The Santangelos

by Jackie Collins

  Sometimes Max considered not going with Athena for the weekend, instead opting to hang out by herself in the flat they shared in Kensington. But Athena always managed to persuade her to go. The Hyton-Smythes were the closest thing to family Max had in London, so why not spend time with them?

  Once a week she called home. No more than once a week, because she didn’t want her parents thinking of her as being clingy. Lucky was okay with it. Lennie complained that he’d like to hear from her more often.

  Her parents had better get used to it, for she was an independent being, not some little girl constantly whining that she was lonely. Although the truth was that sometimes she was lonely. Athena’s lifestyle was totally out there, and even though Max tried to keep up, at times it was all too much. Early on, Max had decided to stick it out until she made a real name for herself. Only then would she return to L.A.

  Half of Hyton Abbey’s extensive grounds were kept in pristine order. The lawns were picture-perfect green and neatly mowed, the numerous rosebushes and banks of colorful flowers blossomed. Tall, stately trees adorned the property. This was all on the public side of Hyton. Behind the scenes, where paying visitors were not allowed to venture, it was a vastly different story. Overgrown, unkempt grass scattered with fast-growing weeds; a stagnant pond filled with water, a slick of green slime floating on the surface; old pool furniture rusting beside an empty, leaf-filled swimming pool.

  Whenever the London sun came out—which was rare—Athena and Max laid threadbare crested towels over the rusting pool furniture and sunbathed. Today was one of those days.

  “I should have taken advantage of the free drugs last night,” Athena ruminated. “Such a damn waste not to.”

  “Why didn’t you?” Max responded, adjusting her bikini top.

  “’Cause you ran away, you rotten spoilsport,” Athena complained, yanking the top half of her bikini off and throwing it on the ground. “Don’t you simply hate feeling confined?”

  “I’ve noticed that you do. Tits on display whenever you feel like it.”

  “You should take your top off too,” Athena suggested. “Free up those luscious boobies.”

  “No way,” Max said, trying not to stare at Athena’s outrageous nipples attached to her almost flat chest.

  “Why not?”

  “’Cause your dad might appear. I didn’t want to mention it before, but he has a weird habit of creeping up on me.”

  Athena hooted with laughter. “That old fart,” she said derisively. “Henry couldn’t get it up if you ran naked into his bedroom. Dear Daddy’s all talk and no action.”

  “Good to know,” Max said crisply. “But I have no intention of going anywhere near his bedroom.”

  “Ha-ha! Mummy and Daddy haven’t had sex in yonks,” Athena giggled. “I think I was their last hurrah. Mummy told me on one of our spa days. She couldn’t wait to inform me that Daddy’s dinky is no bigger than his pinky!”

  “Oh my God! Too much info,” Max exclaimed, flashing onto her family’s Malibu house with its azure pool overlooking the blue Pacific Ocean. She wouldn’t mind being there right now.

  Athena rose up, stretching her long lean frame, nipples still erect. “I think I’ve decided where we’ll go,” she announced with a grand gesture.

  “Where?” asked Max, trying to stop herself from thinking about Billy, because Malibu was where it had all happened. Memories came flooding back. One night she’d thrown a wild party that had gotten so out of control, she’d escaped to the beach below the house, and that’s where Billy had found her, and that’s where they’d made love for the first time.

  Oh, Billy. What happened? Why haven’t I heard from you?

  “You’re not concentrating,” Athena admonished.

  “Huh?”

  “I just told you, silly goat. We’re staying at a friend’s house in Saint-Trop.”

  “When?”

  “We’ll take off tomorrow. Tim knows someone with a plane we can borrow. Commercial is so yesterday.”

  “I can’t,” Max said. “I have that jeans shoot.”

  “Blow it off. Something else will come along.”

  “I’m not you, Athena,” Max was quick to point out. “I don’t book jobs like the jeans campaign every day. This is important to me.”

  Athena raised a quizzical eyebrow. “Surely you’re not saying no to a divine trip to Saint-Trop?”

  “Seems like I am.”

  “Oh dear me. I think it’s time you got your priorities in order, Sweet Eyes.”

  “They are in order,” Max said firmly. “I’m staying here and doing the shoot. It’s a commitment.”

