Double Lucky

by Jackie Collins

  Sometimes, during her years with Sidney, she’d yearned for the days and nights of her youth. Wild sex with Joe Piscarelli. Parties. Recreational drugs. Her one night with the infamous Gino Santangelo. Not to mention the fervent admiration of so many men as she’d paraded across the stage half naked.

  The king had sometimes enjoyed the company of two or three women at a time. Since they were all his wives, it never really bothered Peggy. She’d quite enjoyed the softness of another woman’s lips and the silkiness of their skin.

  She had never revealed any of this to Armand; he would be shocked. Her son was quite a mystery, not the warm and nurturing man she had hoped he would turn out to be. Armand had a cold personality, and a certain disregard for women she could not understand. Surely she was the perfect role model. She’s always been an elegant presence, always available for him.

  But no, Armand did not appreciate all that she’d done for him over the years.

  Earlier, Fouad had called and informed her of their move, and that they might be staying in Vegas longer than expected. He’d also wanted to know why she’d asked about Gino Santangelo. “I thought it was someone I knew,” she’d lied, keeping it casual. “But I was mistaken. Wrong name.”

  Fortunately for Peggy, her charm worked on everyone but Armand, and after starting up a conversation with Paige Santangelo in the beauty salon, she soon had Paige’s attention as she chatted about New York and what an exciting and vibrant city it was to live in.

  “We had an apartment in New York once,” Paige mused, a tad wistfully. “However, my husband, who’s quite a bit older than me, decided we should live in Palm Springs, so that’s where we’ve stayed. It’s a little boring.”

  “You’re fortunate your husband is still alive,” Peggy said, playing the sympathy card. “I lost my dear Sidney a year ago. He was twenty years older than me. I have to say it’s been quite hard being by myself, but with the help of my son and dear friends, I manage. I do not mean financially; Sidney left me set for life. But women of our age, alone—it’s not easy.”

  Before long, the two women found they had plenty in common. After a while Paige asked Peggy if she would care to join her and Gino for dinner.

  “I’d be delighted,” Peggy responded. “Tell me where and when, and I will be there.”

  * * *

  Armand flicked through the dossier Fouad had sent him on Lucky Santangelo. The only thing he found interesting was that she had children—two sons and a daughter.

  Ah … children. A weakness he could use against her if he had to. But unfortunately, they were not little children; two were teenagers, and one a grown man.

  But still, children made a person vulnerable. And yes, most people would do anything to protect their offspring. It was a basic human instinct.

  Peggy phoned, interrupting his train of thought. He’d forgotten about his mother; she was the furthest thing from his mind.

  “What?” he said curtly.

  Peggy did not appreciate his tone of voice, but she chose to ignore his gruffness.

  “Fouad told me you have moved to a villa at my hotel,” she said. “I hear the villas are lovely.”

  Armand was immediately furious. What was wrong with Fouad? Couldn’t he keep his stupid mouth shut about anything? Now he’d have Peggy turning up, infuriating him even further.

  “Yes,” he said flatly. “However, I cannot take you to dinner tonight. I have business to attend to.”

  “Not to worry, dear,” Peggy said, sounding surprisingly mellow. “I wasn’t asking you. I already have plans.”

  “You do?” he said, quite surprised. “With whom?”

  “Old friends from my past have invited me to dine with them.” She paused, then said, “Perhaps I can come by for breakfast tomorrow?”

  “We’ll see,” Armand replied, relieved that he didn’t have to bother getting rid of Peggy tonight. It seemed she could look after herself.

  “I’ll phone you in the morning,” Peggy said. “Fouad told me we may be staying longer than anticipated, and I’m open to that. Are your meetings going well?”

  “I have to go,” he said abruptly. “I’m running late.”

  “Very well, Armand. Tomorrow.”

  “If I can,” he said, banging down the phone.

  Peggy. His mother. Why had she insisted on coming to Vegas? She brought him nothing but aggravation and bad luck. She and Fouad were bringing him down. He hated them both. The two of them reeked of bad karma.

