Drop Dead Beautiful (47 page)

When she finally arrived at the restaurant Anthony was not there, even though she was at least twenty minutes late. She requested a glass of wine and looked at the menu, then after fifteen minutes she called for the head waiter and asked if Señor Bonar had left a message for her.

“No,
señora
,” the man said. “Perhaps you would care to order?”

No, she wouldn’t care to order, not until Anthony got there.

Another ten minutes passed and she wasn’t sure what to
do. She requested a phone and connected with Anthony at his office.

“Where are you?” she said. “I’ve been sitting here for over half an hour.”

“Something came up,” he said.

“Will you be here soon?”

“Go ahead and order.”

“Without you?”

“I’ll try to make it. Otherwise come to the office when you’re finished.”

“But I hate sitting alone in a restaurant,” she complained. “It’s uncomfortable. I feel awkward.”

“Sometimes we gotta do things we don’t want to. This is one of them.”

He did not sound as friendly as he had the day before, but she understood that when Anthony was immersed in business he became distant.

“Am I still coming to Vegas?” she asked, hoping that he hadn’t changed his mind.

“Wouldn’t want you to miss out, would I?”

“I’ll go ahead and order. Should I get something for you in case you make it?”

“It’s unlikely,” he said. “Take your time, I’ll be at my office waitin’ for you.”

“Can I bring you anything at all?”

“Funny thing,” he said slowly. “Seems like I lost my appetite.”

She ordered a salad and another glass of wine. She lingered over the wine. Anthony did not appear.

After a while she asked for the check, paid it, and was on her way out of the restaurant when who should she run into but Oliver Stanton.

“Irma,” he said, stopping and blocking her path.

“Oliver,” she replied, thanking God that Anthony wasn’t with her.

“I called you,” Oliver said, giving her a hurt look. “More than once, and you haven’t returned my calls.”

“I know,” she answered, trying to come up with a reasonable excuse. “I’ve been very busy.”

“Was it something I said? Did? Because I was under the impression that we really hit it off.”

“No, no, Oliver, our evening together was most enjoyable.”

“But you never called me back.”

“I will,” she said quickly. “I’ve got your number.”

“Is that a promise?”

“Yes,” she said, hesitating for a moment. “It’s just that things have changed since we were together.”

“They have?”

“I can’t explain right now,” she said, eager to get away from him. “I’ll call you later.”

She hurried from the restaurant without looking back. The driver was waiting by the car.

“Señor Bonar’s office,” she said, getting in the car. “And this time no stops along the way.”

“
Sí, señora.”

She reached in her purse, took out her compact, and applied powder and lip gloss. Running into Oliver Stanton was quite a surprise. What if Anthony had been with her? How would she have explained it?

Anthony’s suite of offices was on the top floor of the building. His assistant was not at her desk and there seemed to be nobody else around, so Irma made her way to his office.

Anthony was sitting behind his desk smoking an expensive cigar.

“I thought you were so busy,” she scolded. “I didn’t enjoy lunching by myself. Sitting alone in a restaurant is embarrassing.”

“Embarrassing, huh?” he said, puffing away on his cigar.

“Is everything all right?” she asked. “Are the children okay?”

“Why wouldn’t they be?”

“It’s simply that you seem so different from yesterday.”

“Different. In what way?”

“I don’t know, Anthony. Yesterday I thought that things
were getting better between us. Now you’re acting toward me as if—”

“As if what, Irma?”

“As if I’ve done something wrong.”

“Have you?” he asked, blowing smoke in her direction.

“Have I what?”

“Done something wrong.”

“Of course not,” she said, adding, “I’m so looking forward to Vegas.”

“Yeah, I’m kinda lookin’ forward to it myself,” he said. “But first there’s a few things I gotta take care of, so whyn’t you sit down ’cause I got somethin’ t’show you.”

“What do you want to show me, Anthony?” she asked, sitting on a leather chair, folding her hands neatly on her lap.

“A movie,” he said mildly.

“A movie?”

“Yeah. It’s not exactly a love story, more a kinda porno.”

“Anthony,” she said sternly, “you know I do not enjoy porno films.”

“I believe you mentioned that when we were first married. Only things change, don’t they?”

“No, Anthony,” she said primly. “I refuse to watch porno. I find it demeaning to women.”

