After a while he rounded up Billy, Willow and the girls. ‘Got a couple of limos downstairs, time to bounce,’ he informed them. ‘Refreshments in the limos,’ he added with a knowing wink, while wondering if he stood half a chance with Willow – although rumour had it that she was a tried and true carpet muncher.
But hey – he was Frankie Romano, who knew what could happen?
* * *
Feeling out of her depth, Max grabbed a bottle of beer and fled down to the beach. She didn’t know what else to do. Maybe if she stayed away from the chaos everyone would go home.
Wishful thinking.
Whose dumb idea was it to have a party in the first place?
Mine! Mine! Mine!
As for Cookie and Harry, the two of them were useless. She’d thought they were at least loyal, but they’d turned into party animals thinking only of themselves. Although she didn’t blame Harry so much: he’d finally found a gay dude he could latch onto, and he wasn’t about to let the opportunity go to waste.
Why can’t I enjoy myself too? she thought. Just get stoned and drink like everyone else?
Because there’s no one I can enjoy things with. Besides, I’m a Santangelo – gotta stay alert.
She slumped down on the sand, closed her eyes and allowed the hypnotic sound of the waves crashing on the sand to wash over her.
* * *
After spending an awkward couple of hours with Carolyn and Vanessa, Denver drove home filled with mixed emotions. What was Carolyn thinking? How could she simply decide she was gay and that was it?
They’d been best friends since they were twelve. They’d shared everything – all their thoughts and dreams and problems with the men in their lives. Now Carolyn had taken off down a different road, and Denver couldn’t help feeling that somehow she’d been left behind. It wasn’t that she didn’t like Vanessa, the woman was warm and friendly, quite lovely in fact. So what was it?
Am I jealous? she thought. Do I feel as if Carolyn is deserting me?
Or maybe she sensed that their friendship was slipping away, because if Carolyn became a couple with Vanessa, there might not be any room left for her. Sad but true.
She wished Bobby was at home, waiting for her.
But no, Bobby was in New York, so she’d just have to make do without him. And that was one of the problems of having a long-distance relationship: the separations were a bitch.
* * *
Once they arrived at the party, Billy soon decided that he wasn’t in the mood to mix with a bunch of stoned people he didn’t know, who were all busy brown-nosing him simply because he had a hit movie. If he wasn’t a movie star they wouldn’t give a shit. He’d be just another good-looking dude searching for a break. And he knew this because of his experiences when he’d first arrived in Hollywood with no money and no foreseeable future. Countless auditions that had taken him nowhere, sleeping on friends’ floors, waitering for a living until the big break he’d been praying for – not that he was religious but a prayer or two in the right direction never hurt. The big break was in an Alex Woods movie, Seduction, playing opposite the incredibly famous Venus.
And so it had begun . . . The crazy career. The road to stardom, marriage to Venus, and all the bullshit that went along with it.
The party and the people were getting on his nerves, so after fifteen minutes of meaningless conversations, he made his way over to the steps that led down to the beach, leaving the party behind.
As he walked along the sand, he noticed a girl curled up against a rock. He edged toward her. ‘Hey,’ he said, gingerly nudging her with the tip of his foot, hoping she wasn’t sick or dead or anything overly dramatic. ‘You okay?’
Max sat up with a start. Wow! She’d downed a beer, closed her eyes and zoned out. Talk about an escape hatch!
‘I’m uh . . . fine, thank you,’ she said stiffly, somewhat embarrassed.
He proffered his hand.
She took it and he pulled her up.
‘What’re you doing down here by yourself?’ he asked.
‘Same as you, probably,’ she said, pushing clouds of hair off her face. ‘Getting away from all those morons.’
Billy laughed, and took a second look at the sexy young girl with the jet-black curls and the exceptionally pretty face. She was clad in rock ’n’ roll torn jeans, a midriff-baring white shirt knotted under her breasts, with multiple silver chains and crosses hanging around her slender neck. He narrowed his eyes. ‘I know you,’ he said, thinking she looked vaguely familiar.
