As soon as he was gone, she pulled out her BlackBerry and scrolled through her messages. Amongst them was a text from Sam. It was apparent that he now considered himself back in her life, he was not giving up easily.
Having a fine time on set being ignored by actors and director alike, except when they need an instant rewrite on a line, then I’m King of the Hill and they kiss my skinny ass. As an observer of the human race you would enjoy every second. How’s Vegas? Do u miss my eggs?
Denver grinned. The do u miss my eggs line was a reference to the delicious scrambled eggs he’d made her in New York the time she’d ended up spending the night in his apartment. It was his not-so-subtle way of reminding her that sometime in the past they had indeed shared a bed. And had sex.
She quickly texted him back.
Vegas fun. Given up scrambled, moved on to poached. Good luck with being ignored.
Then she clicked SEND before she changed her mind. They were friends, nothing more, and Bobby wouldn’t mind a touch of banter between friends. Or would he?
Too bad if he did. It wasn’t as if they were married or anything.
Wow! she thought. Where does marriage enter into this equation? It’s certainly not on my mind.
Leon had also texted her, but his text was all about work. She appreciated him giving her a heads-up on what she’d be getting involved with the following week. She was looking forward to working with Leon, he was dedicated to getting drugs off the streets – especially the smalltime dealers who set up shop near high schools – targeting kids as young as ten and eleven. Leon was a solid guy, and after working at a top-level Beverly Hills law firm defending the probably guilty, it was refreshing to know she was finally getting into something that really mattered.
* * *
So there he was. Ace. Her boyfriend. Standing in front of her with a big proud grin on his face, which meant she wasn’t about to be alone on her birthday. Ace had apparently skipped out on his job and driven all the way to Vegas to be with her. Ace was fully present. Ace loved her. Yippee!!
Then why wasn’t she happy? Why was she suddenly suffused with guilt? Why was she wishing he hadn’t made the trip?
‘Wow!’ Max exclaimed, as he moved forward to hug her. ‘This is crazy. What are you doing here?’
‘What do you think I’m doing here?’ he responded. ‘Making sure I’m with you for your birthday. Wouldn’t miss it.’
‘That’s so cool,’ she managed, extracting herself from his hug.
‘Yeah,’ he said, still grinning. ‘Had a feeling you’d want me to be here.’
‘I do,’ she insisted. ‘Only we’re not alone. Harry’s downstairs with some new friend. And Cookie’s hanging out somewhere, and I know you’re not wild about being around either of them.’
‘Thanks for warning me,’ Ace said. ‘But we can sneak off somewhere by ourselves, right?’
‘Can’t do that,’ she said. ‘They’re here for me, so it wouldn’t be cool to desert them. Anyway – you know they’re my best friends.’
‘And what does that make me?’
‘Uh . . . my boyfriend,’ she said, almost choking on the word.
‘That’s exactly why I’m not into getting caught up with the crowd,’ he said restlessly. ‘Haven’t seen you in weeks, don’t wanna share you.’
Thoughts were flying through her head. Thoughts of Billy, and the offhand way he’d treated her. Thoughts of their one night together on the sand. The way he’d touched her, the blue of his eyes, his kind of half-crazy laugh, and his hard abs.
How could she tell Ace that she wasn’t a virgin any more? Oh man! He’d be so bummed that she’d done the deed with someone else after he’d waited forever.
Bad girlfriend.
Cheating girlfriend.
She wanted to cry.
‘Look,’ Ace said, touching her arm. ‘Dump the miserable face. If it means that much to you we’ll hang with Cookie and Harry, s’long as they don’t start doing drugs in front of me. You know I’m not into that crap.’
Mister Straight. Her boyfriend. He wouldn’t fit in with Frankie, for sure.
‘You know what?’ she said. ‘Since we’re gonna see them all tomorrow night at my party, I guess we can escape an’ do something on our own.’
‘Now that’s my girl,’ Ace said. ‘Knew you’d see it my way.’
* * *
Lying on the bed, smoking yet another joint while thumbing through a Vegas magazine, Frankie was startled to see that Gerald M. – Cookie’s dad – had a one-night engagement at The Cavendish that very evening. ‘Shit!’ he exclaimed, sitting up, wondering why Cookie hadn’t told him.
‘What?’ Cookie asked, entering the room with her key card, fresh from a four-hour session at the hair salon where she’d had them remove her dreadlocks. A lengthy process but hopefully worth it.
Frankie barely glanced up. ‘Didja know your old man’s appearing at The Cavendish tonight?’ he demanded. ‘A one-off sold-out performance.’
She marched over to the bed, stood in front of him with hair that curled softly around her pretty face and said, ‘Screw my old man. Whattya think of my new hairstyle?’
‘Oh yeah, your hair,’ he said vaguely, giving her a cursory once-over. ‘It’s lovely, doll. Told you, no regrets.’
‘It took forever,’ she complained, flopping down on the end of the bed.
‘I bet it did.’
‘Do you really love it? Are you wild about it? Do I look awesome?’
