Double Lucky (51 page)

“Yes, you will,” Lucky said. “Bobby's a trip.”

“Where's Dad?” Max asked.

“Playing golf with Charlie Dollar.”

“I want to see him.”

“You will,” Lucky said. “So … I have a million things to do. Are you two all set?”

“Uh, thanks, Mrs. Golden,” Ace said again, trying hard not to stare, for Lucky was not what he'd expected at all. “It's an honor to be here.”

At least he's polite
, Lucky thought.
And he seems like a nice enough kid, although they all do until they have your daughter half undressed in the back of a parked car. And Max is only sixteen. A wild little sixteen-year-old with a mind of her own and a major rebellious streak.

Hmm … polite and hot. Her teenage daughter was in heaven.

*   *   *

“How long have Kev and that girl really known each other?” Venus asked once Kev and Ali had left.

“I'm sure they go way back,” Billy said, keeping it as ambiguous as possible. “You know Kev, he's always hanging with a different girl.”

“Yes, I do know Kev. That's why I find it so surprising he should get married. Where exactly did he meet this one?”

“Dunno,” Billy said vaguely. “She might've been an extra on the movie.”

“Hmm…” Venus sighed, rapidly losing interest. “I don't know about you, but I'm exhausted.” She flopped onto the couch, stretching languorously. “Although I do have to admit it's quite invigorating getting back into the swing of things. My backup dancers are full of amazing energy, and so they should be, considering they're all ten years younger than me.”

“Ten?” Billy teased.

“Okay,
twenty
years younger than me,” she admitted, laughing. “God, that makes me feel so
old
.”

“You? Old?
Never,
” Billy said gallantly. “I'm gonna be thirty in two years—guess that'll be
my
time to feel old.”

“It's different for men.”

“No it's not.”

“You're right. Why'd I say such a stupid sexist thing? Me—who's never bought in to that Hollywood bullshit. It's not different for men at all. Women can screw from thirteen to a hundred and thirteen. Men have the problem of getting it up, only now they've got Viagra to do it for them.”

“Never tried Viagra.”

“Oh, baby, believe me, you don't need to.”

He yawned, relieved that Kev and his new bride were long gone. “How about we take a little siesta?” he suggested.

“How about I can't. My makeup and hair people will be here any minute.”

“Tell 'em to come later. You don't need to spend
that
much time getting ready.”

“Lucky wants us to go drop by the reception—we can't let her down—and later the place will be jammed with press and camera crews, so yes, I've got to get all glammed up.”

“Whatever you do, you're always the sexiest woman in the room, glammed up or not.”

“I am?”

“You know it, babe.”

“So,” she said, basking in his compliments. “What did
you
end up doing today?”

“Craps. Poker. Blackjack.”

“My own Mister Predictable. Did you lose it all back?”

“What do
you
think?” he said, grinning.

“Yes.”

“Easy come, easy go, an' tonight I'll be a winner again.”

“Oh, Billy,” she sighed. “What
am
I going to do with you?”

“Follow me into the bedroom, my sexy little superstar, and allow me to show you.”

“I'm right behind you,” she said, jumping up.

*   *   *

“So,” Max said as they walked around the edge of the main swimming pool after spending time with Gino, Bobby, Brigette, and the rest of the family. “What's your take?”

“On what?” Ace replied.

“Everything. The hotel. My mom. My granddad. And especially Bobby.”

“I think you've all led a charmed life of money and privilege.”

That was not the answer she'd wanted to hear. She refused to be viewed as a spoiled rich kid with famous affluent parents and rich relatives. She was her own person. Max. And more than anything she wanted Ace to see that.

“Charmed life—not so much,” she said defensively.

“C'
mon
, Max,” he said, giving her a quizzical look.

“What?” she said. “You think it's
easy
having parents who've achieved so many things?”

“Better than having no parents at all,” he pointed out.

“You've got me there,” she said, realizing how tough it must have been for him losing his mom and dad.