‘And I know you,’ she responded, staring at the studly, tousled-haired movie star with the piercing blue eyes and rippling torso nicely displayed in a tight black T-shirt and black pants. Of course she knew him. Everyone did.
‘Saw my movie, huh?’ Billy said, thinking that his fame was such a useful conversation opener. And this girl was major hot – in a very un-bimbo like way. He’d left the bimbo squad cavorting naked in the pool with Willow, and he couldn’t care less about any of them.
‘I didn’t, actually,’ Max lied, thinking that he looked way better off screen, because she’d seen his latest movie. Twice. But she wasn’t about to tell him that.
‘Then where do we know each other from?’ Billy asked, realizing that he’d smoked too much weed and downed too many vodka shots, which was another reason he’d headed to the beach to chill out.
‘Um . . . you were married to my mom’s best friend,’ Max blurted out.
‘Who’s your mom’s best friend?’
‘Venus.’
Billy’s face registered shock. ‘You’re—’
‘Yeah, I’m Max. Lucky’s daughter.’
‘You gotta be shittin’ me!’ he exclaimed.
‘Now why would I do that?’ she asked innocently.
‘Jeez!’ he said, his mind taking off in many different directions. ‘Thought I recognized the house. I must’ve been here a couple of times.’ A short beat – then – ‘Where’s Lucky and Lennie?’
‘Lucky’s in Vegas. Lennie’s shooting a movie,’ Max said, slightly breathless because this was Billy Melina, and along with Johnny Depp and Rob Pattinson, he was one of her favourites. She’d harboured a secret crush for months ever since seeing his latest movie.
‘Don’t tell me this is your party?’ Billy said, gesturing up toward the distant house where music was blaring and lights were flashing. Someone had added fireworks to the mix, so every few minutes the sky lit up and the noise was out of control.
‘Unfortunately, yes,’ she admitted. ‘It’s a total bad scene, right?’
‘Let me get this straight,’ Billy said, somewhat perplexed. ‘So even though it’s your party, you’re down on the beach because?’
‘’Cause I just told you – it’s a freaking nightmare,’ she said with a helpless shrug. ‘I made a daring escape. Can you blame me?’
‘Hmm . . .’ he said, giving her a long quizzical look. ‘Do Mommy and Daddy know you’re entertaining?’
‘What do you think?’ she replied, gazing directly into his electric blue eyes.
‘I’m taking a wild guess an’ saying they don’t.’
‘And you’re so not about to tell them, are you?’
‘Hey,’ he said, with a casual shrug. ‘We’re hardly on speaking terms, what with Venus badmouthing me big time.’
‘Oh yes,’ Max said tartly. ‘Auntie Venus.’
‘Shit!’ Billy mock-groaned. ‘Don’t say that, you’re makin’ me feel old.’
‘You are old, aren’t you?’ she said boldly.
‘Thirty, chicken. An’ you?’
‘Eighteen,’ she answered, which wasn’t such a huge lie, because there were only three more days to go.
They exchanged a long look, one that sent shivers up and down her spine.
Was this really happening?
Yes. Absolutely.
‘Hey,’ he said, breaking the look. ‘Wanna take a walk?’
She nodded. Like it was Billy Melina, there was no way she�
��d turn him down.
They started strolling along the sand, close to the shoreline, and after a while Billy began to talk. The more he talked the more she found herself really liking him. He began telling her about the current movie he was shooting and a whole load of interesting and funny stories to do with the cast and crew. Soon she began telling him about her plans to move to New York and start a new life away from her parents, and the cool thing was that he actually listened to her, told her it sounded like a great move to make and that she should definitely do it.
Yes, he was way hotter off screen than on. In the past she’d seen him from afar several times with Venus, and she vaguely remembered watching him laughing and joking with Lucky and Lennie at the opening of The Keys. He’d never taken any notice of her before, but this time was different; this time they were two people with an awesome electric current buzzing between them.