  “Well, I’m going to Saint-Trop,” Athena said with an entitled pout.

  “That’s great. I’ll join you.”

  “When?” Athena said, throwing Max a penetrating look.

  “Uh, I don’t know exactly. Probably the next day or so.”

  “Hmm … well, I suppose I could wait.…”

  “You don’t have to,” Max said quickly, thinking that there were times Athena could be a little clingy, and a few days apart might be a welcome change. “I’ll make my own way there.”

  “Whatever,” Athena said, crossing her arms across her small breasts.

  Later there was dinner with the family, a home-cooked meal of leg of lamb, peas, gravy, and roast potatoes. After dinner, Tim drove Athena and Max back to their flat. He was an erratic driver. Max refused to sit in the passenger seat, especially as he was smoking a joint.

  “Frightened that I’ll pounce on you like old Henry?” Tim teased.

  “Do you tell your brother everything?” Max demanded, turning to Athena.

  “Tim is my closest confidant,” Athena said, plucking the joint from Tim and taking a long deep drag. “He knows how to use information,” she added, offering the joint to Max.

  Max turned it down. Not that she was into being all goody-goody, but she’d decided not to smoke or drink before the shoot.

  Outside their flat, a couple of paparazzi were camped out on the steps, hoping for a weekend sighting.

  “Bloody pests,” Tim growled, hopping out of the car and immediately mooning them.

  “That’ll go down well with the old folks,” Athena observed as cameras flashed, catching his naked white bottom. Then, grabbing Max, she planted a kiss full on her mouth.

  The two photographers leaped into action, thrilled to be earning next month’s rent.

  Max wiped her hand across her mouth. They both played at being lesbians for the press, only there were times Athena took it a step too far.

  “You coming?” Athena called out to Tim.

  “No. Just breathing heavily,” he said with a wolfish grin.

  “For God’s sake!” Athena snapped. “You’re such a juvenile.”

  Following them upstairs, Tim headed straight to Athena’s closet, where he began trying on her clothes, then parading around their flat, wobbling on dangerously high heels.

  “Are you really gay or just playing?” Max inquired curiously.

  “Gay?” Tim questioned, raising a shocked eyebrow. “Why would you think that?”

  “’Cause you’re always dressing up in our clothes,” she stated, cocking her head to one side. “Can’t you just come out and admit it?”

  “No, my dear, because I am certainly not gay,” Tim said, narrowing his eyes. “So there.”

  “I’ve never seen you with a girl,” Max accused.

  “Or a boy,” Athena said, joining in.

  “You two lezzies need a thorough spanking,” Tim said, quite peeved.

  “Oh yes,” Athena said with a wild giggle. “And wouldn’t we love that.”

  Unzipping himself out of Athena’s Valentino dress, Tim unceremoniously dropped it on the floor. “I’ve had enough,” he said, glaring at them. “Good night, ladies—and trust me, I use the word ladies loosely.”

  “Bye-bye, baby bro,” Athena crowed. “See you tomorrow.”

  For a moment Max missed her half
brother, Bobby—along with Gino Junior and even Leo. Bobby was such a major fox. She wondered what he was up to and if he was still with Denver. She decided that come morning, she would definitely phone him and catch up on everything.

  “Time for beddy byes,” Athena announced. “I’m totally exhausted.”

  “Me too,” Max agreed, although once in her room, she couldn’t sleep. After half an hour of tossing and turning, she finally grabbed her laptop and googled Billy. She knew she shouldn’t submit to such torture, but why not? The only person she was hurting was herself.

  There were a few new photos, nothing of interest. Billy standing by the ocean looking beached-blond and tousled and so freaking hot!

  Too bad.

  Yes. Too bad for him. They would’ve made a great couple.

  After a while, she decided to call Cookie, her best girlfriend in L.A. Maybe Cookie would have some more up-to-date news about Billy.

  “I got an amazeballs new boyfriend,” Cookie announced. “He’s a rapper. Dad hates him.”

  “A name might help.”

  Cookie stifled a giggle. “Taste Shit.”

  “Nice.”

  “The dude is cutting-edge. Harry is way into him.”

