Could Carlo possibly have done this to her?
She buzzed the front desk again to find out if Lina was home. The porter informed her that, no, Lina was still out.
She didn’t know what to do next. She had no proof, although maybe if she went to a doctor they could take a blood test and find out for sure if she’d been drugged.
No. The humiliation wasn’t worth it.
She ran a bath, collapsed into the soapy bubbles, and lay there thinking. She was rich, pretty and successful – yet every time she ventured out and let her guard down, something happened.
I’m cursed, she thought grimly. Exactly like my mom. Her mother, the heiress Olympia Stanislopoulos, with everything to live for, had died in a seedy hotel room with her current addiction – Flash, a drugged-out rock star.
I don’t want to be like my mom, she thought, shivering uncontrollably. I don’t want to end up the way Olympia did.
She wanted to call Lucky in the worst way. Then she remembered that Lucky was out at an event honouring her in LA. And, anyway, every time she got into trouble she couldn’t go running to her godmother.
You are not a child any more, she told herself sternly. You have to learn to deal with things.
But how could she deal with this when she wasn’t even sure what had happened?
She got into bed, huddled beneath the covers, and eventually fell into a fitful sleep.
Chapter Twenty
The screaming sound of an ambulance’s siren awoke Lennie with a jolt. He was about to get up and shut the bedroom window because the noise was so goddamn loud when he realized he was not in his own bed: he was in the ambulance.
Christ! was his first thought. What the hell am I doing in an ambulance?
He must’ve made a noise, more like a groan, because a medic appeared beside him, carefully lifted his head an inch or two and fed him a few sips of water.
‘What happened?’ he managed.
‘You were shot,’ said the medic, a cheerful-looking ginger-haired man. ‘Took a bullet in the shoulder.’
‘Jesus!’ he mumbled, trying to get his mind around this startling fact of life. ‘How?’
‘Attempted car-jacking. You must’ve given ’em a fight.’
Car-jacked. Car-jacked. Slowly it started to come back. A girl yelling, waving a gun. Mary Lou clinging on to her necklace. A black boy standing silently in the background.
Fuck! The girl had shot him. She’d pointed a gun and shot him! It didn’t seem possible.
‘Where’s Mary Lou?’ he asked weakly, noticing a throbbing pain in his shoulder.
The medic turned away for a minute. ‘She your wife?’
‘No . . . my . . . sister-in-law.’ He groaned, suddenly remembering. ‘Oh, God, she was shot, too. How’s she doing?’
‘The police will need to talk to you.’
‘Why?’
‘Find out what happened.’
‘Lemme see Mary Lou,’ he said, thinking how pissed Lucky would be when she heard. She was always warning him to be more careful. ‘Havta call my wife,’ he said, closing his eyes. ‘Gotta tell her . . .’
Suddenly everything began to spin, and he didn’t feel so great. This could be because he’d never been shot before.
It was not a good feeling.
* * *
‘Something’s wrong,’ Lucky said, suddenly sitting up very straight.
‘Shh . . .’ Gino said gruffly, nudging her to shut up. ‘I like this Baby Face, the guy’s got a voice.’
‘I know something’s wrong,’ Lucky said sharply. ‘I’m calling home.’
‘You can’t walk out while the man’s singing.’
‘I can do whatever I want, Gino,’ she whispered fiercely, leaving the table and making her way to the back of the crowded ballroom.
Steven came after her. ‘What’s going on?’ he asked.
‘I . . . I don’t know, Steven. I’ve got this weird feeling something’s wrong.’
He sighed. ‘You and your weird feelings.’
‘I have to call home, see if the children are okay.’
‘You know they are,’ he said, producing his cellphone anyway. ‘You shouldn’t’ve walked away from the table,’ he added. ‘It’s your night, Lucky, everyone is watching you. And Baby Face is in the middle of a song.’
‘What are you? My keeper?’ she snapped, in no frame of mind to have either Gino or Steven telling her what to do.
‘You’re in a good mood,’ he said.
‘That’s because I need to know where Lennie and Mary Lou are. This isn’t like him, and it’s certainly not like your wife – she’s always concerned about getting everywhere on time.’
‘I’ll call my house,’ he said, punching out his number. Jennifer answered and assured him all was quiet. He handed the phone to Lucky. ‘Your turn.’
