if you know someone,” Rosarita said. “You should’ve let me do it.”
“Ya wanna call an’ see if you can make it for eight?”
“Too late now,” she snapped. “Anyway, that’ll give me time to do some shopping.”
“I’ll come with you,” Dexter said. “I’ve always wanted to take a walk down Rodeo Drive.”
“No, Dex,” she said sharply. “You spend time with your parents. That’s the whole idea, isn’t it?”
“Can I come with you?” Varoomba ventured, anxious to get on Rosarita’s good side. “I know all the best stores.”
“That’s very kind of you, dear,” Rosarita said, dismissing Stripper Slut with a wave of her hand. “But nobody has ever had to help me find the best stores. I put the ‘S’ in shopping.”
•
Joel had to hand it to her, when Carrie Hanlon cared to put on the charm, she dazzled. And right now she was busy dazzling Leon Blaine, who was not the easiest man in the world to impress. Even Marika had perked up considerably, especially when she and Carrie had gotten into a spirited discussion about several Paris designers and their sexual foibles.
It was the first time Joel had ever seen Marika crack a smile.
“This girl is charming,” Marika said, catching him by the buffet table on Leon’s plane, where he was loading a plate with bagels, smoked salmon and cream cheese.
“Yeah, well, I told you she was a regular girl,” he said, savoring his triumph.
“She’s more than a regular girl,” Marika said imperiously. “She is a beauty.”
“Glad you like her,” Joel said. Frankly, he couldn’t give a piss less what Marika thought, it was Leon he was out to impress.
“Yes, Carrie is delightful,” Marika added, still full of praise. “I only hope you’ll be able to hang on to her.”
Hang on to her? What the hell did that mean?
Marika was a cunt, a definite cunt. In fact, she gave the word “cunt” a whole new meaning.
He silently glowered.
•
“Hi,” Jamie said, smiling softly at the desk clerk, who immediately fell in love with the classy blonde in the long, blue cashmere coat. “I wonder if you can help me?”
Help her? He’d walk over hot coals if it would assist him in getting closer. “Yes, ma’am,” he said, clearing his throat. “What can I do for you?”
“It’s like this,” she said, gazing appealingly at him with her wide aquamarine eyes. “I flew in unexpectedly to surprise a friend on her birthday, and I was so busy getting out of town in a hurry that I forgot to make a reservation.”
“We’re booked out, ma’am,” he said regretfully. “It’s the big fight tomorrow night, and every room is taken.”
“I’m sure,” she said. “But you see, my friend who’s having the birthday is Madison Castelli. She’s here interviewing Antonio Lopez for Manhattan Style. And the other friend I’m meeting is Natalie De Barge—the TV reporter. So . . . I was thinking that you probably have emergency accommodations available for last-minute VIP arrivals. And although I’m not a VIP, I’m sure that you can help me, can’t you?”
He’d recently turned away a six-foot-three Texan who’d offered him two thousand bucks cash if he could give him a room for one night. However, money wasn’t everything, and this delectable beauty was right—there were always VIP rooms available, although by tomorrow afternoon they’d all be gone.
“Uh . . . can you wait here a minute?” he said. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“You’re the best,” she murmured.
Last night his wife had informed him he was the worst—lover, that is. Now this gorgeous blonde was telling him he was the best.
The best what?
Who cared? He’d score her a room if it killed him.
CHAPTER
44
“HI.” It was Natalie on the phone, cheery as ever. “How’d it go?”
“Fine,” Madison said. “He was his usual sexist self.”
“The boxer or Jake?”
“Ha, ha, very funny.”
“So seriously, did you work anything out with Jake?”
“No. He was too busy photographing Mr. Poser.”
“Who’s Mr. Poser?”
“The boxer. Who did you think?”
“Okay, okay—so I guess you’re not readying yourself for a long and lustful night of great sex.”
“I guess not.”
“Then, honey, you are coming with me to the Kris Phoenix concert.”
“Do I have to?”
“Yeah, I think you do. You told me you had fun in Miami, why not Vegas too?”
“Because getting drunk and getting laid by some juvenile is not a great idea.”
“I thought the guy in Miami sounded wild.”
