French Kiss

by Susan Johnson

  “He sends you his best,” Johnny offered, pulling a small bag from his pocket.

  “He’s a sweetie. We used to have such fun with him, didn’t we?”

  “A couple lifetimes ago.”

  She wrinkled her flawless nose. “You’ve gotten dull.”

  “You’re edgy enough for both of us,” Johnny replied. “Someone has to mind the store.”

  “Let’s not have that old argument,” she murmured.

  “Whatever you want, babe.” He wasn’t here to argue; he was here to get his daughter.

  “What-ever?”

  Her smile was meant to be tantalizing, and it might have been to someone else. But sex with his ex was definitely not on the schedule. “Let’s keep it simple. Especially with your friends out there for company,” he said, pushing away from the door.

  She shrugged. “They wouldn’t even notice.”

  “Vernie could show up,” he said, moving toward a desk near the window overlooking the Place Vendome—a familiar desk.

  He’d rolled a few here in the past, and he set about doing it again.

  “It sounds to me like you’re making excuses.” She did her little pouty number again. “Don’t you like me anymore?”

  Johnny glanced up from his task and smiled. “I like you just fine, but this place is practically Grand Central, so let’s just cool it.” He was going to politely dance backward from any action with his ex until doomsday. After a quick lick, he ran his finger down the length of the paper to seal it and walked toward the sofa. “Let me know what you think of Yogi’s newest hybrid,” he said, taking a seat beside her and offering her the spliff. “He said it’s his best since that hot summer you were filming up there.” Lisa Jordan was the kind of woman who never had enough of anything—drugs, clothes, adulation, money—and Yogi’s special blend was right up there in the category of things she couldn’t get enough of. Fortunately, Johnny had what she wanted. Which was the entire point of this tete-a-tete.

  Her eyes were half-lidded when she handed the spliff back to Johnny, and lolling against the sofa cushions, she softly sighed. “Darling Yogi has put his chemistry degree to excellent use,” she whispered. “Give him my compliments when you see him.”

  “Will do.” Johnny pretended to inhale and handed it back to her. Not that his ex was in any shape to notice pretense. She hadn’t been exactly straight when he’d walked in, as evidenced by those three outside, who were communing big time with their inner selves.

  “Does Yogi ever come down to L.A.?” she murmured, turning her head and blearily meeting Johnny’s gaze.

  “Not often. When the surf’s up—sometimes.”

  “Does he still have his dreadlocks?”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  “Blond dreadlocks.” She giggled. “I suppose it goes with the territory.”

  “Not necessarily. There’s the business types up there now, too. The biggest cash crop in California has a certain appeal to the financial wizards. But Yogi’s still the old school, back-to-the-earth farmer.” He smiled. “Organic.”

  “Perfect,” she breathed, as though it mattered if her drugs were organic or not.

  He talked old times, while she zoned out, making sure he only mentioned the good times, not the rest.

  “It seems like yesterday when we were in Bali lying in the sun,” she murmured, reaching over to touch his cheek. “You were sexy as hell.”

  He had to consciously resist drawing away, his memories of Bali slightly darker than hers. Not that she’d remember much, considering she’d been intent on getting high every day. “Yeah, time flies doesn’t it?” he said in lieu of the less palatable truth.

  “Does it ever.” Her eyes opened wide for a fraction of a second. “Can you believe Jordi is nine?”

  Finally, he thought, and he didn’t have to bring up the subject. “They grow up fast,” he said, keeping his voice neutral as hell. “She’s a good kid.”

  “She has your smile.” Lisa lazily traced the contours of his mouth with her fingertip.

  “And your good looks,” Johnny returned, gently placing her hand back down in her lap.

  “Speaking of smiles—there’s Vernie who never smiles,” she grumbled. “I know Jordi adores her, but I don’t think Vernie likes me very much.”

  “It’s just her way.” His voice was soothing. “Vernie’s a tad starchy. She believes in rules.”

  Lisa snorted. “Rules. Fuck ’em.”