She took the small phone and reached CeeCee. ‘Everything okay?’
‘Of course,’ CeeCee said. ‘Why?’
‘It’s late and Lennie hasn’t gotten here. I thought he might have called.’
‘I’m sure he would’ve been in touch if anything was wrong.’
‘So you haven’t heard from him?’ Lucky said, turning her back on a hovering photographer.
‘Wait a minute,’ CeeCee said. ‘The other line’s ringing. Shall I get it?’
‘Yes,’ Lucky said abruptly. Sometimes she experienced hunches, feelings that enveloped her, feelings she couldn’t explain. She had one now. It was like a black cloud hovering overhead, and she knew something bad was about to happen.
A few moments later CeeCee came back on the line. ‘It . . . it’s about Lennie,’ she said, sounding upset.
Lucky felt a cold chill. ‘Yes?’ she said, fearing the worst.
‘He . . . he was shot in a robbery. They’ve taken him to Cedars.’
‘Oh, my God!’ Lucky said.
Steven grabbed her arm. ‘What?’ he demanded.
‘Lennie’s been shot. He’s at Cedars.’
‘What about Mary Lou?’ Steven asked urgently. ‘Was she with him?’
‘CeeCee,’ Lucky said, desperately trying to stay calm, ‘was Mary Lou with him?’
‘They . . . they didn’t say.’
‘What did they say? Is it bad? Is he going to be okay?’ WILL HE LIVE? screamed silently in her head.
‘He’s being taken to emergency.’
‘Stay with the children,’ Lucky said, trying to think straight and not panic. ‘Do not tell them. I’m on my way to the hospital.’ She clicked off the phone. ‘I don’t believe this,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘I knew something was wrong. I fucking knew it.’
‘Where’s Mary Lou?’ Steven said.
‘Probably looking after him, you know how she is.’
Steven nodded, praying that this was the case.
‘Let’s go,’ Lucky said.
‘What about Gino?’
‘Go back to the table, say I’m not feeling well, and tell Gino to take Bobby home after the show. Hurry. I’ll get the limo and meet you in front.’
Oh God, that feeling in the pit of her stomach never lied. How many times had she begged Lennie not to drive the Porsche in bad areas of town? He’d laughed at her. ‘You’re such a panicker,’ he’d said. ‘Always worrying something’s going to happen.’
‘I’m smart, Lennie,’ she’d answered. ‘And if you’re smart you can stop stuff from happening.’
‘Yeah, yeah, sure.’ He’d laughed. ‘Miss Know-it-all.’
‘You think getting mugged is planned, Lennie? It doesn’t happen that way. Crime is a spur-of-the-moment thing, you’ve always got to be on the alert. Gino taught me that.’
‘I’m careful,’ he’d assured her.
‘No, you’re not. You’re in a world of your own – always thinking about the script you’re working on, your movie . . .’
And so they’d argued. And now this had happened.
She hurried out of the hotel and into the limo. Steven joined her a few moments
later.
‘Let’s go, driver,’ Lucky said. ‘And break records. We need to be there like now!’
Chapter Twenty-One
‘You’re a right little bitch,’ Lina said, her face contorted in anger, not at all her usual friendly self.
Brigette stood at Lina’s door, makeup-less, clad in leggings and a baggy sweatshirt. She looked miserable.
Lina, heading for a major hangover and clutching a short scarlet robe around her, resembled the wild woman of Borneo. Her black hair was standing on end and her skin was all blotchy. Without her immaculate makeup she was certainly not the exotic, feline supermodel featured in all the fashion magazines.
‘Let me in,’ Brigette insisted, shoving past her. ‘Something happened.’
‘You bet your skinny arse something ’appened,’ Lina said crossly. ‘You knew perfectly well I fancied Carlo, yet you ran off with ’im. You can’t do that to a girlfriend an’ expect t’ get away with it.’
Brigette marched into the kitchen, shaking her head. ‘You don’t understand,’ she said.
‘Sure I do,’ Lina said, following her. ‘I understand plenty. And now I want to go t’ bed an’ get some sleep, so piss off.’
‘No, no – you don’t understand,’ Brigette assured her, sitting down at the kitchen table and putting her head in her hands. ‘I was drugged.’
