“And you’re not staying,” Bobby stated. “What’s up with that?”
“Yeah, bad timing,” M.J. said. “But here’s the good news—I’m givin’ you my tickets.”
“Jeez,” Bobby exclaimed. “True love rules.”
“Ringside, my man,” M.J. boasted. “Primo position. Cannot be beat.”
“Problem is, I don’t think I can use ’em,” Bobby said, watching Denver and Cassie as they walked back to the table.
“Why not?” M.J. asked. “Aren’t you listening? Ringside, man.”
“I’m not so sure it’s something Denver’s into.”
“Exactly what am I not into?” Denver asked, sliding into the booth.
“Boxing,” Bobby said. “Not your thing, right?”
“How did you guess?” she said coolly. “Two grown men beating each other’s brains out is hardly my idea of a brilliant time.”
“Yeah,” Bobby said. “I had a hunch you’d feel that way.”
“I’m crazy for the fights,” Cassie piped up. “We’re goin’ Sunday night, right, hon?”
M.J. exchanged a glance with Bobby and nodded. “Course we are. Wouldn’t miss it.”
Denver wondered what was happening back in L.A. She missed her apartment, her dog, and her work.
So far Vegas was not doing it for her. She couldn’t wait to get home.
CHAPTER FORTY
Luscious and Seducta set off in Seducta’s 1998 shocking-pink Pontiac, her pride and joy—a wedding present from Mikey after they’d gotten hitched by a Lady Gaga look-alike six months ago after indulging in a drunken orgy with several Scottish footballers. Seducta harbored such fond memories of that special day, she’d even had the date tattooed on her ass.
“How come Mikey bought you an old car?” Luscious sneered as she settled in to the passenger seat and attempted to fasten the broken seat belt across her skinny waist.
“Better than that piece of garbage you drive,” Seducta sneered back, referring to Luscious’s used 2008 Toyota. “My Pontiac is vintage.”
Luscious wasn’t quite sure what vintage meant, so she kept quiet.
“Who is this john we’re seeing?” Seducta inquired, weaving in and out of traffic with a total lack of concern for other drivers on the road. “What’s his deal? Girl on girl? ’Cause if it is, I’m warnin’ you—don’t go stickin’ your tongue in my cooze. You gotta fake it. We clear on that?”
“How the fuck I know who he is?” Luscious said irritably. “It’s a job. The jerkoff’s payin’ top dollar. An’ might I remind you to get a life—’cause the last place my tongue wants t’ go is anywhere near your fat cooze.”
“Fat?” Seducta hissed, tapping the steering wheel with long fake nails—several of them chipped. “If anythin’s fat it’s your big mouth. Since you had that shit injected in your lips, they remind me of two gnarly worms.”
“You’re bein’ jealous again,” Luscious said, refusing to get into a war of words. “Randy gets off on my lips.”
“Not what he told me,” Seducta replied with a knowing smirk.
“Since when did you get to talkin’ to my boyfriend?” Luscious demanded.
“Like I’m not allowed to speak to my own brother-in-law,” Seducta jeered. “You seem to forget we’re related. Randy an’ me—we’re family.”
Luscious narrowed her squinty eyes. Seducta was dumb as a sheep, and she wasn’t about to take the bait, because that’s what Seducta was doing—baiting her into losing her cool. She wished she hadn’t thrown this well-paid gig Seducta’s way; the fat cow didn’t deserve it. She should’ve picked one of the other girls.
Too late now. The best thing she could do was grit her teeth and put a smile on it.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
“I have a yen to surprise everyone,” Lucky murmured, sliding seductively out of bed. “I know I said we wouldn’t emerge until tomorrow, but it’s only eleven and I’m sure they’ll all end up at Bobby’s club. What do you think? Shall we put in an appearance?”
“My wife,” Lennie said, leaning back with a benevolent smile on his face. “Always ready for action.”
“Hmm,” she said, also smiling. “Tonight I’ve had enough action to last me until your next visit.”
“Jesus,” Lennie burst out laughing. “You’re making me sound like some kind of randy sailor on shore leave.”
