Never Too Rich (57 page)

“
You were laughing at me!” be
screamed accusingly at the magazine faces pinned to the wig stands.
“You were making fun of me!”

There was no response. The achingly beautiful cover
girls, glossy lips parted in smiles or laughter under their
glossless hair, stared soundlessly at him.

“
Which of you started it?” he
demanded shrilly. “Which of you bad girls was making fun of
me?”

No response.

“
Answer me!” he screamed, stamping
his foot in fury.

Still no response.

Miss Bitch heaved a deep sigh. “Well, then, you
leave me no choice, my pretties.” His lips curled slowly into a
grim twisted smile. “You are all going to be punished! Do you hear
me? Then, maybe next time you’ll know not to play these silly games
with me!”

Firmly grabbing the first Styrofoam wig stand, be
raised his other arm and brought the blade flashing down. He
stabbed and gouged and slashed until the paper face was shredded,
until lumps and pellets of Styrofoam were flying all over the
room.

Without pause, he moved on to the next one. And the
next.

When he was finished, the horror of what be had done
washed over him. With a moan he dropped the blade and staggered
backward.

“
0h, my pretties! My pretties!” be
wailed, flinging himself from wall to wall, wildly tearing at his
hair.

And then he rushed over to the mutilated faces and
dropped heavily to his knees. “Look what that bitch made me do!” he
sobbed. “Look at the trouble she’s caused all of us!”

“
I’m going to get her!” he promised
them all. “You just wait! That bitch is going to pay! And
soon!”

Part Four

The Great
Decorator

Showcase Showhouse
Showdown

February-May 1990

Chapter 59

The chauffeur-driven Town Car dropped Edwina at a
new high-rise on East Eighty-first Street. It had a circular drive
and a doorman dressed like one of the Queen’s Guards: plumed chrome
helmet, chin strap, and patent-leather boots that came up over the
knee.

“
Go right on in, ma’am,” the phony
Queen’s Guard told her, and showed her a private elevator just
inside the acre-sized lobby. “There’s just that one button to push.
It’ll take you straight up to the penthouse.”

The door slid closed at once. It was one of the new
high-speed elevators. Still, the ride took a full half-minute. The
penthouse was on the seventy-second floor.

The elevator let out directly into the apartment,
and Leo Flood was waiting there, smiling.

“
Hi!” Edwina said brightly,
breezing off the elevator in a rainbow palette of dyed sheared
mink. She smiled at him and pecked his lips.

He kissed her back and kept on smiling. Took both
her hands and held them gently. “You’re a vision,” he said, holding
her away at arm’s length.

She loosened her colorful mink and opened it. Under
it she wore a strapless short black dress shot through with rainbow
sequins. It hugged her figure. Her earrings and necklace were
clusters of glass stones—obvious costume-jewelry versions of
king-size rubies, sapphires, and emeralds. Her stockings were sleek
and black, and she wore four-inch spike heels.

“
You likee?” She laughed, and
turned a fashion-runway pirouette.

“
I likee.”

She laughed again and looked at him. He was simply
dressed. Wore a collarless white silk shirt, baggy black trousers,
monogrammed velvet slippers. The shirt was unbuttoned halfway to
his waist, and the long V of the neckline showed a hairless,
tightly muscled chest. “You don’t look bad yourself,” she told him
huskily.

He led her into the loft-size living room. “Welcome
to my fantasy,” he said.

Her mouth dropped open as she looked around.

Like his downtown office, his uptown living room was
carved out of two entire floors, and two walls of virtually
seamless sheets of glass gave the impression that the double-height
room was actually floating in midair, an effect amplified by the
twilight sky in that hour between sunset and nightfall.

