Double Lucky (79 page)

Too late now.

Then the thought occurred to him—how about a sex tape with Cookie? She was certainly adventurous enough. And if he assured her they were making it just for their own private viewing pleasure …

Yeah. Like Annabelle—whose dad was action movie star Ralph Maestro—Cookie had a famous father: Gerald M., soul singer supreme. Although since rap and hip-hop had taken over the airwaves, Gerald M. was not exactly at the top of his game. However, he was still a huge star in Europe. They loved all that Lionel Richie–, Barry White–style of sexual healing.

First order of business when they hit Vegas: buy himself a Flip video and get to work.

Yeah, it was a plan.

*   *   *

“Let's work out plan B,” Bobby said as they sat in the back of a town car on their way to the airport and his plane. He was feeling bad about letting Denver down and wanted to make it up to her. “When do I get to meet the family?”

“There is no plan B,” Denver responded. “You had your chance.”

“Not my fault,” Bobby objected. “If there's one thing I can't control it's the airlines.”

“Apparently you can,” Denver argued. And then she couldn't help going there. “Where was
your
plane when you needed it? And how come we're using it today? Isn't it a somewhat extravagant move?”

“Questions, questions,” Bobby teased, trying to get her to lighten up. “My girlfriend the DA gets off on asking questions.”

“Deputy DA,” Denver corrected. “And your
girlfriend
is extremely disappointed you didn't show.”

“But sweetheart, I tried,” he said artlessly. “My intentions were good.”

“Sometimes the best of intentions don't cut it,” Denver pointed out, deciding that in spite of the great morning sex, she was still somewhat annoyed that he hadn't made it in time to meet her family. “I really wanted you to be there, and everyone was expecting you. You not turning up made me look stupid.”

“C'mon, babe,” he said, throwing her a quick glance. “
You
could never look stupid. You're the smartest girl I know.”

“Says you.”

“You
gotta
stop breaking my balls,” he insisted. “This is supposed to be the start of a romantic weekend, so don't go ruining it.”

Very romantic,
Denver thought.
Surrounded by your entire family, who will be judging me to see if I'm suitable girlfriend material for the heir to—who the fuck knows what?

She let out a long deep sigh. “Whatever,” she murmured.

Bobby couldn't help laughing. “Now you sound as if you're twelve,” he remarked.

“Sometimes,” she said wistfully, “I wish I were.”

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

“Good afternoon!” Bright-eyed and full of good cheer, the two flight attendants, Hani and Gitta, welcomed Bobby and Denver aboard the Stanislopoulos plane.

Denver had flown on it a couple of times before, but not when she'd been Bobby's actual girlfriend. She wondered if Hani or Gitta knew that she and Bobby were now a couple, then she decided that they probably did, because they looked like the kind of women who made it their business to know everything.

Max, Harry, and Paco were already on board. Harry was in a state of delight to be sharing the pleasures of a private jet with his new friend, while Paco was somewhat in awe. Meanwhile, Max had fallen into a depression about the way Billy had ended up treating her. How dare he! She wasn't a one-night conquest. She wasn't some random girl he could screw and walk away from.
And
he'd taken her virginity. Snatched it from her like a thief in the night. She was mortified.

Lurid thoughts of punishment crossed her mind. She could tell Lucky and Lennie that Billy had forced himself on her. Ha! If Lucky thought he'd done that, she'd blow his balls off. Her mom took no prisoners; everyone knew that about Lucky.

Or … she could mention it to Bobby, who was practically ignoring her now that he had a steady girlfriend.

Crap! She hated the fact that Bobby seemed really into this Denver person. Why couldn't he have just gone on being a player? Girls were always chasing after Bobby. With his dark good looks and appealing personality, he could take his pick. So why had
he
picked Denver?

After a while she decided it was time to assert her authority, show Denver who really mattered in Bobby's life. “Big brother!” she squealed, dashing toward him and flinging her arms around his neck. “I haven't seen you in
ages!
I've missed you
soooo
much!”

