Double Lucky (69 page)

“Nothing for them to take except me and Andy,” Carolyn remarked, completely unconcerned. “And I'm sure nobody wants us.”

“How about your TV, your computer, your camera?” Denver pointed out. “All valuable items.”

“I'm hardly ripe for a robbery.”

“Everyone should take precautions,” Denver admonished. “Crime is all around us.”

“Spoken like a true DA.”

“So,” Denver said, throwing herself into the empty lawn chair beside Carolyn's, “I'm dying to know—how was your walk on the wild side?”

“Interesting,” Carolyn said as her front doorbell chimed. She stood up and handed Denver the baby. “
Some
people ring before entering,” she commented.

“
Some
people haven't known you since you were twelve,” Denver replied tartly. “Are you expecting someone?”

“You'll see,” Carolyn said, vanishing into the house.

“I only brought enough salad for two,” Denver yelled after her. “And I'm starving, so I'm not in the mood for sharing.”

Andy let out a big burp, and a dribble of drool slid down the side of his mouth. Awkwardly, Denver tried to wipe it away with the back of her hand. She wasn't used to babies; somehow the maternal gene had yet to kick in.

And then a vision appeared. A gorgeous woman with soft, naturally curly blond hair, kind eyes, and a bountiful figure.

Carolyn was right behind her. “Denver, meet Vanessa,” she said briskly.

Denver was surprised and shocked. Somehow or other she'd imagined Vanessa to be big and butch with cropped hair and no makeup, dressed in a manly leather jacket. This lovely, feminine woman was the complete opposite.

“Uh, hi,” Denver said, embarrassed that she'd had such a clichéd view of what a lesbian should look like.

“Hello,” Vanessa said, proffering a firm handshake and a friendly smile. “Carolyn talks about you a lot. It's such a pleasure to finally meet you.”

Finally?
One date and now Vanessa was acting as if they were in a relationship.
What the hell?

“Vanessa works for a TV production company,” Carolyn said, smiling blissfully at her new friend. “Documentaries and the like.”

“Really?” Denver said, suddenly feeling as if
she
was the odd one out.

“Yes,” Vanessa said, swooping down to steal Andy out of Denver's arms. “I'm hoping to convince Carolyn to come join us. With all her Washington experience, she'd be such an asset. Will you please talk her into it?”

“I'll try,” Denver said with a weak smile.

Carolyn giggled. Carolyn was
so
not a giggler. “I'm thinking about it,” she said coyly. “Nobody has to talk me into anything.”

“Well, think faster,” Vanessa chided, and the two exchanged an intimate look.

Oh my God!
Denver thought.
They're acting as if they're already a couple. Who knew?

*   *   *

Lucky's apartment in The Keys was her dream home. Not that she didn't love the Malibu house and spending time with her kids, but her haven in Vegas was her special place. Whenever she was there, she felt at peace. Sometimes she needed to be alone, and sitting in her penthouse above the Strip—looking out at the sparkling lights of the city—gave her immense satisfaction. It also reminded her of so many Vegas memories. Sometimes the memories were overwhelming, good and bad.

Picking up the house phone, she called downstairs to Danny, her personal assistant. Danny was the eyes and ears on everything Vegas when she wasn't in residence. He'd only worked for her a year, but he was quite possibly the best assistant she'd ever had. He was young, twenty-something, gay—in a long-term relationship with Buff, his high school buddy. She trusted him implicitly.

“Did Gino arrive yet?” she asked.

“He's here,” Danny responded. “Feisty as ever. I cannot believe how old that man is!”

Lucky smiled, thinking of her ninety-something father, who never slowed down. “Yes, he's remarkable, isn't he?” she said. Gino had his own suite at The Keys, and there was nothing he liked more than sitting in a lounge chair outside his private cabana at the pool, watching all the pretty girls pass by. He had not acquired the nickname Gino the Ram for nothing. Over the years, he'd certainly lived up to his reputation. Now married to his fifth wife, Paige, a woman decades younger than him, Gino seemed to have more energy than anyone.

“Is everything set for the board meeting on Friday?” Lucky asked.

