Goddess of Vengeance (38 page)

Billy laughed, fleetingly thought about going for it, then hurriedly excused himself, walked outside the club and tried Max again.

Once again there was no answer, so this time he decided to text her.

‘Hey – it’s me – Billy. Where r u? Been trying to reach u. I’m in Vegas. Want to c u. Call me.’

It was done. He’d contacted her, now all she had to do was respond.

*   *   *

Everyone ended up piling into the restaurant area of Mood: Gerald M. and his entourage – which consisted of his two backup singers, and his assistant/procurer of female talent. Then there was Cookie and Frankie (so up Gerald M.’s ass there was no room for anyone else), Max and a reluctant Ace.

‘What happened to ducking out on our own?’ Ace said in a low voice to Max, as they settled at the table. He was becoming resigned to the fact that it seemed like he was never getting her to himself.

‘This is Vegas, things happen,’ she answered restlessly. ‘Besides, we can’t be here and
not
see Bobby. He’s sitting in a cabana by the pool. Let’s go visit.’

Before Ace could object, she grabbed him by the hand and began pulling him across the restaurant to the outside club area.

Bobby spotted them approaching. ‘How to ruin a special moment,’ he muttered to Denver. ‘Trust Max to have the worst timing in town.’

‘She doesn’t know,’ Denver said, feeling quite light-headed. ‘Besides, I really would like to get to know her.’

‘You’re sure about that?’ Bobby said, standing up as Max descended.

‘Hey, big bro,’ Max said, flinging her arms around him in her usual proprietary fashion. ‘Remember Ace?’

‘Absolutely,’ Bobby said, giving Ace an amiable nod. ‘And you all know Denver.’

Max threw her a perfunctory nod, while Ace said a polite, ‘Nice to meet you.’

‘Likewise,’ Denver replied, thinking that if this was Max’s boyfriend she’d done well for herself.

‘Ace drove all the way from Big Bear just to be with me,’ Max said, hovering by the table.

‘How nice,’ Denver said. ‘I bet you were thrilled to see him.’

As usual Max ignored her. ‘Guess who’s here?’ she said to Bobby.

‘You know I’m not good at guessing games.’

‘Your old BFF Frankie Romano.’

‘Where?’ Bobby said.

‘We’re sitting with him at Cookie’s dad’s table in the restaurant. You should come over. I know he’d love to see you.’

‘Maybe later,’ Bobby said. Once he and Frankie, along with M.J., had been best friends, but those days were over. ‘You know,’ he added sternly, ‘you’re not supposed to be in this area of the club.’

‘How come?’ Max shot back.

‘’Cause you’re not twenty-one. And that means we could lose our licence.’

‘As if!’ Max scoffed. ‘Besides, we’ve all got fake I.D.s.’

‘Great,’ Bobby said sarcastically. ‘That makes me feel so much better.’

Then, to his relief, he spotted Lucky and Lennie walking in. Great timing, because it meant that Max was no longer his problem. Let Lucky deal with her.

‘Here comes your mom and dad,’ he warned. ‘Better skip back to your table, little girl, or Mommy might give you a smacked bottom.’

‘You are
so
mean,’ Max said, making a face. ‘I hate you!’

‘Not mean, just protective.’

‘Anyway, what are
they
doing here?’ Max said, twisting her head to take a look as Lucky and Lennie approached. ‘I thought they wanted alone time. So gross!’

‘Nice way to talk about your parents,’ Bobby said.

‘They’re yours too,’ Max pointed out.

‘Half mine,’ Bobby said, correcting her.

‘Whatever.’

Moments later Lucky and Lennie were upon them, and Lennie was giving Max hugs, while Lucky was checking out Denver, and Bobby was thinking –
half an hour later and we could’ve been safely out of here.

In the club business, the night was only just beginning.

Chapter Forty-Two

A
nnabelle Maestro was a talker, she didn’t shut up for a minute. Armand had no idea what or who she was talking about. He didn’t know and he didn’t care. Names came and went as they sat in one of the open lounges drinking tequila on the rocks with limoncello chasers – a lethal combination thought up by Annabelle. He liked the buzz the liquor was giving him. He liked the fact that there was no Fouad around keeping a watchful eye on him.

