The Prince Charming Hoax (7 page)

BOOK: The Prince Charming Hoax
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Yes, Ms. Gold. The penthouse, however, has a private elevator entrance. Here it is.

He held the card key up to a keypad, which beeped twice and the elevator door opened.

You can use the card to access the elevator, or the keypad in the event you forget or misplace your card key.


What

s the code for the key pad?

Ali asked.


There will be instructions upstairs that you can use to set your own private code. A set of personal card keys is already in the residence on the foyer table in a folder for you, along with information about all the services available here at The Sands. I

m sure you

ll be pleased with our elaborate security system as well as the many conveniences our residents enjoy. Here we are, now.

The vision Leah beheld as she stepped into the penthouse foyer took her breath away. It was everything she loved about South Florida in one panoramic view. The choppy, blue-gray Atlantic Ocean on one side, the calm waters of the Intracoastal lined with boat-filled marinas on the other and the surrounding vista of Fort Lauderdale stretched out before her eyes.


Would you like me to show you around the residence?


No, I—

Leah began.


Show me,

Ali interrupted.

Where are the bedrooms?

As Ali disappeared down a corridor with Jameson, Leah stepped haltingly toward the floor-to-ceiling windows of the great room. The sheer magnitude of the natural beauty overwhelmed her. All at once she felt in awe of nature and inspired by its possibility, while at the same time reminded of her own lack of importance and significance in comparison. She steadied herself by leaning against the back of the couch as she stared out, transfixed by the view.


Mommy! Come here and look!

Leah broke from her trance and followed Ali

s voice, expecting her daughter to show her the bedroom she had selected. Instead, Ali came running down the hallway, holding a small, furry dog.

Can you believe it? They left their dog! Are we going to keep him?

Leah looked questioningly at Mr. Jameson behind Ali.

Who

s taking care of the dog now? We won

t be moving in for at least two weeks.


The house staff will look after Mitzi until your arrival, Ms. Gold.


The dog

s name is Mitzi? Perfect.

Leah forced a smiled.

What kind of dog is she, anyway?


She

s a Yorkie, Mom! Why don

t we take her home with us so she won

t have to stay alone until we move in?


I don

t think that

s a good idea, Ali. I

m sure Mitzi would be much more comfortable here.

Leah looked out at the terrace. It was landscaped like a city park, not a rooftop garden. There were plants and trees everywhere, inside and outside the apartment.


What about the foliage, Mr. Jameson? Who will care for that?


Our instructions were to have the house staff make maintenance calls until your arrival.


Uh huh.

Leah pondered what she was getting into as she watched Ali playing with the manicured pup.

That dog probably spends more time getting her hair done than I do,

Leah muttered. Mitzi wore a large pink ribbon tied around a tuft of fur, which had been pulled into a tiny ponytail at the top of her head. She was licking Ali and wagging her tail.

Leah felt the chilling dread overcome her again. It wasn

t fear of killing plants or losing the dog. She knew some kind of real trouble was brewing.

Ali, let

s go home now. You

ve got a test tomorrow, and I

ve got more packing to do.

She turned to the concierge.

Thank you, Mr. Jameson, for the tour. I

ll let you know the exact date we

ll be moving in.

As they descended in the elevator, Leah felt her heart sinking and her stomach doing flip-flops of nervous tension. Instinctively, she put her arm around Ali and kissed the top of her head lightly.

Chapter
7

Across town, Roxie stood in her bedroom closet deciding what to wear on her date with D.J. that evening. He had been very mysterious about his

club.

Roxie insisted she knew every club in the tri-county area, but D.J. said this was a private club that few people knew existed. He wouldn

t give her any details about its whereabouts or anything else. He said he wanted her to go there without any preconceived ideas or expectations.


How am I supposed to know what to wear?