  No shit. But maybe it didn’t hurt to have a couple when you were trying to raise a kid, he thought. “Did I mention, Jordi has a swim meet coming up in a couple of days?” Johnny lied, deciding to go for it. “She’d like to go, I know. Are you staying here long?”

  His ex fluttered her fingers. “Who knows.”

  “I could bring Jordi back with me if it would save you a trip.” He held his breath.

  Lisa was silent so long Johnny thought she might have gone comatose. He was just about to check her pulse, when she said, “Why don’t you ask her?”

  “Why don’t we both ask her?” He wasn’t going to be able to take Jordi from the suite without Lisa’s express approval. Not with those two pretty boys outside.

  “Just go and ask her yourself. I’m too lazy.” Her lashes drifted downward.

  “You want a pick-me-up?” He needed her on her feet and semicoherent.

  Her eyes snapped open.

  Some things never change, he decided.

  She pushed up into a seated position. “What do you have?”

  “A little of this, a little of that. Take your pick.” Sliding his hand into his pocket, he pulled out a handful of colorful pills. He’d come prepared. Whatever it took to get his daughter back, he’d figured.

  She picked one of her favorites, and from that point on, he knew he was home free.

  What was still nerve-racking, however, was having to casually sit there until Lisa would agree to go and see Jordi. He kept glancing at his watch, feeling as though a time bomb was ticking, and every second lost could change the course of things.

  “Make sure you take Vernie with you, too,” Lisa declared. “She’s such an annoying old bitch.”

  “Not a problem. I’ll take her off your hands.” Christ, he felt like a CIA agent duping some rube. He would have preferred playing it straight, but that would have gotten him nowhere fast. “Vernie likes to do lunch. We’ll go to Bouchet’s.”

  “You are a darling when you want to be.” She patted his hand, or meant to and missed.

  “I could say the same about you.” He didn’t completely discount the years they’d been together. Everything hadn’t been wrapped in black crepe. In the early years they’d been in the same party groove.

  “All Jordi does is play video games,” Lisa muttered, coming to her feet. “She must have learned that from you.”

  “Nah.” Johnny steadied his ex. “It’s just the younger generation.”

  Minutes later, they were finally moving down the hallway toward Jordi’s room, Lisa’s lethargy shifting into the mindless chatter that was a by-product of her happy pill.

  Twelve

  There was no point in alarming Jordi, Johnny decided as they made their way to her bedroom. He’d just say he happened to be in Paris if she asked. Opening the door, Johnny quickly scanned the opulent room, his gaze coming to rest on his daughter seated before the TV playing a video game.

  “See—what did I say?” Lisa pronounced, flipping an exasperated wave at Jordi. “It’s always the same.”

  A wave of profound relief washed over Johnny, his world back on track.

  “Hey, baby girl,” he said, careful to keep his voice bland. “What’s goin’ on?”

  Jordi turned and burst into a wide smile. “Daddy! Vernie said you might come! Check out this game. It’s sweet.”

  He liked that his daughter was immune to the major aggravation raising his hackles, that the vicissitudes of a journey halfway across the world apparently hadn’t disturbed her. “Why don’t I check it out later,”
he said with the utmost restraint. “Your mom said it’s okay if you come home with me now.”

  “Let me grab my game disk. Hey, Vernie, we’re going home,” Jordi added with a glance at her nanny.

  Vernie didn’t so much as blink, but she gathered up her knitting and came to her feet. “I’ll get our things,” she said, holding Johnny’s gaze for a pregnant moment.

  He stood beside Lisa who kept up a running commentary about the uselessness of video games, while Vernie quickly pulled together the few items they had with them. Jordi just nodded her head as her mother talked. “I know, Mom. Right, Mom. I won’t forget,” she said, like children do without really listening. Johnny was agreeable as hell, not uttering a discouraging word, only saying at the last when Vernie swept by them and walked from the room, “I guess we’re all set, then.”

  Vernie had disappeared by the time they reached the sitting room, the sound of the outside door slamming a clue to her whereabouts.

  Escorting Lisa to a chair, Johnny bent low and murmured, “I left Yogi’s stuff in the library. I’ll tell him you said hi.”