Lina stopped short. ‘You were what?’
‘I think Carlo slipped a pill into my drink.’
‘What kind of pill?’ Lina said suspiciously.
‘You know, ruffies. Whatever those stupid drugs are that guys give girls so they can rape them.’
‘C’mon,’ Lina said disbelievingly. ‘Carlo doesn’t ’ave to drug anybody for sex. Look at ’im – ’e’s a babe, ’e can ’ave whoever ’e wants. He could’ve ’ad me if you hadn’t dragged ’im off.’
‘You don’t get it,’ Brigette said excitedly, sitting up straight and banging her fist on the table. ‘I didn’t drag him off. I don’t remember anything.’
‘Not anything?’ Lina said cautiously.
‘I don’t remember coming home, or leaving the club – nothing. I woke up just now, and I’m covered in bruises.’ A long pause – then, ‘I know somebody made love to me.’
‘Shit!’ Lina said, frowning.
‘There’s no way I’d take a guy from you,’ Brigette continued earnestly. ‘I swore off sex ages ago. You know that. I don’t even like sex.’
Lina nodded. ‘I’ll pour us a brandy an’ get Fredo over here.’
‘We can’t tell him,’ Brigette said, panicking. ‘We can’t tell anybody.’
‘If Carlo did what you think he did,’ Lina raged, ‘then ’e’s a right bastard, an’ I’ll personally kick his scummy balls all the way to Italy an’ back! But first we gotta find ’im, an’ that’s where Fredo makes ’imself useful.’
‘This is the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to me,’ Brigette wailed.
‘No, it’s not,’ Lina said firmly. ‘Remember Michel Guy? That was the most embarrassing. This is something you can deal with.’
‘How?’ Brigette asked, feeling powerless. ‘I don’t even know where he’s staying.’
‘I told you,’ Lina said, attempting to smother a yawn. ‘Fredo will know.’
‘You must think I’m such an idiot.’
‘Revenge, baby,’ Lina said, nodding vigorously. ‘Think about that.’
‘I don’t know . . .’ Brigette said unsurely.
‘Oh, yes,’ Lina’s eyes were gleaming at the thought, ‘I’m really into revenge.’
‘You are?’
‘It’s the only way, ain’t it?’
‘Maybe . . .’ Brigette said, thinking that Lucky always said the same thing.
‘Stop worrying,’ Lina said. ‘We’re gonna get the wop bastard, or I’m not a bleedin’ supermodel!’
By the time Fredo put in a reluctant appearance, Lina had slipped into a T-shirt and ripped jeans, hidden her unruly hair beneath a Chicago Bears baseball cap, and added Dolce & Gabbana oblique shades.
‘Where’s your freakin’ cousin?’ she demanded, before he was half-way through the door.
‘Excuse me?’ Fredo said, wondering what his handsome cousin had done now.
‘Where’s the bastard stayin’?’ Lina shouted.
Fredo gave a vague shrug. ‘I don’t know. He leaves in the morning. And why you get me out of bed?’
‘Ha!’ Lina said, outraged. ‘Where’s ’e goin’?’
‘Why you so mad?’ Fredo asked. ‘And what’s the matter with you?’ he said, glancing at Brigette, who was now sitting on the couch in the living room, her knees pulled up to her chin.
‘I’ll tell you why we’re mad,’ Lina said furiously. ‘’E bleedin’ raped her, didn’t ’e?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Fredo said, his bushy eyebrows shadowing his eyes with a deep frown.
‘It’s not ridiculous,’ Brigette said flatly. ‘I’m sure Carlo must’ve slipped a pill in my drink.’
‘I do not believe this,’ Fredo said, blinking rapidly. Actually, he believed it only too well.
‘You’d better,’ Lina said angrily, ‘’cause she’s gonna bleedin’ sue ’im. An’—’
‘No, I’m not,’ Brigette interrupted.
‘Yes, you are,’ Lina said, silencing her with a stony stare.
Fredo didn’t know what to say, so he remained silent, figuring that was the safest way to play it. All he wanted to do was go home and get into bed. Lina was scary when she was angry.
‘So . . . the scumbag is goin’ back to England and his fiancée, I suppose,’ Lina sneered disparagingly. ‘There is a fiancée, isn’t there?’
