Goddess of Vengeance (34 page)

‘W
hat’ve you done to your hair?’ Max gasped, when they all met by the elevator

Self-consciously Cookie reached up and patted her newfound curls. ‘Felt like a change,’ she mumbled.

‘It’s like a way big change!’ Max exclaimed, thinking how weird it was seeing Cookie without her trademark dreadlocks.

‘My idea,’ Frankie boasted.

‘I bet,’ Max retorted, flashing him a look.

‘What? You don’t like?’ Frankie said, a touch aggressively.

‘It’s . . . different,’ Max said, as the elevator arrived and they all piled in.

Danny had booked them a limo, even though The Cavendish was within walking distance.

Now it was Ace’s turn to look at Max as if to say –
A limo on top of everything else
.
What a joke.
But they all got in, and five minutes later they were there.

The Cavendish was nowhere near as luxurious or glamorous as The Keys. But its two owners – Renee Falcon Esposito and Susie Rae Young – made sure the hotel was a fun alternative. When Lucky had first built The Keys there’d been bad blood between them – or at least on Renee’s part. Renee had imagined The Keys was her competition, but it had turned out to be quite the opposite. Being located next to such a magnificent new hotel complex had revitalized The Cavendish, and business was booming. Renee and Susie adored Lucky, and would do anything for her. Lucky often came to their hotel and hung out, especially since they’d adopted a five-year-old Vietnamese orphan who was the light of their lives.

When Danny had called to get front-row seats for Max and her friends to attend the sold-out Gerald M. concert, Renee was happy to oblige, although why she was supposed to do it when one of Max’s friends was Gerald M.’s daughter, she wasn’t sure.

Gerald M. was quite a draw with Middle America. The ladies were all agog – he represented old-fashioned sexy. A few of them stashed an extra pair of panties in their purse, for when the opportunity arose they planned on tossing them onto the stage in the hope of attracting his attention at least for a second or two.

Max and her group arrived at the theatre in the hotel with minutes to spare. They were led to their front-row seats by an enthusiastic attendant, also a big Gerald M. fan.

‘I want to go backstage after,’ Frankie said to Cookie as they took their seats. ‘He does know we’re here, doesn’t he?’

‘Uh . . . yeah,’ Cookie lied. She was hoping that by the time the concert was over and if they took their time getting backstage, her dad would’ve taken off to the airport and the private plane he always had waiting. She was not thrilled about the prospect of Gerald M. meeting Frankie. Not that her dad would object to her having an older boyfriend, but she knew it was quite possible the two of them would bond – smoke a joint together, snort a little coke. And that thought horrified her.

Once they were settled in their seats, Ace reached for Max’s hand. She held his reluctantly, still struggling about what to do. Should she tell him about her and Billy? Or just carry on as if nothing had changed?

It was a dilemma she couldn’t quite work out. Eventually she would, because it wasn’t as if Billy was still in the picture, and Ace
was
a major hunk.

However, Lucky had always taught her to be honest. Tell the truth. Accept the consequences.

What to do? It was a difficult decision.

‘Who’s this dude Cookie’s hooked up with?’ Ace asked in a low disapproving voice. ‘I’ve seen him somewhere before.’

‘He’s an . . . uh . . . ex-friend of Bobby’s,’ Max replied. ‘You probably ran into him at the opening of The Keys. He used to go out with Annabelle Maestro.’

‘Who?’

‘It’s not important.’

‘I’m not getting a good vibe from him,’ Ace said.

‘You’re not?’

‘He’s got that rich dude sleaze factor goin’ on. Not to mention that he’s too old for her.’

‘Whatever,’ Max sighed. ‘You know Cookie, it won’t last.’

‘After the concert we’re taking off on our own, yes?’

Saved by the announcer who planted himself centre-stage and instructed everyone to turn off their cell phones, which reminded Max that she had yet to turn hers on since the plane ride.

Then, to thunderous applause and plenty of screaming fans, Gerald M. sauntered on stage, resplendent in tight purple leather pants and a blowsy white shirt unbuttoned to his waist, diamond medallions jiggling for space on his exposed chest. More Tom Jones than Usher, he immediately launched into a medley of his many hits – albeit most of them a decade or two old.

The mostly female audience erupted into hysterical sighs of joy as they leapt to their feet. Soon the panties would start flying.

Cookie shot Max a look that said –
kill me now!
while Ace groaned, and Max giggled.