“He was nineteen, Nat. More your type than mine.”
Natalie raised an amused eyebrow. “Are you sayin’ I’m a slut, girl?”
“We all know you’re a slut. Let’s call it like it is—you’ve been one ever since college.”
“Ha! If I was a guy you’d admire me. I’m just using them the way they use us.”
“I wish I had half your attitude,” Madison sighed. “You know I’d love to be a slut too, but somehow or other I just can’t seem to cut it.”
“Bitch!” Natalie said, laughing.
“Takes one to know one.”
“Okay, okay—enough talk—I’m meeting my camera crew downstairs in approximately half an hour, and you’d better be there dressed to party, ’cause we’re coverin’ everything tonight.”
“I’ll think about it,” Madison said, changing her mind, because maybe sitting alone in her hotel room was better than hitting the town with an uncontrollable Natalie.
“Forget about it,” Natalie said firmly. “You’re coming whether you like it or not. Downstairs in half an hour. Look spectacular.”
•
Spago, Beverly Hills, was big, noisy, crowded and full of activity.
Chas slipped the girl at the reception desk a twenty to make sure they got good service. She favored him with a fleeting smile and said, “Sorry, you’ll have to wait at the bar. Your table won’t be ready for another fifteen minutes.” Then, just as she was finishing her sentence, she noticed Dexter and her attitude changed. “Mr. Falcon,” she gushed. “How nice to welcome you to Spago. I don’t think we’ve seen you here before. Are you with the Vincent party?”
“Uh, yeah,” Dexter said, modestly pleased to be recognized.
“Your table’s almost ready. Let me check.”
“Huh!” said Rosarita. “Seems that being an actor—however minor—counts in Hollywood.”
Trust her to be bitchy, Dexter thought.
The girl returned a few minutes later with a gracious smile. “Follow me, Mr. Falcon,” she said, leading them out to a table on the terrace.
“Not bad,” Chas said, looking around after they all sat down. “I like this place already. It’s got class.”
“Notice any movie stars?” Rosarita asked, a tad sarcastically.
“Yeah,” Chas replied. “Isn’t that Tony Curtis walkin’ in?”
They all turned to stare at the aging actor and his tall, blond and buxom wife, clad in a gold lamé dress that quit at the top of her thighs. Tony was wearing a velvet smoking jacket and a proud smile, it was glaringly obvious he got off on all the staring that was going on.
“Now that’s what I call a movie star,” Chas said admiringly. “Been around since God knows when—still looks hot. Gotta young broad for a wife. That’s a movie star, an’ that’s why we stopped off in Beverly Hills.”
“Really?” Rosarita said, bored. She couldn’t take much more of this, she was too anxious about Vegas and her plans for Dexter’s demise. Now that the time was drawing close, she realized what a radical move this was. Poor Dexter. He could have been a movie star too, instead of which he was on his way to becoming a corpse.
After their arrival at the hotel, she’d taken off to Rodeo Drive and spent several thousand dollars in the space of an hour—all on her father’s credit card. He wouldn’t get the bill for several weeks, so what did she care? Spending someone else’s money was one of life’s small pleasures.
Due to their plane being delayed, Matt and Martha arrived at the restaurant twenty minutes late. “Oh, my goodness,” Martha exclaimed, totally flustered. “Our flight was so bumpy I thought we might crash.” She threw her arms around Dexter’s manly shoulders. “How’s my baby boy?”
He squirmed away from his overly affectionate mother. “Don’t do that,” he muttered, embarrassed.
“It was quite a flight,” Matt said, eyes immediately peering down Varoomba’s voluptuous cleavage. “Frightened the bejesus out of me. ’Scuse my language.”
“Well, you’re here now,” Chas said, ever the magnanimous host. “At the famous Spago. Whaddya think?”
“Exciting!” Martha said, sitting down. “Oh, my goodness—do I spy Tony Curtis?”
“You bet your pretty little rump,” Chas said, as if he’d personally arranged for the movie star to be there.
Martha fluttered her eyelashes. “I love Tony Curtis,” she said reverently. “I always have.”
“Mom, get ahold of yourself,” Dexter said in a stern voice.
