Goddess of Vengeance (45 page)

So she’d done so, until eventually he’d moved away.

To this day she still believed in her psychic abilities. After all, wasn’t it her who’d told Randy he was going to do better this year? And sure enough Mikey had given him a job. Okay, so it wasn’t the greatest job in the world delivering drugs, but it was a whole lot better than the lowdown crap he’d been into before.

Yes, she was definitely psychic, and if she knew anything at all, it was that the stuck-up bitch wasn’t coming back.

*   *   *

After rushing past the dancing hookers, Annabelle made it into the bathroom where she quickly locked the door and leaned against it, catching her breath. What a nightmare scene. She had to get out now.

Earlier she’d noticed a large window above the Jacuzzi tub, and rather than get into a fight with Armand – for she suspected that if she told him she was leaving he would not let her go quietly – she decided the window was the perfect way out.

Removing her high heels and stuffing them in her purse, she gingerly stepped into the tub, and from there she scrambled onto the surrounding marble ledge, opened the window and since it was higher than she’d anticipated, tumbled out onto the damp grass outside, and into an arrangement of small palms.

Cursing softly to herself she jumped up, and set off down the path toward the main hotel.

The thought of getting back together with Eddie Falcon was looking more appealing every minute.

*   *   *

Unable to sleep, Fouad tried, but the tossing and turning would not allow him to fall into a peaceful slumber. He realized that he was so used to being at Armand’s beck and call that not hearing from him for at least twelve hours was disturbing.

Armand’s words kept playing in his head . . .
I will see Lucky Santangelo die before she gets the better of me.

Empty threats of course, but Armand was definitely veering out of control with his excessive drug use. An intervention was needed, and it had to happen soon.

Then it came to Fouad – he decided that in the morning he would tell Armand’s mother everything. The drugs, the prostitutes, he might even tell her about Armand’s family in Akramshar, although he knew if he did that, Armand would never speak to him again.

Perhaps it was wise just to inform her about the drugs. Not too much information all at once.

Armand Jordan desperately needed help, and as far as Fouad was concerned, Peggy was the only person he would listen to.

Now Fouad could sleep, for with tomorrow would come the solution.

Chapter Fifty-Two

A
nnabelle Maestro was the last person Max expected to run into as she made her way down the leafy pathway heading to Billy’s private villa.

Annabelle seemed equally taken aback to see her.

They both stopped, both tried to think of a quick excuse as to why they were there at midnight.

‘Hi,’ Annabelle said at last.

‘Uh . . . hi,’ Max said, thinking that Annabelle did not look like her usually sleek self. She was somewhat dishevelled, and for some unknown reason she was carrying her shoes.

‘Aren’t you at the wrong hotel?’ Annabelle asked. ‘Isn’t The Keys where you should be?’

‘Just uh . . . visiting friends,’ Max said vaguely.

‘Me too,’ Annabelle replied, equally vague.

‘Why are you barefoot?’

‘’Cause my shoes are killing me.’

‘Oh yes, I know the feeling.’

An awkward pause.

‘You’ve got a birthday coming up,’ Annabelle remarked. ‘That’s exciting.’

‘Tomorrow actually.’

‘Happy birthday.’

‘Thanks.’

‘I hear Lucky’s throwing you a big party.’

‘That’s right,’ Max said, wondering if Annabelle was fishing for an invite, because if she was it couldn’t happen on account of Cookie being with Annabelle’s ex.

‘How nice,’ Annabelle said.

‘It is,’ Max agreed.

‘Well . . . uh . . . have a good one.’

‘You too.’

They both scuttled off in different directions, happy to make their respective escapes.

*   *   *

After waiting around outside the ladies room for a good ten minutes, Bobby tracked down M.J. and told him he was leaving.

‘What happened to Denver?’ M.J. asked.

‘Think she’s mad at me. She took off.’

‘Don’t tell me the great Bobby S. got himself dumped,’ M.J. said, laughing. ‘Finally! There is a God!’

‘Go fuck yourself,’ Bobby said, shaking his head. ‘She’s probably waiting for me in the room.’

‘You hope.’

