Confessions of a Wild Child (15 page)

Do I miss Jon?

Not really, especially when I eyeball the amount of talent cruising Westwood, mostly students from UCLA.

Dario and I make a good team. Between us we start hanging out with various kids we meet along the way. I am in desperate need of a new crush, and just in time, along comes Scott.

Scott’s black, and black is beautiful – which just about sums him up. He’s tall, plays basketball, speaks three languages, and has a smile to die for.

Scott is from New York, where his parents are both lawyers. He’s twenty. I inform him that I’m eighteen. We originally ran into each other at a pizza parlour and it was lust at first sight. For a couple of nights we hang out with Dario in tow, then Eric arrives in town for a visit, so Dario is off and running, leaving me and Scott to do our thing.

He takes me to a movie, and after we settle comfortably in the back row we create magic that has nothing to do with the film playing on the screen.

Wow! This is a boy with all the moves, and suddenly Jon is a very distant memory indeed, and Scott is front and centre.

I can’t help giggling when I think about what Gino’s reaction would be to his two darling children. One gay, and one making out with a black guy. Oh yes, Gino would throw a freaking fit!

Miss Drew makes a vain attempt to keep Dario and me in check, however she soon realizes she’s fighting a losing battle and pretends not to know what we’re up to.

We’re out every night, and I am having the best time. My only worry is – what does Gino have in store for me? He dragged me back from the South of France, plonked me down in our Bel Air house, pissed off to Vegas – now what?

I guess I’ll just have to wait and see. Meanwhile I’m enjoying every moment with Scott, although he’s getting a bit impatient about my ‘Everything but’ rule. ‘Y’know, Lucky, you’re not a kid,’ he informs me after one particularly heavy necking session. ‘You’re eighteen, so what’re you waiting for? You can’t stay a virgin for ever.’

I’m waiting to be legal
, I want to say. But I don’t, because that would freak him out, and I’ve decided that Scott is a keeper. So I continue stringing him along, making sure he’s always a satisfied customer – if you get my drift.

Dario is delighted to see Eric and spend time with him. So Dario and I are two happy little campers until Miss Drew informs us that Gino will be home tomorrow and we’d better curtail our out-of-the-house activities – whatever they might be.

Ah . . . she should only know
.

*  *  *

Gino is back from Vegas and he’s in an excellent mood. Apparently he has two new best friends, Senator Peter Richmond and his wife, Betty. He has invited them for dinner, and he wants me and Dario to be present at the dinner. What a major drag – neither of us is thrilled.

I encounter Marco in the hallway. He is still so handsome – dark and brooding. For a moment I almost forget about Scott, but only for a moment.

‘How are you, Marco?’ I ask, wondering if he is regarding me with new eyes.

‘Doin’ OK,’ Marco says, walking away from me and heading for the kitchen.

Hmm . . . he’s obviously attracted to me and doesn’t care to show it
.

I follow him into the kitchen. ‘So,’ I say, reaching for an apple. ‘How was Vegas?’

‘The usual,’ Marco says, refusing to make eye contact.

I take a bite of apple and edge closer to him. ‘What does
that
mean?’

‘It means that you don’t wanna know what goes on in Vegas.’

‘Oh yes I do,’ I say, eager to hear whatever he has to tell me.

‘Y’know somethin’,’ Marco says, finally looking at me. ‘You are some piece of work, Lucky.’

‘I am?’

‘You am.’

‘And why’s that?’ I ask boldly.

‘ ’cause your act is gettin’ old.’

I glare at him. ‘Excuse me?’

‘Y’know exactly what I mean. Running away to Europe. Givin’ Gino a ton of crap. How about growing up for a change? Actin’ like a person.’

My mouth drops open in surprise. How
dare
he talk to me like that. He’s an employee. I’m Gino’s daughter. He has major nerve.

I decide that I hate him.

‘Screw you, Marco,’ I spit in his direction, and before he can respond, I back out of the kitchen and make a dash for my room.

*  *  *

The Richmonds are middle-aged and super-boring. Why Gino wants me and Dario at this dinner is beyond me.

Betty Richmond has one of those long horsey faces you see on the society pages, while Peter Richmond obviously fancies himself as a charmer. He’s also a major letch, ’cause I catch him ogling my tits through my T-shirt. Obviously a pervert.

‘What a pretty young lady,’ he remarks to Gino.

