Double Lucky

by Jackie Collins

  “Excuse me,” she said, getting up. “Just using the little girls’ room.”

  As she walked by the two hookers, she attempted to avert her eyes. But she knew they were staring at her, checking her out, wondering what the scene was.

  Her skin crawled.

  She made it to the bathroom, locked the door, took out her cell, and called Eddie. Fortunately, he picked up, although she could barely hear him, as there was a cacophony of noise in the background.

  “Where are you?” she asked.

  “You calmed down yet?” he questioned.

  “Have you?” she countered.

  “I’m at Mood with an interesting group,” he said. “You wanna join me?”

  “You know what, I think I do,” she replied, relieved that he didn’t seem to be holding a grudge. She’d yelled some vile names at him, but that’s what she liked about Eddie, he was basically a smart guy with a red-hot future. If she could wean him off cheating, they might make it as a couple. “I’ll be there soon.”

  Back in the living room, Armand had finally decided to utilize the services of the two prostitutes. They were not exactly what he’d required—not the usual high-end call girls he was used to—but he was too drunk and coked-out to care.

  “The whores are going to dance for us,” he announced to Annabelle, patting a place beside him on the couch. “That’s before I fuck the life out of them.”

  Wonderful, Annabelle thought, perching on the edge. This is exactly where I don’t want to be.

  Armand raised his arm, snapping his fingers at Luscious and Seducta. “Over here,” he commanded. “Now!”

  CHAPTER FIFTY

  There were times Denver discovered a boldness within her that usually only came out when she was in full control in the courtroom, a place she loved to be. She considered herself a low-key kind of girl, not prone to outbursts of any kind. However, the sight of Bobby dancing with a vaguely triumphant Gia was enough to spur her into action. After dumping Jorge—who was getting on her nerves anyway—she made it over to Bobby, who pretended not to see her approaching.

  “Hey,” she said, tapping Bobby firmly on the shoulder. “I thought we were leaving.”

  “Yeah,” he answered, barely looking at her. “We will. Just catching up with Gia. See you back at the table.”

  “Really?” Denver said coolly. “Is that what you’d like me to do? Go back to the table?”

  “Sure, hon,” he said, determined not to fold. “Maybe your, uh, friend’ll walk you there.”

  “Friend?” she questioned.

  “The dude you were locked on the dance floor with all night.”

  Oh wow, so that’s what this is all about. How dumb.

  “I guess you must mean Venus’s sad-sack boyfriend,” she said sharply.

  “I don’t give a fuck who he is,” Bobby responded, completely out of character for him. “You were with him all night.”

  Gia, in all her Victoria’s Secret sexiness, tugged on Bobby’s arm and said, “Are we dancing or not?”

  Bobby was torn. Should he stay on the dance floor with Gia, or show Denver that she couldn’t get away with dissing him?

  Before he could decide, Denver took off.

  Shit! He’d called the wrong shot. Denver wasn’t into playing games; he should’ve known that.

  * * *

  Ace was not happy about Max running out on him, and Cookie wasn’t happy being the one who had to tell him. She was also livid that Frankie had made no attempt to contact her. He was probably so far up her daddy’s ass that there was no room for thought. What a major dick. She should’ve listened to Max.

  As soon as she gave Ace the bad news, he told her he was leaving.

  “Where’re you goin’?” she asked, thinking that it might be a good idea to tag along.

  Ace shrugged. He wasn’t in the mood for company, especially Cookie’s. “I’m taking a walk,” he said shortly.

  Cookie nodded. Walking wasn’t her thing. “See you back at the hotel, then,” she called after him as he strode away.

  “Yeah,” Ace said over his shoulder. “Later.”

  Cookie wondered who Max was hooking up with. It had to be someone special for her to dump Ace in such a brutal way. After all, the poor guy had driven all the way to Vegas just to spend time with her.

  Still thinking about it, Cookie made it to the deejay booth, where Harry was rocking out with Paco. She thoroughly questioned Harry, but he didn’t know anything either, so once again she checked her phone for messages. Nothing. Nada.

