Poor Little Bitch Girl

by Jackie Collins

  “Have you told Annabelle yet?” Bobby asked as they headed for the cashier.

  “About my big win?” Frankie said flippantly.

  “No. About the story, asshole.”

  “I’m figuring she’s not gonna find out,” Frankie said, plunking down his chips at the cashier’s counter.

  “Then you’re a bigger asshole than I thought,” Bobby said, shaking his head in wonderment at Frankie’s thick skin. “Of course she’ll find out. Believe me – it’ll go a lot smoother if she hears it from you.”

  “You don’t know Annabelle,” Frankie said glumly.

  “Yeah, I think I do. So take my advice and tell her.”

  “Later,” Frankie said, stuffing wads of cash in his pockets. “Right now I’m on a roll. An’ nothin’ stops Frankie Romano when he’s hittin’ a hot streak.”

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Denver

  Ralph Maestro actually got a police escort. I couldn’t believe it! Two motor-cycle cops (very studly motor-cycle cops) appeared out of nowhere, and with sirens screaming, the heavy traffic opened up. Within eight minutes we were arriving at the hotel.

  And what a hotel! The Keys was a magnificent structure. Unlike most Vegas hotels, it screamed class and style.

  I hadn’t been to Vegas since Josh and I spent a weekend at the Hard Rock when he attended a college reunion and insisted I accompany him. Total nightmare. Although for some strange reason the sex was outstanding. I guess Vegas turned Josh on.

  Valets, porters, bellboys, and a couple of guys in dark suits surrounded our limo, and when Ralph emerged, everyone went into let’s-kiss-the-big-movie-star’s-ass mode. It was a sight to behold, although Ralph was obviously used to it, for he practically ignored everyone as they escorted him through the lobby to a private elevator and then up to a magnificent four-bedroom suite with a pool table, a full bar, and a white piano in the living room. Outside the suite, a gleaming turquoise lap pool shimmered in the middle of an exquisitely landscaped terrace.

  We were staying – what – two hours at the most? But only the best was good enough for Ralph Maestro, Mister Movie Star Supreme.

  I needed to call George Henderson back, and I didn’t want to do it from the suite, so I made a quick excuse that I had to buy something in the pharmacy, and ducked out.

  Mention the word pharmacy to a man and they immediately back off. Felix was no exception, although he did tell me to make it fast.

  Downstairs I searched out a quiet corner near a side entrance and pulled out my phone, but before I could use it, who did I see walking toward me but Bobby and Frankie.

  I had nowhere to run. It was too late anyway, as Frankie had seen me and the two of them were heading full force in my direction.

  “What the hell are you doin’ here?” Frankie demanded, left eye in full twitch. “Didn’t you just call me from L.A.?”

  “I never said I was in L.A.,” I answered defensively.

  “What the fuck is goin’ on?” Frankie wanted to know, moving closer, invading my personal space.

  Oh crap. What was I supposed to say? That I’d flown in with Ralph who was ready to kill him. And that if he was smart he’d run for the hills without passing Go.

  “Leave the girl alone,” Bobby said, throwing me a dazzling smile. “You’re questioning her as if you’re the D.A.”

  “I’m not into people playin’ mindgames with me,” Frankie grumbled. “Why was she pretendin’ to be in L.A.? Somethin’s wrong, I can smell it.”

  Bobby gave me a sympathetic look. My eyes couldn’t resist focusing on his mouth. Was it possible for a man to have such kissable lips? I guess so, ’cause he sure as hell has them.

  “Look,” I said, deciding to come clean, “if you must know, I flew in with Ralph Maestro. He’s major pissed about the story in Truth & Fact, and he’s come here to find Annabelle and take her home with him.”

  Frankie looked like he’d been socked in the face with a wet fish.

  “Ralph Maestro is here?” he managed to splutter. “Here, in Vegas?”

  “’Fraid so,” I answered calmly, sneaking another look at Bobby’s lips.

  “Fuck!” Frankie exclaimed, completely deflated. “He didn’t believe that shit, did he?”