  “How is Harry?” Max inquired, thinking about her other best friend in L.A.

  “Gettin’ gayer by the day.”

  “I miss both of you,” Max said wistfully. “And I miss L.A.”

  “Come home, then,” Cookie urged.

  “Yeah, maybe soon.” After a long meaningful beat, she asked, “Any news on Billy?”

  “Oh crap, you’re not still thinkin’ of him, are you? He’s just another actor. They’re all the same: chasing supermodels, making dumb action movies, and getting high.”

  “Is Billy chasing a supermodel?” she asked, filled with alarm.

  “Face it, babe, as far as Billy and you are concerned, it’s over. You gotta move on.”

  “I have.”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  Max clicked off her phone, depressed. Eventually, she fell asleep, Billy’s image firmly embedded in her head.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Denver was not into Hollywood parties. She found them to be boring and pretentious. Nobody ever seemed to have anything intelligent to say—it was all about movie grosses and endless mindless gossip.

  Annabelle fit right in. As the wife of Eddie Falcon, one of the most powerful agents in town, she had finally found her place in the Hollywood hierarchy. A former redhead, Annabelle was now blond and bodacious. She was the daughter of two movie stars, one of them deceased—shot to death in her bed, some said by Annabelle’s father, Ralph Maestro. Nothing was ever proven.

  Annabelle had led a privileged life. She was the girl who always got what she wanted, and after a wild ride in New York as a would-be madam, with Frankie Romano as her boyfriend, she’d returned to L.A. and hooked up with Eddie, who in Hollywood-speak was a real comer. Right now he was a top agent with a list of superstar clients. But Eddie was moving up—he had all the right connections, and in his future, he saw himself running a major studio. It was a given. And with Annabelle and her famous father in his corner, it shouldn’t take too much longer.

  Denver had a strong suspicion that if she weren’t living with Bobby Santangelo Stanislopoulos, she would be crossed off the guest list, for Annabelle wasn’t the most loyal of friends. As for Carolyn—well, Annabelle obviously felt that having a token lesbian at her get-togethers made her look totally cool. After all, lesbians were way in fashion—Ellen, Portia, Rosie, and of course the fabulous Jane Lynch.

  Denver looked around at the select group of Hollywood players, and decided that the time had come to start turning down Annabelle’s invites. After a few minutes, she spotted Carolyn sitting at the bar and made her way over. “What’s the occasion this time?” she asked, for Annabelle always had some kind of announcement to make at her dinners.

  “Dunno. Annabelle informed me it was major,” Carolyn said with a casual shrug. “And from the faces she’s gathered here, I guess it must be.”

  Denver scanned the room again. She spotted a couple of politicians—friends of Eddie’s. A famous late-night talk-show host with a decades-younger actress. Eddie’s client, Billy Melina. An aging actress well known for having bedded President Kennedy. Rock star Kris Phoenix. Plus a scattering of directors, producers, and studio heads, along with their wives—three of the wives being Asian.

  She wished Bobby were with her, then she thought it was probably just as well that he wasn’t, because he too hated Annabelle’s gatherings.

  “What do you think she’s coming up with tonight?” Carolyn asked.

  “I don’t know. I don’t care,” Denver said, shrugging. “I’m not doing this again.”

  “Why not?” Carolyn said, downing a mojito. “We’re Annabelle’s only true friends. We should support her.”

  Really? Denver thought, flashing onto the memory of Annabelle in high school, where she’d practically ignored both of them because they weren’t members of the affluent group she hung with. It was only years later when Annabelle had needed them that she’d renewed their friendship.

  “Handsome movie stud approaching to your left,” Carolyn whispered.

  Denver turned around and there stood Billy Melina, all tousled dirty-blond hair and piercing blue eyes.

  “Hey. Denver, right?” he said, standing tall.

  She’d met him with Bobby in Vegas at Lucky’s hotel, and she was well aware of the thing he’d had with Bobby’s teenage sister, Max. Bobby had been furious, raging that Max was just a kid. Denver had pointed out that Max was eighteen, making her legal.

  “Well, you have a good memory,” Denver said, regarding Billy coolly.