I loathe being called pretty, the very word conjures up images of a stupid blonde girl with a fixed smile and perfect teeth. That is not me at all – I like to think of my looks as edgy and unusual.

‘She’s smart, too,’ Gino says, joining in.

Huh?
Compliments from Daddy Dearest? What’s up with
that
?

Dario and I exchange disgusted looks. Neither of us want to be at this dinner – unfortunately we were given no choice.

‘Lucky, dear,’ Betty Richmond says in a thin, tinkly voice.

‘Yes?’ I answer politely, noting that she has lipstick on her teeth and cold dead eyes.

‘Why don’t you tell me about yourself.’

Again,
huh
? Is she kidding? What does she want to know?

I run over what I
could
say.
Hmm . . . my name’s Lucky Santangelo, Gino saw fit to name me after a notorious Chicago gangster. When I was five I came across my mother’s naked blood-drenched body floating on a lilo in the family swimming pool. After that I was kind of kept locked away from the real world until I was sent off to boarding school in Switzerland where I discovered the joy of boys. Bingo! I like nothing more than major make-out sessions and seeing how far I can take it without going all the way.

‘There’s not much to tell,’ I answer vaguely.

Betty purses her thin lips, while Peter takes another surreptitious glance at my boobs.

‘Lucky’s gonna make some fortunate guy a wonderful wife one of these days,’ Gino says with a friendly chuckle. ‘An’ whoever that guy is – the little bastard gets
me
for a father-in-law. Some deal, huh?’

Talk about a blow-up ego. Gino has it going on big-time. And no, I am not making anyone a wonderful wife, I am conquering the world first, and who knows – maybe I’ll
never
get married. It’s my choice whatever I do.

‘Of course,’ Betty murmurs in answer to Gino’s comment.

‘Do you have children?’ I ask Betty, striving to be polite.

‘We have three daughters and a son, Craven,’ Betty replies.

‘Yes, and he’s a handsome sonofabitch,’ Peter booms.

‘That he is,’ Gino agrees. ‘You’re gonna meet him, Lucky. We’re all gettin’ together in Vegas.’

‘When?’ I venture.

‘Soon enough,’ Gino says.

*  *  *

Later, Dario and I make our escape through our usual downstairs window. We’ve called a cab to pick us up two houses away. By eleven we’re cruising Westwood. By twelve I’m shacked up with Scott at his place while his roommate is making out with a girl in the other room. Scott’s got it going on, and I am seriously contemplating going all the way when there is a minor earthquake – one of the joys of living in LA – and I realize I’d better get back to the house before someone starts checking on me and discovers I’m missing.

Dario and I meet up at a designated spot, and Eric gives us a ride back to our house.

We enter through the downstairs window and quietly make it up to our bedrooms. Nobody is around. My bed is still filled with bolsters and pillows so it looks as if I’m asleep under the pile of covers, should anyone care.

I give a sigh of relief and collapse into bed.

Soon I’ll be sixteen. It’s about time I started thinking about my future.

Chapter Thirty-Two

G
ino doesn’t stay in LA for long. After dinner with the Richmonds he is preparing to take off again, this time to New York. A couple of days later he leaves with a promise that Vegas is definitely in my future. I start thinking that perhaps he’s lined up a school for me in Vegas – now
that
I can deal with. Before he goes I manage to get him to agree that I can take driving lessons, and since Dario has to return to his school in San Diego I am delighted to have something to do during the day.

My driving instructor is called Carlos, a man with a devilish smile. He’s Hispanic and short – but quite attractive in an older-man kind of way. The thing is, I can already drive, so hanging out with Carlos for a couple of hours a day is a bonus. He’s funny and he sings aloud as if he’s planning to be the next Marc Anthony. We get along fine. Too fine, because although he wears a thick gold wedding band it doesn’t take long before he comes on to me.

What is it with men? Do they all walk around with a permanent hard-on, waiting to pounce?

I tell Carlos that I’m a virgin, and that he’d better back off or I’ll inform my father. This quiets him down, but after that things are not the same, and I get Miss Drew to cancel any further lessons and to book me a driving test, which I am happy to report that I pass. Now all I have to do is wait for Gino’s return, and hope that he’ll surprise me with a car for my sixteenth birthday. Wouldn’t
that
be something.

Meanwhile, things are not going smoothly with Scott. He’s totally pushing me to go further than I’m prepared to, and we end up having a fierce fight, during which I scream at him – ‘I’m fifteen, you jerk!’ And that’s the last I’ve seen of Scott. I guess age
does
matter.