  “Maybe I’ll drive up and see him sometime. You know, for old-time’s sake.”

  Or some superior stash, Johnny thought, but this close to escape there was no way he was opting for the truth. “Yogi’ll show you a good time. Guaranteed,” he said, and stood upright. “Good to see you again.”

  “You’re not staying?” Chantel murmured, her gaze half-lidded, apparently unaware of her male companions’ inhospitable scowls.

  Johnny smiled. “Maybe next time.”

  Neither of the men acknowledged Johnny nor did he them— male testosterone nevertheless perfuming the air. Or for those rich, young strung-out scions of the drug cartel who never did anything even remotely dangerous, perhaps it was only their expensive cologne scenting the air.

  “Say good-bye to your mother,” Johnny prompted Jordi, who was playing her PSP game as she waited for her parents to finish their business.

  She looked up, her thumbs suspended over the keys. “Bye, Mom. See ya. Thanks for everything,” she added politely.

  “Good-bye darling.” Lisa smiled and waggled her fingers.

  Jordi went back to playing.

  Lisa rolled her eyes. “She’s absolutely addicted to those games. Can’t you do something, Johnny?”

  Speaking of addictions, he wanted to say, but said instead, “Jordi plays videos more when she’s on the road.”

  “I doubt that. You should think about enrolling Jordi in some acting classes—maybe mime or puppetry at her age. I’m serious, Johnny. She needs to be weaned from those horrid games.”

  “Good idea,” Johnny replied. “First thing we get back.” Or right after he had his head examined. Another actress in the family he didn’t need.

  “Daaaaddd!” Jordi protested, stopping her play long enough to give her father an appalled look. Adult conversation was not completely unheard, apparently.

  “Come on, Jordi, we’ll talk about it later,” Johnny said. “See you, Lisa.” This was not a fight he cared to have right now.

  He ushered his daughter out of the suite with lightning speed, something he’d been geared up for from the onset. Although finesse was always useful and in this case, thanks to Yogi’s product and some polite conversation, Lisa was left in a relatively calm state.

  Vernie was waiting for them in the hallway, staring down the guards with such hauteur Johnny felt a brief moment of sympathy for the men. “Thank God you came,” she said. “The food was not up to its usual standards,” she added with a meaningful glance for Johnny as they moved toward the elevators.

  Johnny smiled at her euphemistic allusion. “I’m sorry to hear that. We’ll have to see that your menu improves.”

  “Along with everything else,” she significantly declared.

  “Not a problem.”

  “Vernie doesn’t get along with Mom,” Jordi said, glancing up from her video game long enough to give her dad a how-dumb-do-you-think-I-am look. “Everyone knows that. Are we going to the video arcade?”

  So much for adult subtlety.

  Children really were sponges.

  “Sure, kid, we’ll go to the arcade whenever you want,” Johnny said, swinging his daughter up in his arms and giving her a big hug.

  “You’re squeezing me too tight,” Jordi complained, wiggling in his grasp. “But thanks, Dad, for coming,” she added, freeing her arms enough to put her game on pause. “Mom’s friends are so boring, aren’t they Vernie?”

  “I’d use another word,” Vernie said with a sniff. “Thank your father for coming such a long way to get you.”

  “I already did.”

  “We’re good, Vernie.” Johnny winked at her over Jordi’s head. “Real good.”

  It felt heavenly to hold his daughter again.

  It felt like a major disaster had been averted.

  Or like maybe he’d just won ten Grammys and an Oscar for best musical score all in one night. Okay, so that wasn’t possible, but he was definitely feeling fine.

  And once he had Jordi safely back in California, everything would be perfect.

  Barry and Cole were waiting at the elevator—out of sight, but watching—and they entered the elevator behind Johnny without a word. They stopped to get Nicky in the lobby, Jordi acknowledging her with the same casualness with which she’d greeted her father.

  Jordi kept up a steady chatter about the video arcade that was just down the street, as the small party exited the Ritz.

  Half-listening, Johnny thanked whatever gods and saints in heaven had contributed to the successful conclusion of his pursuit.