  “I rather think he did. Y’know, there are photos, details . . .” I trailed off.

  Frankie seemed ready for a total meltdown.

  “What’s the deal?” Bobby asked. “Should Frankie go see him, try to explain that it’s all a big mistake?”

  I admired Bobby for trying to help his friend out. On the other hand, what kind of mistake could it possibly be?

  “I think if Frankie can manage to stay out of his way, that might be the smartest thing for him to do,” I said. “You’ve got to understand that Ralph is furious. He’s out for blood, and it might be Frankie’s.”

  “Annabelle hasn’t seen the story,” Frankie said, left eye now twitching out of control. “I need to get to her before Ralph.”

  Bobby leaned in and took my arm. “Maybe you can do us a favor and not tell Ralph you’ve seen Frankie,” he said. “Give Frankie time to figure things out.”

  “I guess I can do that,” I replied, not minding Bobby invading my personal space at all.

  “Gotta go,” Frankie suddenly said. And before either of us could say a word, he took off like a rocket ship, leaving me alone with Bobby.

  “Jeez!” Bobby sighed. “What a crappy situation. I think I need a drink, how about you?”

  “Now that sounds like a plan,” I responded, forgetting about Felix and Ralph and the obsequious Pip. They would just have to manage without me.

  “We’ll go over to the Cavendish,” Bobby said, taking charge. “It’s quieter.”

  Who was I to argue? I was on my way to having a drink with my teenage crush, Bobby Santangelo Stanislopoulos, and nothing was going to stop me.

  * * *

  An hour later, I realized I still hadn’t called George Henderson, let alone reported back to Felix, who was no doubt livid. But sometimes in life you gotta go with the flow, and this was one of those times.

  We were sitting out on the terrace bar at the Cavendish sipping mojitos – well, that’s not strictly true – I was sipping a mojito, while Bobby was drinking beer from the bottle. “Tastes better that way,” he’d informed me.

  We were talking non-stop, and I found him to be so interesting, not shallow at all. In school I’d convinced myself that he might be the best-looking thing on two legs, but he was a rich kid so he was probably boring and full of himself.

  Not so. Not so at all.

  He was telling me about his club in New York, and how he planned on taking over the club concession at The Keys. He was full of terrific ideas and loads of enthusiasm. Then he started asking me about myself, and what aspirations I had for the future.

  Wow! This was a two-way conversation, unusual to say the least. Most men got off on talking about themselves on a first date and that was it. Of course this wasn’t a date, merely a friendly drink to discuss Frankie’s plight. Not that I personally cared about Frankie, but Bobby – being a loyal friend – seemed concerned.

  Ah yes, a date would be a whole different ballgame. And maybe . . .

  No! What was I thinking? Bobby probably dated models and actresses, true beauties with stick-thin bodies and a penchant for throwing up.

  “Why are you smiling?” he suddenly asked.

  “Um . . . I didn’t realize I was.”

  “Yeah, you had a real Cheshire Cat grin on your face.”

  “I did?” I said, innocence personified.

  “You sure did.”

  “Actually,” I confessed, “I was wondering if you dated girls who threw up.”

  “Huh?” He gave me a full-on quizzical look. “Why would I do that?”

  “Why wouldn’t you?”

  “You’re funny.”

  “I try to amuse,” I said, as I felt my phone vibrating for maybe the sixth time. “Do you mind if I check my mess
ages and make a quick call?”

  “Go ahead. Any need for privacy?”

  “That’s okay. I have a friend in Washington who seems to be on the missing list. I have to call her father back, see if he’s found out where she is.”

  Bobby nodded. He had the greatest eyes, dark and intense. I imagine he’s a killer in bed.

  George Henderson had left another message for me to call him, but when I did he failed to pick up. So I left him a message to say that I didn’t know where Carolyn was, and would he please try me back again.

  Meanwhile, Bobby’s cell rang. He stood up and walked away from our table. Apparently he did require privacy.

  When he returned to the table he had a thoughtful expression on his handsome face.

  “Everything okay?” I asked, sipping my mojito.