“Yeah, that’s it,” Lucky teased. “My sexy sailor husband—the man with all the right moves.”
“If you say so,” he said, pulling her back to bed. “Although I’m thinking there could be a few moves we haven’t explored yet.”
“You think?”
“I do.”
“When’s your next visit?” she asked, snuggling up close and idly stroking his chest.
“Stop with the visiting crap,” he scolded. “I’m away on location making a movie. I’ll be home permanently in a few weeks.”
“Nothing about you is ever permanent, Lennie.”
“Isn’t that exactly the way you like it?”
“How well he knows me,” she drawled.
“Yeah,” he said, scratching his head. “If anyone knows you at all.”
“I had a strange meeting this morning,” she ventured. “Actually, it was verging on creepy.”
“What kind of strange?” Lennie asked.
“I’m not sure, really—it was with some moronic asshole who figured he could waltz right in and buy The Keys. Can you imagine?”
“No shit,” Lennie said, his interest piqued. “Who was he?”
“A man called Armand Jordan. Jeffrey set the meeting up; he was under the impression that Armand’s company was interested in investing in future projects.”
“And I’m guessing that wasn’t the case.”
“Not at all. This Armand character seemed fixated on buying The Keys for any price. He had this weird vibe about him—it was almost as if he had a vendetta against women.”
“Oh yeah, babe,” Lennie said dryly. “Just your type. Did you hang his balls on a post?”
“No,” Lucky said, smiling because Lennie knew her so well. “But I did have him bounced from the hotel.”
“Poor bastard,” Lennie said, laughing. “He had no idea who he was messing with.”
“I guess not,” she said thoughtfully.
“Anyway, you threw him out and he’s now history. Right?”
“Exactly.”
“So end of that story, and on to other more important things. How’s Max doing?”
“The same as ever. Desperate to make a break for it, and get out there on her own.”
“You’ve got to accept that our girl is a free spirit. All she wants is her space.”
“She gets all the space she needs, thankyouverymuch. And we’re throwing her a fantastic party. By the way, Ace drove here to be with her.”
“He seems like a good kid.”
“Don’t you think she’s too young to stick with one person?” Lucky questioned.
“Not if he’s the right one.”
“Oh, you mean like you and me?”
“You got it, sweetheart,” Lennie said, laughing.
“I bet you don’t remember our first date,” Lucky said, deciding to challenge him.
“Is this a test?” Lennie asked, propping himself up on one elbow and giving her a quizzical look.
“Maybe,” she teased. “Perhaps I want to see if you can pass.”
“Come on. As if I could ever forget our first date.”
“Go ahead, then,” she said, continuing to bait him. “I expect details.”
“New York. Chinese restaurant. We killed a bottle of vodka.”
“I’m impressed,” Lucky said. “You really do remember.”
“Did you honestly believe I wouldn’t?”
“Well … I thought you’d close in on the first time we made love on that raft in the South of France. Now that was unforgettable.”
“You got that right. We should take a look at reenacting that scene sometime
soon. Like as soon as I’ve wrapped my movie.”
“I’m up for it.”
“Me too.”
They exchanged a long intimate look.
“But hey, I gotta admit—our first date was hot too,” Lennie said. “After killing the vodka you dragged me off to some Greenwich Village jazz joint until four in the morning.”
“Then you dragged me to some after-hours dive where we stayed forever, drinking endless cups of coffee and talking about everything.”
“And you, my little Lucky, loved every minute of it.”
“I’m not denying it. But even better,” she added softly, “we fell in love that night.”
“We did?” he said, feigning surprise. “Now, that I don’t recall.”
“Don’t mess with me, Lennie Golden,” she said, narrowing her eyes in a threatening fashion. “You know you won’t appreciate the consequences.”
“Okay, okay,” he said, grinning. “I guess we did, an’ now look at us—an old married couple with kids.”
“Easy on the ‘old,’ mister,” Lucky said, throwing him a playful punch.
“However, Mrs. Golden, you’re still as beautiful now as you were then. Besides, I like a woman with a little seasoning on her.”
