Lucky (71 page)

Sex.

Why not?

With a stranger. Someone she would never have to see again.

*   *   *

‘Drink it.’

‘Suck it.’

‘Snort it.’

Tim Wealth issued a list of instructions, and Brigette obeyed, because she was overawed to be in his presence.

He made her drink neat vodka, and it was disgusting, like medicine. But she drank it all down anyway, because she didn’t want to look like a baby.

Then he unzipped his fly, told her to kneel in front of him, and thrust his ‘thing’ into her mouth. Only
his
‘thing’ wasn’t like the boys’ from the village near her school. His was limp and wobbly, like a soft rubber toy.

She did her best but nothing happened, and she didn’t really mind. How she hated that moment when the warm salty liquid exploded in her mouth.
She
hated it, but boys loved it. Tim Wealth seemed different.

Pushing her away, he stuffed himself back into his trousers and walked across the room. Fumbling in a drawer he came up with a small packet of white powder which he carefully arranged in two straight lines on a marble table top. Then he handed her a rolled bank note and issued his third command. ‘Snort it.’

She knew what it was. Cocaine. One of the girls at school – a rich Arab’s daughter – did it all the time.

Brigette had smoked grass, but this was her first time with coke. She sniffed gingerly, spluttered and choked, and the two neat lines of white powder scattered everywhere.

‘Shit!’ exclaimed Tim. ‘What are you, a fucking novice?’

‘I’m sorry,’ she gasped.

‘You should be,’ he complained, laying out more of his precious supply. ‘Now snort it. Properly.’

Her second attempt was more successful, and suddenly she felt
soooo
good.

‘Undress,’ Tim Wealth commanded.

She hesitated for only a moment. Usually boys undressed
her
, and it was in a dark field or the back of someone’s car. This was different.
He
was different.

She did as he requested, shedding her white dress, bra, and panties with feverish abandon. She felt funny – sort of excited and strange and expectant.

When she was fully undressed he produced his ‘thing’ again, and this time it was big and hard and red. And he made her kneel on the floor doggy style. He entered her from this position fast and furious.

She stifled a frantic yell. He was hurting her, but at the same time waves, of feeling washed over her, and she felt a loss of control.
Wonderful
waves of feeling.

Something was happening to her and she didn’t understand what.

He slapped her on the ass, hard, and began to thrust like a mad man.

The good feelings combined with the bad, and she cried out, begging him to stop.

He didn’t do so until he was ready. Then he exploded with a sigh, and rolled away from her across the floor.

She shivered, and tried to get up. When she did her legs were weak and shaking and she felt the stickiness of blood.

‘Get dressed, little girl, and go home,’ he mumbled sleepily from his position on the floor. ‘I’ll see you around.’

Didn’t he realize he had taken her virginity?

Obviously not.

She didn’t know what else to do, so she gathered her clothes together and dressed quickly. Then she wrote her name and the phone number of Olympia and Lennie’s house in L.A. on a message pad, which she then propped against the phone.

Tim Wealth was asleep.

His satisfied snores followed her out the door.

*   *   *

‘I want to phone Lennie’, Jess said.

Matt smiled. ‘You know, I used to think you were having an affair with him. I tried to like him, but I was jealous as hell.’

‘Idiot!’ She grinned. ‘Why has it taken you all this time to tell me how you feel?’

He threw up his arms. ‘Listen to you! Anyone would think that you
welcomed
me when I first came on to you. Your attitude was a killer, my dear.’

‘Well you were a jerk.’ Hastily she added, ‘Then.’

‘Thanks.’

‘You’re welcome.’

‘I wish we were in Vegas now, we could do it tonight.’

Her grin widened, ‘Oh, we’ll do it tonight.’

‘We will?’

‘You betcha ass, Mr Traynor.’

*   *   *

‘There you are!’ exclaimed Lucky. ‘Where have you been?’

‘Exploring,’ replied Brigette, innocently, her cheeks flushed, but other than that her appearance quite normal.

‘I don’t like you disappearing,’ Lucky admonished. ‘If you want to go off exploring, tell me, and I’ll arrange for someone to go with you.’

‘I’m not a baby,’ Brigette objected, thinking to herself that at last she was fully grown up, for surely the sensations she had recently experienced with Tim Wealth made her a real woman. He had taken her virginity, and she was glad it was him and not some creepy village boy.

‘I know you’re not,’ Lucky said patiently. ‘But you
are
a very important young lady, who, one day, is going to inherit a great deal of money. And you can’t just wander off without telling me where you’re going. Your grandfather would throw a fit.’

‘I understand,’ said Brigette, although she didn’t at all. Sometimes Lucky could be as dumb as all the other adults. ‘Actually, I’m kind of tired. Is it okay if I go to bed now?’

‘Certainly,’ agreed Lucky, relieved to have the responsibility of Brigette off her hands for the night.

*   *   *

‘I’m getting married,’ Jess announced, long distance.

‘To Matt?’ Lennie replied, delighted for her.

‘No! The bellman at the hotel, asshole!’

‘When?’

‘Soon.’

‘Hey – are we having a big wedding?’ he joked.

‘I don’t know what we’re having, but whatever it is I want you to be my best man.’

‘The groom has a best man – you have a maid of honour.’

‘Screw tradition. I want a best man,’ she said stubbornly.

‘Then you shall have me.’

‘Now
you offer yourself!’

He tried to keep his voice casual. ‘What’s the hotel like?’

‘Amazing.’

‘Have you seen Lucky?’

‘Sure.’

‘How does she look?’

‘Amazing.’

‘You really are a mine of information.’

‘I’ll tell you all when I return.’