She wondered if he could feel it too.
Suddenly she wanted nothing more than to touch him, feel his skin against hers, experience everything he had to offer.
Oh God! Could this be it? Had she finally met The One?
Billy Melina.
Soon to be ex of her mom’s best friend.
Red-hot movie star.
What better way to lose her virginity?
* * *
Sometimes Frankie got into fights; he had his enemies. A club promoter he’d butted heads with in the past was coming onto Willow and her naked nymphs in the pool, calling them names and generally being obnoxious.
Sitting in a lounge chair with a giggly and very stoned Cookie, Frankie felt perfectly content until Cookie hissed in his ear, ‘Do something!’
So he did, and almost got cold-cocked for his trouble.
‘Goddamnit!’ he exclaimed, nursing his jaw, wondering when he had become the protector of dykes? ‘That prick could’ve knocked my fuckin’ teeth out.’
‘Well, he didn’t,’ said an unconcerned Cookie, as ‘that prick’ was escorted off the premises by two macho gay guys who worshipped Willow Price and would do anything for her.
‘Where were they when I needed them?’ Frankie grumbled.
‘Never mind,’ Cookie cooed, getting up and leading him into the house. ‘Let’s go do some more blow, you know that’ll make you feel way better.’
It was almost 4 a.m. and the party was starting to wind down. There were only a few stragglers left in the living room. Harry was around, helping the deejay pack up.
Cookie had no clue where Max was, and she didn’t care. It was time for Frankie to give it up, and not only the cocaine.
Cookie was one very happy camper.
* * *
‘Maybe we should get back up to the house?’ Billy suggested after a while.
‘Sure,’ Max said, totally aware that something powerful was going on between them, an unstoppable attraction.
‘Or . . .’ He moved toward her, placing his hands on her shoulders. ‘We could stay here.’
Yes, he senses it too! Oh crap!
She leaned a touch closer to him. ‘Maybe we should stay here,’ she managed.
‘Maybe you’re right,’ he countered.
Then before she could think of anything else to say, his lips descended on hers, insistent and strong.
She kissed him back, shudders of excitement racing through her body, an excitement so intense that she couldn’t wait to rip her clothes off, or have him do it for her.
After a few moments he began unknotting her shirt, pulling it off her, then touching her breasts with his fingertips, pushing them together before bending his head to suck ever so slowly on each nipple.
‘Billy,’ she murmured, rubbing her hand between his legs, stroking him the way Ace liked her to do – although he wasn’t Ace – with whom she’d only gone so far. He was Billy Melina, movie star, friend of her parents, soon to be ex-husband of Venus.
She didn’t care. She didn’t care about anything except having him close to her.
Hurriedly he ripped off his T-shirt and threw it down on the sand, then somehow he manoeuvred her on top of it and he lay on top of her, and within minutes they were both naked and enthralled with each other.
Billy was vaguely aware that he shouldn’t be making this move with Lucky’s daughter. If Venus ever found out she’d go nuts. But jeez, he hadn’t felt this way since the first time he’d had sex with his high-school girlfriend. There was something special about Max; she wasn’t just another casual pick up.
Oh yeah – on the one hand he knew being with her would cause nothing but trouble.
On the other hand he didn’t give a flying fuck.
Max felt the same way as she gave in to the feelings that were completely overpowering her. This was it. This was the man she’d been saving herself for, and as far as she was concerned, nothing was going to stop the inevitable, and to hell with the consequences.
He began to make love to her, slowly, surely, taking it easy.
She closed her eyes and fell into his rhythm.
He smells so good, she thought. Like a strong fragrant soap mixed with his masculine body smell.
She smells like sweet sin, he thought. And it’s a smell that turns me on to the highest degree.
He has a body to die for.
She has the kind of body I dream about.