“‘Seasoning,’ huh?”
“Oh yeah.”
“Fuck you, Lennie Golden!”
With one swift move he rolled on top of her, pinning her beneath him. “Sure, love of my life. I live to oblige.”
* * *
Most stars conduct a meet and greet after their concerts. Sometimes Gerald M. couldn’t be bothered, but in Vegas he was never sure what celebrity could be lurking in the audience, so tonight he hung around to see who might appear. Besides, he was staying in town for the fights, and since he’d recently broken it off with his latest conquest—an ambitious actress (weren’t they all?)—he’d decided to sample the local talent.
The last person he expected to see was his almost unrecognizable daughter. Without her trademark dreads, Cookie looked quite different.
“What’s up with your hair, chicken?” he asked as she and her group were ushered into his large but crowded dressing room adjacent to the hospitality bar.
“Don’t call me that,” she said, rolling her eyes in horror. “It’s so uncool.”
“This girl is my little chicken,” Gerald M. crooned to the assorted gathering. “Hatched her myself. Now look at her—she’s all grown up.” A lackey handed him a rum and Coke, which he downed in two big gulps. “What you doin’ here, sweet thing? How’d ya like the show?”
I hated the show, Cookie was tempted to say. I hated seeing my father up on stage thrusting his leather-clad dick at a screaming audience of middle-aged loser women desperate to get laid.
“Your show was phenomenal,” Frankie announced, maneuvering himself in front of Cookie and shaking Gerald M.’s hand. “You are the consummate artist. You always rock their fuckin’ world—’scuse my language.”
“And you are?” Gerald M. said, backing off.
“Frankie Romano, Cookie’s friend. Pleasure to meet you, sir.”
“‘Sir’!” Gerald M. spluttered with laughter. “How the fuck old d’you think I am?”
Oh crap, Cookie thought. This is so bad. They’re bonding already.
Max hung back. She figured she’d fulfilled her obligation as a friend, and now it was time for her and Ace to duck out.
Cookie was not having it. “You’ve gotta stay with us,” she begged. “Otherwise Frankie’s gonna want to hang with my dad, an’ there’s no way I can handle it!”
“But Cookie—” Max objected.
“Puh-leeze! I’ll never ask you for anything again!”
And so it was that they stayed.
* * *
Bobby and Denver were sitting at a table in a candlelit poolside cabana at Mood with people swirling all around them. It was almost midnight, the music was loud, and the club was packed. Beautiful girls abounded—even the cocktail waitresses were great-looking in their skimpy uniforms. Denver was feeling out of place and inadequate. Club scenes were not her favorite venues.
“What’s with the attitude?” Bobby asked, catching her mood.
“What attitude?” Denver shot back, unable to help herself from taking her frustration out on him.
“You just seem”—he shrugged—“I dunno—kinda uptight.”
“As opposed to not uptight, like all the girls that keep coming over and talking to you?” she retorted, wishing she didn’t sound so damn jealous.
“Hey Denv, you know it’s only work,” Bobby said, stroking her arm. “Since it’s my club, what do you expect me to do—ignore them?”
“That’s an idea.”
“C’mon. Drink your wine, loosen up.”
“I thought tonight was going to be all about us. Instead it’s me trying to talk Cassie out of getting an abortion, and you working the room. Not my idea of a romantic evening.”
“Sorry you feel like that. But surely y’know I’ve only got eyes for you?”
He gave her the look—a look she couldn’t resist.
The trouble with Bobby was that he was so damn good-looking, and on top of that, genuinely nice. Then of course there was the rich factor—so naturally women were going to be chasing him. If he was indeed her future, she realized that she’d just have to get used to it.
“Well,” she said, softening her tone, “if you put it like that…”
“You know where I want to put it,” he whispered in her ear.
“Bobby!”
“Half an hour, then we’re taking off. That’s a promise.”
“You mean it?”
“Course I do,” he said, leaning in and kissing her.
She kissed him back. “I know I’m behaving like a jealous girlfriend and I don’t understand why,” she murmured. “It’s so not me, you know that.”
