‘I’m gettin’ damn sick of your mouth,’ Price said, narrowing his eyes.
‘And I’m sick of you telling me what to do,’ Teddy said sullenly.
That was it. Price had had enough. ‘You’re not hungry?’ he roared, getting up from the table and throwing down his napkin. ‘Then go to your room, an’ don’t let me catch a glimpse of your smart ass again tonight.’
Teddy shoved his chair away from the table and slouched out of the dining room.
Price looked at Irena. She returned his look.
‘Kids,’ he said, with a helpless shrug, sitting down again.
‘I know what you mean, Mr Washington,’ she agreed.
He reached out his hand. ‘C’mere a minute.’ She took his hand and moved closer. ‘You miss me while I was gone?’ he asked, his voice softening.
‘Yes, Mr Washington,’ she said. ‘The house was very quiet.’
‘Yeah?’ he said, reaching up and touching her left breast, fingering the nipple in a familiar fashion. ‘You must’ve missed me plenty, huh?’
She took a step back, her face expressionless. ‘Yes, Mr Washington.’
He chuckled. ‘Okay, sweetcakes, maybe later tonight you’ll tell me exactly how much you missed me.’
Irena kept the same stoic expression. ‘Yes, Mr Washington.’
* * *
Upstairs, Teddy paced around his room like a rat on a treadmill. Ever since that fateful night six weeks ago, he couldn’t get the horrible scenario out of his head.
Two people sitting in a car. Two people not doing any harm to anyone.
And Mila. Blowing the woman away. Grabbing her jewellery and running.
Blood. Teddy kept on seeing the blood soaking the pretty black woman’s white gown.
Jesus! And she was a sister too, which made it even worse.
Mila had told him to forget about it. Once they were back in the jeep she’d started yelling about how it was an accident and nobody’s fault. But he knew the horrible truth. It had been no accident. Mila had brutally shot two people, and the woman had died.
The next day it was all over the news on account of the two people she’d shot being famous. Maybe his father even knew them! That thought really freaked him.
‘We’re gonna get caught,’ he’d told Mila. ‘They’re gonna find us.’
‘They can’t,’ she’d answered, staring him down. ‘There were no witnesses.’
‘They’ll find us,’ he’d repeated. ‘The gun – where’d you get it?’
‘It doesn’t matter.’
‘They could put a trace on it.’
‘How? They don’t have the goddamn gun.’
‘Where’d you hide it?’
‘You think I’m stupid?’ she’d sneered. ‘I got rid of it.’
‘What about her jewellery?’
‘Don’t worry, when the time comes you’ll get your share of the money.’ And she’d glared at him with a savage look in her eyes. ‘Don’t ever open your mouth, Teddy Washington. ’Cause if you do, I swear I’ll kill you.’
He lived in fear. Fear of his father finding out, and fear of Mila and her threats.
If she was capable of shooting two people, then she was certainly capable of killing him.
Teddy had nowhere to turn.
Chapter Twenty-Five
The unreal tragedy had affected all of them. The days drifted into weeks and Lucky was glad she’d made the decision to leave Panther because it gave her time to spend with Lennie and Steven, both of whom desperately needed her – especially Steven, who was totally devastated by the death of his wife.
She’d placed people she trusted in positions of power at Panther. Since her departure there was not one person running the studio, there were three. Which meant that no decisions could be made without all three of them consulting each other, and since she was on the board, it meant that she was still very much involved. She certainly didn’t want the studio being less of a power simply because she’d left. After all, she hadn’t sold Panther, she’d merely stepped down as studio head, and this way gave her an option if she ever chose to resume control. She’d decided that if in a year she was no longer interested, then she’d sell. She’d make that decision when the time came.
Carioca Jade was staying at their house, comforted by her cousin Maria. The two little girls were inseparable, sleeping in the same room and spending all their time together. Thank God they have each other, Lucky thought, remembering how she and her brother, Dario, had clung together when their mother was murdered.
Physically Lennie had recovered quickly. His gunshot had been a surface wound and not that bad. It was the shock of losing Mary Lou that he couldn’t seem to get over. ‘There’s nothing you could’ve done,’ Lucky kept assuring him.