  “I’m guessing I can tell you ’cause I do believe you’re on our side,” he said, picking up his bottle of beer and taking another healthy swig.

  “Tell me what?” I said, delighted that he seemed to trust me.

  “Annabelle and Frankie are heading back to L.A. They’re being smart, and getting out while they can.”

  “Wow!” I exclaimed. “Ralph will be even more major pissed.”

  “You can’t tell him,” Bobby warned. “This is between us.”

  “Scout’s honor,” I answered, without even thinking about where my loyalty should lie.

  “You don’t look like a Scout to me,” he said, grinning.

  “I don’t?” I said, being all flirty and girlish.

  “No, you don’t,” he said, flirting back.

  Oh God! I was enjoying this far too much.

  “By the way,” Bobby said, “I’m now stuck with a couple of extra seats for Zeena’s show tonight. You want to come? You can bring someone if you like.”

  “Uh, it’s just me,” I said, adding a quick, “There is no special someone right now.”

  He gave me a long, lingering look. “Join the club,” he said.

  And as our eyes locked there was a major commotion and the very famous superstar, Zeena, and her five-man entourage, made a splashy entrance into the bar.

  Bobby jerked to an upright position, while I inspected the woman with curious eyes. I’d seen Madonna once in person, and she’d seemed so much smaller than she appeared on stage and TV. Zeena was quite the opposite – a tall, swan-like creature with coal-black hair hanging below her waist, heavily shadowed cat-eyes, and deep ruby-red lips. As she swept by us, the scent of her perfume was overpowering.

  Bobby glanced at his watch and immediately called for the check. “I’ll take you back to your hotel,” he said. “And remember, you know nothing about Annabelle and Frankie taking off.”

  “I know nothing,” I repeated, formulating a story to tell Felix that would keep me in Vegas overnight.

  The check came, Bobby threw down cash, and we got up to leave. As we moved toward the entrance, a deep throaty voice called out his name.

  Bobby stopped short and turned around.

  “Zeena,” he said, as if he hadn’t noticed her before. Like how could he miss her? “This is a surprise.”

  “A surprise, Bobby?” she drawled, her tapered fingers playing with the stem of her wine-glass in a most suggestive way. “How can it be a surprise when you’re coming to my show tonight?”

  “Yeah,” he said curtly. “We’re looking forward to that.”

  And without another word he gripped my arm and steered me out of there.

  * * *

  Felix was angry, steely-eyed and quite irate, exactly as I’d expected.

  “Where have you been?” he hissed in my ear, so close I could smell his peppermint breath.

  “Funny thing,” I replied, made-up story at the ready, “I ran into my mom’s sister and family. They live in Detroit and I haven’t seen them in five years.”

  “We are here on business,” Felix reminded me sternly. “This is not family reunion time.”

  “I understand,” I replied, refusing to be intimidated. “Which is why as soon as I could get away, I did. But here’s the thing – I had to promise to stay over. Not to worry,” I added quickly, giving him no time to object. “I’ll catch an early flight to L.A. in the morning. I’ll be back in time for the Maestro funeral.”

  Felix was lost for a snappy reply – not something that happened to him very often.

  “Ralph cannot reach his daughter,” he said at last. “Since there is no answer from their suite, Ralph wants you to locate her and bring her here without the boyfriend. He’ll deal with Frankie Romano later.”

  “How am I supposed to do that?” I asked, nonplussed. “She could be anywhere. Besides, she never goes anywhere without Frankie.”

  “Annabelle trusts you,” Felix said.

  “I know she does,” I replied, thinking, What does that have to do with anything? “This place is huge,” I added. “How will I find her?”

  “Figure it out,” Felix said shortly. “You have one hour. After that we’re flying back to L.A. And you, young lady, are making a mistake not coming with us.” He waved his index finger at me, and threw me an extra-stern look. “A very big mistake.”

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Carolyn

  Nobody knew who she was, the Latina girl in the cheap bloodstained top and the tight little mini-skirt. She’d been lying in the street in the pouring rain for a while before a passerby had finally called 911 and the paramedics had come to get her.