“I get it,” Bobby reassured her.
“You do?”
“I sure do.”
“Well then—perhaps you can enlighten me.”
He grinned at her again. What a smile. Dazzling.
“’Cause you love me,” he singsonged.
She sat up straight, her heart pounding. Had he just mentioned the L word? And why was he putting it on her? Wasn’t it up to him to say it first?
“Excuse me?” she said, slightly breathless.
“L-O-V-E,” Bobby said, spelling it out. “And since you’re not about to be the first to say it, I’m saying it for you, ’cause I love you too, Miz Jones, and I’m through with holding back. So deal with it. Okay?”
* * *
Somehow or other Kev managed to lure Billy to a strip club, where the manager—a big fan with caterpillar eyebrows and a smarmy leer—spotted him and immediately sequestered him in a deluxe VIP suite with champagne on the house and two of the club’s most popular girls.
Kev was in heaven. If he were by himself he would’ve been sitting next to the stage staring up at an array of tempting pussy with all the other nobodies. Hanging with Billy was the best. First-class service all the way.
A baby-faced blonde was busily trying to tempt Billy with her wares—shiny new tits, flat stomach, long legs, and shaved pussy. But Billy wasn’t buying. “Got a girlfriend,” he informed her. Which was news to Kev, because wasn’t Billy in the middle of a divorce?
“Sorry about that,” Baby-face cooed, adding a cheeky “But just because your dick is occupied, doesn’t mean you can’t let it out for a run!”
Billy laughed, fleetingly thought about going for it, then hurriedly excused himself, walked outside the club, and tried Max again.
Once again there was no answer, so this time he decided to text her.
“Hey, it’s me—Billy. Where r u? Been trying to reach u. I’m in Vegas. Want to c u. Call me.”
It was done. He’d contacted her; now all she had to do was respond.
* * *
Everyone ended up piling into the restaurant area of Mood. Gerald M. and entoura
ge consisted of his two backup singers and his assistant/procurer of female talent.
Then there were Cookie and Frankie (so up Gerald M.’s ass there was no room for anyone else), Max, and a reluctant Ace.
“What happened to ducking out on our own?” Ace said in a low voice to Max as they settled in at the table. He was becoming resigned to the fact that it seemed like he was never getting her to himself.
“This is Vegas, things happen,” she answered restlessly. “Besides, we can’t be here and not see Bobby. He’s sitting in a cabana by the pool. Let’s go visit.”
Before Ace could object, she grabbed him by the hand and began pulling him across the restaurant to the outside club area.
Bobby spotted them approaching. “How to ruin a special moment,” he muttered to Denver. “Trust Max to have the worst timing in town.”
“She doesn’t know,” Denver said, feeling light-headed. “Besides, I really would like to get to know her.”
“You’re sure about that?” Bobby said, standing up as Max descended.
“Hey, big bro,” Max said, flinging her arms around him in her usual proprietary fashion. “Remember Ace?”
“Absolutely,” Bobby said, giving Ace an amiable nod. “And you all know Denver.”
Max threw her a perfunctory nod, while Ace said a polite “Nice to meet you.”
“Likewise,” Denver replied, thinking that if this was Max’s boyfriend, she’d done well for herself.
“Ace drove all the way from Big Bear just to be with me,” Max said, hovering by the table.
“How nice,” Denver said. “I bet you were thrilled to see him.”
As usual Max ignored her. “Guess who’s here?” she said to Bobby.
“You know I’m not good at guessing games.”
“Your old BFF Frankie Romano.”
“Where?” Bobby said. He hadn’t seen Frankie in quite a while, not since they’d parted ways after a falling-out about Frankie’s addictions.
“We’re sitting with him at Cookie’s dad’s table in the restaurant. You should come over. I know he’d love to see you.”
“Maybe later,” Bobby said. Once, he and Frankie, along with M.J., had been best friends, but those days were over. “You know,” he added sternly, “you’re not supposed to be in this area of the club.”
Double Lucky Page 69