  But first chance he had, he was calling his lawyer.

  He wanted to make sure this didn’t happen again.

  Thirteen

  While Vernie settled into their suite at the Hotel Castille, Johnny and Jordi showed Nicky to her room. But before Nicky had even checked to see that her carry-on had been brought up, Jordi said, “You gotta come with us to this video arcade. Dad’s taking me, right now. You are, right?” Her gaze swung from her father to Nicky. “You play, doncha?”

  “A little."

  “Feel free to refuse.” Johnny smiled. “This might not be your idea of fun in Paris.”

  He was obviously giving her a way out, Nicky thought. Now that he had his daughter back, she’d probably be in the way. “Thanks for the invite, but maybe next time,” Nicky said.

  “Daddy, Nicky has to come! It’s funner with more people. We can play Mortal Kombat or Tekken together. I love those games.”

  He grinned. “It looks like I’m getting some static here. Look, come along,” he offered. “I’ll give you combat pay.”

  “You don’t have to pay me. I like arcades.”

  “See, Daddy! Nicky wants to come!”

  “Well, then. Are we ready?”

  He really shouldn’t smile at her like that. She wasn’t used to that melting smile. He must be walking on air now that Jordi was back. That’s all it was. No point in taking it too personally. “I’m ready,” Nicky said, pleased to hear her voice sounding more or less normal.

  “It’s not very far. We can walk,” Johnny said.

  As it turned out she and Johnny walked while Jordi skipped and hopped down the street, leading the parade.

  “I’m glad everything went smoothly,” Nicky remarked. “Jordi seems in good spirits—no trauma apparently.”

  “She’s completely unfazed as usual. I can’t take credit for it, though; she’s always taken everything in stride. She never even cried much as a baby.”

  “Maybe her life’s been good. You know that old joke about the little girl who didn’t speak until she was six. When her astonished parents asked her why, she said, Everything’s been pretty good until now.”

  Johnny smiled faintly. “That would put my therapist at ease— if I had one.”

  “I thought every celebrity had one.”

  “I’m not a celebrity.”

  Okaaay. And
she wasn’t addicted to chocolate. But rather than rain on this very nice parade, she said, “Well, Jordi’s a sweetheart, and that’s a fact.”

  “Thanks.”

  My God, he really meant it. Johnny Patrick as proud father didn’t hit the headlines, but it was as real as his glitz and glamour image.

  He paused briefly at a waste receptacle, pulled out a handful of pills from his pocket and tossed them away. “Those were my backup,” he said to her assessing gaze. “I didn’t know what Lisa might want,” he said, resuming his pace, “so I came prepared.”

  “A colorful mix,” she said, in lieu of asking, Does your ex really take all those different drugs?

  “Yeah, well… it’s over. Mission accomplished. And now I have a big favor to ask you,” he added, without warning. “Feel free to say no.”

  As if he took no for an answer, she thought, having seen him in action the last twenty-four hours. “What is it?” She tried to disguise her wariness, but failed.

  “Seriously, you can refuse.”

  “Seriously, you can’t be serious.”

  He grinned. “Am I that threatening?”

  “Let’s just say if it was a match between you and a bulldozer, I wouldn’t bet on the bulldozer.”

  “Then maybe I’ll just tell you instead of ask,” he wisecracked.

  “Now you’ve done it.” She grinned. “For sure it’s a no, now.”

  “You could bill me for your time. How would that be for a compromise?”

  “I’m already billing you for my time.”

  His smile was candy sweet. “In that case, maybe you could just up your charges. The thing is—I wouldn’t mind catching my breath after pulling an all-nighter to get here. If your schedule in any way allows”—his smile turned even sweeter, if that were humanly possible—“maybe we could take a day to chill, wind down—whatever—before we head back.”

  His request was benign enough, and she did love Paris. “You could use some sleep I suppose.” She was mostly a pushover when it came to accommodating people anyway. That’s what came from being the baby in the family.

  “Yeah, probably. Although, I’m not complaining. It was worth the long flight to have Jordi safe. What do you think?”