‘I
know
, man. She’s got nowhere else to go.’

‘She could hop a plane back to L.A. Denver’s not one to put up with your crap.’

‘What crap?’

‘Half the club saw you dancing with Gia. She’s on the cover of
Sports Illustrated
, she’s kinda high profile.’

‘C’mon, man, it was nothing.’

‘Yeah, tell
that
to your girlfriend.’

Bobby hurried from the club and out into the main hotel, where he took the private elevator up to their floor.

To his chagrin their room was empty. No Denver. But the good news was her clothes were still there along with her laptop and her phone. It was no wonder he’d never got an answer when he’d tried to reach her on her cell.

Damnit! Was she going to make him sit and wait for her?

Apparently so.

*   *   *

Grabbing a cab outside The Cavendish, Annabelle set off for The Keys. She couldn’t believe what she’d almost got herself into. Drunken dancing hookers. An excessive amount of cocaine. A crazy sex fiend with cold hard eyes and a definite cruel streak. What was she thinking?

Oh yeah, right. She was thinking that Armand Jordan might be the catch of the day. How wrong she was about
that
.

Then – on top of everything else, she’d run into Lucky’s daughter. Where was Max going at such a late hour?

Not her concern.

After paying off the cab, she entered The Keys and headed straight for the ladies room where she attempted to clean herself up. Her white Chanel skirt had a few streaks of mud on it, and she realized she should’ve stopped off and changed. Too late now, she didn’t want to miss meeting up with Eddie, so after touching up her make-up, and brushing her hair, she headed for Mood.

Armand Jordan was just a distant creepy memory.

*   *   *

Lennie and Alex were embroiled in one of their favourite arguments – the death penalty. Alex was for it, Lennie against, and neither of them would give an inch. Lucky had heard it all before, and since she wasn’t prepared to take sides, she moved over to sit with Venus, Eddie, M.J. and Cassie. Jorge was perched uncomfortably at the end of the table.

‘So
that’s
your little plaything,’ Lucky observed, checking out Jorge.

‘Not so little,’ Venus replied with a wicked grin.

‘You do know you’re ignoring him.’

‘He’ll get plenty of attention later,’ Venus said, fluffing out her platinum hair. ‘Besides, Bobby’s girlfriend was entertaining him.’

‘She was?’ Lucky said, surprised. ‘How did Bobby feel about
that?
’

‘How would
I
know?
You’re
his mother. And if you weren’t – believe me – he’d be next on my list of things I have to do.’

‘Calm down, he’s way too young for you,’ Lucky said with a low chuckle.

‘Sorry to disappoint, only the way I’m going, Bobby is exactly the right age.’

‘Yes, I seem to remember that you’ve always had a crush on him.’

‘This is true,’ Venus confessed with an unabashed grin.

‘At least you admit it.’

‘And
you
have to admit that your son is one hot catch.’

Lucky nodded. ‘You got that right, which is why he has to be careful to avoid any girls who happen to be on the make. He’s rich, he’s handsome, and he’s available.’ A thoughtful pause. ‘What do you think of Denver?’

‘Didn’t get a chance to talk to her.’

‘She seems to be making Bobby happy,’ Lucky mused. ‘I think I might like her.’

‘How nice,’ Venus drawled. ‘Maybe they’ll get married and give you a bunch of sweet little grandbabies.’

‘Get the fuck outta here,’ Lucky said good-naturedly. ‘Bobby’s got a lot of living to do before he even
thinks
about settling down.’

‘Ohhh . . . Momma Bear’s
veree
protective,’ Venus said, laughing, before adding a succinct, ‘and here comes trouble.’

Lucky glanced up to observe Annabelle Maestro approaching their table. They all knew Annabelle from her days with Frankie, her famous parents, and her very public confessional book.

‘Remember what the late great Andy Warhol said about fifteen minutes of fame,’ Venus remarked, slowing sipping a cocktail. ‘Well, this one is milking it for the number one prize. I feel sorry for her father.’

‘You feel sorry for Ralph Maestro?’ Lucky said, quite aghast. ‘Why would you feel sorry for him? He murdered his wife, for God’s sake. He should be sitting in jail.’