A startled Bobby extracted himself from her cling. “You remember Denver,” he said pointedly.

“Oh yeah, sure,” Max said, purposely making it sound like she didn't.

“Hello, Max,” Denver said, already sensing trouble ahead. “It's nice to see you again.”

“Hey,” Max said, with a vague wave in her direction.

Dammit
, Denver thought.
Now I've got to deal with a truculent teenager who is not at all thrilled I've hooked up with her brother, whom she obviously adores. Great start to a weekend trip I didn't want to come on in the first place.

“Everyone please take their seats, turn off their cell phones, and buckle up,” Gitta announced. “We are preparing for takeoff.”

Denver fastened her seat belt.

Bobby reached for her hand. “Happy flying, sweetheart. We're about to set off on a memorable weekend. Prepare yourself for plenty of fun.”

The plane roared down the runway, and soon they were on their way to Vegas.

*   *   *

“Wassup with you, man?” Kev inquired. “Your mind's like on a trip somewhere in space.”

“Yeah,” Billy answered distractedly. “I'm thinkin' we might wanna make a Vegas pit stop.”

“Vegas!” Kev snapped to attention. Vegas was his kind of town. “I'm
way
down with that. When we gonna do it, bro?”

“Today,” Billy said, making a decision on the spot.

He'd been thinking about Max all morning. Truth was, he'd been thinking about her ever since Kev had dragged him out to a club the previous night. As usual there'd been dozens of girls draping themselves all over him, but he simply wasn't into any of them. He'd promised Max dinner, but somehow with Kev arriving unexpectedly, he'd allowed her to slip off, and that wasn't what he'd wanted at all.

It was his own fault. She was so young that he'd gotten kind of scared and guilty; he hadn't quite figured out how to handle the situation. Then Kev arriving had given him a convenient out. But after thinking about it, he hadn't wanted a convenient out. What he'd really wanted was to spend more time with Max. Yes, she was young, but she was special and fresh, and maybe it was too soon to know, but he had this weird feeling that she was his soul mate, the girl he was supposed to be with.

And yet … he'd let her go, and now she was probably pissed at him. Girls were sensitive in that way. Especially as the sex they'd had together was her first time.

He was mad at himself. And how to make it up to her?

Vegas. Her birthday. Show her that he cared.

Not that he could simply turn up unannounced at her birthday party; that wouldn't fly at all. He could imagine Lucky's face if she got even a tiny hint that he was screwing her daughter. And Lennie's too.

But … he could be in Vegas and meet up with Max on the sly. Lucky didn't have to know.

It seemed like a way to go. He'd do it, and he'd take Kev along for the ride.

*   *   *

After breakfast with Venus, Lucky set off for her meeting with Jeffrey Lonsdale and the people from Jordan Developments. Since she didn't have any current projects in mind, she wasn't at all sure why she'd agreed to meet with them. Raising money was never a problem, but Jeffrey seemed to think that they might be useful if, for instance, she decided to build a version of The Keys in Atlantic City or any other big American city where gambling was legal. Jeffrey never allowed her to invest a dime of her own money. Not that he was in control, but she always listened to his sage advice. Jeffrey was smart.

Danny arrived to escort her to her office.

“News flash,” Danny announced, looking all pleased with himself.

“What?” Lucky asked, striding to the elevator, chic in black leather pants, boots, and a cashmere shell, her long hair wild and falling around her shoulders, large yellow diamond studs affixed to her earlobes.

“It's juicy,” Danny exclaimed, hopping to keep up with her.

“Give it up, Danny, or shut it up,” Lucky said.

“The perv in the Presidential Suite I was telling you about earlier is the man you're on your way to meet.”

“Huh?”

“Armand Jordan. Jordan Developments.”

“You're kidding.”

“One and the same.”

“Remind me again what the story was.”

“Apparently,” Danny said, savoring every morsel, “Mr. Jordan hired a couple of expensive call girls, made them do all kinds of unspeakable acts, then refused to pay extra for, ah … certain things that require more money.”

“Nice.”