Roxie mused. It wasn

t a lack of selection that she faced. Her closet was the converted second bedroom of her condominium, which she had decided she didn

t need. She had no children from her two short marriages and preferred to put up visiting friends and relatives at a hotel. A home office was unnecessary because she worked from her car or company

s downtown office. So she had the second bedroom outfitted as a huge walk-in closet, complete with dressers, a revolving clothes rod, and built-in shelves for shoes and accessories. It suited her perfectly.

Roxie was wearing a black Donna Karan halter dress that emphasized her cleavage when D.J. arrived promptly at 8 p.m. Her straight black hair was pulled back in a twist, and she wore bare, strappy Jimmy Choo sandals on her pedicured feet. She threw a vintage hand-knit shawl she had found at a boutique in Boca Raton across her shoulders.

D.J. gave her a long, low whistle, but Roxie was not convinced he liked her outfit. She was accustomed to a more enthusiastic approval from the men she dated.

I didn

t know what to wear, because you won

t tell me where we

re going. Will this do?


Darlin

, you

re gorgeous. But actually, that

s not quite right for the club I

m taking you to.

Roxie checked him out. He was wearing a black Hugo Boss jacket over a white silk sweater and black slacks. The tight clothes emphasized his muscular build. Tonight

s cowboy boots were black snakeskin.

Roxie couldn

t help be a bit miffed.

Well, then,

she retorted.

Come help me pick out something

s that is right.

D.J. didn

t skip a beat when she led him to her closet.
He started to go through her wardrobe, which took a considerable amount of time. D.J. finally held up a tiny red slip dress, with several rows of narrow rhinestone straps that crisscrossed in back.


Try this one on for me. And take your hair down, please.

Roxie rolled her eyes at him, but took the dress into the dressing area and put it on. The bodice of the dress was very small and the thin, clingy fabric barely covered her nipples, emphasizing her full, round breasts. The back of the dress dipped down to right above the crack in her derriere. The dress was so short that she could not bend over without exposing her cheeks. She had only one pair of tiny panties that could be worn with this dress, and she slipped on the lace thong, which was attached to a tiny triangle of material that barely covered the intended area. She came out of the dressing room, expecting him to say,

Forget it.


Perfect! Now put on these shoes.

He held out a pair of Stuart Weitzman high-heel sandals with a rhinestone ball decorating the clear strap across her toes.


D.J., are you sure? This is the dress I wore last Halloween to a

Pimp and Prostitute

party!


Like I said before. Perfect.

Roxie stared at him and shook her head.

All right, but when we get there, if I

m embarrassed by what I

m wearing, we

re leaving.


You got it, lady.


And, we

d better take my car. There

s no way I

m climbing in and out of your truck in this outfit!


I didn

t bring my truck tonight, Roxie.


What are you driving then?


I

ll tell you what. If you don

t like my vehicle tonight, I

ll drive your little toy car.


Why are you always so mysterious, D.J.?


It

s a Georgia thing. Southern boys aren

t accustomed to answering so many questions from women.

Roxie sauntered up to D.J. and rubbed his crotch.

If you keep fucking me like you did yesterday, I may just stop asking questions.

He leaned over and kissed her, pulling her tightly against him.


Are you always hard?

Roxie breathed heavily, intoxicated by him.


Lady, when you walk out in that dress, there isn

t going to be one limp dick in South Florida tonight! Let

s go, before I carry you off to the bedroom now.

As they exited her building, D.J. made a slight gesture with his left hand. A limousine pulled up to the entrance.

Does this meet your specifications for an acceptable travel vehicle, Ms. Stein?

D.J. grinned.


It

s nice to see you smile, D.J. You ought to do it more often. Yes, this will definitely do.

The chauffeur came around and held the door open for them. Roxie slid in first and checked out the interior. A bar was set up with a bottle of champagne chilling in a sterling silver bucket, two tall fluted glasses on lace coasters, and a small crystal vase of white roses.


What do you think, Roxie? How

d this country boy do?

D.J. asked as he poured them each a glass of Cristal blush.


