If Wishing Made It So (17 page)

Mike’s nostrils flared. He thought his head was going to explode. His hands tightened into fists. What a line this guy was handing her. Mike felt he had to say something. He started to speak, but before the words left his mouth he heard an all-too-familiar shriek from somewhere behind him.

‘‘MICHAEL! MIIIII-CHAEL! Here you are! I’ve been searching the entire boardwalk for you. I’m putting together the guest list.’’ Kiki bore down on the three of them from the direction of Trump Plaza, descending like a B-1 bomber in a dive, a piece of notepaper waving in her outstretched hand.

Kiki stopped in front of the trio and pulled off her sunglasses. She looked at Tony G. with interest. She glanced quickly at Hildy. She clearly didn’t recognize her as the same girl who had sat soaked and bedraggled on the beach the day before. She returned her gaze to Tony. She batted her eyelashes at him, coquettishly. She held out her slender fingers in his direction and gushed. ‘‘Oh, are you a friend of Michael’s?’’

Tony G. brought her fingers to his lips and kissed them while holding her eyes with his own baby blues. ‘‘Count Carmello Arigento. I’m a friend of a friend, you might say. And you are?’’

Hildy’s voice broke into the tête-à-tête. ‘‘Count, you are holding the hand of Kiki, the famous photographer.She’s Michael’s
fiancée.
’’ She looked directly at Michael with eyes of steel as she uttered the hateful word. He looked stricken.

‘‘I must congratulate you both.’’ Tony G. dropped Kiki’s hand and clapped Michael on the shoulder. He exuded goodwill. Then he moved next to Hildy and put his arm possessively around her.

Mike stiffened when Tony G. made the move. He watched with horror as Tony’s fingers lightly massaged Hildy’s upper arm. He wanted to murder this guy.

‘‘And I just had the most wonderful idea,’’ Tony said, all smiles. ‘‘Why don’t you two join us for dinner tonight? Perhaps I could convince Kiki to fly to Rome and photograph my villa. I have George Clooney coming to visit in August.’’

‘‘Sorry, I’m busy,’’ Michael snapped.

Kiki wound her slender, tanned arm through Michael’s and overrode his refusal. ‘‘Darling, it would be lovely. We should go.’’

Michael didn’t even look at Kiki. All he wanted to do was tear Hildy out from under this guy’s hands. He glowered. ‘‘I have to work. You go if you want to.’’

‘‘Perhaps you can join us for drinks afterward, sweetheart,’’ Kiki pleaded. ‘‘What time will you be done?’’

‘‘Late. Too late.’’ The words tore at his heart. What if it were too late? What if he had lost Hildy? Maybe she’d sleep with this count just because Mike had hurt her. The thought was unbearable. He needed to get out of here. Hildy wasn’t even looking at him now. She was whispering something in the count’s ear. Michael couldn’t stand to watch any more of this.

Tony G. spoke up. ‘‘It’s settled then. We will meet Kiki at nine, at Mía’s, that lovely restaurant off the main lobby in Caesar’s. With a little luck, Mr. Amante will be able to join us for dessert and drinks. Somehow I believe he’ll be able to be there.’’ He winked.

Michael thought there was something strange about Count Arigento. He couldn’t figure it out, but something was off. One thing he was sure of though—this guy was the most arrogant son of a bitch he’d ever met.

Chapter 16

A man sorely troubled in mind and spirit needs a diversion. Mike, shaking Kiki loose from his arm, told her he’d catch up with her later. Not bothering to change out of his running shorts, he jogged off the boardwalk to the nearest car rental kiosk. He quickly arranged for a weekly rental on a bronze-colored Ford Fusion that came with a radio/CD player and an air conditioner but not much more. He got in and drove it directly to a Toyota dealer.

When he pulled into the new car lot, the sun was beating down furiously on the black asphalt, making the air shimmer above the softening surface. A smiling salesman, the armpits of his dress shirt soaked in sweat, hurried over to Mike the moment he emerged from the Fusion.

The heat clutched at Mike with sweaty hands. He felt surly. He barely nodded at the salesman, then followed him over to a demo car sitting on the lot.

Mike wasn’t sure why he was looking at a Prius anyway. He pretty much hated the styling of the economy car in front of him, which the salesman quickly informed him was painted in the latest color, something girly called Driftwood Pearl.