  If it weren’t for them The Keys would already be his.

  * * *

  Armand Jordan had requested big breasts, and Yvonne Le Crane decided she would find him big breasts. And while she was at it, how about enormous breasts? Breasts of a ludicrous size? Fake shockers?

  She’d informed Armand she would accommodate him, and dispatched a messenger to pick up the cash. Soon the two women she’d booked would be on their way to his hotel.

  She’d ordered them from a strip club in town called Dirty Den’s. Yvonne was on cordial terms with the owner, a former boxer. She’d called him up and offered him a thousand apiece for two of his freaks, and he was more than happy to oblige.

  It was a done deal.

  This would teach Armand Jordan for calling her girls filthy whores when they were the crème de la crème of Vegas talent.

  Now she was about to walk away with a $28,000 profit, so Armand Jordan could go piss in the wind.

  Once again it gave her extreme satisfaction to know that Mister Sicko was about to get exactly the kind of girls he deserved.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  The secret to a sensual, sexy marriage is knowing when to leave children, pets, family commitments, and business affairs at the door.

  Lucky had a knack for being able to do just that. She and Lennie shared a bond that dated back to the first time they’d met, a true bond that neither of them had ever allowed to slip away. Sex was sex, and they’d both decided early on that if they expected their marriage to stay hot, then they had to work at keeping the passion on permanent sizzle. They both knew how to do that. Sometimes it involved role-playing. Sometimes it didn’t. But whatever it took, they were into it one hundred percent.

  Rule number one: Leave any family problems outside the bedroom.

  Rule number two: Remember the first time.

  Rule number three: No inhibitions.

  And rule number four—the most important rule of all: Absolutely no interruptions.

  Anticipating Lennie’s arrival, Lucky felt the old familiar excitement. They were never together long enough for either of them to get bored with each other. Their reunions were always going to be something special, she made sure of that. So even though family and invited guests were in Vegas for Max’s party the following night, Lucky had decided that tonight family and friends were on their own, for tonight belonged to Lennie. He was her number one priority. Always. That would never change.

  By the time he arrived, she was ready to greet him, a stunning vision in a soft black leather dress, slit thigh high, her jet hair framing her oval face, the drop emerald earrings Lennie had presented her with last Christmas her only adornment.

  Tonight she was nobody’s mommy. She was Lucky Santangelo at her wildest.

  The moment Lennie entered the apartment, she strode toward him and handed him his favorite drink—a black Russian.

  Lennie smiled. His smile was one of the things she loved most about him. It crinkled his eyes—ocean green, paler than Max’s brilliant emerald. And she loved his mouth, and his longish dirty-blond hair. But most of all she loved his warmth, his talent as a filmmaker, and his soul. They truly were soul mates.

  “Who are you tonight?” he asked, throwing down his bag.

  Lucky gave an enigmatic smile. “Whoever you want me to be.”

  “You know exactly who I want you to be,” he said, moving purposefully toward her.

  “Tell me,” she whispered as he reached her and began peeling down the spaghetti-thin straps of her
dress.

  “My wife,” he muttered, crushing her to him so tightly that she could barely breathe. “My life, my love, my everything.”

  * * *

  “You gotta come with us,” Cookie pleaded over the phone to Max. “Frankie’s insistin’ that we go see my dad’s concert. There’s no way I can do it without you.”

  “Ace is here,” Max stated, sitting on the edge of the couch in her usual suite, trying to figure out what to do about Ace.

  “What’s up with that?” Cookie said, sounding surprised. “Thought you weren’t inviting him.”

  “Well, he’s here, and I promised we’d hang out by ourselves.”

  “No freakin’ way,” Cookie wailed. “I need help, an’ Harry’s goin’ to some shitty gig with his Mexican pal.”

  “Paco,” Max said patiently. “The dude’s name is Paco.”

  “Oh, get you—Miss all Politically Correct.”

