Lucky (68 page)

Didn’t he understand? The plane crash was a warning. If she ever saw him again something terrible would happen. She knew it.

One deep breath and she was ready to go. She licked her lips, threw back her head, and strode to her private elevator.

*   *   *

‘It’s really something,’ said Costa.

‘Stupendous!’ exclaimed Costa’s wife.

‘An achievement,’ allowed Gino.

The roles were reversed as they waited in the Art Deco bar for Lucky. Costa was now married, and Gino divorced.

Costa’s wife was a retired call girl of forty. Her name was Ria, and she was fond of gardening and bridge. They had met at a bridge club in Miami a year ago, and hit it off immediately – in spite of a thirty-five year age difference. Then they set up house together. Ria was truthful about her past, and Costa didn’t seem to mind. They lived together for a while, and then, very unexpectedly, Ria became pregnant. Naturally Costa did the right thing and married her – even though he wasn’t one hundred percent sure the baby was his. She had confessed to a short fling with an old love. Costa had experienced over thirty years of a wonderful marriage to his first wife, but it was sadly childless. He didn’t care who had fathered the baby. At seventy-five he was about to become a poppa for the first time, and he was the happiest man in the world.

At first Gino had been more than cynical. Lucky also. But once they met Ria, and got to know her, they both changed their minds. She seemed to adore Costa – and besides, she had faithfully promised him she would never play around again.

Gino glanced at his watch. ‘Where’s Lucky?’ he asked. ‘I didn’t fly in from Vegas to sit around waitin’.’

‘Be patient,’ Costa admonished. ‘It’s her big night.’ He sighed with nostalgia. ‘Ah . . . how I remember the opening of the Magiriano. What an evening!’

‘Yeh. With me stuck in Israel,’ Gino complained. ‘Schmuck of the year!’

He was now divorced.

Susan had demanded his balls.

And everything else she could lay her hands on.

California law.

You could stick California law up the Holland Tunnel and block both ends!

He
had caught
her –
and she was the one with the million dollar demands.

Ladylike cunt.

Into broads all the time.

He would
never
forget the expression on both of their faces when he caught them in the act.

Susan and Paige.

His wife and his lover.

Two dumb tramps.

He would never admit it, but he missed Paige.
She
was the real disappointment. Naturally he had never spoken to her again.

‘Here she comes,’ said Costa, admiringly. ‘And look what she looks like!’

‘Stupendous,’ sighed Ria.

Yeh. Gino had to admit it. His daughter was an absolute stunner.

*   *   *

Brigette Stanislopoulos removed the heated rollers from her long blonde hair. She was fourteen years old, but she could easily pass for eighteen or nineteen. People told her that all the time. People who didn’t know, came on to her like crazy, and she loved every minute of it.

Brigette attended school in Switzerland. ‘L’Evier’, a strict private girls’ school which both her mother – boring fat Olympia – and her grandfather’s wife – Lucky, whom she had grown to adore – had been expelled from. Sometimes Brigette wondered why her mother had sent her there. And then she figured it out. It was far away and it was easy.

She also figured out – exactly like her mother before her – how to leave school after lights out. So simple. Hundreds of rich little schoolgirls had followed the path to freedom and the nearest village. The name of the game was not getting caught.

Brigette could play the game expertly. And she didn’t need any help. She had no desire to pal up with any of the other girls, they were all stupid babies, whereas Brigette liked to consider herself a woman of sophistication and experience. After all, she had been around. Her grandfather was one of the richest men in the world. Her mother was a famous (unfortunately fat) heiress. And her stepfather (she liked Lennie – even though she rarely saw him; most of her vacations were spent on her grandfather’s island) was a movie star.

She had quite a pedigree, and didn’t mind boasting about it. And a temper – which is why nobody went out of their way to make friends with her.

Except the boys.

In the village.

For they didn’t care how bad-tempered she was as long as she allowed them liberties the other girls were not prepared to grant.

Brigette Stanislopoulos had never gone all the way.

But she planned to.

Soon. As soon as she found the right boy.

Brigette smiled to herself. She was remarkably pretty. She had all of her mother’s good features, and none of her bad ones. She had great boobs. Big ones. Boys loved big ones, and she loved having them. ‘Playing titty’ as she called being fondled, was her favourite part of sex. Sucking the boy’s ‘thing’ was her least favourite. Although she did it. Had to. They loved it
soooo
much. And once she had a boy in her mouth, she had him under her spell. This was a good thing to know in life.

Brigette smoothed down the bodice of the white dress Lucky had brought her specially for the opening of the Santangelo. It was an okay dress, not spectacular, but kind of funky in a youngish way. She would have preferred something black and slinky. Black was boss. Especially with blonde hair.

Boys loved her long blonde hair. They loved to run their hands through it, and drape it over their ‘things’. They loved to jerk off in her hair. Ugh! Sometimes boys were disgusting creatures.

Brigette often wondered what Lennie did to Olympia in bed.

Then she wondered what Dimitri did to Lucky.

He probably didn’t do anything. He was too old. His ‘thing’ must have withered and fallen off by now.

Was that what happened? She decided to ask someone. Although who would know? After all, it wasn’t exactly something you could look up in the reference books. What would one look under?
Prick: The decline of.

She giggled aloud, and hoped Lucky wouldn’t complain about her make-up. She did have a lot on, but she
looooved
make-up so.

*   *   *

Lucky strode regally toward her father. She moved like a leopard. Graceful, sure-footed, and dangerous.

‘Kid!’ He rose to greet her.

‘Old man!’ She grinned.

