Deadly Embrace (43 page)

"So you'll still be doing it when you're forty?" he complained.
"That's
gross
."

"Thank you, Vincent dear. I love it when you pay me
compliments."

"C'mon, Mom, it's just not cool. And I sure don't want Nando
finding out."

"Then don't bring him to the show."

"Believe me—I won't. But there's photographs of you all over
the hotel."

"Then don't go to that hotel."

Dean was on Vincent's side. "Maybe you
should
give some
thought to retiring," he said.

"Why? Don't you think I look good anymore?"

"You
always
look beautiful," Dean assured her.

"Then why should I give it up? I have no other skills."

"Marry me," he said, always hopeful, "and you won't need any."

There he goes again
, she thought. And yet she couldn't help
feeling flattered.

* * *

Vincent went to the airport to meet Nando. He was excited. He
couldn't wait to see his best friend from childhood. Then he began
wondering if Nando
had
changed.

When Nando strode off the plane, carrying a tote bag and a stack
of magazines, there was
no
mistaking him. He had that I
am
trouble
glint in his eyes. His hair was even longer than
Vincent's, and he was wearing the tightest of ragged jeans and a
black shirt. Only Nando could get away with wearing a black shirt in
the middle of summer. Not conventionally handsome, he was attractive
in a quirky, off-v beat way, and very skinny.

Vincent took a deep breath. How did men greet each other? He
didn't know, he'd never had a father to teach him.

Nando waved, dropped half his magazines, picked them up, and raced
over. "
Son of a bitch
!" he exclaimed. "You've gotten more
handsome. Screw you, asshole!"

"Screw you, too," Vincent retorted.

Then they hugged.

"Sorry to hear about your grandfather," Vincent said as they
walked from the airport.

"Forget it," Nando said. "Esai was a miserable old bastard."

"He was?"

A pretty girl walked by and Nando made appreciative sucking
noises. The girl ignored him.

"The good news is that when I'm twenty-one I inherit everything.
I'm a rich kid now."

"You?"

"Yeah, me," Nando boasted. "The money's in trust, so I can't get
my hands on it yet, but when I do—watch out!"

"Wow!" Vincent said. "Cool."

"Yeah," Nando said, winking at another girl. "I'm buyin' me a
Ferrari
!"

"Red?"

"Naw. Black. An' you and me are gonna take a trip around the
world."

"We are?"

"Betcha ass."

"What about college?"

"Who wants to waste time in college?"

"My mom's planning a trip back east to take a look at colleges
there."

"Your mom still a babe?"

"She's uh ... looking good."

"Hot lady," Nando said.

"Don't talk about my mom like that," Vincent said, frowning.

"Sorry," Nando said, whistling at a passing brunette in a short
red dress.

Vincent fervently hoped that Nando would not find out-about Dani's
topless appearances at the Magiriano. It was bad enough that he'd had
to take so much ribbing at school. Nando seeing her like that would
be too humiliating.

Back at the house, Dani greeted the two of them warmly.
"
You
sure grew into a big boy," she said, giving Nando a
hug.

"Yes, Mrs. Robinson," he answered with a cheeky grin, holding the
hug for a few seconds too long.

"Excuse me?"

"Joking!" Nando said, still grinning.

Vincent took him upstatrs to his room.

"Got a cigarette?" Nando asked, prowling around.

"Don't smoke."

"Any grass?"

"Don't do drugs."

"Jesus!" Nando exclaimed. "Thank your lucky balls
I'm
back
to give you a freakin'
life
."

"Not in
this
house," Vincent said quickly. "My mom would
have a fit."

"Don't tell me she's made you into a mommy's boy?"

"Mom works very hard, so I try not to give her a hard time."

"You gotten laid yet?" Nando asked, throwing himself down on the
bed. "Had any prime pussy come your way?"

"I do okay," Vincent said evasively, although the truth was he had
not
gotten laid.

" 'Okay' doesn't cut it," Nando said, yawning. "I can see I gotta
give you an education. An' one that
doesn't
take place in
school."