‘He
arranged
her murder,’ Venus pointed out. ‘It’s not the same.’

‘Damn!’ Lucky said, shaking her head in amazement. ‘You should go sit with Lennie – the two of you can discuss the advantages of having murderers walk the streets. What fun you can have.’

‘Excuse me, everyone,’ Eddie said, standing up as Annabelle arrived at the table. ‘I’d like you all to meet my girlfriend, Annabelle Maestro.’

*   *   *

‘Hey,’ Billy said.

‘Hey,’ Max responded, standing at the door to his villa, feeling a tad shy.

Loud music was blaring from the villa across from them, a lizard darted in front of her, and there was a brisk night breeze. She shivered, Billy smiled, and all was well in Max’s world.

‘Can I get a hug?’ he said, his intense blue eyes drawing her in.

You can get anything you want, Billy Melina.

‘Of course you can,’ she said, falling into his arms, immediately forgetting how much she’d been hating him.

He hugged her, then led her inside. ‘Someone’s having a party over there,’ he remarked.

‘Sounds like it,’ she said, breathless at the sight of him.

He shut the door and they stared at each other.

‘Sorry about L.A.,’ he said at last.

‘What about it?’ she said, keeping it casual.

‘Well, y’know,’ he explained. ‘I kinda let you get away.’

‘From what?’ she asked, going for the flippant approach.

‘Then you took off.’

‘I told you I was coming to Vegas.’

‘Why d’you think I’m here?’

‘Really? Just to see me?’

‘Yeah, really.’ And he moved in for a kiss that dispelled any doubt that she was doing the right thing.

*   *   *

‘We’re going,’ Venus announced, standing up and signalling Jorge that it was time to leave. He had a resentful scowl on his boyishly handsome face. She’d ignored him all night, and now she was summoning him to come with her like a pet dog.

He got up anyway, and stood stiffly beside her. He had no alternative.

‘I’ll be in touch,’ Eddie said to Venus, jumping to his feet, bowing and scraping a little, for landing Venus as a client would be a huge coup. ‘We can do great things together.’

‘I’m sure,’ Venus murmured. ‘All you have to do is prove it to me.’

‘I can do that all right,’ Eddie said with a boastful smirk. ‘You won’t be disappointed.’

‘We’ll talk.’

‘We certainly will.’ He sat back down, a satisfied expression on his face.

‘Did you just poach Venus from her agent?’ Annabelle asked, quite impressed.

‘Not yet, but I will,’ Eddie said, full of confidence, and quite unaware of where his girlfriend had spent the last few hours.

‘Congrats,’ Annabelle said. ‘I’m proud of you.’

‘That’s a change from calling me a cheating asshole.’

‘You know I didn’t mean it.’

‘How about I get that in writing?’

‘Spoken like a true agent,’ she giggled.

God!
she thought.
It’s so nice to be back among normal people.

She turned to Lucky. ‘I understand I should be congratulating you too,’ she said, delighted to have the opportunity to hang out with Lucky Santangelo.

‘Why’s that?’ Lucky asked, looking around to see where Bobby was at.

Annabelle lowered her voice. ‘I know it’s supposed to be a big secret and all, but I heard that you’re selling The Keys.’

‘
Excuse
me?’ Lucky said, quite startled.

‘Please don’t worry. I won’t say a word.’

‘I’m not worried, I’m confused. Who told you this?’

Annabelle glanced quickly at Eddie, who was busy talking to Lennie and Alex. ‘Uh . . . Armand Jordan. I ran into him at the casino.’

‘
My
casino?’

‘No. Over at The Cavendish. He’s staying in a villa there.’ A long pause. ‘I’m so sorry, I guess I shouldn’t have said anything. Armand swore me to secrecy.’

‘About what?’

‘That he’s buying The Keys, and the deal will be set tomorrow.’

‘You
are
kidding me, aren’t you?’

‘No, I’m not,’ Annabelle said, feeling a slight shiver of apprehension because the deep anger in Lucky’s eyes was unmistakable. ‘I’m simply repeating what Armand told me.’