“Lucky doesn't seem like a dragon lady,” he observed. “If you want my opinion I think we should've told her about the kidnapping thing.”

“Why's that?”

“'Cause it was bad, Max,” he said, frowning. “The freak had a gun. He had
you
chained like a dog, and me locked up. What if he's still out there trying to do it to somebody else?”

“You don't understand,” she said, agitated. “Lucky would've blamed
me
. She'd think I was weak and unable to look after myself.”

“No she wouldn't.”

“You met her for five minutes,” Max said sharply. “That doesn't mean you
know
her.”

“Okay, okay,” he said, realizing he'd hit a sensitive spot. “I get it.”

“No you
don't
,” she said sulkily. “You've fallen under Lucky's spell. Everyone does. Whenever I'm around her it's like I become invisible.”

“In
your
mind.”

“Whatever. She's so clever and beautiful and smart. It's crap trying to live up to all of that.”

“Hey, Max,” he said, stopping and taking hold of her shoulders. “You got
any
idea how hot you are?”

“Me?” she said, staring into his blue eyes.

“No,” he deadpanned. “That girl over there.”

“I'm so hot that you didn't even kiss me last night,” she said, regretting the words as soon as they left her mouth. She probably sounded like dork of the month.

“You're sixteen,” he pointed out.

“So was Lucky when she got married the first time.”

“Get over it, you're not in a competition with your mom.”

“Says who?” she said, moving away from him and sitting on the end of a lounger.

“Says me,” he said, squatting down next to her.

“Do y'know why I tried to hook up with that freak from the Internet?” she said, gazing at the ripples in the pool.

“Go ahead, surprise me.”

“It's 'cause I wanted to show my ex-boyfriend that he lost out.”

“And how were you going to do that?”

“My plan was to sleep with the creep—although when I decided that's what I'd do I thought I was like meeting up with this totally interesting smart dude. Then psycho man appears. Ugh! Gross!”

“So you're a—”

“Virgin. Yes! I admit it,” she said, blushing. “How lame is that?”

“Shows you're selective.”

“More like retarded,” she mumbled.

“Not retarded, Max, cute.”

“Cute!” she exclaimed in horror. “I hate that word, it's totally…”

“What?”

“I dunno, but I'll think of something.”

“Yeah,” he said, starting to grin. “You'll think of something, you always do.”

*   *   *

Henry Whitfield-Simmons checked into a luxury bungalow at the Cavendish under a false name. Lord Grant was the name he'd chosen. It had a ring to it, suggesting that he could indeed be an English Lord.

He'd changed the plates on Penelope's Bentley, and he was paying for everything with cash.

Being anonymous was quite freeing. Nobody knew who he was or anything about him, and that suited him just fine. All they knew was that he tipped lavishly, wore the best Brioni had to offer, and drove a Bentley.

It was enough.

 

CHAPTER EIGHTY

Anthony demanded two premier bungalows, which infuriated Renee because she had not realized he would be arriving with an entourage. He turned up with his wife, grandmother, mistress, assistant, and bodyguard. Damn him. The hotel was overbooked as it was, and she'd reserved him his usual suite. But no, that wasn't good enough, he wanted two of the best bungalows, forcing her to move a couple of high rollers who threatened never to return.

“I had to throw people out to accommodate you,” she complained. “You're a pain in the ass, Anthony.”

“You have no idea,” he responded.

Yes I do
, she wanted to say. But she kept her silence because she knew it would be foolish to speak her mind. Instead she went back to her house on the hotel grounds and bitched to Susie about Anthony's arrival.

“Why is he here?” Susie was curious to know.

“I presume to spend leisure time with his grandmother,” Renee said, not revealing the true purpose of Anthony's visit. The less Susie knew, the better. Susie would not understand why certain things had to be done, and if she ever found out she'd try to put a stop to it. Susie did not approve of anything illegal. To say she was naive was an understatement—she honestly believed that Tasmin had disappeared all on her own and that Anthony had nothing to do with it, although she still asked the occasional question.