‘Enough with the smart mouth.’ They hugged and kissed. ‘I’m proud of you, kid,’ he mumbled in her ear.

‘It wasn’t easy,’ she replied.

‘Nothing worth having ever is.’

What a cliché. But true.

She flashed on to Lennie. She had seen
Private Dick
four times, and his follow-up movie,
Piece of Class
, three.

Pure torture. Just seeing him up on the screen her body cried out for his touch. Fortunately she never had to face him. He stayed in California with Olympia. They were still married. Things must have worked out after all.

Yes and you’re still married to Dimitri
, an inner voice reminded.
Has your marriage worked out?

Nooooo
, she wanted to scream. She was married to a recluse. Dimitri was a poor excuse for the man he once was. He mourned Francesca. He had no intention or desire ever to leave his island again.

For a while Lucky had comforted him. Why not? He was old and alone, and he needed Roberto around just to get through the day. Eventually she announced the time had come for her to move on. The plans for her hotel were ready and she wanted to get started.

‘You can go,’ Dimitri stated. ‘But I’ll
never
allow you to take Roberto.
Never.’

‘I can take him any time I want,’ she had retorted angrily.

His smile was a death mask. ‘Try it and you will lose. There will be no hotel, and believe me, Lucky, one way or another you will never see Roberto again.’ He paused. ‘You may come and go as you please. You may build your hotel, travel, do whatever you want. But you must leave Roberto here with me. He is my son until I die. Then he is your son. Roberto will inherit everything.’

Dimitri was not a man to issue idle threats. Lucky thought about what he had said, and knew it would, be a vicious battle if she decided to take the boy. And a fight for what? If she was able to come and go as she pleased, why
not
leave Roberto with Dimitri? He was safe on the island with his father – for kidnapping threats were not uncommon. And he was certainly happy. He had CeeCee to watch over him, and CeeCee loved him almost as much as she did.

After a lot of thought she decided to accept Dimitri’s proposal. She would divide her life. Spend part of her time on the island, and part in Atlantic City building her hotel. There was no reason for her
not
to accept. Lennie was with Olympia. And if she couldn’t have Lennie she did not want anyone. Relationships were out. Caring, needing, loving – they were all out.

Maybe an occasional one-nighter – if she so desired. No commitments. Nothing personal. Just sex.

‘You have done a magnificent job, my dear,’ Costa praised, also rising to greet her.

‘Yes, it’s unbelievably stupendous!’ gushed Ria. Stupendous was her favourite word.

Lucky imagined Ria in her hooker days. She probably said things like, ‘And you have a stupendous cock!’

Fancy old Uncle Costa marrying a retired call girl.

Lucky controlled mirth and said, ‘I’m glad you all like it.’

She tried not to think mean thoughts about Ria, for she certainly made Uncle Costa happy. Since divorcing Susan, Gino had returned to Vegas and all his old ways. Not that Lucky saw that much of him. She had visited him in Vegas a few times, and he had come to the island on three occasions to see his grandson. Twice he arrived on his own, and once he brought a twenty-five-year-old starlet who talked about her career and her one moment of
real
fame as Centrefold of the Year in some dumb men’s magazine.

‘Please,’ Lucky had said. ‘Find another Susan. But don’t subject me to one of those again.’

Gino had grinned. What a grin! ‘Hey, kid, I thought you hated Susan.’

‘I did,’ she agreed. ‘It was Paige I liked. Whatever happened to her?’

‘The broad was a fake,’ Gino growled. He did not explain further.

Lucky really felt that by building the Santangelo Hotel herself, and not turning to Gino for help, she had finally come to terms with her father and their relationship. She loved him very much, but she no longer believed that his approval was the most important thing in the world.

He lived in Vegas.

She lived between Atlantic City and Dimitri’s island.

It would have been easy to run back to him when his marriage failed, or when all the problems happened as she built the hotel, and there were
major
problems. She couldn’t prove it, but somebody made things extremely tough for her. It was one long uphill battle with union disputes, strikes, picket lines, fights, and constant trouble.

When she investigated, the name of Santino Bonnatti kept cropping up.

Ah . . . Santino . . . A long time ago they had been uneasy friends. And then she had been forced to shoot Enzio, his father, and she knew that Santino waited – like a deadly cobra – to strike and take his revenge.

Once she found out it was Santino who was sabotaging her progress on the Santangelo, she acted.

One phone call. Without Gino to back her up.

One meeting with a very old man in New York.

A simple request.

After that the troubles had stopped.

She had been ready to take it a step further if need be. But Santino was basically a coward – she knew him of old. When he received instructions to lay off – he did so – and fast.

Gino looked around, his eyes filled with admiration and pride. ‘You really did it, kid,’ he said with warmth. ‘The place is spectacular. Makes the Magiriano look like a toilet.’

Lucky laughed happily. ‘Not quite.’ She linked her arm through his. ‘Hey, let’s party. I feel like having fun with my old man.’

‘Cut the old, kid.’

‘You got it.’

The sun streamed through the huge plate-glass windows of the house on Blue Jay Way, but Eden Antonio did not care to remove herself from the king-size bed. She lay beneath the patterned sheets and silently cursed Santino Bonnatti. He had ruined her life.

Oh God! She should never have hooked up with him in the first place. One look at the hairy-bodied, bald-headed pervert should have warned her. He was scum, the lowest. And steadily, year by year, he was dragging her down to his level. Why hadn’t she realized right from the beginning what kind of evil man he was? She was no fool, she had been around. And yet Santino Bonnatti sucked her in. He let her believe she called the shots, and in the long run he would do what
she
wanted.