  Screw Frankie Romano. He was now number one on her shit list. If he thought he was sharing a bed with her tonight, he had another thought coming.

  * * *

  Getting rid of Kev was not easy. He was determined to visit more strip clubs and generally party, but the problem was that he didn’t want to do it without Billy’s movie-star presence. So when Billy said he was heading back to the villa, Kev announced that he would come too.

  “No,” Billy said resolutely.

  “No what?” Kev said, his eyebrows shooting up.

  “Change of plans,” Billy said, walking to the curb and hailing a cab. “You can’t come back to the villa with me.”

  “Why?” Kev asked, a blank expression on his face as he tried to figure out what was going on.

  “It’s not cool. I’m expecting someone an’ I don’t want you around.”

  “You gotta be shittin’ me,” Kev said, dumbstruck.

  “I’m not.”

  “C’mon, man,” Kev pleaded. “There’s two friggin’ bedrooms. I’ll shut myself in mine, an’ whoever you got comin’ over won’t even know I’m there.”

  “It ain’t gonna happen,” Billy said. He’d made up his mind that this time everything would go smoothly; no Kev around to screw things up. “Go book yourself a room at the hotel. Tell ’em to charge it t’ me.”

  “Seriously?” Kev said, shocked that he was getting dumped.

  “Sorry, Kev,” Billy said, getting in the cab. “That’s the way it’s gotta be.”

  * * *

  Furious at Bobby, Denver decided against going back to the table. Bobby had made her so mad; what kind of childish game did he think they were playing? He knew she was insecure about the legions of women he’d probably slept with, and just because she’d felt sorry for Venus’s young stud, he’d deemed it necessary to hit the dance floor with one of his many exes. A drop-dead gorgeous ex at that.

  He’d made a stupid move, and she wasn’t playing.

  Besides, she was not thrilled with the way their so-called romantic weekend was progressing. Whatever happened to their intimate dinner for two? Not only had it failed to take place, but instead she’d been stuck with M.J.’s young wife, trying to talk her out of getting an abortion. After that she’d had to sit at a table in Mood, surrounded by Lucky and her famous husband and friends, while Bobby was off somewhere attending to club business. It was all too much.

  After confronting him, she’d needed breathing space, so she’d simply taken off.

  Now she was adrift in the middle of the Keys casino and she had no idea what to do next.

  * * *

  “I like your girlfriend,” Lennie remarked when Bobby finally returned to the table. “She’s a smart one, and beautiful too. You should hang on to her. How come I haven’t met her before?”

  “Could be ’cause you’re always away on location,” Bobby replied, checking the group out and not seeing Denver. Where was she now? The dude she’d been dancing with was sitting beside Venus, who seemed more interested in talking to Eddie Falcon. “Uh … have you seen her?” Bobby said to Lennie, his eyes still searching.

  “You’re asking me?” Lennie said, raising a caustic eyebrow. “She’s your girlfriend. Gotta keep tabs on this one. She’s a keeper.”

  “Who’s his girlfriend?” Lucky inquired, leaning over Alex, who’d decided to sit himself down right next to her.

  “The smart one,” Lennie said. “She gets my seal of
approval. How about you?”

  “Whatever Bobby wants, Bobby gets,” Lucky said with a warm smile at her son.

  “Just like you, Lucky,” Alex said, nursing a large tumbler of scotch.

  “And you know that, do you?” Lennie retorted, putting a proprietary arm around Lucky’s shoulder.

  “I know it ’cause we’re best friends,” Alex said, refusing to back down.

  Here we go, Lucky thought. The two bulls are about to go at it. Why couldn’t we have left when I wanted to?

  “Y’know, Alex, you’re so full of crap,” Lennie said. “What makes you think Lucky’s your best friend?”

  “Does it bother you?” Alex taunted. “Make you anxious that while you’re away—”

  Lucky stood up. “Both of you, shut the fuck up,” she said, her tone brooking no argument. “What’s wrong with you, Alex? I told you earlier, you’re out of line, so zip it with the childish comments. I gave up having best friends in seventh grade.”