So how am I filling my days waiting for Gino to come home? Well, I’ve rediscovered reading and I’ve become obsessed with the biographies of well-known, successful businessmen and how they made it all the way to the top. Hey – riveting stuff. I’m totally into it.

Learning is the new me. No more stupid boys who are only after one thing.

Wow! Am I finally growing up? I think I am.

*  *  *

On the morning of my sixteenth birthday I awake to the news that Gino is back in LA. Miss Drew knocks on my door and informs me that my father would love me to join him for breakfast on the patio.

I experience a tingle of excitement as I jump out of bed. Will there be a Mercedes or a Porsche waiting for me in the driveway? All shiny and new, wrapped in a great big bow? Oh YES!

I pull on my jeans and T-shirt and hurry downstairs.

I am sixteen
, I think.
Almost an adult. No more school for me. I want to get into my father’s business. I want to learn everything. I know I can do it
.

Gino greets me with a smile and a – ‘Happy birthday, kiddo.’

A hug would’ve been nice, but he doesn’t move from his seat at the outdoor table.

‘Hi, Daddy,’ I say, ‘welcome back.’

‘You bin behavin’ yourself?’ he asks.

‘Of course,’ I reply.

‘Good t’know,’ he says. ‘’Cause I’ve decided to open a bank account for you. Plus I’m givin’ you that credit card you’re always carryin’ on about. I figured it’s about time you learned how to manage money.’

Hmm . . . a bank account and a credit card.
Yippee
. Not quite a car, but still an excellent way to start the day.

‘Wow!’ I murmur. ‘Thanks.’

‘Nobody gave me nothin’ when
I
hit sixteen,’ Gino offers. ‘But I guess – since you’re my kid – I can spoil you if I feel like it. Right?’

I nod attentively, and slide into a chair opposite him. He still hasn’t said a word about the South of France and that whole episode. I keep on expecting some kind of dire punishment, but nothing so far. Maybe he loves me after all, and is simply relieved to get me back in one piece.

I reach for a slice of toast and slather it with butter.

‘How was New York?’ I ask.

‘Same old same old,’ Gino replies.

‘Did you see Aunt Jen and Uncle Costa?’

‘Sure. Had a coupla things I wanted to check out with Jen.’

‘What things?’ I ask curiously.

‘Stuff about you, if you wanna know.’

‘Me?’ I say, quite startled.

‘Yeah, you,’ Gino nods his head. ‘Does that surprise you?’

‘Uh . . . I never really thought about it.’

‘Well, start thinkin’, ’cause I think I kinda solved our problem.’

‘What problem?’ I ask, although I know exactly what problem he’s talking about. Me and school. A horrible match. I swear if he sends me to another boarding school I’ll simply take off again, and this time I’ll make sure he doesn’t find me.

Gino shrugs and sips his coffee – black and strong. ‘You got a pretty dress?’ he enquires.

Shows how well he knows me. I hate wearing dresses – not my style at all.

‘Why?’ I ask carefully.

‘’Cause we’re goin’ to Vegas exactly like I promised.’

‘We are?’ I ask, suddenly major excited. ‘When?’

‘Today, kiddo. Gotta celebrate your birthday in style, an’ tonight there’s this big charity event I’m hosting for Betty Richmond at my hotel, so go pack somethin’ nice – I don’t wanna see you in those crummy jeans an’ T-shirt. You’re my kid, you gotta shine.’

Really? I’m his kid, am I? And the party I’m going to in Las Vegas is not for me, it’s for uptight Betty Richmond – our lady of the cold dead eyes.

I am half furious, but only half, because at least I get to go to Vegas, and I guess that’s a bonus I can live with.

Chapter Thirty-Three

L
as Vegas is one big major thrill! Bright lights, sidewalks teeming with people, a mass of frantic activity. Everything is so unlike the staid winding streets of Bel Air. And as for the towering neon-lit hotels, all I can say is – wow! I’m excited. I can’t wait to get out of the limo driving us from the airport and explore the streets. However, no such luck, because the limo deposits me and Gino at his latest hotel, and I am whisked up to his penthouse suite where I am to stay. Gino immediately takes off, leaving me in the charge of Flora, a thirty-something woman with a fixed smile, dyed red hair, and obvious fake boobs. She is one of the VIP hostesses at the hotel, and has obviously received a full set of instructions from Gino about where she is supposed to take me, and what we are supposed to do.