But when the salesman opened the car’s hood and gave the spiel about ‘‘synergy drive,’’ Mike forgotto be in a bad mood. Always a car enthusiast, he found himself fascinated—especially when he discovered the engines were placed under the body of the car, not under the hood. He also thought an average of forty-six miles per gallon sounded damned good, especially if he had to start budgeting his funds in the near future.

His spirits improved by the minute. He got in the small automobile and inhaled that new-car smell. The salesman handed him the keys, and Mike drove off the lot in the direction of the Atlantic City Expressway, where he zipped along at sixty miles an hour for a while.

He played with the JBL six-disc in-the-dash CD changer with nine speakers in seven locations. He turned up the bass when he popped in the Bruce Springsteen album he found on the passenger seat and started singing loudly along with the CD about being born in a small town. He felt duly impressed by the Bluetooth phone in the steering wheel, the GPS system, the sunroof, the heated mirrors, and the leather interior. He felt a rush of happiness.

Women shopped to feel better. Guys went to look at new cars.

By the time Mike got back to the dealer, he really wanted a Prius, preferably in metallic Barcelona red. However, he ordered one in magnetic gray metallic with a dark gray interior, which was a lot more practical for surveillance work. He added every option available, and the price still totaled less than a sixth of what he paid for his Mercedes.

Mike started whistling. He thought about the look on Hildy’s face when she saw what he had bought. He fantasized about selling his Mercedes and buying her a Prius too. He’d get her the red one for sure. He’d still have money left to make a down payment on a house for them near the ocean, maybe one right on that street they had walked down together last night after the pizza at the Dark Star Café.

At that moment, a cloud passed over his sunny outlook. It was stupid for him to think about buying a house with Hildy or showing her his car. The only thing he had to look forward to was seeing Kiki’s face when she saw what he had purchased. She’d be apoplectic. She’d probably refuse to ride in it.

By the time Mike signed all the papers, it was late in the afternoon. He had just enough time to get back to the hotel room and change before he headed to Camden to relieve Jake. His partner had called a couple of times, mostly out of boredom. Nobody had shown up at Marty’s home, but Jake spotted Marty when he came out to pick up the mail and yell at some kids who were throwing fire-crackers in the street.

Once he was inside the hotel room, Mike discovered Kiki was absent. According to a note she left, she had an appointment with a florist to decide on the bridal flowers. He had another bout of heart-burn when he read that and reached for the roll of Tums.

He tried to contact Hildy as soon as he retrieved his cell phone. She still wasn’t answering his calls. He felt frustrated. He wanted to hear her voice. Even that wasn’t enough. He wanted to see her dimples when she smiled.

As he headed out the door, he made a decision. He would try to get back to that dinner tonight, just as soon as Marty Biz went to bed. He had to see Hildy, he just had to. Maybe he could figure out a way to get her alone for a couple of minutes.

‘‘Is this really necessary?’’ Hildy asked unhappily, finding herself in a spacious hotel room in Caesar’s, arranged partly by Tony’s charm but mostly by a touch of magic. Her complaint came when Tony threw another handful of golden sparkles at her, and she had found herself dressed in an entirely new outfit.

‘‘I don’t think Mike really noticed what I was wearing,’’ she murmured as she stared at herself in the mirror.

The genie stood there, his fingers holding his chin, evaluating Hildy’s outfit like fashion guru Tim Gunn looking at a style-challenged housewife on the Bravo channel. ‘‘He noticed. Trust me, he noticed. You’re just upset because you’re showing a little cleavage.’’

‘‘A little cleavage! This off-the-shoulder neckline exposes everything but my nipples. I can’t wear this!’’ She turned around so she could see the back of the sleek black dress with its filmy accents of gold gauze.

‘‘You are exaggerating. Your breasts are completely covered, or nearly completely covered anyway. The dress is perfect, another of Donna Karan’s new collection. It’s daring but obviously couture. You look like a million dollars.’’

‘‘But I don’t look like I always have. I don’t look like myself!’’ she wailed.

Tony G. offered no sympathy, just a sobering dose of truth. ‘‘Ms. Caldwell, you are not the same person you were two days ago. You have received, if I may be blunt, carnal knowledge, so like Eve after eating the apple, you are no longer a naive child. You have discovered that your belief system, one that did not allow for genies or magic, was totally in error. And you have gotten a glimpse of evil. You have emerged from the cocoon of your former, not very worldly, self. Who you choose to be will be up to you. But it will not be the same person you were.’’