‘’Course you do,’ Frankie lied, because he wasn’t sure whether he liked it or not. Now she looked like every other pretty young black girl instead of standing out as one of a kind. But at least it had given him a free afternoon to play the tables. He’d taken a beating at craps, although tonight he was confident that he’d win it all back.
After all, he was Frankie Romano. He always came out on top.
‘So about the concert.’ he said. ‘I think we should go.’
‘Seriously?’
‘Yeah, seriously.’
‘I’ll see what I can do.’
Chapter Thirty-Four
Lucky had major connections; she could pick up a phone and get through to almost anyone, and if she couldn’t, Gino certainly could. After talking to the New York madam who supplied girls for Armand Jordan, and the Vegas madam, Yvonne Le Crane, a pattern emerged. He booked girls to be seen with, and if sex was involved his preference was to humiliate and debase them.
I knew he was an asshole, Lucky thought. Probably can’t get it up.
Then she suddenly decided that she was wasting too much time investigating Armand Jordan’s dumb ass – it was getting boring. He was a sick joke, not someone to be concerned about. She informed Danny to cut off any further digging, adding a terse, ‘Just make sure he never gets into my hotel again. Okay?’
‘Got it, Lucky,’ Danny agreed. ‘I’ll have Jerrod circulate his photo.’
‘Good plan.’ A beat. ‘Did you hear if Max and Bobby got here yet?’
‘They’ve both arrived. And according to Betty, Max’s boyfriend, Ace, turned up unexpectedly.’
‘Nice surprise for her,’ Lucky said, pleased, because she liked Ace a lot, and he seemed to be a good influence on Max. ‘Any of them requesting reservations tonight?’
‘I’ll check with everyone shortly.’
‘Thanks, Danny. You’re always on top of it. I know you’ll make sure they’re all taken care of.’
Danny appreciated getting praise for a job he knew he handled well.
‘Well,’ Lucky continued, ‘I’m about to throw myself into a sauna, so I’ll see you in the morning.’
‘You certainly will,’ Danny said, still unsure about whether he should mention Billy Melina being spotted in her car.
Best not to, he decided. His boss was getting prepared to greet Lennie. Why ruin her evening?
* * *
Being a star, in Vegas, with nobody around to protect him except Kev – who was about as helpful as a teen
ager on crack – was turning out to be a bad idea. Everywhere Billy went, fans surrounded him. Girls with longing and hero-worship in their eyes. Couples from Middle America who requested he pose for a photo with them because their granddaughter was his biggest fan. Gay guys who simply gazed adoringly. Autograph hounds. And predatory middle-aged women who thought that since he’d been married to Venus, he must be into older women.
Kev got off on every fan-filled minute, he was even collecting digits from the fans with the biggest attributes. ‘Didn’t realize you was this popular, dude,’ he announced, happily taking advantage of it all. ‘They’re treatin’ you as if you’re Johnny Depp or Brad Pitt.’
Billy was aware that Kev did not understand the price of fame. The loss of privacy, the way people treated him as if he was simply there for their viewing pleasure, the demands they made. It was all too much.
And then there was the touching. Billy loathed the touching. Random strangers throwing their arms around him as if it was their right to do so. Girls trying to feel his hair. Clammy handshakes. Every personal interaction turned him off; it was an intimacy issue he could well do without.
Venus had always surrounded them with bodyguards when they were out in public – now he realized why. When it came to the PR game, Venus was way more savvy than he was.
After attempting to play Black Jack at the casino in The Cavendish, he finally gave it up and went back to the suite where he played with the remote until he found a sports channel on TV, settled on the couch, and tried to recover from the fan-fest.
Kev stayed in the casino, basking in Billy’s fame.
After fifteen minutes of college football, Billy tried Max’s cell again. His call went straight to voicemail.
This street was turning out to be a dead end.
* * *
‘So?’ Bobby said, joining M.J. in the coffee shop.
‘So?’ M.J. retaliated, stirring his coffee, a blank expression on his face.
‘You know what I’m asking,’ Bobby said, signalling the waitress who came hurrying over.
‘Yeah,’ M.J. agreed. ‘But I don’t got an answer yet.’
‘Are you telling me you haven’t talked to Cassie about having the baby?’ Bobby said, as the waitress filled his cup with strong black coffee. ‘You know you gotta do it.’
‘Uh . . . you could say we’re kinda at an impasse,’ M.J. admitted, staring miserably at the table.
‘Impasse not good,’ Bobby stated.
M.J. gave a weary sigh. ‘Tell me about it.’
‘You gotta grow a pair,’ Bobby insisted. ‘It’s time.’
‘Comin’ from you, that’s sweet.’
‘What does that mean?’ Bobby said, a frown creasing his forehead.
‘Since you hooked up with Denver, the clubs have taken second place,’ M.J. complained. ‘You’re never here. An’ you’re sure as crap not in New York.’
Bobby could not believe what he was hearing. ‘You gotta be shittin’ me,’ he said, still frowning.
‘Just tellin’ it like it is,’ M.J. responded.
‘Goddamnit, M.J. I was here three days ago jerking off the Russians. You got a short memory.’
‘Big of you to drop in.’
‘Fuck you. What’s with the attitude?’