‘If you’re not here for the fights, what
are
you doing in Vegas?’ she asked, rubbing her index finger around the rim of her glass and staring at him expectantly.

‘I am buying The Keys hotel and casino,’ Armand announced.
Yes, that’s what I’m doing. Damn you, Lucky Santangelo. You’ll soon learn that when Armand Jordan wants something he gets it. I am unstoppable. And if I say something is going to happen, it will take place, whether you think you can stop it or not. But how can you stop it if you’re dead? Impossible.

‘You’re kidding!’ Annabelle exclaimed, her eyes widening. This guy wasn’t just rich, he was mega-rich. Ever since their one date a few months ago, she’d had her eye on him. Although they’d experienced one long wild night of sex, he’d never called. Annabelle did not appreciate rejection, especially as she considered herself semi-famous, and he should’ve been thrilled to date her.

Armand had quite a reputation in New York as being aloof and difficult to pin down. But Annabelle was well aware that he was a major catch and she craved a steady boyfriend. There’d been nobody permanent since she’d broken up with that sad sack druggie Frankie Romano.

Earlier in the evening she’d had a big fight with her latest boyfriend, Eddie Falcon, the super-agent. They’d only been seeing each other a few weeks, but tonight she’d discovered – after scrolling through his texts – that Eddie was cheating on her with not one, but three other girls. Apparently he was the Tiger Woods of super-agents. What an asshole! She’d been planning on dumping him and flying back to New York, but then walking through the casino to cool off, she’d run into Armand.

When opportunity beckoned, Annabelle was not about to turn it down.

‘I never thought Lucky would sell,’ Annabelle said. ‘When’s this happening?’

‘Soon,’ Armand replied, feeling the need to get to his villa and indulge in a few more lines of coke before the hookers got there. He’d informed the concierge to alert him when they arrived, and to have them wait in his villa. For a thousand-dollar tip Armand figured the concierge would’ve fucked them himself.

‘Then you must be going to the party tomorrow night,’ Annabelle ventured.

‘What party?’ Armand asked, thinking that he would invite her back to his villa to see if he could get her to interact with the paid prostitutes. Now
that
might be worth watching.

‘Lucky’s daughter, Max, is turning eighteen. There’s a big blowout at The Keys,’ Annabelle said. ‘Since I told my boyfriend to take a hike, I could go with you. I know the Santangelos – I’m sure they’d be delighted to see me. Bobby and I went to high school together.’

‘Who is Bobby?’

‘Lucky’s son – he runs the club Mood in The Keys. We’re tight. Maybe we should stop by for a drink.’

Tight. What did that mean? This girl spoke a language he didn’t understand and certainly didn’t want to. However, since she knew the Santangelo family, she could turn out to be useful after all.

‘What do you think?’ Annabelle asked, tilting her head to one side.

‘I think we should go to my villa first. Spend some private time.’

Annabelle considered his offer. She didn’t want sex – followed by no phone call. Oh, no, that wouldn’t do at all.

On the other hand, Armand
was
one of the most eligible bachelors in New York, and perhaps the timing was right to give him another chance. What did she have to lose?

‘One drink,’ she said brightly. ‘Then onto Mood. Is that a plan?’

Armand nodded.

Why did God give women the ability to speak? Why couldn’t they just keep their stupid mouths shut?

*   *   *

Once Peggy captured her prize – Gino’s sneezed-in napkin – she was anxious to end the dinner and get back to her suite.

But Paige was having none of it. She was enjoying Peggy’s company, and suggested they move onto The Cavendish club for a nightcap.

‘I’m a little past nightclubs,’ Peggy demurred.

‘If I can do it, so can you,’ Gino wheezed. ‘I’m two hundred years old, hon. You’re a spring chicken.’

For a moment Peggy was tempted to remind him of their one-night fling all those years ago. But good sense prevailed and she said nothing.

‘You see what I have to put up with?’ Paige said with a complacent smile. ‘The man is tireless. He hardly ever sleeps.’

‘What? I should sleep my friggin’ life away?’ Gino interrupted. ‘When I go, it won’t be quietly in the night, it’ll be in the middle of a fuckin’ party.’

Paige shook her head. ‘Energy to burn,’ she said. ‘If we could bottle it we’d make a fortune.’