Frankie wondered if he could sell Gerald M. a supply of pharmaceuticals. Why not? Had to invite him to River. Make him a regular customer. Get him to hang out there with some of the gorgeous girls he was always photographed with. Cookie could arrange it, it was about time she made herself useful. Sometimes a man required more than just an enthusiastic blow-job.

‘You didn’t tell me we were gonna have
this
much fun,’ Ace whispered in Max’s ear. ‘This dude’s got one foot firmly planted in the eighties. Does he know he’s a relic?’

‘Shh . . .’ Max scolded. ‘He’s Cookie’s dad, be nice.’

Ace squeezed her hand. ‘You really are a loyal friend, aren’t you?’

Suddenly Max remembered why she liked Ace. He always had her back, and he was always kind. The last thing Ace was into was being Mister Hollywood. He would never dump a girl after taking her virginity. No way.

She squeezed his hand back. ‘Glad you’re here,’ she whispered. ‘Wouldn’t want to go through this slow torture without you.’

‘Right back atcha, birthday girl.’

*   *   *

‘Holy shit!’ Kev exclaimed, sitting bolt upright at the table he shared with Billy in the Asian Fusion restaurant at The Cavendish Hotel. ‘You are
not
gonna believe who just jiggled her ass in here.’

Billy started to turn around.

‘Don’t do that!’ Kev warned. ‘It’s your friggin’ ex with that director you were always bitchin’ about.’

‘Alex Woods?’ Billy said, forcing himself not to turn and stare.

‘The very same.’

‘Just the two of them?’

‘Some other young dude is taggin’ along.’

‘That’s just fuckin’ great,’ Billy said grimly. He was pissed off enough that he couldn’t reach Max, and now his annoying ex was in town. Why was
she
in Vegas? And why was she with the sadistic Alex Woods, the motherfucker who’d forced him to do every stunt known to man on the movie they’d made together? Alex had almost killed him with his insane demands.

‘My luck,’ he muttered. ‘Can they see us?’

‘No,’ Kev answered, busily watching. ‘They’re being seated in a booth across the room.’

‘Then let’s get the fuck outta here while we can,’ Billy said, starting to stand up.

‘We just ordered,’ Kev pointed out. ‘An’ I don’t know ’bout you, but
I’m
starvin’. Reminder – we never had lunch.’

‘Jeez! Is your stomach more important than my comfort zone?’

‘Guess so.’

‘S’long as you’re sure they can’t see us,’ Billy grumbled, slouching back into his seat.

‘No way, man,’ Kev assured him. ‘We’re invisible.’

*   *   *

‘Hmm . . . you give great homecoming,’ Lennie said, lazily stroking Lucky’s thigh as they lay on the bed post lovemaking, sated and at peace after a passionate two hours. Having been involved with a documentary about tantric sex, Lennie was totally into it. Lucky had no objections. Tantric wasn’t all about the climax, it was about the slow steady climb, and the bliss that awaited at the top of the mountain.

When Lennie had first started practising it a couple of years earlier she’d been highly suspicious that he’d hooked up with some twenty-year-old yoga fanatic who was teaching him all the moves. But after experiencing it herself she was into it too. What woman could resist endless foreplay with a man who knew how to do everything right?

She often thought how far Lennie had come from the brash stand-up comedian she’d first met. Age and a series of traumatic experiences had mellowed him into a special and extraordinary man.

She loved him so much that sometimes it scared her. It was always somewhere in the back of her mind that the three people she’d loved the most had all been taken from her. Her gentle mother – Maria. Her brother – Dario. And the love of her life before Lennie, her fiancé – Marco. Each one of them murdered on the orders of one man, her Godfather, Enzio Bonnatti.

She’d shot and killed Enzio in what was seen as an act of self-defence.

Self defence. Sure. If that’s what everyone believed.

The truth was she’d set up the appropriate scenario, and blown the motherfucker away. He’d deserved it.

True Santangelo justice. And she didn’t regret it. Not for one single minute.

‘How’s little Max?’ Lennie asked. ‘Excited about her party?’

‘She’s a teenager, Lennie. The only thing that excites teenagers is getting away from their parents or a night of lust with Ian Somerhalder.’

‘Who’s Ian Somerhalder?’

‘
The Vampire Diaries
on TV. Sex and vampires. Guaranteed to get any teenager hot.’

‘I’m in the movie biz – it’s a different scene.’

‘Really?’ Lucky drawled.

‘Yes, really.’

‘I’d never have guessed.’

‘Shut the fuck up.’