  Alex scowled and turned to the Asian girl sitting on his other side.

  Lennie looked amused.

  Bobby left the table, deciding that Denver must be in the ladies’ room.

  “Can we go now?” Lucky asked, turning to Lennie. “I think this evening has just about peaked.”

  “You do?” Lennie said calmly. “’Cause I think it’s only just beginning.”

  Damn Lennie. He could be the most stubborn man on the planet. And maybe that’s why she loved him so much, because he never jumped at her command.

  Well, if he was set on getting into it with Alex, that was his problem.

  Lennie could be infuriating, but Lucky knew that she wouldn’t want him any other way.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

  “Dance,” Armand commanded, glaring with unfocused eyes at the two naked creatures who stood before him. The images he had of them were not quite clear.

  Were these two what he’d ordered? He vaguely remembered requesting big breasts, but this fat sow was not up to the usual standard of girls Yvonne Le Crane sent over, nor was the thin one.

  It didn’t matter. Putting Annabelle together with these two would be enough to amuse him; they were only whores, after all. And when he had them all exactly where he wanted them, perhaps he’d join the party.

  Right now his mind was taking him on a trip. He was imagining ejaculating all over Annabelle’s pert face. He’d pretend she was Lucky Santangelo and defile her in every possible way he could think of. Then he’d make the whores defile her too.

  Yes, he’d do all the things to Annabelle that he really wanted to do to Lucky Santangelo, the whore bitch of them all. He’d fuck them over until they begged for mercy.

  It was their destiny.

  It was his destiny too.

  After all, he was Prince Armand Mohamed Jordan, soon to be king of Akramshar. No woman would ever disrespect him again. THEY WOULDN’T DARE!

  Armand had his plans, and he was sticking with them.

  * * *

  Luscious did not appreciate the john barking orders at them like they were his slaves. They were performing a service, so surely he should treat them better. But he was a man, and early on she’d learned that all men were pigs—there were simply different degrees of piggery.

  Seducta didn’t give a damn, because by the time Armand summoned them she was so drunk that she couldn’t care less how she was treated as long as she got her money at the end of the gig. Dirty Den had informed them that he would hold on to their money until the job was completed, which was okay with Luscious. That way they wouldn’t have to wrangle it out of the client, and maybe the john would hand over a fat tip when he was finished with them, which she hoped would be soon, because they’d already been there for over an hour, and it was almost midnight.

  She wondered what Randy was doing. At least he wasn’t getting the opportunity to go chasing after Seducta and her giant tits. A drunken Seducta was safely here with her, and boy, could she put it away. Luscious hadn’t realized what a lush Seducta was. It sort of gave her a stab of satisfaction to know that she was the sober one, she was the one in charge.

  “We gotta have music if you want us t’ dance,” she said to Armand, determined to move this show along.

  He grunted.

  Without waiting for permission, she went over to the music system and activated the sound. Loud sound. Eminem and Rihanna together on “Love the Way You Lie.”

  Oh yeah, her kind of song. She admired the way the sexy singer who’d gotten herself beaten up had bitch-slapped Chris Brown with this track. It fuckin’ rocked.

  Seducta was standing in front of Armand and Annabelle like a dumb sack of shit, gazing longingly at the mounds of coke.

  “You want some of this?” Armand offered, his bloodshot eyes raking her over. “You want some, come and get it.”

  Seducta didn’t need asking twice. She rushed forward and knelt on the other side of the coffee table to take a snort, and before she knew it, Armand was on his feet, his hand was on the back of her head, and he was shoving her face down onto the table and into the white powder.

  Instinctively, Luscious jumped forward and pushed him off her. He spun around and slapped her hard across the cheek.

  Seducta surfaced, spluttering and choking, her face a mess of white powder.

  “You bastard!” Luscious yelled. “You could’ve suffocated her.”

  Armand laughed, an evil laugh. He felt powerful and invincible. He was powerful and invincible.

  “I’m ready now,” he said, sitting back down. “Dance for me, ladies, before I’m forced to punish you even more.”