‘I shouldn’t’ve gone for my gun,’ he said, going over it time and again. ‘It was a mistake that cost Mary Lou her life. It’s like the worst fucking nightmare in the world.’
Lucky didn’t know what to say. He was right, it was a nightmare, one they were both trapped in.
Orpheus Studios had shut down production on Lennie’s movie until they could recast Mary Lou’s role. It might not even get recast because it would put the film way over budget. Lennie had vowed not to return as director. ‘I refuse to direct it with another actress,’ he’d said. ‘Let them get somebody else.’
She’d noticed that he didn’t want to leave the house, which is exactly what had happened after his kidnapping. The only time he went out was to take long solitary walks along the beach. He never asked her to go with him, and she didn’t volunteer, because she knew he preferred being alone.
He’d hardly mentioned her decision to leave the studio. ‘I wanted to tell you,’ she’d explained, ‘but then I thought it would be better to surprise you.’
‘It’s a surprise all right,’ he’d said. And that had been his only comment on the subject. She knew he was pissed.
Now she was at home with him every day, and for the first time in their marriage things between them were strained. They weren’t even making love, and she didn’t know what she could do to make the situation better.
She understood that he was suffused with guilt, but he had to get over it sometime.
Steven was in a complete depression. Like Lennie, he blamed himself. ‘I should have gone to the location and picked her up,’ he kept on saying. ‘It was my mistake. I thought she’d be safe with Lennie.’
They both called Detective Johnson on a daily basis. ‘We’re not the kind of people who can sit back and do nothing,’ Lucky informed the detective. ‘We expect action.’
Detective Johnson assured them he was doing his best. He’d interviewed Lennie several times to go over things. Unfortunately, Lennie could only remember so much. And, try as he might, he could not recall the licence-plate number of the jeep.
‘We’ve got it down to about six thousand black jeeps registered in California,’ the detective told them. ‘That’s if the jeep was black. It could’ve been dark green or blue, even brown.’
‘That’s encouraging,’ Lucky said, unimpressed with his so-called detective work. ‘How do you plan on finding the right one?’
‘We’re working on it, Miss.’
‘Don’t call me Miss.’
‘Sorry, Miz Santangelo.’
Lennie spent many hours with a police sketch artist and who’d come up with a computer likeness of the two suspects. ‘She doesn’t look any older than Bobby,’ Lucky said, staring at the girl’s picture. ‘To think that teenagers with guns can snuff out a life just like that. There should be a law against it.’
‘There is a law against it,’ Lennie said grimly. ‘If you carry a gun, you’re supposed to have a licence.’
Lucky decided it might be good for Lennie to get out of Los Angeles for a while. ‘How about a trip to New York?’ she suggested. ‘Remember? The early days – you and me in my apartment?’
‘And my big old loft,’ he said, with the glimmer of a smile. ‘The one you made me sell.�
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‘I could try to buy it back.’
‘Don’t be silly.’
‘Y’know, Lennie,’ she said. ‘I keep on flashing back on the night you were shot. Going to the event and you not being there, then hearing about the shooting. Losing Mary Lou is bad enough, but if I’d lost you . . . I wouldn’t have been able to go on.’
‘Yes, you would,’ he said. ‘You’re a survivor. You’ve survived a lot of shit in your life.’
‘So have you, Lennie, and believe me, we’ll survive this together. It’s like being robbed – somebody breaks in your house, takes your things and runs off into the night. If you caught ’em, you’d feel a hell of a lot better.’
A few days later she contacted Detective Johnson. ‘I’ve been thinking,’ she said. ‘How about if we hire our own detective agency to help you with this investigation? I’m sure you’re short on man-power.’
‘I’d have no objections.’
‘Would you co-operate?’
‘Of course.’
‘Then I’ll do it. Oh, yes, and I want to post a reward for information.’
‘Sometimes that can be helpful. Sometimes not.’
‘Let’s try it,’ Lucky said.
Fuck the system, she thought. One way or another, they were going to catch the killers.