“Are you sure you should meet with him?”

“Why not?” Lucky replied with a casual shrug. “It's quite likely I can embarrass him into paying up. Wouldn't
that
be fun.”

“And you'd do that, wouldn't you?” Danny said, delighted at the prospect of watching his boss in action.

Lucky grinned. “Working girls deserve every red cent they make. Maybe I should consider it my good deed for the day. Whaddya think, Danny?”

“Oh yes, I think definitely yes!”

*   *   *

Cruising down the highway with Cookie's head in his lap, and his cock in her mouth, Frankie couldn't have felt more on top of the world.

What could be better than this? Drake loud and sexy on the sound system. The hot sun burning down on them. The smooth thrust of his Corvette as the speedometer hit 80. Plus the insane sensation of holding back what he knew was about to be a mind-shattering orgasm.

Man, Frankie was flying and then some.

Until … the goddamn siren. The cop car drawing alongside them. And a red-faced motherfucker of a cop frantically signaling for him to pull over.

He did so, and the cop marched up to his window.

“Sorry, Officer,” Frankie said, attempting to seem contrite. “Music too loud?”

“License and registration,” Angry Cop said. “And get out the car.” He peered suspiciously over at Cookie. “You too.”

Cookie, who was busy applying a fresh layer of sticky lip gloss, frowned. “What did
I
do?” she asked petulantly.

“Lewd behavior in a moving vehicle,” Angry Cop announced. “I'm thinking of booking both of you.”

Frankie tried to remember where he'd stashed the coke and the grass and the pills he'd brought along on the trip—the main reason he hadn't wanted to fly. Then he remembered that all his drugs were in his overnight bag, along with his shaving kit.

Oh shit, this could still be bad.

As Cookie climbed out of the car, Angry Cop gave her a hard piercing look. “How old are you?” he demanded. “And have you been drinking?”

*   *   *

Once they were in the air, Denver decided to make an effort to be nice to Bobby's truculent little sister. She moved over to sit next to her. “Bobby tells me you're planning on relocating to New York,” she said. “Sounds like an exciting thing to do.”

Max grunted.

“Any idea what you want to do when you get there?” Denver asked, persevering.

Another grunt.

“Well, anyway,” she continued, “I bet your mom'll miss you. I know my mom was very upset when I moved out, and
we
were living in the same city, so you can imagine.”

No reaction at all.

Denver gave up. Screw it. What did she care if Bobby's sister approved of her or not? It was quite obvious that Max felt she had dibs on her brother, and woe betide any girl who came too close.

Bobby was sitting up front talking music with Paco, while Harry sat listening to them, his pale face full of rapt attention.

“If you want, while we're in Vegas, you can spin at my club for a couple of hours,” Bobby offered. “I'm always searching out new talent, and a happening deejay makes all the difference.”

Harry nodded enthusiastically. “Paco's the best,” he announced proudly. “You'll definitely want to hear what he can do.”

“I already got a gig in Vegas,” Paco said, polite and nervous at the same time. “But spinnin' at your club would be an honor.”

“We'll figure something out,” Bobby said, grabbing Denver's arm as she came over and settled into the seat next to him. “This girl's into Adele, Winehouse, Mayer. Not me—I'm into everything,” he added, squeezing her hand.

“Ah yes, that's me,” Denver said wryly. “The girl who's into mellow.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” Paco said earnestly, trying to hide his excitement at actually sitting with these people on a private plane. His family, who all resided in the Bronx, would never believe him. “The mix is what matters. Rap, Cuban, rock, mellow—it all works together. That's the way you get people on the floor.”

“You see,” Denver said, shooting Bobby a look. “This guy knows what he's talking about.”

“Yeah, yeah, I see,” Bobby said, still grinning.

Hani came by carrying mimosas in tall glasses. Bobby handed one to Denver, then took one for himself.

“Here's to the weekend, babe,” he said, clinking glasses. “We're gonna have a great time.”

She smiled and realized that she was hopelessly, happily, deeply, in love.

“I'll drink to that,” she said softly.