Twilight was reflected in the expanse of black
granite floor on which Lucite-legged leather couches and chairs and
ottomans appeared to float; twilight seemed to be absorbed by the
collection of Bronze Age Cycladic art—faceless marble heads, smooth
cups, and stylized figures—which were displayed on built-in
lacquered black shelves; it seemed to glow from within the
two-story-high, banisterless Lucite spiral stairs which wound their
way up to the roof; it bathed the two giant bronze sphinxes on
waist-high marble plinths like mysterious moonlight in the desert;
it shimmered on the brushed steel of the ovoid chimney that hovered
over a sleek black granite block that had been slightly hollowed;
it bounced back off the glass tables and mirrorlike aluminum
ceiling; it made the textured raw-concrete walls, into which
fossil-like patterns had been pressed, a soaring space-age
cave.

The room was unearthly silent, the city sounds kept
at bay by multiple glazing. Only lulling Japanese koto music
playing softly in the background could be heard.

“
Whoo-ee!” was all Edwina could
say. She was otherwise rendered absolutely speechless.

“
Here, let me get your
coat.”

“
My co . . . Oh, of course.”
Dreamily she slipped it off, her eyes everywhere at
once.

“
I’ll be right back,” he said,
folding the fur over his arm. “I’ve got to check on something in
the kitchen. Drinks and ice are over there.” He nodded toward a
concrete counter that ran the length of one interior wall. “Help
yourself.”

She walked toward it, her spike heels clicking on
the mirrorlike granite. Two Lucite sinks were set into the
concrete, with purposely exposed plumbing snaking into the wall. A
celadon bowl, Yuan dynasty from the looks of it, served as an ice
bucket. There was heavy Daum crystal and an open bottle of
perfectly chilled Cristal.

She poured herself some champagne and looked around.
“This place is something else,” she told Leo when he returned.

“
Do you like it?” he asked, still
smiling. “I designed it myself. That’s one of the advantages of
putting up your own building. It gives you the freedom you need to
get exactly what you want.”

“
You own this building?” She didn’t
know why that should surprise her, but it did.

“
Since it’s a condominium, I guess
you’d have to say everybody who lives here owns a part of it. But I
built it, financed it, and put it up. And one of my companies sold
the apartments.”

“
And naturally you kept the best
one for yourself,” she added slyly.

“
That I did,” he admitted with a
laugh, and went to get himself a glass of champagne.

A half-smile crept to her lips. “Tell me, Leo,” she
said. “Is there any pie you don’t have your fingers in?”

“
Sure.” His grin blazed whitely.
“Whatever’s unprofitable.” He raised his glass and looked at her
solemnly. “To the most beautiful woman in the world.”

She blushed. “To the world’s handsomest liar”—she
held up her own glass—”and to everything that makes all of this
possible.” The sweep of her glass encompassed the room.

“
Amen. That I don’t mind drinking
to.”

They sipped their champagne, their eyes on each
other.

Edwina set her glass down. “Mind if I snoop? This
place is fascinating.”

“
Be my guest.” He
gestured.

She wandered about, admiring the Cycladic art and
the brilliant yin-and-yang mixture of modern furnishings and
antiquities. “What’s upstairs?” She leaned her head back to stare
up at the towering Lucite spiral.

“
A sculpture garden. I’ll show it
to you after we’ve eaten.”

They ate in the living room, casually curled up on a
long glove-leather sofa. The platters were Chinese—exquisitely
glazed Song dynasty dingyao plates. The food was Japanese—sushi
he’d prepared himself with a bamboo press. And the wine was
French—another bottle of vintage Cristal.

“
Oh, by the way,” she said
casually, scooping up a mirugai with her chopsticks, “don’t get
ticked off, but I donated twenty thousand dollars to the
Southampton Showhouse.” She ate the giant clam
fastidiously.

He stared at her.
“Twenty
thousand, did you
say?”

She nodded and swallowed. “Don’t worry,” she said,
motioning with her chopsticks. “It’s coming out of the
public-relations budget, and it’s all tax-deductible.”

“
Yes, but . . . a decorator’s
showhouse? I thought we were peddling rags.”