And a reward of one hundred thousand dollars might be the answer.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Brigette had been back from LA for a month when she announced, ‘I’m taking off for a few weeks.’
‘And where are you goin’?’ Lina asked, sitting cross-legged on the floor of her apartment, painting her toenails in complicated zebra stripes.
They were having a girl’s night in, with Alanis Morissette on the stereo, and a large, half-eaten pepperoni pizza on the table.
‘I promised Lucky I’d go to Europe with her,’ Brigette said vaguely, not wanting to get too specific.
‘Sounds good t’ me,’ Lina said. ‘’Ow’s Lucky doing?’
‘She’s okay. Steven’s a wreck.’
‘It must be awful,’ Lina said, taking a swig from a can of Diet Coke.
‘It is. You should see him, it’s like he’s in a permanent daze. And Lennie isn’t doing much better ’cause he blames himself. Thinks he could’ve done something to stop it.’
‘Could he?’ Lina asked, still painting.
‘Not according to Lucky. They had this crazy girl waving a gun in their faces. Can you imagine what it must’ve been like? They were totally trapped.’
‘I’d freak if I ’ad a gun in my face,’ Lina said. ‘I’d, like, lose it big time.’
‘So would I,’ Brigette agreed.
‘An’ especially it bein’ a girl an’ all,’ Lina added. ‘That’s like a double whammy – y’ know, it’s really messin’ with his machismo.’
‘I know,’ Brigette agreed.
‘They got any leads on who did it?’
‘Lennie doesn’t remember much.’
‘Talk about fate,’ Lina said, picking up the remote and clicking on the TV sans sound. ‘One moment you’re sitting in your car, the next you’re lying there – dead.’
‘Mary Lou was such a sweetheart,’ Brigette said. ‘Kind and thoughtful. Always nice to everyone. You should’ve seen the turn-out at her funeral.’
‘I used to watch her on that sitcom she did years ago,’ Lina said, flipping channels.
‘The saddest thing of all is that Steven and Mary Lou were so happy together.’ Brigette sighed. ‘And then there’s little Carioca, she’s only eight, and now she’s got no mother. It’s a tragedy.’
‘Terrible,’ Lina said. ‘’Ow old were you when your mum died?’
‘Fifteen,’ Brigette answered flatly. ‘I was better off than Lucky – she was five when she found her mother floating in the family swimming-pool, murdered.’
‘My mum drives me insane,’ Lina said, holding out her foot and admiring her freshly painted toenails. ‘Although I s’pose I shouldn’t complain.’
‘I’d have liked nothing better than to have known my mother properly,’ Brigette said wistfully, remembering the few good times. ‘You should make the most of yours.’
‘Fifteen’s not that young,’ Lina remarked. ‘At least you got to spend time with her.’
‘Not really,’ Brigette said pensively. ‘Olympia was never around when I needed her.’
‘Where was she?’
‘Where was she?’ Brigette repeated, recalling the blonde bombshell who’d never wanted to miss a thing. ‘Good question. London, Paris, Rome, Buenos Aires. Olympia was the original jet-setter – always flying somewhere for a happening party or a new lover. She had boyfriends, husbands and too much money. I was shunted away to a boarding-school in Connecticut which I hated.’
‘Quelle drag.’
‘It certainly was.’
‘You can ’ave my mum if you like,’ Lina joked. ‘The old bag keeps on threatenin’ to visit.’
‘What’s wrong with that?’
‘She’s a colossal pain in the butt.’
‘I don’t understand. How can you have a problem with her when she doesn’t even live here?’
‘She ’ad me when she was fifteen,’ Lina explained. ‘She’s forty now, an’ still a looker.’
‘You should be proud of her then.’
‘No, no, you don’t get it,’ Lina said excitedly. ‘The thing that pisses me off most is that sometimes she bloody imagines she’s me!’
‘What does that mean?’
‘Well, she does all these modelling jobs for magazines an’ the English papers. An’ the copy always reads Lina’s mum this an’ Lina’s mum that, an’ isn’t she lovely – just like her famous daughter. That kind of crap drives me bonkers.’