“You might get a kick outta watchin’ this one, ’cause it stars someone you know.”

“Who?” she asked, immediately thinking that perhaps it was one of his entourage’s wives. Wouldn’t
that
be something.

“Sit back, Irma, an’ enjoy the show. I gotta hunch you’re gonna find it more than interesting.”

THE KEYS

Chapter 76

“Good morning,” Lucky said, kissing her husband on the lips.

“Man,” Lennie groaned, waking up with a lazy smile on his face. “So cheerful for a dawn wake-up.”

“It’s six
A.M
., the sun is shining, and today’s my big day.”

“Yeah, an’ last night was my big night trading shots of tequila with your friend Billy. Why’d you let me do it?”

“I seem to recall us having the same conversation when I overdid the champagne at Gino’s party. Wasn’t it me saying to you, ‘Why’d you let me drink champagne?’ And you saying to me, ‘When have I ever stopped you from doing anything?’”

“She has a memory too.”

“She sure does. So I suggest that you haul your lazy ass out of bed and come with me.”

“Where’re we going?”

“Who knows? I’ve got this urge to walk around my hotel and take it all in before chaos.”

“Chaos, huh?”

“I guess I’m experiencing that feeling you get just before the opening of one of your movies.”

“Extreme stomach cramps and a desperate need to hide?”

“No,” she said, laughing. “Excitement. Pure unadulterated excitement.”

Lennie looked at his wife, marveling at how beautiful she was. Lucky Santangelo. Mother of his children. Powerhouse. Businesswoman. Tough. Vulnerable. Wildly sexy. His true partner in every way.

What a woman!

“Let’s go,” he said, jumping out of bed.

“You’re naked,” she pointed out. “Put your pants on.”

“First time you’ve asked me to do that,” he said, grinning.

“Don’t piss around with me today, Lennie, ’cause nothing you do is going to upset me.”

“Okay, then I won’t bother putting on pants.”

“Ha ha! This is
not
a nudist camp—pants on and let’s hit it. Okay, lover?”

“Okay, wife.”

Venus was up early too, in spite of the fact that they’d all ended up at the Cavendish and gambled until three
A.M.
Billy had been on a winning streak, which had put him in an excellent mood.

“I had no idea you were such a big gambler,” Venus had said. “Vegas agrees with you.”

“When I win it does,” Billy had said. “Last time I was here was for a bachelor party, had a wild time.”

“I bet you
did
, what with all the strip clubs, not to mention the convenient whorehouses.”

“Baby,” he’d said, laughing, “if there’s one thing I’ve
never
had to do, that’s pay for it.”

Now it was morning and she was ready to rehearse. “How are you going to occupy yourself today?” she asked.

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll find something to do.”

“Yeah, if I know you, you’ll be heading back to the tables to lose it all.”

“Don’t knock it. Besides, there’s nothing else to do in Vegas.”

“Yes, there is,” she said crisply. “Shopping.”

“Shopping is a girls’ thing.”

“Since when? You love to shop.”

“Not today. Anyway, Kev’s arriving this morning, he’ll keep me company.”

“Is he coming by himself?”

“Uh, no,” Billy said, dreading the moment he might have
to introduce Venus to Ali. “Think he’s bringing one of his girls.”

“You make him sound like a pimp.”

“He wishes.”

“Well,” Venus said, preparing to leave, “if you need me, I’ll be at rehearsal. I should be back around three. Then I plan on having a full-body massage and taking it easy until my makeup and hair people arrive at four.”

“Got it, babe.”

“Oh yes, and if you feel like buying me that apartment, go right ahead.”

“Never knew you were a comedienne too.”

“Thanks, darling,” she drawled. “A girl’s got to try.”

Renee Falcon was always up early, unlike Susie who most days lazed in bed until noon. Renee didn’t mind, she genuinely loved her partner. Susie was all the things she wasn’t—soft and loving and kind and quite astute in her own way.

The previous night Renee had found to be quite disturbing. Her casino floor manager—always on celebrity alert—had called and informed her that Billy Melina and Venus were in the house. Naturally she’d gone into the casino to personally welcome them to the Cavendish. She had not been expecting to find Lucky Santangelo and Lennie Golden with them. She’d never met Lucky, nor had she wanted to in view of what was to take place the following day.