  “And you have an unusual name,” Billy said. “By the way, I gotta say, you look great.”

  “Thanks.”

  He leaned against the bar, holding on to a bottle of beer. “How’s Bobby doin’?” he asked.

  “Working hard,” she replied.

  Billy let loose a movie-star grin. “Aren’t we all.”

  “I’m sure you are.”

  After an awkward pause, Billy said, “How about Max. What’s up with her?”

  “She’s living in Europe.”

  “No shit?” Billy said, attempting to keep it casual. “I’m leaving tomorrow to make a movie. Where is she?”

  “London.”

  “Hey, if I get to London, I’ll give her a call.”

  “I don’t think so,” Denver said shortly.

  “Really?”

  “Truth is, Billy, I hardly imagine she needs any more heartbreak.”

  “Excuse me?” he said, blue eyes blazing. Who the heck did this woman think she was talking to? He was Billy Melina, a goddamn movie star, for crissake. Shouldn’t she be showing him a little respect?

  “You broke her heart,” Denver continued, keeping her voice low. “End of story.”

  Bobby would be so pleased with her when she gave him a blow-by-blow of their conversation.

  “You don’t understand. It was complicated—” Billy started to say, only to be interrupted by Annabelle standing in the middle of the room, clinking a glass to get all her guests’ attention.

  “Hi, everyone,” Annabelle trilled. “Eddie and I are so happy you could be with us on this very special night. Eddie,” she added coyly, beckoning her husband, “come join me.”

  Eddie bounced his way over to his wife and stood proudly beside her. He was short and stocky with a clever comb-over and an engaging grin. “I know you all wanna hear about what a hit movie Cartel is gonna be,” he said. “Box-office gold, folks. You heard it here first. But tonight is not about our movie, tonight is all about my gorgeous, sexy wife.”

  He turned to Annabelle and they linked arms. Then, as if they’d both rehearsed it, they yelled out the good news in unison.

  “We’re pregnant!”

  CHAPTER TEN

  The partying never stopped for Alejandro Diego. Much as Raf
ael begged him to keep a low profile, Alejandro couldn’t care less. Club Luna was his playpen and women were his toys. His womanizing was out of control; his drinking and drugging too.

  Everyone knew that Alejandro was a coke whore, sampling the product and sharing it with his dubious group of hangers-on. Rafael realized that any one of them could be working undercover, all the better to trap Alejandro. It was bad enough that Frankie Romano had gotten himself arrested, although that didn’t stop Alejandro from doing whatever he felt like.

  Rafael was disgusted with Alejandro’s carelessness, so much so that he was tempted to call Pablo and beg permission to knock Alejandro out, stash him on a plane, and fly him home. As far as Rafael was concerned, it was the only sane way to deal with the situation.

  Unfortunately, he knew that Pablo would never agree to such drastic action, because Pablo had no idea how serious the situation was. If Pablo was aware of how inept his son was, he’d surely send for him immediately. And if that happened, somehow or other Pablo would manage to blame Rafael. It was a given.

  Once again, Rafael found himself in a no-win position.

  Damn Alejandro. His stupidity knew no bounds.

  Tonight Alejandro was planning on entertaining, and when Alejandro entertained at home it was always a fuck-fest of girls, drugs, music, and booze.

  “You have to be careful,” Rafael warned. “You’re being watched.”

  “Not by you,” Alejandro cackled. “Tonight I am free of your disapproval.”

  They were standing in the men’s department at Neiman Marcus, where Alejandro was busy purchasing two Brioni suits and a brown leather studded Versace jacket.

  “Gangster, huh?” he boasted, parading up and down, before stopping to admire himself in a full-length mirror.

  “Not so much,” Rafael muttered, willing Alejandro to dial it down a notch. People were staring at him, which is exactly the way Alejandro liked it. In his mind, they were thinking how handsome he was, how rich and privileged.

  He winked at a pretty girl in a skimpy orange dress, her bare arms tanned by the sun.

  She caught sight of his wink and scurried away.

  Alejandro didn’t appreciate her response. He supposed she was a lesbian, the only reason a girl would turn away from him. Besides, he was not a big fan of natural. He preferred huge fake breasts and an allover fake tan.