“Of course,” Danny replied. “It's all in order.”

“I think I've persuaded Alex Woods to come. Make sure he has the right accommodations. And arrange to have cars meet everyone at the airport.”

“Got it, Lucky.”

“Okay, then,” she said, tossing back her long jet-black hair. “I'm on my way to see Gino. We'll talk later.”

*   *   *

The Malibu party started off slowly. A trickle of friends hanging out by the pool drinking beer and Coke from cans, laughing and talking and generally getting loose.

Max glanced around and wished she
had
invited Ace. Maybe this would've been the night they consummated their relationship, shifting it to another level. Since she was about to be eighteen, wasn't it time to do something about taking things all the way?

She took a quick peek at her watch and realized it was only just past eight, so if she called him now he could probably make it in a couple of hours. But then he'd be annoyed that she hadn't told him about it before, so it was best to leave it alone.

Cookie was busy draping herself all over the deejay Harry had gotten. The guy was Latin and a major hottie straight out of a Calvin Klein ad. Maybe Frankie wouldn't show, and Cookie would settle for this guy. He certainly knew his stuff—rocking everything from Usher to Drake to Miley to old eighties soul and Beatles classics.

This is going to be a perfect evening,
Max thought.
A mellow way to celebrate turning eighteen. And after I'm eighteen, I'm moving to New York, far away from parental concerns. I'm going to be exactly like Bobby and make my own life.

Doing what?

I haven't decided.

She darted inside the house to check that she'd locked up all the main rooms. She certainly didn't want anyone coming into the house. Lucky would
so
not appreciate it.

Harry followed her, his spiked hair gelled higher than ever. “You gotta tell Cookie to lay off Paco,” he said, sounding flustered. “She's such a greedy bitch. If it's got a dick, she wants it.”

“Who's Paco?”

Harry's pale skin reddened. “The deejay.”

“Why d'you want her to back off?”

“'Cause I gotta wild hunch he's gonna be way more into me than her,” Harry said.

“Oh crap!” Max exclaimed, getting the message.

“So
do
something about her,” Harry pleaded.

“I'll try,” Max promised. “But you know Cookie.…”

Yes, everyone knew Cookie. If there was a party, she was there. If there was a hot guy, she was there. Cookie had lost her virginity to one of her famous father's friends when she was fourteen, and she'd never looked back.

It kind of irked Max that she lurked so far behind in the sex stakes, but then again, she didn't want to give it up to just anyone. The first time had to be special, and she was making sure that it would be.

*   *   *

Back in New York, Bobby stopped by his apartment, checked his e-mail, took a shower, put on fresh clothes, and headed for Mood.

It was past ten by the time he arrived, and the place was packed, as usual. Wednesday nights were usually extra happening, as it was guest deejay night, and everyone enjoyed the change of pace. His manager, Paulo, a suave Italian, assured him things were going well.

Bobby did the rounds, stopping by tables, buying people drinks, complimenting the women. He wasn't crazy about playing the genial host, but he did it because he knew it was good for business.

Martin Constantine—the real-estate mogul—insisted that he join him and his wife, Nona, for a glass of champagne. At one time Bobby had considered asking Martin if he'd be interested in investing in future clubs, but then he'd decided against it, because Martin wouldn't simply put up the money; he was the kind of man who'd expect to be involved.

Nona, an ex–beauty queen from Slovakia, was not her normal flirty self. Bobby was relieved. He'd never quite figured out how to deal with the horny wives of rich men, and it was surprising how many came on to him. Horny wives were a business hazard he tried to avoid.

After having a quick drink with Martin and Nona, he moved on to sit with Charlie Dollar and Cooper Turner, two old Hollywood stalwarts who still attracted a parade of beautiful girls. There was something about weathered movie stars that prevented them from being perceived as dirty old men. It was the Jack Nicholson/Al Pacino syndrome.

After a while, Paulo approached and whispered discreetly in his ear that the outrageous superstar Zeena was requesting his presence at her table.

