Lucky (78 page)

Costa, a calm man all his life, panicked completely. A tourist from Minnesota and a concerned salesgirl took charge of the situation. If it wasn’t for them, Ria might have started labour on the sidewalk.

*   *   *

‘I need an estimate on a decorating job,’ Gino said formally into the telephone.

Paige recognized his voice immediately. She waved an assistant from her office and leaned back in her comfortable leather chair. ‘What kind of a job?’ she inquired, equally formal.

‘Urgent.’

‘Urgent?’

‘Very.’

‘Hmmmm . . .’ She paused as if consulting a full appointment book. ‘I’m afraid I have no free time until next week.’

‘Fit me in.’

She propped her legs on the desk. ‘I don’t know if I can . . .’

You can.’

‘Where?’

‘The Beverly Wilshire. Where else?’ He gave her the suite number.

‘Have you any idea what you require?’ she asked in a businesslike tone.

‘You. And fast.’

Smiles suffused both their faces as they hung up.

*   *   *

‘Have a piece of fruit cake, I made it myself,’ trilled Alice, offering it around. ‘All pure ingredients. Oooh la la! It’s so good!’

She had covered her swimsuit with a garment which resembled a flowered tablecloth, and was trying to impress Claudio with her skill as a home-maker. Last night he had confided that he came from a titled French family. He was a secret Count. Countess Claudio! Ha! That would
really
impress everyone.

CeeCee took a bite, and promptly lost her front capped tooth on a stale walnut. Clutching the offending cap, CeeCee glared.

‘I suppose we’ll have to get you to a dentist,’ Alice said reluctantly. ‘What a nuisance!’

CeeCee nodded. She had no choice. The cold air was hitting a nerve, and she could feel the onslaught of a nagging toothache.

‘I have a dentist in Marina del Rey,’ Alice said with a martyred sigh. ‘I’d better call him.’ She huffed with the inconvenience of it all, and picked up the telephone.

*   *   *

‘Hello, little girl.’

Brigette almost jumped with delight. ‘I was waiting for your call,’ she said. ‘I didn’t think I’d hear from you this early.’

‘Wanna come over to my place and play?’

‘Oh
no! I can’t.
I’m looking after my stupid uncle.’

‘Your
uncle?’

‘He’s four years old. And dumb.’

She missed the catch of excitement in Tim’s voice as he said, ‘Roberto?’

‘How’d you know his name?’

‘I’m not just a beautiful actor.’

Brigette giggled.

‘Where is everybody?’ he asked curiously. ‘How come you’re looking after the kid?’

‘Roberto’s nanny broke her tooth, and Alice and her boyfriend – he’s a freak – like they all went off in the limo to get it fixed. Alice’s dentist is in Marina del Rey, and Alice wanted to take her friend – you should
see
him – to look at her apartment. So . . . like I got stuck, didn’t I?’

‘I’m fond of kids,’ Tim said quickly, his mind reorganizing the scam he had planned.

‘You wouldn’t like this one,’ Brigette said grimly. ‘He’s a geek.’

‘Bring him. I’ll let you know.’

She giggled. ‘I can’t do that.’

‘Sure you can. Take a cab to the corner of Fairfax and Sunset, and I’ll meet you there. We’ll buy the kid an ice cream and I’ll drive him home. Then we can have the whole evening alone together. How’s that?’

Brigette was tempted. She wanted to see Tim more than anything. But if she took Roberto anywhere CeeCee would go bananas. CeeCee was very protective. As soon as she realized she had to go to the dentist she had tried to get Gino or Costa to come and collect Roberto, but they were both unreachable. And she didn’t trust the maids. Reluctantly she had left the child in Brigette’s care. ‘Don’t let him out of your sight,’ she had admonished. ‘I’ll be back as soon as I can.’

Brigette did not like CeeCee. She was bossy. All she cared about was stupid Roberto. It would serve her right to come back and find him gone.

‘Well?’ Tim demanded. ‘What’s happening?’

‘We’re coming for ice cream,’ she giggled. ‘Can’t wait!’

*   *   *

Things were working out better than Tim expected.

He picked up the tabloid newspaper on the table in front of him and stared at the headline above a picture of a small dark-haired child climbing out of a swimming pool, T
HE
R
ICHEST
B
OY IN THE
W
ORLD
.

He re-read the small print underneath:

Slowly Tim put the paper down. Brigette Stanislopoulos was catch enough, but now he would have both of them.

It was a piece of good fortune he could only have dreamed of.

Steven didn’t know whether to tell Mary-Lou or not. He agonized over what he should do, and then he realized there was only one way to go. He had to tell her. The offending magazine was just about to hit the stands. The press would be bugging her, waiting for her comments.
He
knew it wasn’t Mary-Lou in the pornographic photo spread, but they were going to have to prove it to the rest of the world.

‘Goddamn it!’ he muttered to himself. And he wondered how slime like Santino Bonnatti could even exist.

Lucky Santangelo had eliminated Santino’s father, the notorious Enzio. She had had her reasons. According to the word on the street, Enzio had been responsible for the murder of her lover, Marco,
and
her brother, Dario. At the time Steven had been disapproving. The law was adequate. The law would have dealt with the likes of Enzio Bonnatti.

Now he wasn’t so sure. The law was a long, shaky process. People could be bribed to see that justice never took place.

He cancelled an appointment and hurried home. The sooner he told Mary-Lou the better. She would have to speak to the network and the sponsors of her show. The best thing to do was to have her release a statement before the press besieged their brownstone.

He planned how to handle the situation. Dignity and denial, that was the only way.