  “Where’s your dad’s concert?”

  “At the Cavendish. Can you freakin’ believe it? An’ Frankie has to find out about it. Then he tells me he’s always wanted to meet him.”

  “That’s Frankie—the original star fucker.”

  “He’s so not,” Cookie argued.

  “Then why’s he so desperate to get together with your old man?”

  “How would I know?” Cookie said irritably. “Maybe he’s into that retro soul shit.”

  “Really?” Max said unbelievingly.

  “Yes, really. You gonna do this for me or not?”

  “I suppose so,” Max said, kind of relieved in a way, because spending the night alone with Ace could’ve been majorly awkward, considering the circumstances of what had recently taken place between her and Billy.

  “You’re a star!” Cookie exclaimed. “Can you have Danny score us tickets, an’ meet us by the elevator in half an hour? Oh, an’ turn your cell on. I was tryin’ forever to reach you until I thought of callin’ your actual room.”

  Max hung up and dug in her purse for her cell, which she’d forgotten to take off plane mode. Just as she was about to turn it back on, Ace emerged from the bedroom. He’d taken a shower and put on his usual outfit of jeans and a denim work shirt. He looked hot, but not as hot as Billy.

  What was she going to do? He obviously expected to stay in her suite, but as far as she was concerned, everything was different now.

  “Here’s the thing,” she said, waves of guilt washing over her. “I totally forgot. Cookie’s dad has a show at the Cavendish, and I promised to go. Sorry—can’t bail.”

  Ace shook his head as if he didn’t quite believe her. “That’s a drag,” he said, scratching his chin.

  “I know,” she apologized, realizing that she was acting like such a phony. “But what can I do?”

  “You could say you’re busy,” he suggested.

  “Can’t do that,” she said, jumping up.

  “Why not?”

  “’Cause I just can’t, that’s why,” she said stubbornly. “Cookie’s my friend. Gotta help her out.”

  “There goes our one night alone together.”

  “Yeah, bummer,” she said, trying desperately to sound as if she cared. “Only since I didn’t know you were coming, I made plans. Big deal.”

  “You an’ your plans,” he said, throwing her a look.

  “Gotta go get changed,” she said quickly. “We’re leaving soon.”

  “You’re expecting me to come too?”

  “Well, yeah. Unless you wanna sit around here on your own.”

  “No thanks.”

  “I’ll be right out,” she said, heading for the bedroom.

  Dammit! Ace knew her pretty well; did he sense that things were different? That she’d changed? That she’d given it up to someone else?

  Oh man! She hoped not.

  But she couldn’t worry about it now. Later would do.

  * * *

  By the time Bobby got back to the hotel, Denver had closed her laptop and was preparing for the romantic evening Bobby had promised her. Just the two of them, no distractions. She was looking forward to it, because maybe it was time to have The Talk, figure out where they were headed. He’d spoken about buying a house in L.A. for them to move into together. Was it the right time to say yes? Had they reached that stage in their relationship?

  It was an exciting and scary thought, especially as he still hadn’t met her family.

  And yet … they were so close, and she knew that she loved him, so why wait?

  Or was she mistaking love for lust?

  They certainly hit it off in the bedroom. The sex was incredible. He was incredible.

  Stop holding back, she told herself. You do love him, and it’s time to let go and trust that he loves you too. So go for it.

  Yes. Tonight was the night. No more insecurities.

  When Bobby arrived back, she ran over to greet him, threw her arms around his neck, and whispered in his ear, “Guess what? I really missed you.”

  “You did?” he responded. “Thought you didn’t need babysitting.”

  “I don’t. Only that doesn’t mean I didn’t miss you. And, I can’t wait for dinner—where are you taking me?”

  “Yeah,” he said hesitantly. “About our romantic dinner for two…”

  “What about it?”

  “It’s, uh … kinda turned into dinner for four.”

  “You’re kidding?”

  “Sorry, babe, but M.J. really needs us, and there’s no way I can let him down.”