For a split second Peggy flashed onto a memory of Gino making love to her. Energy to burn, indeed. He’d been an insatiable lover. Other men had paled in comparison, especially King Emir, who after a while had suffered from premature ejaculation – something that didn’t seem to bother him because he was a King, so who would dare to criticize?

‘I suppose one drink wouldn’t hurt,’ Peggy said, removing her powder compact from her purse and checking out her appearance.

‘Not bad for an old broad,’ Gino said with a lecherous chuckle.

‘I thought I was a spring chicken,’ Peggy retorted. And for one quick moment she thought she spied a hint of recognition in his dark all-knowing elderly eyes.

*   *   *

Carlos, the chief concierge at The Cavendish, a well-put-together Latin man, personally escorted Luscious and Seducta to Armand Jordan’s villa. The two women smelled of cheap perfume, musty sweat, cigarettes and booze. Hardly a winning combination.

Carlos was surprised to observe such low-rent women. Surely a man such as Armand Jordan expected better than these two?

Luscious pranced around the living room on her cheap six-inch red hooker heels, a cigarette dangling from her over-plumped lips. Her legs were bare, and on her left calf was the tattoo of a body-builder winking at no one in particular.

‘Where’s the . . . uh . . . mister?’ she asked.

‘He’ll be here shortly,’ Carlos replied, deciding it would not be wise to leave them alone in the villa. They looked like the type of women who – if left to their own devices – would steal anything that was not locked down. ‘And this is a no smoking room,’ he added. ‘So if you’d refrain—’

‘Fuck that shit,’ Luscious said, boldly blowing a smoke ring in his face. ‘If I get cancer an’ die I promise not to blame you.’

Seducta guffawed as she threw herself down on the couch, one streaky fake-tanned leg casually flung over the side. Her large breasts threatened to fall out of the flimsy top she was wearing, while her red, white and blue g-string was fully on show. ‘I could go for a drink while we’re waitin’,’ she said, winking meaningfully at Carlos.

He glanced at his watch. Was he supposed to serve these two creatures drinks? Armand Jordan might be an excellent tipper, but he, Carlos, was nobody’s lackey. ‘Mr Jordan will be here shortly,’ he said. ‘It’s up to him if he wishes you to drink.’

‘For crissakes,’ Luscious whined. ‘Lighten up. You’re a workin’ stiff, just like us. Get the stick out your ass and pour us a fuckin’ drink.’

‘Yeah, I’m parched,’ Seducta agreed, sitting up. ‘One drink, an’ if you promise to behave I’ll show you my titties.’

‘I don’t—’

‘Oh yeah, you do!’ Seducta said, peeling down her top and revealing the largest fake boobs Carlos had ever seen.

The women were disgustingly vulgar, but he was a man after all, and the sudden stirring in his pants reminded him of that fact. He realized that he had to leave immediately before he did something to dishonour his lovely wife of six months. Let them steal. Whatever they took he would simply add onto Mr Jordan’s bill.

‘The drinks cupboard is behind the bar,’ he said, hurriedly backing toward the door. ‘Help yourselves.’

‘Bye, honey,’ Seducta crooned, shaking her enormous bare breasts at him. ‘See you around!’

*   *   *

‘What took place between you and the man you came to Vegas with?’ Armand asked, as he and Annabelle walked through the casino on their way outside to his villa. He wasn’t at all interested in anything she had to say, but faking it socially was a talent he’d cultivated over the years. Make them like you, then stick it to them – hard.

‘He was one of those hot-shot Hollywood jerks,’ Annabelle complained. ‘A lying prick who had me figured as a money machine for him to milk. Promised me my own reality show, then when we got here I discovered he’d not only pitched another celeb, but he was sleeping with her too.’

Armand made a sympathetic sound in the back of his throat. As if he cared. He didn’t. Not one bit.

‘Tell me about the party tomorrow night – you say it’s for Lucky Santangelo’s daughter?’

‘That’s right,’ Annabelle said. ‘Lucky dotes on Max. It’s all about ego – Max is like a little version of her mom.’ She paused for a breath. ‘Surely you’re invited, considering you’re buying The Keys? I can’t imagine they wouldn’t invite you.’