Confessions of a Wild Child
Page 19
Craven is driving me nuts, and I know it’s mean of me, but I can’t help going out of my way to avoid him. He’s so freaking needy. It’s a total turnoff.
“I h … hope they don’t have s … strippers at my bachelor night,” he confides to me.
Is he kidding? Knowing Gino and Dimitri and Peter Richmond, it’ll be stripper city.
“Everything will be cool,” I tell him. “All you’ve got to do is relax, sit back, and enjoy yourself.”
Oh my God! If he’s scared of strippers at his bachelor party, how’s he going to behave on our wedding night? I shudder to think. I’m sixteen, and he’s way more inexperienced than me. Gulp! Am I going to have to show him what to do? This isn’t right.
Meanwhile, once I make it through Betty Richmond’s dinner, it’s about to be all fun ahead.
* * *
Olympia is outrageous, shocking, and a pure jolt of fresh air. She takes over Betty’s dinner, scandalizing the ladies with torrid tales of Dimitri’s conquests. “I have no idea how I ended up so normal,” she purrs, fluffing out her blonde hair. “With a father like mine I should be a raving nympho.”
The ladies gasp in shock, although it’s apparent they are eating up every salacious word. They all know who Dimitri Stanislopoulos is. The Greek billionaire shipping tycoon with the reputation of being a rabid ladies’ man.
What would I do if Olympia wasn’t here?
How would I manage?
Thanks, Olympia, for taking the heat off me.
Dinner ends early, and the two of us hurry upstairs to change into more suitable outfits for Raoul’s festivities. That afternoon we’d gone shopping and both picked out killer outfits. I went totally over the top and chose a tight black leather dress, thigh-high boots, and a to-die-for studded motorcycle jacket. Olympia preferred to take the hooker route, and she ended up getting a shorter-than-short white cleavage-city dress, a silver sequinned shrug, and sky-high heels. “It’s Vegas, baby,” she’d squealed. “We’ve gotta go for it!”
We change into our new clothes in Olympia’s suite and race from the hotel on our way to Raoul’s event.
I am psyched—I don’t know what he has planned, but knowing Raoul, it will be something major exciting.
* * *
Half-naked little people; bikini-clad models of both sexes cavorting in cages; disco balls galore; male strippers; a singing drag queen; and the best music ever!
Yes, Raoul has pulled out all the stops for an over-the-top night of scintillating decadence! Of course, the first question out of his mouth is “Where is your sweet brother?”
Probably shying away in horror from a gaggle of strippers, I think.
“Oh, he’ll be here soon,” I say.
Raoul smiles, and gestures at the dazzling activities taking place. “You like?”
“We love!” Olympia answers for me. “Can I try dancing in a cage? I’ve always wanted to.”
Ah, Olympia, up for any challenge.
And so the evening really begins …
* * *
It’s late, I have no clue how late. I only know I am totally drunk on endless tequila shots, and that’s so not me. I’m the girl who likes to stay on top of things, be aware, know what’s going on. But I’m allowed to freak out once in a while, aren’t I? I’m allowed to get crazy, considering what my future holds.
Dario showed up earlier with gross stories of nude lap dances, and Peter Richmond making a spectacle of himself.
Who cares?
I don’t.
I have other things to consider. Where is Marco? Will I see him before my execution—uh, sorry—I mean wedding.
Am I doing the right thing?
I feel sick, make it to the ladies’ room, throw up, feel better.
My baby brother insists on taking me back to the hotel. I allow him to lead me from the club even though the mayhem is far from over. I see Olympia making out with one of the male strippers, while Raoul is parading around in full makeup and a long blonde wig.
It’s all too much.
I’ve had fun, but it’s time to get serious.
CHAPTER FIFTY
It’s morning, I open one eye and I’m shocked to see Gino standing over my bed staring down at me with a pensive expression. Why is he here? Did I do something terrible last night? Something I can’t recall?
Memories are a blur. I have a raging headache and I am desperate to pee.
“Daddy,” I croak. “What’s up?”
“Hey, kiddo,” he says, rubbing his hands together. “It’s noon. Why’re you still sleeping?”
To avoid waking up, I want to say, but I don’t.
“Didn’t realize it was so late,” I mumble.
“How was your dinner with Betty?” he asks.
“Uh … fine.”
Gino sits himself down on the edge of my bed. I squirm uncomfortably. I feel trapped and certainly not prepared for a cozy father-daughter chat.
“I know Betty’s not exactly a mother figure,” Gino says, clearing his throat. “But you gotta give her a chance, she’s really a good woman.”