* * *

Dani wasn't sure that the return of Nando was a good thing. She could
tell that he was still a wild one, only now he was no longer a child.
Even though he was only seventeen, he looked older. He was staying
with them for a month, which meant that she'd have to watch both of
them. She hoped he wasn't going to be a bad influence on Vincent.

Dean was flying back to Houston the next day, so that night they had
their usual dinner together after the show. Over dessert she confided
her fears.

"Vincent won't get into trouble," Dean assured her. "He's a decent
kid."

"Do you think so?" she asked anxiously.

"Yes, Dani, and
you're
quite a woman."

"I don't know, Dean," she worried. "I feel I've done the best I
can, raising him by myself. Then sometimes I look back on mistakes I
might have made."

"What mistakes?"

She picked up her wineglass and took a sip. "The thing with
Michael."

"You're dragging up Michael again?" he said, always reluctant to
address the subject of the man he considered his chief rival. "I
showed you the clippings and you made your own decision. You put your
son first, which was the right thing for you to do."

"Sometimes I'm not so sure ..."

"Did he ever come back and try to change your mind?" Dean asked
forcefully.

"No," she murmured.

"Then what are you worrying about? Doesn't it prove to you that
you didn't mean anything to him?"

"Thanks, Dean," she said sarcastically. 'You make me feel like a
million bucks."

"I'll make you feel even better if you'll marry me and stop this
nonsense."

"What
nonsense
?"

"Independent woman, still insisting on paying me back, have to
keep on stripping in a show—"

"I do
not
strip," she said frostily. "I am a showgirl. I
glide around the stage in gorgeous outfits. Something wrong with
that?"

"Vincent isn't happy about it."

"Vincent should realize that what I do keeps us in the style to
which
he
has become accustomed," she snapped, fed up with
criticism.

"Yes,
ma'am
."

"When will you be back?"

"I'm not sure," he said, hesitating for a moment. "There's a woman
I've been seeing."

"Are you getting married again?" she asked lightly.

"If
you
won't have me, probably."

"Hmm ... then perhaps this time you should try and remember to get
a prenuptial," she teased.

"Yes, dear."

They smiled at each other. They had an intimate friendship. And
over time it seemed to strengthen and get better.

* * *

Nando's visit turned into Dani's nightmare. Just as she'd thought, he
was obviously wilder than ever, and an extremely bad influence on
Vincent. Running around town was his activity of choice.

"You're too young to play in the casinos," she warned him.

"Wouldn't do that, Mrs. Castle," Nando replied, pseudo innocent to
the hilt, fake ID stashed firmly in his pants pocket.

She didn't believe him. She knew he was smoking pot; the sfhell
permeated the house.

"Vincent," she asked her son, "does Nando do drugs?"

"No, Mom."

"I can smell grass."

"Oh yeah," Vincent answered vaguely. "That's Nando's special
cigarettes. He has to smoke them for his, uh... throat."

"What
are
you
talking
about?" she said, frowning.
"Do you think I'm a complete idiot?"

"No, Mom, honestly—they're medicinal."

"Not in
this
house. Tell Nando he cannot smoke
here-medicinal or otherwise."

"
C'mon
, Mom. I'll look like a real jerk if I tell him
that."

"Should I tell him then?"

"No way," Vincent said sulkily. "I'll do it."

Nando was into the Rolling Stones. He played their music day and
night at full volume. The raunchy rock and roll sounds reverberated
throughout the house, giving Dani a permanent headache.

God knows what they got up to while she was at work. Unfortunately
she was unable to watch them twenty-four hours a day.

One night she came home and there were girls in the
house—not one, not two, but five of them. All sitting around in
her kitchen, smoking, drinking wine, and generally enjoying
themselves. They were in their twenties and looked suspiciously like
hookers.

"Vincent," she said, standing at the kitchen door, feeling like a
prison guard, "can I see you for a moment?"

He emerged, quite unsteady on his feet. "Yeah, Mom?"

"Have you been drinking?"

"No."

"What
is
going on?"