Smooth skin
Taut surfaces
Erect nipples
Hers – deep rose
His – black like the night
I think I’m in love
I think I’m in lust
First time
Tactile touches
A rush of pure sweat
An avalanche of desire
Plunging into heaven
Going all the way
Feeling his power
Feeling her acceptance
Working together
So gentle
So soft
And hard
Breathless
Wow!
Amazing
Forbidden fruit
Barely ripe
Heady
Intoxicating
Falling into ecstasy
And finally
Together
Chapter Sixteen
Arriving back in New York, Armand was escorted through security by an airport representative, then ushered to a limousine parked at a private entrance where Fouad was waiting. Most times he accompanied Armand to Akramshar, but this time Armand had chosen to go alone.
Before Fouad could say a word, Armand demanded to know what was happening with The Keys.
Typical Armand, thought Fouad, no time for pleasantries, straight to business.
‘We have a meeting in Vegas tomorrow,’ Fouad said, clearing his throat. ‘It was not easy arranging it. As I told you before, according to her lawyer this Santangelo woman is not interested in selling, so I informed him that we were thinking of perhaps financing future projects she might be open to. Her lawyer seemed to entertain the thought of unlimited investment capital.’
‘For God’s sake!’ Armand snorted derisively. ‘Why did you say that?’
‘It was the only way I could arrange a meeting,’ Fouad explained.
‘Such a fool,’ Armand muttered.
‘In the meantime I had a dossier compiled on Lucky Santangelo,’ Fouad said, handing Armand a thick manila envelope. ‘I thought you might find it interesting, I know I did.’
‘Interesting?’ Armand sneered. ‘Show me an interesting woman and I will show you a freak of nature.’
‘She is not your average woman,’ Fouad said evenly. ‘I would read it if I were you.’
‘Unfortunately for you, you’re not me,’ Armand replied with a note of disdain, tossing the envelope on the floor of the limo.
Fouad wasn’t surprised. Over the past few months Armand had become even more arrogant and difficult. Fouad realized that this was due to Armand’s escalating use of cocaine, and it worried him. At first Armand had used it as a recreational drug, but latel
y it seemed he needed it all the time.
Fouad deeply disapproved of any kind of drug use, but when he’d tried to tell Armand that the habit he’d acquired was turning into an out-of-control addiction, Armand had thrown one of his angry screaming fits.
There was a time Fouad had enjoyed working with Armand, but ever since he had gotten married and created a life for himself, Armand had treated him less like an equal and more of an employee. Fouad did not like it. Armand continuously disrespected him, it was as simple as that.
‘Your mother wishes to speak with you,’ Fouad said, keeping his expression impartial, because he knew Peggy, Armand’s mother, was the only woman on earth that Armand felt he could not control.
‘Did you not tell her I was away?’ Armand said, his voice a hostile missile.
‘She knows that,’ Fouad answered quietly. ‘She is well aware of the yearly date you visit our country.’
‘Your point?’
‘She asked that you call her immediately upon your return.’
Armand scowled. But he took out his cell phone and made the call anyway.
* * *
Since the death of her husband, Sidney, Peggy Dunn was beginning to realize that without a rich husband by her side, she was simply another lonely Manhattan widow. At first her friends had rallied, making sure that she was still included on dinner dates, events, and parties. But as the months drifted past, she began to notice that the calls became less and less, until she was fortunate to receive one dinner invitation a month. One a month! For a woman who was used to going out five nights a week, this was shocking. She was sixty years old, a decade younger than Raquel Welch, and like Raquel, she was still an attractive woman. Not as beautiful as the eighteen-year-old girl King Emir Amin Mohamed Jordan had plucked from the chorus of a Vegas show and whisked back to Akramshar to become his fifth wife, but beautiful all the same. Her hair – thanks to one of the best colourists in New York – was still flaming red. Her skin, smooth and pampered – thanks to weekly facials and twice-a-week massages – was still impeccable. Her body was passable, in spite of an extra ten pounds she couldn’t seem to lose.
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