‘You shouldn’t begrudge her,’ Brigette said, wishing that she still had a mother, someone she could trust and confide in. ‘She’s only trying to emulate you. It’s flattering.’
‘It is?’ Lina said.
‘Anyway,’ Brigette said, reaching for a second slice of pizza, ‘I called the agency and got out of the Milan shows.’
‘You did what?’ Lina wailed. ‘Milan’s such an adventure. All those horny Italians with their dicks ’anging out!’
‘It’s more important that I spend time with Lucky.’
‘You mean she’s taking off and leaving Lennie behind?’ Lina said, standing up and stretching.
‘He’s not exactly in a travelling mood.’
‘Poor bastard.’
‘So,’ Brigette said, ‘I’ll fly to Europe with Lucky, then probably head back to LA for a while.’
‘I’m learning to shoot when I get to LA,’ Lina announced. ‘Which might be sooner than you think, ’cause I got an audition for a role in the new Charlie Dollar flick.’
‘You have?’
‘Not that I usually audition,’ Lina said quickly. ‘’Owever, according to my agent, the studio is after a name actress, an’ Charlie wants me! So, if it comes off, I’ll fly out to LA for a couple of days an’ meet the man ’imself.’
‘I saw him at Lucky’s while I was there,’ Brigette said. ‘He’s kind of a weird and wonderful character.’
‘Oooh!’ Lina said, licking her lips. ‘I get off on weird!’
‘You can’t possibly sleep with him,’ Brigette admonished. ‘He’s almost sixty.’
‘So?’ Lina said with a mischievous grin. ‘I’ve ’ad older.’
Brigette couldn’t help laughing. ‘You’re incorrigible,’ she said.
‘I’ll take that as a compliment,’ Lina replied.
‘Well,’ Brigette said, jumping up, ‘I guess this is a wrap.’
‘When are you leaving?’ Lina asked, following her to the door.
‘Tomorrow.’
‘I can’t believe it!’ Lina exclaimed. ‘You almost sneaked off without telling me.’
‘I just told you.’
‘Hmm . . .’ Lina said, considering it. ‘Maybe I should come with you.’
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p; ‘Maybe you shouldn’t,’ Brigette said, grabbing her purse from the hall table. ‘You’re expected in Milan.’
‘I don’t havta go,’ Lina said. ‘I can tell ’em to go fuck ’emselves if I want. Then I’ll go see Charlie early.’
‘The thing is,’ Brigette said, ‘much as I love your company, I should spend time with Lucky by myself.’
‘Okay, okay,’ Lina said huffily. ‘You don’t havta draw me a picture.’
They hugged each other, making fervent promises to keep in touch. Both of them knew they wouldn’t. Life in the modelling world was always frenetic, they’d meet again soon enough.
Brigette returned to her apartment, put on the Smashing Pumpkins’ Siamese Dream CD, then began packing, throwing clothes into a suitcase without much thought because her mind was elsewhere.
She was not telling Lina the truth. The truth was painful and very private.
Lucky had no plans to travel to Europe, but she did.
She was going to London.
She was confronting Carlo.
And maybe – just maybe – she’d tell him she was pregnant.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Lucky’s friends rallied. Venus was particularly concerned. ‘Are you sure you know what you’re doing?’ she said, while they were having lunch at Le Dôme one day.
‘Absolutely sure,’ Lucky replied, munching a Chinese chicken salad.
‘But you’ve given away your power base in this town,’ Venus said, dazzling in a skin-tight snakeskin dress.
Lucky stared at her platinum-blonde friend with a quizzical expression. ‘Who needs a power base? I certainly don’t.’
‘Yes, you do,’ Venus said excitedly. ‘You have to realize, you were like Superwoman in this town. You could get anybody you wanted to come to a party, meet anyone in the world. Owning a Hollywood studio is like being the fucking President, for Chrissakes.’
‘Not quite the same,’ Lucky said, with a wan smile. ‘However, I get the analogy. Besides, you’re forgetting, I still own the place.’
Venus downed a quick shot of vodka. She never drank when she was with Cooper, because since the birth of their child he had liked to view her as virginal. ‘Have you spoken to Alex?’ she asked, picking up her sunglasses.
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