Good in bed, Daddy? Is that it?
“Okay,” I say carefully, wishing he’d leave already.
“I know this is like a big rushed deal,” Gino says. “However, one of these days you’re gonna thank me. You’re gonna tell me I did the right thing.”
“If you say so,” I manage.
“Yeah, kiddo, I say so.” A long beat. “You got no mother—all you got is me an’ Dario, an’ that’s not enough. You need a family around you, an’ the Richmonds are just that, a real close family unit.”
What is he, blind?
“They’re powerful, too,” Gino continues. “Well respected, an’ well liked. You never know, one day Peter could be sittin’ in the White House, with you an’ Craven right alongside him.”
Yeah, and horses will fly.
“It’s okay, Gino,” I say. “I get it. I’m cool with the situation.”
He gives a sigh of relief. “That’s what I wanted to hear, ’cause you know I love you, kiddo. You’ll always be my little princess.”
My eyes automatically fill with tears. Daddy Dearest certainly knows how to pull my strings.
He gets up. “Tonight,” he says, “a quiet dinner. You, me, and Dario.”
I nod, he’s gone, and so my day begins.
Later Olympia, Dario, and I take up our usual positions beside the pool and rehash last night’s activities.
Apparently Dimitri and Tasha ended up having a steaming row after she accused him of sleeping with one of the strippers at Craven’s bachelor party.
“The Russian bitch has left the building,” Olympia announces, a triumphant gleam in her eyes. “Dimitri doesn’t seem to be too concerned.”
“Did you tell him you’re thinking of moving to Vegas?” I ask.
“Huh?” Olympia manages a look of sheer puzzlement. “What are you talking about? Three days and I’m over this place.”
I guess club manager Rick is just a distant memory.
Dario reveals more about the bachelor party. “It was my worst nightmare,” he says with a shudder. “All those horrible naked girls crawling all over everyone. Gross!”
“Was Marco there?” I ask, suddenly breathless.
“Yeah, he was there.”
The image of Marco with naked strippers infuriates me. Surely he doesn’t enjoy that kind of thing? Then I think, Who am I kidding—he’s a man, isn’t he?
I have no desire to obsess about Marco anymore. I need to file him away in the back of my head until I’m ready to take his breath away. Because one day it will happen, I have never been more sure of anything. Marco and I are destined to be together. It’s a given.
“I adore Raoul,” Olympia exclaims. “What a character! Where did you find him?”
“I didn’t find him. Betty Richmond did.”
“Well, there’s a mismatched pair,” Olympia drawls. “The uptight hag and the raging queen.”
I
can’t help giggling. I turn to Dario. “What do you think of Raoul?”
Dario blushes a deep beet red, and I realize that something must’ve gone on between them that I don’t know about.
Oh dear, Dario’s so young and yet not so innocent. Exactly like me.
Olympia’s listening, so I think it’s best to quickly move on. I jump up. “Last one in the pool is a chicken,” I say, making a running dive into the water.
Dario follows me. Olympia doesn’t, swimming’s not her forte—balancing a margarita and admiring glances from men is.
“So what’s up with you and Raoul?” I ask, surfacing with a sputter.
“How’d you know?” Dario questions, treading water.
“It’s not like you have a poker face.”
“Nothing major. He’s nice, he makes me laugh.”
“And he’s got a boyfriend.”
“So’ve I.”
“Okay, then. I guess you know what you’re doing.”
Dario suddenly grins, and I realize he does know what he’s doing, once again exactly like me.
We’re Santangelos. We get it.
* * *
The three of us at dinner is surprisingly pleasant. Me, Dario, and Gino. A family unit.
You see, Daddy, I really don’t need another family.
Gino is in a talkative mood, regaling us with stories about his early days in New York, the foster homes he’d been shuttled back and forth from, his teenage life of poverty and petty crime. He makes it all sound exciting and interesting, although I know he’d experienced tough times after his mom ran off when he was only five, and his dad was an abusive felon. Uncle Costa had revealed Gino’s story to me one day with the hope that it would make me “calm down.”
After dinner, Gino announces that he has a surprise for me.
The three of us head to the front of the hotel, and parked there, to my utter delight, is a gleaming red Ferrari. The car of my dreams.
“Oh my God!” I exclaim. “Is it really mine?”
“All yours, kiddo,” Gino says with a great big grin. “I’m arrangin’ to have it shipped to Washington. It’ll be there before you know it.”
I am overcome with joy. A Ferrari. A red Ferrari. It’s the car I’ve always coveted.
“Can I drive it?” I beg.