“
We are,” she said smugly, “but
they’re planning a benefit fashion show to coincide with the
showhouse opening. I know it’s still a long way down the road, but
as soon as I found out about it, I jumped at the opportunity. The
twenty thousand paved the way. Unbelievable, what money, all those
beautiful, beautiful dollars, will do.”

“
When’s the show supposed to take
place?”

“
That’s the beauty of it. Would you
believe—over Memorial Day weekend?”

“
You’re kidding!” He was
incredulous.

“
I kid you not. Just
days
before our official grand opening. It’ll tie in perfectly. However,
you still haven’t heard the best of it.”

“
There’s more?”

“
Oh, a lot. Now, get ready. Here’s
the
real
doozie.” She paused for dramatic effect.

“
Yes?” He waited.

“
Anouk de Riscal is the decorator
showhouse chairperson!” she crooned.

“
Then how on earth did you ever get
her to agree to show your clothes? I mean, knowing how little love
is lost between the two of you, I would have thought she’d fight it
tooth and—”

Edwina smiled smugly. “She couldn’t, because you
see, she doesn’t know—at least, not yet she doesn’t. Anouk left
town for two weeks.”

“
And you just happened to take
advantage of the opportunity? By approaching the other committee
members? Is that it?”

“
All I did was drop a few vague
hints.”

“
About donating the
money?”

“
That’s right. And as thanks, they
voted on it right away. Without waiting for Anouk to get
back!”

“
I can just see her returning to
that
bit of news!” He laughed. “You know,” he said
admiringly, “you never cease to amaze me.” He shook his head
wonderingly. “I don’t know how you do it. The publicity this event
will generate couldn’t have been bought for ten times the donation
you made.”

“
Ah, but wait. It gets betterer and
betterer. Here are the
real
lulus—at least for me. First,
Antonio de Riscal himself is going to have to introduce my
collection. He agreed to that long—very long—in
advance.”

“
You’re kidding!” He was
openmouthed now.

“
Of course, that was
before
he knew it would be
me
he’d be introducing. You mark my
words, he won’t dare back out, not for this charitable cause. And
second, although
she
doesn’t know it yet, Anouk, as
chairperson, is going to have to wear one of the
designer-in-question’s very own creations—in other words, mine! And
she can’t very well refuse either. It’s the tradition of the
show.”

He roared laughter. “You’re something else,
Eds!”

“
Oh, I try,” she said with a
delighted expression, “I try.” “And I’d say you succeed.” He was
still laughing as he picked up a tekka maki with his chopsticks.
“Now, here. Before you forget to eat.” He held it out to
her.

Dutifully she opened her mouth, took it with her
teeth, and chewed it slowly.

“
Like it?” he asked.

“
Love it.” She nodded
enthusiastically.

“
Good.” He smiled. “I made these
just for you.”

“
All by yourself?” She looked at
him askance. “Or did you cheat and order out?”

“
They were made by my very own
talented two hands.”

She poised her chopsticks over the platter, trying
to decide what to try next. She smiled over at him. “You know,
you’ll make some lucky woman a wonderful husband someday.”

Something flickered deep in his eyes. “Would that
make
her
lucky,” he asked in a peculiar voice, “or me?”

“
Oh, her,” Edwina said at once.
“Most definitely her.”

He held her gaze. “Then you
do
consider
yourself lucky?” he asked quietly.

She was in the middle of reaching for a sea urchin.
“I . . . I don’t think I understand.” She was sober, all her
laughter suddenly gone.

“
Marry me, Eds,” he said quietly.
“Make us
both
lucky.”

Her arm jerked and her chopsticks dropped the
urchin. “Don’t make jokes like that!” she scolded in a whisper.

He stared at her for a long moment. “I’m not
joking.”

“
Leo . . .” She cleared her throat
and put the chopsticks down. “I really like you. In fact, I like
you a lot. You know I do. But. . . but I hardly even know you.
Everything about you seems to be . . . well, shrouded in
mystery.”

He shrugged. “There’s really not very much to
know.”

She smiled. “On the contrary. I’m sure there are
layers and layers of mysteries to unravel.”