“Anthony has a grandmother that he actually takes around with him?” Susie asked, her eyes widening.

“He's very Italian when it comes to family,” Renee explained. “His wife is with him too.”

“Anthony has a wife?”

“Yes, Susie. He has a wife
and
a grandmother. He didn't just crawl out of a hole in the ground.”

“You could've fooled me.”

“Here's the kicker,” Renee said. “His bimbo mistress is also along for the ride.”

“Oh my goodness,” Susie exclaimed. “How does
that
work? Do you think they're having a threesome?”

“Hardly,” Renee said. “The wife looks shell-shocked while the mistress is all perky and ready to party.”

“Not with you, I hope,” Susie said, her jealous streak surfacing at the slightest provocation.

“Of course not with me,” Renee assured her insecure partner.

God! If Susie ever found out she'd once slept with Anthony, her life wouldn't be worth living.

“You know,” Susie said thoughtfully, “I've been thinking about it, and although I know you're unsure, the Keys opening next door to us is a bonus.”

“Excuse me?” Renee said. “Why do you think that?”

“I know you imagine it'll take business away from us,” Susie said. “But you're wrong. The Keys being so near to us will enhance our hotel. You'll see. It's all about synergy. We're the two classiest hotels on the Strip, and it'll all work out. I'm happy they're opening, and I also think Lucky can be a good friend to us.”

Susie was right. Susie was always right.

Renee's mind began ticking. Yes, now she was sure she had to get Anthony Bonar out of their lives once and for all.

*   *   *

Irma was in turmoil. How was she supposed to make sense of the situation she found herself in? It was all so unbelievably horrifying.

Her husband was a cruel and repugnant man, a vindictive inhuman monster. The very thought of what he'd done to Luis would haunt her forever, and worst of all,
she
was responsible, for it was she who'd lured Luis into her bedroom the first time, and if she hadn't done so, none of this would have happened.

Yes, the sad truth was that she was to blame.

Now she was trapped with Anthony, who'd informed her that she was not allowed to speak to anyone or go anywhere without his permission. “You're gonna do exactly what I say,” he'd told her. “An' doncha open your fuckin' mouth to anyone, or your parents gonna feel the heat. Understand what I'm sayin'?”

Yes, she understood, and she had no doubt his threats were authentic. After the things she'd witnessed she was genuinely frightened. Anthony was not a bluffer—her psychotic husband was capable of anything. He'd proved that.

“Tonight we're goin' to a party, so go buy a dress an' be prepared t'look like you're enjoyin' yourself,” Anthony announced, strolling into the bedroom where he'd made sure she was a prisoner. He'd instructed The Grill to remove the phones and make certain any doors leading outside were locked. There was no escape.

“How can I go shopping?” she cried out. “After everything you've done, how can you expect me to do that?”

“Who gives a shit?” he snarled. “'S long as you're ready at six. Buy a decent dress, an' wear your new earrings.”

She was forced to visit the shopping mall with The Grill, who stood guard outside a fitting room while she reluctantly chose a plain black dress to wear.

It was all so surreal. Here she was in Las Vegas buying a dress, while back in Mexico City her lover had no doubt bled to death.

Poor Luis. Poor dear, sweet Luis. She remembered his gentle touch and suddenly she was overcome with grief. She sank to the floor of the fitting room and began quietly weeping.

After a while she pulled herself together. Above all else, Anthony had to be punished for his sins.

There must be a way, and she was determined to find it.

*   *   *

After arranging invitations to the opening reception at the Keys, Anthony had gone ahead and bought tickets for the concert event, although he wasn't sure if he'd stay around that long. Emmanuelle had informed him she was desperate to see Venus perform. Little did she know that there would be a lot more to observe than an aging blond singer, although the real action would take place to coincide with the fireworks display.