“Would it be all right if I went over and asked him for his autograph?” Martha inquired.
“No,” Rosarita said quickly, putting a stop to such nonsense. “You want us to look like a bunch of dumb tourists?”
“Isn’t that what we are?” Matt questioned cheerfully. “Dumb tourists.”
Rosarita shot him a filthy look.
Chas perused the menu. “Everythin’ looks good enough to eat,” he said with a bawdy chuckle.
“You’re so funny,” Varoomba trilled, snuggling closer to him, almost falling off her chair.
Oh, for God’s sake! Rosarita thought. Don’t be so obvious; it’s pathetic.
“I’m cold,” she complained, pulling her new seven-hundred-dollar Pashmina wrap around her bare shoulders.
“Stop with the naggin’,” Chas said. “Everywhere we go ya gotta nag. Wassa matter with you?”
“I told you,” she said tartly. “I’m spoiled. And you did it to me, so don’t start bitching about it now, it’s a little too late.”
“What do you recommend?” Dexter asked the waiter, who was hovering by their table, looking bored.
“Everything’s good, sir,” the waiter replied, springing to attention.
“Enough with the menu crap,” Chas said, shoving his menu at the startled waiter. “Bring out plenty of your best starter stuff.”
“Can I have a smoked-salmon pizza?” Varoomba piped up. She had dressed for the occasion in a buttercup-yellow, plunging-neckline girly dress and very high heels.
“What’s a smoked-salmon pizza?” Chas demanded.
“We call it the Jewish pizza, sir,” the waiter explained. “Smoked salmon, cream cheese with just a touch of caviar.”
“Never heard such crap,” Chas growled. “A pizza is a pizza—cheese, tomato an’ pepperoni.”
“You’ve got to try this one,” Varoomba encouraged. “I had it last time I was here.”
“You mean ya bin here before?” Chas said, not pleased. “In this restaurant?”
“I told you I was in Beverly Hills for a week,” she murmured, thinking how nice it would be if he ever listened to a word she said.
“Yeah? Who with?”
“Just a friend,” she replied evasively. Wouldn’t do to tell Chas too much about her somewhat color
ful past.
And so the evening progressed.
Rosarita was thinking, The sooner I get to Vegas, the sooner I can get the deed done, and the sooner I’ll be a free woman.
Dexter was thinking, I wonder what Gem is doing now? Do I cross her mind at all? Does she even realize what an incredible connection we had?
Chas was thinking, I hope my dumb maid has packed up Varoomba’s things, ’cause she’s really gettin’ on my ass. Tits or no tits, this broad is history.
Varoomba was thinking, Grams better behave herself in Vegas, ’cause if she does, I got a good chance of getting Chas to make it legal. And about time too.
Martha was thinking, Tony Curtis, Tony Curtis, Tony Curtis. Oh my God! He used to be so handsome, and he still is.
Matt was thinking, I wonder if Varoomba sucks Chas’ dick. Yeah, she looks like the kind of bad girl who does a dirty thing like that.
And then it was pizza all around.
•
Joel didn’t know whether to be pissed or pleased. Carrie had bonded so well with Leon that the two of them had not stopped talking the entire journey. At first Marika had been delighted. Here she was in the presence of a world-famous supermodel, and the supermodel was being charming to both her and Leon. But after a while it occurred to her that most of Carrie’s attention was directed toward the multibillionaire, and that she and Joel were out in the cold. This seemed to amuse Joel, but by the time they landed in Vegas, Marika was furious.
“These stupid young girls,” she hissed at Joel, her newfound ally. “They think they’re such superstars.”
“Well, Marika,” Joel replied as innocently as he could, “I guess they are, ’cause they’re treated like goddesses wherever they go, and it’s obvious Leon likes her—I haven’t seen him this happy in a long time.”
Marika’s eyes narrowed to thin slits. She was livid that Joel now had something over her.
Meanwhile, Carrie was enjoying the lifestyle. Private planes were definitely for her. And so were multibillionaires. She found Leon Blaine quite interesting in spite of his being old. He was nut brown, thin and fit—thanks to daily tennis. Extreme power made up for youth; she’d discovered that early on in her career.
Lethal Seduction Page 32