Suddenly understanding the sea change she had undergone shook Hildy. Her old life was gone. Her innocence was gone. Reality was no longer quite so simple as she believed it to be. Nor was the world as benign. Tony G. was right, she was no longer Hildy Caldwell who lived in a cozy 1920s Craftsman house in a small Pennsylvania town. She was not the person she had been, but she had yet to figure out who she was.

She studied herself in the mirror. The sandals with their very high heels made her legs look extremely sexy. The amazing black dress elongated her torso and made her appear taller and more slender. Her shoulders had become two alluring, creamy mounds that begged to be stroked, and her breasts peeked out just a little at the very edge of the plunging neckline, tantalizing the viewer. Her hair had been pulled back off her face. A thin shining rope secured it before it spilled like a sheaf of golden wheat down her back, nearly reaching her waist.

‘‘My hair was much shorter this afternoon,’’ she noted.

‘‘I’m setting Mike up for the coup de grace,’’ the genie explained. ‘‘Long blond hair will make him lose his reason. But you must not lose yours. We discussed this. Do you understand what you have to do?’’

Hildy sighed with resignation. ‘‘Yes. I have to remain aloof and out of reach. He hasn’t suffered or sacrificed enough. He can’t capture the snow leopard yet.’’

All during dinner, Hildy realized that Kiki never recognized her as the girl Mike introduced at the beach. In fact, Mike’s fiancée didn’t exchange more than a hello with her at the beginning of the evening before she bestowed all her attention on ‘‘Count Arigento.’’ At one point, after the appetizer and before the salad, Hildy whispered to Tony, ‘‘Are you positive Mike is going to show up?’’

Tony responded, ‘‘One hundred percent positive,’’ and moments later, as Hildy brought a forkful of penne pasta with rock lobster and white asparagus tips to her lips, she saw him come up the marble steps and walk into the restaurant. She froze. Their eyes locked. Mike moved like a man in a dream. Hildy thought the light shimmered around him.

Kiki didn’t notice any of this. When Mike pulled out the chair next to hers, she squealed, ‘‘MI-CHAEL!’’ and turned her cheek to receive his kiss. Then she looked him up and down, noticing the turquoise blue Polo pullover and the jeans that rode low on his slender hips. She smiled. ‘‘Darling, you really could have gone back to the room to change. We would still have been here.’’

Mike sat down and signaled the waiter. ‘‘I thought you’d be glad that I made it.’’

‘‘Oh I am, of course, I am. I’ve been arranging the most fabulous photo shoot in Italy with the count. We’re going to start at Lake Como and travel to the south, to Ravello.’’

‘‘Yeah, that’s nice.’’ The waiter arrived at the table. ‘‘Bring me whatever
she’s
eating.’’ He pointed to Hildy.

‘‘Very good, sir. And the wine as well?’’

‘‘No, bring me a vodka martini, straight up, no ice. Olives.’’ Mike tried to fight back the emotions that surged up inside him. It was so wrong that Hildy was here with another man. And despite the clear connection between her and Mike when he first walked in, she was now deliberately avoiding his eyes. Worse, the count had his arm draped around the back of her chair, one broad, blunt finger lazily doodling on Hildy’s bare shoulder.

Mike reached for a breadstick. His teeth snapped it in two. It felt dry in his mouth.

He found himself staring at Hildy again. He had to admit that she looked amazing, even more beautiful than this afternoon. Having her this close made him break into a sweat. He picked up his napkin and dabbed his temples. His glance landed on her bosom. His body temperature climbed higher. He figured he must have a fever, and why was Hildy wearing something so low-cut anyway? That wasn’t like her at all. Jesus, every man in the room kept stealing glances in her direction. Some of them openly ogled her.

The waiter brought the martini. Mike drank it fast. His pasta followed. He didn’t even sample it. Seeing Hildy with another man had killed his desire to eat.

Kiki had returned to her conversation with the count. Mike noticed that Hildy didn’t seem to have any better appetite than he did. She pushed the penne around with her fork, piling it up like a fort around the pieces of lobster. But no matter what she may have been thinking, she absolutely refused to look at him.

Mike had to take action. He reached across the table and touched her arm. She jumped and lifted her soft cerulean eyes to look at him at last.

‘‘Hey,’’ he said in a low, soft voice. ‘‘Don’t you have to use the ladies’ room or something?’’