“Be my guest,” Gino says, still beaming.
He throws me the keys. I hug him.
“Do I get a Ferrari when I get married?” Dario jokes.
“No,” Gino responds. “You get the keys to the whole hotel.”
Those words kind of take the shine off. A Ferrari or the hotel? Hey—I’m kind of thinking I would prefer the keys to the hotel. But I guess—for now—a Ferrari will have to do.
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
It’s my wedding day. The sun is shining. It’s Vegas and I am getting married. Raoul appears early, and before I know it the penthouse is filled with people. Aunt Jen is fussing around, there is a hairdresser and makeup artist, and a lanky photographer is catching casual shots, while several assistants are running back and forth.
Gino’s bedroom door is tightly shut. Dario and Olympia have yet to appear.
I feel isolated, surrounded by a sea of strangers.
Today is the day. The day.
My stomach’s performing cartwheels. My heart is beating slowly—or is it fast? I’m not so sure.
Gino emerges. Dario arrives. Olympia appears.
I sit in a chair in front of a mirror, watching as I am changed into the picture of what a bride is supposed to look like.
When the pros are finished I race into the bedroom, wipe off the creepy low-key makeup, and do my own thing. Then I rough up my hair into its usual tumble of long dark curls, and finally I look like me again.
Dario slides into the bathroom and offers me a joint. I take a couple of drags.
Raoul is ready with the dress. I slip into it. It skims my body and makes me feel beautiful.
“You are a picture of luminosity, child,” Raoul coos. “A vision of wildness.”
I try to smile. My lips feel dry. My throat feels constricted.
Somebody hands me a bouquet of white flowers.
I don’t want to carry a bouquet. I hand it back to them.
Then we all set off downstairs to the flower garden where the wedding is to take place.
We stand outside, waiting, waiting, until it’s time.
We hear the music and Gino takes my arm.
Daddy Dearest. Gino the Ram.
I love him. I hate him.
What am I doing?
Am I seeking my freedom, or am I sealing my fate?
Who knows?
I certainly don’t.
We start the long walk down the flower-covered aisle. Me and Gino. A matching pair.
I spot Marco. Our eyes meet for a split second. We connect. One day he will be mine, I know this to be a fact.
The adventure is beginning. Is it an adventure or the start of some bleak nightmare?
I am sixteen years old and I am taking a step that could turn out to be a disaster.
My arm shakes. Gino holds me tight.
What is he thinking?
What am I thinking?
Is this a huge mistake?
I will never be Mrs. Craven Richmond. In my head I will always be Lucky Santangelo. A free spirit. A strong independent woman.
Yes, I am Lucky Santangelo, and one day I am going to take over Gino’s empire.
Only time will tell …
Also by Jackie Collins
The Power Trip
Poor Little Bitch Girl
Married Lovers
Lovers and Players
Deadly Embrace
Hollywood Wives—The New Generation
Lethal Seduction
Thrill!
L.A. Connections—Power, Obsession, Murder, Revenge
Hollywood Kids
American Star
Rock Star
Hollywood Husbands
Lovers and Gamblers
Hollywood Wives
The World Is Full of Divorced Women
The Love Killers
Sinners
The Bitch
The Stud
The World Is Full of Married Men
Hollywood Divorces
The Santangelo Novels
Goddess of Vengeance
Drop Dead Beautiful
Dangerous Kiss
Vendetta: Lucky’s Revenge
Lady Boss
Lucky
Chances
About the Author
JACKIE COLLINS is the author of twenty-nine New York Times bestselling novels. More than 500 million of her books have sold in more than forty countries. From Hollywood Wives to Lady Boss, from Chances to Poor Little Bitch Girl, Jackie Collins has chronicled the lives of the rich and famous with “devastating accuracy” (Los Angeles Times). She lives in Beverly Hills.
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
CONFESSIONS OF A WILD CHILD. Copyright © 2014 by Chances, Inc. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.
www.stmartins.com
Cover design by Michael Storrings
Cover photograph by Dmitry Tsvetkov/Shutterstock.com
The Library of Congress has cataloged the print edition as follows:
Collins, Jackie.
Confessions of a wild child / Jackie Collins. — First U.S. Edition.
pages cm
ISBN 978-1-250-05093-9 (hardcover)
ISBN 978-1-4668-5192-4 (e-book)
1. Fiction. 2. Orphans—Fiction. 3. Life change events—Fiction. I. Title.
PR6053.0425C67 2014
823'.914—dc23
2013031935
e-ISBN 9781466851924
First Edition: February 2014
Jackie Collins, Confessions of a Wild Child