  * * *

  Annabelle watched what was going on in horrified silence. She was shocked by Armand’s behavior. He was a crazy man, and there was no doubt in her mind that she had to get the hell out. Fast. Armand Jordan was a definite sicko, and things could only get worse.

  It occurred to her that she should’ve escaped on her first trip to the bathroom, but something had held her back. She’d honestly thought that since he was with her, he would have sent the two women away, but it hadn’t happened.

  Now he was manhandling them, and forcing them to dance.

  It was a horrible, disgusting scene. She wanted out. She wanted to get back with Eddie.

  * * *

  To go or stay? That was the quandary Luscious found herself faced with. Her cheek stung where the john had slapped her, and Seducta was a sloppy mess. But the money was too good to risk getting stiffed. Dirty Den might have to give it back if they ran out on this jerk. So since he seemed to have settled back on the couch, Luscious reluctantly started with a few lackluster stripper moves, encouraging Seducta to do the same.

  Suddenly his girlfriend rose to her feet, mumbled something about having left her phone in the bathroom, and hurried past them.

  Luscious had a hunch that she wasn’t coming back, and Luscious’s hunches never let her down. At the age of fifteen, while she was blowing a preacher, he’d stopped her mid-blow and informed her she had psychic powers and that what she was doing to him was God’s work. “You must visit me every day,” he’d insisted. “It is God’s will.”

  So she’d done so, until eventually he’d moved away.

  To this day she still believed in her psychic abilities. After all, wasn’t it her who’d told Randy he was going to do better this year? And sure enough, Mikey had given him a job. Okay, so delivering drugs wasn’t the greatest job in the world, but it was a whole lot better than the lowdown crap he’d been into before.

  Yes, she was definitely psychic, and if she knew anything at all, it was that the stuck-up bitch wasn’t coming back.

  * * *

  After rushing past the dancing hookers, Annabelle made it into the bathroom, where she quickly locked the door and leaned against it, catching her breath. What a nightmare scene. She had to get out now.

  Earlier, she’d noticed a large window above the Jacuzzi tub, and rather than get into a fight with Armand—for she suspected that if sh
e told him she was leaving, he would not let her go quietly—she decided the window was the perfect way out.

  Removing her high heels and stuffing them in her purse, she gingerly stepped into the tub, and from there she scrambled onto the surrounding marble ledge, opened the window, and, since it was higher than she’d anticipated, tumbled out onto the damp grass outside and into an arrangement of small palms.

  Cursing softly to herself, she jumped up, got herself together, and set off down the path toward the main hotel.

  The thought of getting back together with Eddie Falcon was looking more appealing every minute.

  * * *

  Unable to sleep, Fouad tried, but the tossing and turning would not allow him to fall into a peaceful slumber. He realized that he was so used to being at Armand’s beck and call that not hearing from him for at least twelve hours was disturbing.

  Armand’s words kept playing in his head: I will see Lucky Santangelo die before she gets the better of me.

  Empty threats, of course, but Armand was definitely veering out of control with his excessive drug use. An intervention was needed, and it had to happen soon.

  Then it came to Fouad. He decided that in the morning he would tell Armand’s mother everything: the drugs, the prostitutes. He might even tell her about Armand’s family in Akramshar, although he knew if he did that, Armand would never speak to him again.

  Perhaps it was wise just to inform her about the drugs. Not too much information all at once.

  Armand Jordan desperately needed help, and as far as Fouad was concerned, Peggy was the only person he would listen to.

  Now Fouad could sleep, for with tomorrow would come the solution.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

  Annabelle Maestro was the last person Max expected to run into as she made her way down the leafy pathway heading to Billy’s private villa.

  Annabelle seemed equally taken aback to see her.

  They both stopped, both tried to think of a quick excuse as to why they were there at midnight.

  “Hi,” Annabelle said at last.

  “Uh … hi,” Max said, thinking that Annabelle did not look like her usually sleek self. She was somewhat disheveled, and for some unknown reason she was carrying her shoes.