*   *   *

By three-thirty a.m. the last stragglers left the party. Lucky sat at a table with Matt and Jess, Gino, and a pretty showgirl he had charmed.

The indefatigable Gino. Was there no stopping him?

Obviously not. He rose to leave, the showgirl in tow. ‘This is a late night for me,’ he said, putting his arm around the girl. ‘I’m an old man. I’m not used to all this activity.’

‘Oh yes you are,’ grinned Lucky.

Gino winked and kissed his daughter. ‘You’re one of life’s winners, kid,’ he whispered affectionately. ‘Don’t ever forget it.’

‘He’s really something, my old man,’ she sighed as he departed.

‘We should all have such . . . uh . . . energy at his age,’ admired Matt.

‘Is that what they call it?’ said Lucky jauntily.

Jess sipped the remnants of champagne from a glass on the table. ‘When I worked at the Magiriano,’ she said,
‘all
the girls lusted for a night in Mr Santangelo’s company.’

‘Really?’ Lucky smiled, although she wasn’t surprised.

‘And the ones who made the trip
never
returned disappointed!’

‘I don’t know if I should be hearing this,’ Lucky laughed.

‘I thought I was the resident stud,’ interjected Matt.

‘You were the resident joke!’ teased Jess.

Lucky feigned a yawn. She wanted to be alone. Much as she liked Matt –
and
Jess, whom she was gradually getting to know – it had been a long night and she needed tranquillity or anonymous sex. Either would do.

‘I’m going to bed,’ she said. ‘And may I suggest you two do the same?’

‘Good suggestion,’ said Matt.

‘Yes,’ agreed Jess, feeling shy for the first time in years.

Lucky stood up, and so did they. ‘I’m very pleased for you both,’ she said warmly. ‘Very pleased.’

Jess gazed up at Matt – so far from the type of man she usually went for she couldn’t even believe it. ‘So am I,’ she murmured.

As they walked from the ballroom Lucky turned casually to Jess. ‘And how is Lennie?’ she asked in a throwaway manner.

Jess, who of course knew everything – picked her words carefully.

‘He’s well,’ she said slowly. ‘Working hard. Sometimes I think his only pleasure in life is work.’

Lucky digested
that
piece of information while they said their goodnights at the elevator.

Once upstairs in her penthouse she couldn’t sleep. She thought about what Jess had said . . .
Sometimes I think his only pleasure in life is work . . .
How true. If she didn’t have Roberto she would feel the same way.

Lennie . . . Lennie . . . Lennie . . .
He haunted her thoughts.

She decided to change clothes and go out. There was an all night western bar she knew of where the action never stopped. With haste she stepped from her dress, and as she reached for jeans and a shirt, her phone rang. For one wild moment she imagined it might be Lennie. Quickly she picked it up.

‘Meesis Stanislopoulos.’ A foreign accent, the line long distance.

She had a sudden premonition of bad news and her heart began to beat much too fast. Roberto.
Please God let nothing have happened to Roberto.

Her voice was tremulous when she spoke. ‘Yes?’

‘I’m so sorry . . .’

‘What?’ she screamed, fearing for her son.

‘Meester Stanislopoulos . . . a massive stroke . . . no time to summon you . . . he died an hour ago.’

Jury selection took days. Every time Steven approved a juror, the opposing counsel would object. And vice versa. But at last a jury was settled upon, and things could begin.

Mary-Lou appeared in court from day one. She sat on the front bench and watched intently as the case unfolded.

It took a week. Moore versus Bonnatti. And at the end of that time Steven felt pretty confident they were going to win. Mary-Lou, as a witness, had conducted herself impeccably, whereas the opposition had presented nothing but men in three-piece suits with weak excuses, shifty eyes and slicked back hair.

Bonnatti himself did not appear. Steven wished he had. He would have liked to have seen his face when the jury returned a verdict of sixteen million dollars in Mary-Lou’s favour.

She was ecstatic. ‘It’s not the money! It’s not the money!’ she kept on repeating excitedly. ‘I feel like Clint Eastwood! I stood up for something on principle and I won!’

‘They’ll appeal,’ Steven warned. ‘With an award this large it could be drastically reduced.’

‘I don’t care,’ she shouted. ‘This is my victory, and nobody can take it away from me!’

He took her out to celebrate. They celebrated all night, and he found himself in bed with a twenty-year-old television star whom he had no intention of getting involved with.

She was disarmingly young, and pretty, and sweet.

‘What am I doing here?’ Steven groaned, after they made love.

‘Didn’t you enjoy it?’ Mary-Lou asked, her brown eyes wide and innocent. She knew only too well he had enjoyed himself every inch of the way.

‘What a question!’ he exclaimed, eyeing her gorgeously compact body – the colour of milk chocolate – perhaps a shade lighter than his own skin.

‘I had a perfectly fantastic time,’ she grinned. ‘I guess it’s true what they say about lawyers.’

‘And
what do
they say about lawyers?’

She giggled. ‘That if you get a good one he’ll be on your case forever! Steven, you sure do have stamina!’

He couldn’t help laughing. God! She was pretty. But of course he must never let this happen again.

He spent the night, and in the morning he informed her sternly that it was not going to work.

She smiled happily and said, ‘I absolutely agree with you.’ Then she wrapped herself around him and he was lost in her sweetness.

Making love to Mary-Lou was special, and he knew it, and so did she.

When he finally left her apartment she said, ‘I’ll cook you dinner tonight.’

‘I told you,’ he replied, ‘this relationship is not going to work.’

‘Sure,’ she grinned. ‘Let’s not make it work together. Be here at seven. I give great Chinese food.’