‘So now I got attitude?’ M.J. said, losing his cool. ‘I’m here every night bustin’ my stones, while you’re camped out in L.A. cozyin’ up with your girlfriend. We’re supposed to be partners.’
‘Jesus,’ Bobby said, annoyed that M.J. was taking his problems out on him. ‘Where the fuck is this coming from?’
‘I dunno,’ M.J. admitted, shrugging helplessly. ‘I’m gettin’ buried here. Don’t mean to rag on you.’
‘Look,’ Bobby said understandingly, ‘I get it. You’re under pressure, you need a break.’
‘What I’d like to do is take Cassie on vacation, get into her head an’ convince her to do the right thing.’
‘Then you gotta do it.’
‘I want this baby, Bobby, an’ I know I hav’ta tell her exactly how I feel before it’s too late.’
‘Then like I said – do it.’
‘I was thinking we could take off after Max’s party. Maybe hit the Bahamas.’
‘Cool with me.’
‘You’ll handle things here?’
‘Sure,’ Bobby said, mentally cancelling all his next week’s plans. ‘And as a bonus – you can even use my plane.’
‘Shit!’ M.J. said. ‘You certainly know how to throw it back.’
‘Oh yeah,’ Bobby said, with a wry grin. ‘I certainly do.’
‘Thanks, man,’ M.J. said, relieved. ‘I’ve been going crazy.’
‘Once again, I get it.’
‘How about dinner tonight?’ M.J. suggested. ‘Just you, me, Cassie, an’ Denver.’
Bobby hesitated for only a second. M.J. was going through a personal crisis, and when a friend was in any kind of trouble, he was there.
‘Sure,’ he said, wondering how Denver would react to this sudden change of plans. ‘How about eight o’clock at the steak-house?’
‘We’ll be there.’
* * *
Enjoying another brief casino visit, still closely followed by her bodyguards, Venus ran into Alex Wood on the casino floor. They had worked together in the past and enjoyed a cordial relationship, even though they’d fought like lions on the set of the movie Alex had directed her in.
‘Alex,’ Venus said, throwing him one of her well-cultivated sultry looks. ‘Meet my friend, Jorge. He’s from Brazil.’
‘Your what?’ Alex said rudely, his eyes raking over the studly young Brazilian. ‘Who is he – your son?’
‘Alex!’ Venus scolded, mock cross. ‘Behave yourself!’
‘I would if I could, but you always bring out the bad in me.’
‘Do I now?’ Venus replied, flirting slightly because Alex was such a brilliant director and she wouldn’t mind working with him again.
‘You know damn well you do. Remember our fight-a-minute movie?’
‘How could I ever forget?’ she sighed, playing with a lock of her platinum-blonde hair. ‘You cast Billy in it. Thanks a lot.’
Alex gave a twisted grin. ‘Sorry about that.’
‘Well,’ she said, with a half-smile, ‘I suppose you weren’t to know I’d be foolish enough to turn around and marry him.’
‘Jesus Christ!’ Alex said, shaking his head at the many memories he had of dealing with Billy. ‘That kid was a pain in the ass to work with, but I gotta say – a talented little prick.’
‘Little prick is about the right description,’ Venus murmured succinctly.
Why is it, Alex thought, whenever a woman gets mad at a man, the first thing she goes for is the size of his dick?
Growing impatient, he glanced across the packed casino. ‘What’s your game of choice tonight?’ he asked.
‘I was thinking roulette,’ she said, as her bodyguards blocked a steady stream of excited autograph-seekers.
‘Of course you were,’ he replied. ‘Nothing like a game of chance to get the juices flowing.’
‘Hmm . . . don’t think I need a round of roulette to do that,’ Venus replied, with an almost imperceptible nod toward Jorge.
Alex gave a low chuckle.
‘I think the three of us should have dinner tonight,’ Venus said, fluttering her hand on his arm. ‘Since Lucky is all tied up with Lennie, the least we can do is try to amuse ourselves, don’t you agree?’
‘What about the boy from Ipanema,’ Alex asked, motioning toward Jorge. ‘Does he speak?’
‘Not a lot,’ Venus replied. ‘But then again he doesn’t have to.’
‘Will he be joining us?’
‘I promise you he’ll sit quietly.’
‘Okay, Venus, we’ll dine. I got nothing better to do.’
‘Where?’ she asked, delighted she’d convinced him.
‘Asian.’
Venus smiled knowingly. ‘Naturally.’
> Chapter Thirty-Five
Peggy was big on charm, she’d used it all her life to get her own way. The King had fallen under her spell, and then poor old Sidney Dunn, who’d given her the lifestyle she’d desired. Sidney had worshipped her. Peggy’s little secret – lots of flattery and charm mixed with excellent oral sex – could keep a man very happy indeed. Sidney had never had cause to complain, or look at another woman, Peggy had made damn sure of that.
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.
None of this she had ever revealed 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 that she could not understand. Surely she was the perfect role model? She’d 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 said 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 other people, and after starting up a conversation with Paige Santangelo in the beauty salon, she soon had Gino’s wife’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.’
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