‘As far as I know,’ Fredo said, gesturing vaguely.
‘Who is this arsehole anyway?’ Lina demanded. ‘And why’d you drag us out with him?’
‘Yes,’ Brigette said, joining in. ‘You said he was a prick, so why did you introduce us?’
‘Sorry,’ Fredo said, throwing up his hands. ‘Carlo and I, we grew up together in Roma.’
‘How come?’ Lina said.
‘When my mother died, I was sent to live with Carlo’s family. His father is my mother’s brother,’ Fredo explained. ‘Carlo was always the handsome one. Me, I was looked upon as merely the stupid cousin. So when I came to America and make the big success, I was finally able to impress him. Every time Carlo visits, I introduce him to beautiful models. This way I am the important one now.’
‘He’s a bastard,’ Lina said shortly. ‘’E fuckin’ raped ’er, an’ you’d better do somethin’ about it.’
‘I told you,’ Fredo said. ‘Carlo leaves tomorrow, and I don’t know where to reach him.’
‘You know what,’ Brigette said, suddenly jumping to her feet. ‘Let’s forget about it. I never want to see him again, or hear his name mentioned. Okay, Fredo? Lina?’
‘You’re gonna let it drop?’ Lina said in disgust. ‘Do nothing?’
‘Yes,’ Brigette said, making up her mind. ‘As far as I’m concerned, it’s over.’
‘If Carlo did what you say he did, then I am very sorry,’ Fredo said, thinking that what Brigette claimed was probably true, because Carlo had never been a man to be trusted.
‘So you should be,’ Lina muttered ominously.
By the time Fredo left, Brigette felt a lot calmer. She went back to her own apartment and took a shower, frantically scrubbing her skin, wondering what kind of advantage Carlo had taken of her while she was passed out.
Then she decided it was better that she didn’t know. And she got back into bed and tried to sleep. Early in the morning she and Lina were leaving on a photo shoot to the Bahamas. She’d soak up the sun, enjoy posing for the photographs, and forget all about her ordeal.
If there was one thing Lucky had taught her it was always move on, never get dragged down by the past.
And that’s exactly what she planned on doing. She was moving on.
Chapter Twenty-Two
&n
bsp; Detective Johnson stood beside Lennie’s bed. He was a tall, awkward-looking man in his forties, with an austere Marine crew-cut, and heavy steel-rimmed glasses. He stared down at Lennie, slightly uncomfortable because he knew Lennie Golden was famous, and that would make this case all the more difficult. Before long the press would be swarming, especially if Mary Lou Berkeley died – which right at this moment seemed to be a possibility. A team of doctors was working on her in the operating room, but right now it didn’t look too good.
‘They came at us out of a dark-coloured jeep,’ Lennie said. ‘Two of them, a girl and a boy.’
‘How old?’ Detective Johnson asked, making copious notes in a looseleaf notebook.
‘Teenagers. Seventeen, eighteen. I dunno,’ Lennie said, shifting uncomfortably. ‘Has somebody contacted my wife?’
‘She’s on her way.’
‘How’s Mary Lou doing?’
‘Holding on.’
‘Shit!’ He groaned. ‘How serious is she?’
‘We’re . . . hopeful,’ the detective said, clearing his throat. ‘Uh . . . Mr Golden, I know this isn’t the ideal time, but the sooner I get the facts . . .’
‘Yeah, yeah, of course,’ Lennie said, still in semi-shock.
‘Two teenagers,’ Detective Johnson said, prompting him. ‘White? Black? Asian?’
‘Uh . . . the girl was white. She was the one waving the gun at us. In fact, she was the one doing all the talking.’
‘Talking?’
‘Y’ know, she was demanding Mary Lou’s jewellery. Threatening to blow her fucking head off if she didn’t give it up. That kind of movie-speech stuff.’ He laughed bitterly. ‘I couldn’t write it if I tried.’
‘And the boy was—’
‘Black. Didn’t say a word. Kind of hung behind her like he wasn’t into it.’
‘That’s unusual.’
‘She was definitely in charge.’
‘And so?’
‘So Mary Lou reached up to take off her necklace, and the clasp got stuck or something. That’s when the girl leaned in and dragged it off her neck.’
‘Yes?’ Detective Johnson encouraged.
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