  “Seriously?” she said, disappointed.

  “M.J. has a problem.”

  “What kind of problem?”

  “I didn’t tell you before ’cause I figured he and Cassie would work it out, but it’s big.”

  “Didn’t they just get married?”

  “Almost a year ago, and here’s the deal—she’s pregnant and wants to get an abortion, but M.J.’s against it all the way.”

  Bobby then proceeded to tell her the full story about M.J. and the girl he’d knocked up in high school.

  Denver listened in silence, then finally said, “I don’t see how having dinner with us is going to help their situation.”

  “It’s a support thing,” Bobby explained. “He’s trying to tell Cassie that if she gets rid of the baby, their marriage is over.”

  “That’s pretty harsh.”

  “Maybe, but it’s the way he feels.”

  “And is the way he feels the only thing that matters?”

  “No, but—”

  “How old is Cassie?” Denver interrupted.

  “I dunno. Maybe a year or so older than Max.”

  “Maybe that’s the reason she isn’t ready to have a baby now. It’s frightening for her. She’s so young—and having a baby is a huge responsibility.”

  “I understand. But M.J. is entitled to feel the way he does.”

  “Of course he is. But surely he’s prepared to listen to what she wants. Her needs are just as important as his.”

  “Like I told you, sweetheart, M.J. had a life-changing experience that turned him against abortion. He doesn’t believe in it.”

  “Do you?” she asked, suddenly realizing that she didn’t know as much about Bobby as she thought she did.

  He shrugged. “Dunno,” he answered carefully, because it struck him as a loaded question. “Never really thought about it. Unless you find yourself in that situation, it’s difficult to say.”

  “Interesting,” Denver said, giving him a long hard look.

  “Interesting how?” he said, knowing they were venturing onto dangerous ground.

  “Well, I’m assuming you believe in a woman’s right to choose?”

  “Huh?”

  “You heard.”

  “Look,” he said, sensing a fight looming if they continued with this line of conversation. “They’re taking a trip right after Max’s party. Hopefully they’ll work it out.”

  “You think?” she said, a tad sarcastic. “A trip’ll solve everything, right?”
<
br />   “Who knows?” he said, deciding it was definitely time to change the subject. “What I do know is that I’m having to stay in Vegas to keep an eye on things.”

  “Well, I can’t stay. You know I have to get back.”

  “I wasn’t expecting you to, sweetheart. I’ll be putting you on a plane to L.A., and we’ll speak every day. It’s only for a week.”

  Denver nodded. It looked like The Talk would have to wait, along with their romantic dinner for two.

  Suddenly she wasn’t so sure about anything anymore.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  “What’ve you done to your hair?” Max gasped when they all met by the elevator.

  Self-consciously, Cookie reached up and patted her newfound curls. “Felt like a change,” she mumbled.

  “It’s, like, a way big change,” Max exclaimed, thinking how weird it was seeing Cookie without her trademark dreadlocks.

  “My idea,” Frankie boasted.

  “I bet,” Max retorted, flashing him a look.

  “What? You don’t like?” Frankie said, a touch aggressively.

  “It’s … different,” Max said as the elevator arrived and they all piled in.

  Danny had booked them a limo, even though the Cavendish was within walking distance.

  Now it was Ace’s turn to look at Max, as if to say, A limo on top of everything else. What a joke. But they all got in, and five minutes later they were there.

  The Cavendish was nowhere near as luxurious or glamorous as The Keys. But its two owners, Renee Falcon Esposito and Susie Rae Young, made sure the hotel was a fun alternative. When Lucky built The Keys there’d been bad blood between them—at least on Renee’s part. Renee had imagined The Keys was her competition, but it had turned out to be quite the opposite. Being located next to such a magnificent new hotel complex had revitalized the Cavendish, and business was booming. Renee and Susie adored Lucky, and would do anything for her. Lucky often came to their hotel and hung out, especially since they’d adopted a five-year-old Vietnamese orphan who was the light of their lives.