“We’re about to be neighbors,” Lucky had said with a warm smile. “Anytime you want to come over to the Keys, you’ll be my guest. Call first—if I’m around, I’ll make sure to give you a personal tour.”

Renee was surprised to note that not only was Lucky Santangelo a true beauty—stunning, with her slim figure, wild profusion of jet-black curls, and penetrating dark eyes—she was friendly too. This was a shock after all the vitriolic things Anthony had said about the Santangelo family, Lucky in particular. He’d called her a bitch and a cunt and a murderer. And he’d given Renee the impression
there was no more evil woman on earth. Obviously he was lying, or Lucky was the best actress in the world.

Later Susie had joined her in the casino and then they’d all ended up in the lounge having drinks together. Susie had also liked Lucky, and she’d especially enjoyed talking to Lennie, who she soon discovered had once worked with her deceased husband on a movie.

“I’m inviting you both to our opening tomorrow,” Lucky had said before they all left. “There’s a reception on the terrace at six, followed by a lingerie show, then Venus’s special appearance. I’d be delighted for you both to be my guests.”

“We accept,” Susie had said with a happy nod.

Renee considered Anthony’s reaction had he witnessed this cozy little scene. He would’ve thrown one of his explosive temper tantrums. But who cared about Anthony? Ever since Tasmin’s murder, Renee fervently wished she could sever all connections with him. Yes, the Keys would be competition, but what Anthony had persuaded her to put in place was extraordinarily drastic and now she was starting to regret it. Thank God Susie knew nothing, for she’d put an immediate stop to it.

Lately Renee had spent too much of her time keeping Detective Franklin at bay. The detective had a nose for details, and kept on returning to the hotel with more and more questions. She seemed very interested in speaking to Anthony in person.

Renee managed to stonewall her.

“You’re wasting both our time,” she’d said. “I’ve answered all your questions more than once. You’ve spoken to Mr. Bonar on the phone. I don’t understand why you keep coming back.”

“Because this is where the trail ends,” Detective Franklin had answered. “Doesn’t it concern you that after Tasmin spent the evening with you and your guests in
your
restaurant at
this
hotel she was never seen again?”

Renee had shrugged. “Sorry, but I can’t help you.”

Secretly she wished she could, for her thoughts often turned to Tasmin’s body buried in the desert where nobody
would ever find it, unless she guided them in the right direction. Then she thought about what a smart and beautiful woman Tasmin had been, and how unnecessary her murder was. A true waste of a decent human being who happened to enjoy sex—and thanks to Renee, had gotten herself fixed up with the wrong one-night stand.

Deep down Renee felt responsible. Even though Anthony Bonar had helped her flee Colombia and set her up in Vegas, she wished she’d never set eyes on the murderous son of a bitch. He was a danger to himself and everyone around him.

Too late now. Or was it? Anthony was heading to Vegas and he expected action.

Sitting next to Ace in the passenger seat of his truck on their way to Vegas, Max felt content—a feeling she wasn’t used to. Last night they’d stayed up late, talking. Unfortunately for her
just
talking, because she’d desperately wanted him to kiss her, willed him to do so, but he hadn’t. Around midnight he’d said, “I’m gonna catch some sleep, we should try to leave early in the morning.”

She’d gone to bed vaguely disappointed, only to be awoken at three
A.M
. by a call from a hysterical Cookie, who’d informed her that Harry had crashed his SUV, totally wrecked it, failed a sobriety test, and subsequently been arrested.

“But he wasn’t drunk,” Max had said, struggling to wake up.

“By that time he was,” Cookie admitted. “After you left, we bribed our way into another club where Harry made it his mission to see how many vodka martinis he could chug. You know Harry when he’s on a roll.”

“Weren’t you
supposed
to be watching out for him?”

“Since when did
I
turn into like a
nursemaid?”
Cookie grumbled. “Y’know,
I
was in the car too. I could’ve been killed.”

“Are you hurt?”

“A few bruises, nothing major.”

“That’s good.”

“Harry’s dad was
way
mad—like
totally
pissed. He sent his big-time lawyer to bail number-one son out, so now Harry’s grounded, can’t come to Vegas.”