Double Lucky (38 page)

“Do you know if they're still alive?”

He shrugged again. “Dunno.”

Ace came back with a couple of chocolate bars and sodas he'd gotten from the vending machine. Max grabbed a chocolate bar, peeled off the wrapper, and stuffed it in her mouth. “
Sooo
good,” she sighed.

After a while the doctor returned and informed them that the old man's condition was not as serious as they'd thought. Apparently he suffered from narcolepsy and had fallen into an extremely deep sleep.

“You can come in and see him now,” the doctor said. “He's awake and doing fine.”

They all trooped into a room where the old man was sitting in an armchair. “What happened?” he asked, looking quite alert. “Why'd you bring me here?”

“You shouldn't be driving with your condition,” the doctor scolded. “Especially long distances.”

“Who, me? I'm strong as iron,” the old man retaliated. “An' I
gotta
drive, it's my living. Besides, Jed here's gonna learn soon enough—ain't ya, son?”

“You had me worried, Gramps.”

“Nonsense. I took a little nap an' you all panicked. Kids today!”

“Well, now that you're okay,” Ace said, “we gotta get going. So, uh … thanks for the ride.”

“Jed,” Max said, “I'll send you that CD player. I promise I won't forget.”

“What player?” Gramps asked grumpily.

“She's buyin' me a CD player, Gramps,” Jed said excitedly. “She's sendin' it to me.”

“We'll see about that,” the old man huffed. “We've never bin acceptin' of nobody's charity.”

“Write down your address,” Max said, taking a piece of paper from the table.

Jed looked pleadingly at his grandfather, who reluctantly nodded that it was okay.

Jed scribbled on the piece of paper and handed it to her. “You're nice,” he said shyly. “And you're pretty.”

“Thanks,” she said, almost blushing.

“S'long, everyone,” Ace said. “We're on our way.”

They left the old man and the boy at the clinic and began to walk the fifteen minutes to Kmart.

“I'm keeping my fingers crossed that my car's there,” Max said, walking fast to keep up with him. “What do
you
think?”

“I think this is one weekend neither of us will ever forget,” he said, shooting her a long look.

“What did you tell your brother about being gone all weekend?”

“That I was with my girlfriend.”

“You've got a girlfriend?” she said, feeling horribly disappointed.

“Yeah,” he answered casually. “Didn't I mention her?”

“No, you didn't.”

“Sometimes I spend the weekends at her place. He doesn't care what I do, he's a brother, not a parent. Big difference.”

She was silent, thinking,
Is this it? When I find my car do I just say good-bye to Ace and that's it?

“Uh, is there a way I can, y'know, thank you for rescuing me this weekend?” she said, biting down hard on her bottom lip. “Are you on e-mail?”

“Very funny,” he said wryly. “You wanna start with
me
now? One Internet Freak wasn't enough?”

“No, seriously,” she said, breaking a smile. “What's your e-mail?”

“I'm not into e-mail.”

“You're not?”

“Who's got the time?”

“You have plenty of time. The day I ran into you, you were lurking around doing exactly nothing.”

“That's 'cause I kinda had a fight with my girlfriend.”

“You did?”

“Yeah, she works at Kmart. I hooked up with you to make her jealous.”

“So the whole bank robbery thing—”

“It was a story,” he admitted.

“I knew that,” she said quickly.

“No you didn't.”

“Yes I did.”

“Okay, and
I
knew you weren't eighteen,” he said, squinting at her. “Why'd you lie?”

“It wasn't a lie.”

“It was blatant.”

“I'll be seventeen soon enough.”

“When's your birthday?”

“In about eight months!”

“You're too much,” he said, laughing. “And I don't have e-mail. But,” he added casually, “maybe I'll call you sometime.”

“No you won't,” she said, thinking,
No he won't.

“Yeah, I will.”

“Instead of calling, come visit me in L.A.,” she answered boldly, stopping for a minute to catch her breath.

“With my girlfriend?” he countered.

“If you want.”

They exchanged a long look.

“We could double-date,” she added, starting to walk again. “You and her, me and
my
boyfriend.”

“Thought you said you broke up with your boyfriend?”

“I was lying. This weekend was all about making him jealous.” A long beat. “You know what
that's
like, don't you?”

“Are you trying to one-up me?” he said, grinning.

“Maybe,” she replied, thinking how hot he was with the smile and the great white teeth and the appealing cleft in his chin.

“Hey,” he said nonchalantly, “the kid was right.”

“About what?”

“You
are
pretty.”

She held her breath for a moment.
Pretty
 …
hmm
 … And she looked like crap—they both did. Apparently he didn't think so.

“Uh, you should see me when I try,” she said, going for flippant.

“Guess I'll havta raincheck that.”

They exchanged another look.

Five more minutes and they reached the Kmart parking lot. “Wow!” Max said, quickening her pace. “I think I see my car. How exciting is
this
?”

“Let's hope he hasn't left a bomb under the hood,” Ace said.

“Oh, great!” she groaned. “Make me feel secure.”

“You're always secure, aren't you? You're that kind of girl.”

“How can you say that? You hardly know me.”

“Oh, I know you.”

“Good, 'cause that means you trust me, and I'll need money for emergencies 'cause the Freak took my wallet with everything in it.”

“Rescuing you isn't enough,” he grumbled, digging in the back pocket of his jeans. “Now she wants my money.”

“I'll pay you back, I promise.”

“You'd better,” he said, handing her two crumpled ten-dollar bills. “That's all I've got.”

“Thanks,” she said, taking the bills.

“Y'know,” he said thoughtfully, “I still think we should tell the cops. The dude's a predator, he threatened us with a gun. And if I hadn't gotten out … who knows what would've happened to us.”