I think this is going to be a night I

ll remember for a long time.


Let

s drink to that!

They clicked glasses.

Roxie wasn

t paying attention to the road, but she noticed they were headed toward Miami. The driver continued to South Beach, stopping at a small building on a dark street in the Deco district. D.J. led her to a door with a window and held a card up to the glass.

Roxie giggled.

This is like an old gangster movie where you have to know the secret code to get in.


It

s something like that,

D.J. answered as the door swung open for them.

It took several minutes for Roxie

s eyes to adjust to the dimly lit interior. As D.J. led her up a narrow flight of stairs, she quickly smoothed down her skirt and pulled up on the bodice so that nothing was sticking out the top or bottom.


You look great. Stop fussing,

D.J. ordered.

She could hear music but it sounded faint, like it was far away. Just as they reached the top of the stairs, a heavy door swung open and the music suddenly became much louder. The large room was softly lit with candles and small table lamps. In the center of the room was a large, round wood bar with comfortable-looking leather stools all around. There were five or six couples sitting around the bar and seats for several more. Roxie noticed that no one seemed to be there alone, although she could see some men standing together talking and several women walking out of what appeared to be the rest room.

At the far end of the room, a Latin band played salsa and the dancing was hot and furious. Roxie quickly surveyed the attire and noted that D.J. had selected an appropriate outfit for her.

D.J. led Roxie to a corner of the bar and held the stool while she sat down. He held up two fingers for the bartender, who quickly showed up with two martinis.

Grey Goose with a twist for the lady, and Tanqueray Ten with olives for Mr. Johnson.


How did he know how we drink our martinis, D.J.?


It

s his job to know these things.


And the mystery continues. D.J., this is getting stranger by the minute. Where are we, anyway? I didn

t see a sign outside, and there

s no name on the matchbooks or napkins. What

s going on?


It

s a private club, Roxie. That

s all. It

s not advertised because you have to be asked to come here. And the membership is exclusive. Look, let

s enjoy the evening. Do you want to dance?

Roxie cocked her head to one side.

Well, I

m not a great Latino dancer. And, for some reason, you don

t strike me as the salsa type, either.


Don

t worry. Just follow me.

D.J. stood up and motioned at the band. The song ended quickly, and the dance floor emptied. As he led her away by the hand, Roxie looked back at the bar.

He won

t take my drink, will he? I wasn

t finished.


Don

t worry. If anything, Raul will refresh it.

The band switched to jazz and D.J. led Roxie smoothly around the dance floor, where several other couples joined them. Although she enjoyed the sensuous flow of their movement, Roxie wanted to sit down after two dances.

These are not exactly dancing shoes you picked for me to wear tonight, you know.

There was a pretty redhead seated next to Roxie

s stool at the bar. She seemed to be the only solo woman in the club. She smiled as Roxie sat down.

I love your dress! Wherever did you get it?

She spoke with a slight Southern drawl.

D.J.

s mood seemed to darken suddenly.

Roxie, this is Rita. She

s leaving. Bye, Rita.

He turned to Roxie, who was startled by his abruptness.


Are you ready for another drink?

he asked.

Roxie shook her head.

No, I

m just going to finish this one. But, get me a Perrier, please. I am so thirsty from dancing!

Roxie quickly drank the rest of her martini and the sparkling water showed up, as if by magic.

Who was she?

she asked D.J., nodding toward Rita, who had moved across the bar.

You certainly didn

t seem to like her. And why does she keep staring at us?


Someone I know from Atlanta. Ignore her, she

ll go away.

Roxie felt a warm flush come over her.

You know, D.J., I really think I need to eat. All that bubbly, a martini, and the dancing…I, um, think I

d better freshen up a bit. Where

s the ladies room?


Over there,

D.J. pointed toward the door.

When you come back, we

ll have dinner. Are you all right?

D.J. held out a steadying hand as Roxie stumbled.

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