"Huh?" he mumbled, obviously drunk.

She was furious. "Who are these girls?" she asked.

"Friends of Nando's," he explained, a stupid grin on his handsome
face. "I said it was okay for them to hang out."

"Well, it's not."

"You mean I can't have friends over to the house?" he said,
spoiling for a fight.

"I'm not saying that."

"Then what
are
you saying?"

She didn't want to create a scene in front of people—it
certainly wouldn't help matters to humiliate him. "Make sure they
stay in the kitchen," she said firmly. "Do
not
take them
upstairs to your room."

"Sure, Mom," he mumbled sarcastically. "Wouldn't wanna do anything
to upset you."

It was at that precise moment it occurred to her that Vincent
definitely needed - a strong man to control him. He needed a
father.

The truth was he
had
a father. Michael Castelli. A man
she'd sent away. Only now was she beginning to regret it. Oh yes,
he'd been accused of a murder, and Dean seemed to think that he'd
done it. But according to the newspapers he was acquitted, and she
hadn't even given him a chance to explain
why
he hadn't told
her.

She was beginning to realize that it wasn't fair to deprive
Vincent of his real father.

Sometimes, when she thought about Michael, she was overcome with
deep feelings of regret. She'd never fallen out of love with him, and
that was something she had to face up to.

As soon as Nando left, she was taking Vincent to New York, where
they were going to check out some college campuses.

In her mind she made a major decision. When she got to New York,
she would contact Michael and tell him the truth.

Vincent deserved to know who his real father was. It was time.

The van hurtled down Beverly Boulevard at full speed. Madison was
scared that if they crashed she'd be thrown through the front window.
She wished she could reach for a seat belt. Though it was kind of a
stupid thought in view of the circumstances, she realized.

Cole wasn't saying a word, he was concentrating on his driving,
which was good. Unfortunately the helicopter still hovered above
them, shining lights in the black sky.

"Get that fuckin' copter outta here!" the gunman yelled.

"It's not in my control," Madison responded.

"Fuckin'
bitch
!" he muttered. "Think you're so fuckin'
smart."

"There's nothing I can do," she said through clenched teeth. "It's
the media—they play by their own rules."

"They better get the fuck outta here. 'Cause two more minutes, an'
one of you mothafuckers leaves this van."

The young woman in the back began to moan.

"Don't you have any conscience?" Madison asked, staring at him
angrily. "You've already
shot
two people. What kind of an
animal are you?"

"I got nothin' to lose," he jeered, small pig eyes full of hate.
"
You're
the fuckin' losers. It ain't
my
fault if you
can't control shit."

The Manray was an extremely spacious and noisy establishment, with
blowup photographs of naked girls displayed outside and a man on the
street doing his best to lure customers inside.

Nando pulled his Ferrari up to the door and handed the parking
valet twenty bucks. "Keep a watch on this car, and there's another
twenty for you when I come out."

"Yes sir."

* * *

"Well," Jolie drawled, surveying the scene. "This looks like a
pleasant little place."

"Remember what I told you," Nando said, taking her arm as they
walked inside. "Sure, it's sleazy now, but here's
my
thinking.
We can make it into the hottest strip club in town. A place where
guys can spend their money and not feel as if they're gettin' ripped
off."

Jolie was hardly prepared for the amount of nudity that assailed
her. Naked girls were everywhere. The waitresses had no clothes on as
they went about their business, lap dances were taking place all
along the side of the stage, and on the stage itself, ten females
were doing their thing, totally nude and uninhibited.

"This is a cesspit," Jolie said, wrinkling her nose. "The girls
aren't even attractive."

"What did you expect—the Folies in Paris?"

"Why do you think the owners will consider partnering with
you?"

" 'Cause everybody gets off on makin' a buck. And I can guarantee
this place three times the amount of revenue it's taking now."

"Pstill think you should bring Vincent in on it."

"Oh yeah, Vincent. Mr. Pure."

"What's he done to upset you?"

"Look," Nando explained, "I grew up with Vin. I know him better
than anybody. He was repressed by that mother of his."