“No!” she said sharply. “We have to walk away. We're safe, that's all that matters.”

“You're just scared your mom's gonna be mad at you.”

“So?”

“Okay. If that's what you want. But don't forget he's got all your shit. Laptop, credit cards, phone.”

“It can all be replaced.”

“Whatever.”

A few minutes later he'd hot-wired her car, given her a stern warning not to stop until she got to her destination, and said good-bye.

Sitting behind the wheel of her car with the engine running, she was reluctant to take off. Was it her imagination, or had she and Ace developed a real bond? They'd shared a frightening experience and got through it together. Somehow or other she didn't want to leave. But of course, she knew she had to.

Forget about Ace
, she told herself.
He's taken. He doesn't even live in L.A. So forget about him.

“Okay, bye again,” she said, leaning out her window and waving.

“Try not to get in any more trouble,” he said. “'Cause next time I might not be around to rescue you.”

And then it was over and she was on her way home.

 

CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE

Irma was dispatched back to Mexico City by commercial jet while Anthony traveled in luxury on his private plane accompanied by his children, their friends, and the nanny.

Standing in the airport with her luggage, Irma was happy to be parting company with her husband. She was returning to her house, her lover, and she was now ready to cement plans for her future.

Spending a long weekend in Acapulco with Anthony and her children had made it a lot easier for her to make a final decision. As she'd watched her family at play she'd realized she had nothing in common with any of them anymore. It was time to get back to the real world, and living in the real world meant leaving the house in Mexico City. First she would help herself to money from Anthony's safe, enabling her to open her own personal bank account, then she'd decide when to go and what to take with her.

Unfortunately, Luis could not be part of her plans. He was a big temptation, but since he didn't speak English, running off with him would be impossible. Sometimes, in her fantasies, she'd daydreamed about the two of them disappearing to Bali or some other exotic island, but it was merely a fantasy.

She smiled to herself thinking that she was still a young, vibrant woman, and there were plenty of men out there. All she had to decide was where she would go. New York was out of the question, so was Miami, but lately she'd been having thoughts about Los Angeles. She certainly entertained no thought of going home to her parents in Omaha—that would be admitting defeat. Besides, her parents were completely self-absorbed, they'd never asked her for anything. They'd no doubt be horrified were she to turn up on their doorstep.

On the flight from Acapulco to Mexico City, she found herself sitting next to an American businessman. He was about forty with prematurely graying hair and a pleasant smile. He wasted no time in starting a conversation.

“I'm traveling to Mexico City on business,” he informed her. “How about you?”

“I live there,” she replied, folding her hands on her lap. “Or rather my soon-to-be ex-husband does.” She paused for a moment. “Actually,” she continued, savoring every word, “I'm shortly moving to Los Angeles.”

Saying it out loud gave her a thrill.

“You are?” he said, rummaging in his pocket. “Then I should give you my card because L.A. is where I live.”

“How interesting,” she answered boldly. “Perhaps you can tell me all about the city.”

He proceeded to do so, and by the time the plane landed they were old friends.

“You wouldn't happen to be free for dinner tonight?” he asked as they waited for their luggage. “Here I am, a lonely American all by himself in Mexico City, and here you are—a beautiful American woman about to get a divorce. It seems like fate, doesn't it?”

“It certainly does,” she replied, twisting her wedding band on her finger.

“Well,” he said, pressing for an answer. “Are we on?”

“Yes,” she replied after a few moments' indecision. “I'd very much like to have dinner with you.”

“Excellent. I'm at the Presidente InterContinental Hotel. Seven-thirty suit you? We could meet in the bar.”

Why not?
she thought. She had a lover at home and an attractive man to take her to dinner.

Anthony kept two mistresses. It was her time now.

*   *   *

Back in Miami, Anthony didn't bother going home—he called Emmanuelle from the airport.

“Where are you?” he asked, none too pleased. “I tried the apartment, you're not there.”

“That's 'cause I'm in the middle of a photo shoot,” she explained, speaking on her cell while her Puerto Rican hairstylist fussed with her long hair extensions.

“I'm here,” he said. “An' I wanna see you.”

“I won't be finished for a couple of hours.”

“What is it with you an' fuckin' photo sessions?” he growled. “How come you wanna be on the cover of every fuckin' magazine in town?”

“They pay me the big bucks, Daddy,” she said soothingly. “And get me mucho attention.”

“
I
pay you big bucks, an'
I
give you
plenty
of attention,” he responded. “An' don't call me Daddy.”

“But, honey,” she purred, “you never put anything in my name and that hurts my feelings.”

Feelings? She had feelings? This was a big surprise.

“I'm young,” she continued. “I have to make my own money 'cause if we break up, baby doesn't want to find herself out on the street with nothing.”

He was silent for a moment, considering what she'd said. Christ! Women and money. Was that all they ever thought about?

“Where's the studio?” he asked.

She told him.

“I'll come by, check you out.”

“No, poopsie, you'll be bored,” she said quickly, thinking there was nothing she'd like less than Anthony barging into one of her photo shoots. “You know how you like being the center of attention,” she added. “You'll hate sitting on the sidelines.”

“I wanna see you at work,” he said stubbornly.

“Okay,” she sighed, realizing he was giving her no choice. “If that's how you really want to spend your day.”

“No, what I
really
wanna do is fuck your brains out,” he said, flashing on her luscious body.

“Later, honey,” she promised.

“You're makin' me wait?” he said incredulously.

“Only a few hours,” she murmured, ending the conversation.

Only a few hours. Ha! Emmanuelle was letting her so-called career as a half-naked cover girl go to her head. She'd better start realizing that the car and the apartment and the clothes were perks that went along with making
him
happy, and he wasn't happy when he had to wait.

Anthony Bonar did not wait for any woman.