A strong smell of gas hit him as he opened the front door. He gagged and almost choked, the air was thick with it.

Jesus Christ! Had Mary-Lou left the oven on? She hated to cook, they usually sent out for food.

He held his breath and rushed into the kitchen.

Mary-Lou was on the floor slumped by the open oven.

Next to her lay a copy of
Comer
magazine.

Lucky wandered into Matt’s office and perched on the edge of his desk. ‘I’ve had it,’ she told him with an exhausted sigh. ‘I’m taking off for L.A. in the morning. I’ll spend the weekend and be back on Tuesday. Can you manage without me?’

‘I think we’ll get by,’ Matt said dryly. ‘As long as calling you day or night is in order.’

The Santangelo had opened to capacity business – but there were the usual problems with chefs, managers and general staff. All controllable.

Lucky smiled ruefully. ‘You know I never sleep. And you also know I like to be the first to hear everything that goes on.’

Matt said, ‘So go – relax – have a rest and enjoy yourself. You deserve it.’

She picked a pencil off his desk and played with it. ‘I can’t wait to see Roberto. That’s what I really need – a massive fix of baby love.’

‘Sounds good to me.’

‘Well, who knows, maybe when you and Jess do the deed you’ll have one of your own.’

He laughed self-consciously. ‘I don’t know about
that.’

They discussed several business matters. Matt knew of Lucky’s plans to sell. She had included him in for a piece of the action. He hadn’t made up his mind what he would do next. The potential buyers had offered him a firm management contract with points – but he needed to discuss it with Jess before deciding.

Business concluded, Lucky pecked him on the cheek and went off to pack. She hadn’t called to tell Gino she was coming. She wanted to surprise everyone.

The sound of the shower filtered through to the bedroom. Gino, clad in a bathrobe, sat on the edge of the rumpled bed and plucked a bottle of Dom Perignon from the ice bucket on the side table. Empty. Every drop gone. And he couldn’t remember drinking that much.

‘Hey—’ he called out. ‘We finished the champagne.’

‘Live dangerously,’ Paige called back. ‘Order another bottle. There must be
some
compensations to sleeping with a rich old man!’

He chuckled as he picked up the phone. She always made him laugh. ‘More champagne on the way,’ he said as he walked into the bathroom, opened the shower door, and watched her soap herself. She had full, real breasts (how he hated silicone – whoever invented silicone tits should be shot), a firmly packed body, soft thighs, and an unmanageable thatch of pubic hair, copper – like the hair on her head. ‘Y’know what I want,’ he said.

She massaged her breasts vigorously. ‘What?’

‘I want you to stay the night. Just like in New York. Remember? We had some good times there, didn’t we?’

She put the soap down and allowed the water to wash over her. Then she stepped from the stall and enveloped herself in a fluffy towel.

‘You know I can’t stay,’ she said briskly.

‘Why not?’ he demanded.

‘Because,’ she replied patiently, ‘I am a married woman, and I have a husband at home who will be extremely concerned if I just decide to stay out all night.’

‘Will he?’

She began to towel herself dry. ‘Yes, he will.’

‘He doesn’t mind you spending the day gettin’ laid, but an all nighter is out of line, huh?’

She refused to let him get to her. ‘You got it.’ She dropped the towel and reached for a bathrobe.

He sat on the side of the tub. ‘I missed you, kiddo,’ he said. ‘I tried a selection – but you’re the only one can do it for me.’

She began to laugh. ‘I don’t believe
that
, Gino. You’ll go to your grave with a hard-on!’

He grabbed her around the waist and pressed his face against her stomach.

She parted the bathrobe. ‘While you’re down there . . .’ she murmured.

He didn’t need any more encouragement.

*   *   *

Alice lingered with Claudio in Marina del Rey. She showed him her old photo albums and carefully preserved silver tasselled G-strings. He was duly impressed. Especially when she produced the set of pictures she had taken on the famous Stanislopoulos cruise.

They sipped Martinis, admired the view from Alice’s waterfront apartment, and made out on the couch. Alice smiled to herself. Claudio might be short, but he had the biggest
schlong
she’d ever seen.

It wasn’t until an irate CeeCee phoned from the dentist’s waiting room that Alice realized they were running two hours late. ‘Ooh la la!’ she exclaimed in mock horror. ‘The
schvartze
is mad – we’d better be running.’

*   *   *

The harsh slap sent Eden reeling across the room.

‘You’re a cunt, that’s all y’are. An’ an
old
cunt at that.’

‘I’m thirty-one,’ Eden sobbed, out of control. ‘That’s not old . . .’ She crouched in the corner waiting for his next move, ‘THAT’S NOT OLD,’ she shrieked.

‘In this town it’s friggin’ pushin’ up daisies – for a woman,’ Santino spat disdainfully. He had removed his jacket and vest, and rolled up the sleeves of his striped shirt. Beating up a woman took it out of you – he was sweating more than usual.

Eden pulled herself into the foetal position – knees up to her chest – arms clutched around them. She was a mess. One eye was blackened and half-closed, her jaw was swollen and bruised purple, blood dripped from a cut lip.

Santino bore down on her. ‘If ya fuck around on Santino Bonnatti, ya gotta pay the price. Understand, cunt?’

‘I haven’t done anything,’ she whimpered.

He raised his arm to strike another blow, but thought better of it. She had learned her lesson. She wouldn’t open her legs for anyone else in a hurry. She
knew
who she belonged to.

Now all he had to do was deal with Tim Wealth. Teach
him
the score.

Nobody fucked Santino Bonnatti’s woman off camera.

Nobody.

Not unless he said so.