  The attending doctor in the ER figured she was very young, although after a thorough examination to see if she’d been raped before being beaten, the female doctor ascertained that she’d given birth not that long ago.

  The girl was unconscious with serious head injuries, and damage to her face, especially her right eye. The doctor wasn’t sure they could save the eye, it was not her field of expertise. They were waiting for the eye specialist to come and examine her.

  In the meantime the girl remained unconscious, and until she woke up, nobody knew who she was.

  * * *

  “Not another damn charity event,” Gregory Stoneman said, his face darkening with annoyance. “Night after night, Evelyn, you drag me to these things and yet you know how much I hate them.”

  “The people who attend events such as this one tonight are the people who keep you in office,” Evelyn said, giving him one of her disapproving frowns. “They are the ones who vote for you, Gregory, and you would do well to remember that.”

  Christ! Evelyn was so sanctimonious.

  He could do with a blow-job right now. His cock itched for the feel of Carolyn’s tight mouth, the way she held the shaft of his cock with her hands when he came, the way she never said no, and allowed him to come in her mouth.

  “Are you listening to me, Gregory?” Evelyn said in her imperious queen voice. “You have one hour to be dressed and ready. It’s not black tie, a suit will do. Wear your new blue shirt and the gold cufflinks my father gave you last Christmas.”

  Was she actually telling him how to dress now? God! The woman was insufferable.

  Idly he wondered what she’d do if he bent her over his desk and took her from behind, jammed his itching cock right into her uptight backside and let her have it.

  She’d scream, that’s what she’d do.

  Oh, Carolyn, Carolyn. What have I done? Where are you?

  A detective had come to his office earlier in the day. The police had found Carolyn’s car abandoned, with the driver’s door wide open. The detective wanted to know if he had any idea where she might be.

  He’d shaken his head and managed a worried expression. Then Muriel had volunteered that Carolyn had left to go to the dentist the previous day, and nobody had seen or heard from her since.

  “It’s nothing serious, is it?” Gregory had asked, faking major concern.

  The detective had maintained a non-committal demeanor. “Please contact us if you hear anything, Senator.”

  “Certainly,” Gregory had said.

 
Of course it was serious. A missing woman. An abandoned car in the middle of nowhere. It was dead serious.

  Why hadn’t Benito hidden the car?

  But then again, why would he? He was a gang-banger, not a person with any brains.

  Gregory experienced a sudden flash of extreme guilt.

  “By the way,” Evelyn said, toying with one of her cabochon ruby earrings, “I heard from Ramirez earlier today. He requested that you call him or drop by the center. There is something he wishes to discuss with you.”

  Gregory experienced a leaden feeling in the pit of his stomach. What the hell did Ramirez want?

  * * *

  Benito could not believe that Rosa was disrespecting him by not coming back to the house after he’d allowed her out to go to the market to buy food. He knew exactly where she was, she’d run home to her baby – a baby fathered by another man, an enemy – member of a rival gang.

  Swearing under his breath, he vowed to punish Rosa for doing such a thing. No female disrespected him and got away with it. How dare she put her baby before him! It was an insult. She was lucky he kept her around, the ungrateful puta.

  Now he was faced with the problem of getting the Senator’s pregnant bitch out of his house without Rosa’s help. Who had time for this shit? He had things to do, people to see. His lucrative corner drug business did not run itself.

  * * *

  Rigid with fear, Carolyn feverishly began working on the electrical cord securing her right wrist. Something her captors hadn’t reckoned on was that she was left-handed, so although the knots were tough to undo, she reckoned she was making progress.

  If only she had a knife or something to cut the damn cord with, it would be so much easier. The noise of the TV coming from the other room was relentless. Whoever was in there certainly enjoyed watching TV – it had been playing most of the day.

  She wondered if and when the young girl would reappear. Several hours must have passed and no one had come anywhere near her. Was their plan to keep her shackled to the bed like a dog until she starved to death? She’d already soiled herself; there was no alternative since she couldn’t escape from the bed.