‘Here’s what I love about you, Lennie,’ Lucky murmured softly. ‘You do exactly what you want to do, and so do I.’

‘Which is the reason our marriage works so well,’ he responded. ‘No ties. No petty jealousies.’

‘Amen,’ Lucky agreed.

‘
And
we have a daughter who takes after both of us,’ Lennie said with a grin. ‘Little Max. She’s a maverick. Gotta let her go do her thing.’

‘Are you intimating that
I’m
stopping her?’

‘Well, sweetheart, you
can
be kind of controlling when the mood hits you.’

‘Ha!’ Lucky exclaimed.

‘Ha what?’ Lennie retaliated.

‘Ha! It’s amazing that I still love you after all these years.’

‘All what years?’ Lennie questioned. ‘Seems to me like we’ve only been together a couple of months.’

‘Sweet talker.’

‘An’ doncha love it!’

‘Sometimes.’

‘Sometimes, she says,’ Lennie said affectionately, pulling her close.

‘Okay,’ she sighed. ‘I’ll admit it. All times.’

‘That’s my Lucky.’

She smiled, dark eyes flashing. ‘Always.’

*   *   *

At the same time as Billy was contemplating leaving the restaurant, Venus was enjoying her time with Alex and Jorge. Two extremely attractive men, generations apart. Jorge was a young stud, bursting with testosterone. While Alex was world weary, but filled with stories and life experiences Venus was dying to hear about.

Out of nowhere she suddenly found herself crazily attracted to Alex. He had a Jack Nicholson kind of vibe going, and even though he was getting up there, he was still wildly sexy in a dissolute kind of way.

Of course it was a well-known fact around Hollywood that Alex only went for Asian women; he’d already started hitting on the waitress, a petite girl from Thailand with appealing slanted eyes and a sheet of black hair that hung halfway down her back. But Venus was privy to the information that he’d always had a thing about Lucky. And since Lucky was forever faithful to Lennie, what would be wrong with her taking a shot?

After two extra-strong Lychee Martinis she felt the need to share. Jorge was busy stuffing his face with spare ribs and seaweed. Young, handsome, and dumb. Why was she even bothering?

Oh yes, sex with a studly stranger. Always a kick.

‘You know, Alex,’ she murmured, leaning toward him, her tone low and seductive, ‘I never understood why you and I didn’t get together when we were making our movie.’

‘Could it be that you were too busy fucking Billy?’ Alex said, arching one of his thick eyebrows.

‘Or that
you
had a crush on our producer?’ Venus countered, not willing to be outdone. ‘You know you did.’

‘If you mean Lucky,’ Alex said, speaking slowly, ‘we’ve always been best friends.’

‘Hmm . . .’

‘What does
that
mean?’ Alex said with a deep frown. He took a long beat. ‘Has Lucky ever said anything to you about me?’

‘Wouldn’t
you
like to know,’ Venus teased.

‘If you’ve got something to tell me, dear, spit it out,’ Alex said, his tone tense.

‘Why would I have anything to tell you?’ Venus replied, delighted she’d hit on Alex’s weak spot. Oh yes, he definitely still lusted after Lucky – the woman he could never have. Typical behaviour. Show a powerful man an unobtainable woman, and he wanted her.

‘Don’t screw with me, Venus,’ Alex said, still frowning. ‘I do not appreciate being played.’

The edge in Alex’s voice attracted Jorge’s attention. The young Brazilian put down the spare rib he was nibbling on, turned to Venus and said, ‘Everything good?’

‘Ah, he speaks!’ Alex mocked.

‘Yes, Jorge, everything’s fine,’ Venus said, ignoring Alex, while placating her boy toy with a firm pat on his finely muscled arm. ‘Alex is a major director,’ she added, speaking slowly as she pantomimed operating a movie camera. ‘Very important.’

‘Jesus Christ!’ Alex scoffed. ‘The boy probably speaks perfect English, an’ you’re treating him like a dummy.’

‘He’s not a boy,’ Venus said, annoyed that Alex was getting on her case.

‘What is he then?’ Alex questioned, raising a cynical eyebrow.

Before Venus could answer, a plump woman in a flowered dress managed to circumvent Venus’s bodyguards who were sitting at a table by the door, and presented herself in front of their table.

‘You’re just so pretty,’ the woman cooed, fluttering her hands. ‘I simply had to tell you. I’m from Kansas, and I seen you on Tee-Vee, but you are
much
prettier in person.’ The woman took a deep breath. ‘And yes, I have to say it – years younger.’