Ah, Zeena! They'd had a few run-ins, the last one in Vegas, where she'd unexpectedly appeared in his shower and given him head, later practically announcing it onstage in the middle of her concert, while he was on his first date with Denver. Not easy explaining
that
little incident to Denver. It had gotten them off to a rocky start. But fortunately, everything had worked out, and the last thing he needed was Zeena screwing things up again.

He instructed Paulo to make sure there was no one taking any photos in the club—one had to watch out for cell phones—then reluctantly made his way over to Zeena's table, where she was holding court with her usual entourage of hangers-on and her latest boyfriend, an emaciated English actor famous for playing a blood-crazed vampire on TV.

Zeena was her usual over-the-top self—she was half Brazilian, half Native American, and her exotic beauty could be mesmerizing.

“Bobbee,” she purred in her low-down husky voice. “Zeena hasn't seen you for too long. Where has my Bobbee been?”

He stared into her catlike eyes and realized that the crush he'd once had on her was long gone. “Around,” he said casually, shaking the hand of her pale-faced boyfriend.

“Maybe Zeena should come visit you,” Zeena suggested. “You like?”

Vampire boyfriend spoke up. “No,” he said firmly. “He wouldn't like, and neither would I.”

At last! Zeena had finally hooked up with someone who wasn't afraid to stand up to her.

Bobby laughed, easing the sudden tension. “Zeena, always the joker,” he said smoothly, patting her boyfriend on the shoulder. “I'm sending your table more champagne. Enjoy.”

And before she could respond with another unwelcome come-on, he was on his way to the next booth, where Adrien Brody and his friend Dieter Abt were ensconced with a group of beautiful models, male and female.

A fast escape. The best kind.

*   *   *

“Y'know,” Lucky said affectionately, “if I didn't know any better, I would swear you weren't a day over seventy! You're amazing!”

Gino roared with laughter. Remarkably, he still had all his teeth, and although his hair was gray, it was still there. Age had not bowed him. “I'm in my nineties, kiddo,” he said. “Outlived 'em all. An' I don't regret a minute of the life I lived. 'Cept maybe when you an' me wasn't talkin'.”

“Well, that didn't last, did it?” she said, remembering their many famous fights over the years.

“Naw. Knew it wouldn't,” Gino answered, grinning. “You're easy.”

“Sure I am,” Lucky replied sarcastically.

They were sitting together in Lucky's favorite restaurant at The Keys, a cozy Italian place tucked away in a corner spot, aptly called Gino's. The restaurant served all the food Gino loved. Meatballs with garlic and a rich tomato sauce. Penne pasta. Tasty veal chops with roasted Tuscan potatoes and myriad vegetables. Plus an assortment of pizzas named after various members of the Santangelo family.

Paige had elected not to join them, claiming she was tired, but Lucky knew it was because Paige was smart enough to know they enjoyed spending time together, just the two of them.

“How's little Max?” Gino wanted to know. “Still plannin' her escape?”

“Oh yes,” Lucky said ruefully. “There's no stopping that one.”

“Just like you, Lucky, huh?” Gino said, nodding at the memories.

“I hope not. I was a wild one.”

“You still are, kiddo, you still are.”

“Thanks, Gino, but I don't know about that.”

“Yeah, well, I do. You inherited the Santangelo balls; that's what makes you such a winner. An' you gotta teach Max how t' deal.”

“She's pretty smart, Gino.”

“Not as smart as you when you were her—”

“There's plenty of time for her to learn,” Lucky interrupted.

“Time goes quickly, kiddo. You'd be surprised.”

“Not for you it doesn't.”

“Y'know,” he said, lowering his gruff voice, “if ya wanna know what goes on in my head, I'm gonna tell ya—I got this thought goin' on that I'm only thirty.” A big grin spread across his face. “How's about
that?
”

“Right,” Lucky retorted. “And I'm sixteen, getting my ass married off to some dumb senator's son 'cause my daddy thought it would control me. Lotsa luck with
that
.”

“Here she goes,” Gino groaned. “Always dredgin' up the past.”

“Just f-ing with you, Gino,” she said lightly. “Nothing I like better than watching you squirm.”

And once again she smiled, realizing there was nothing more satisfying than spending time with her father, for who knew how long he'd be around.