Goddess of Vengeance

by Jackie Collins

  ‘Tomorrow actually.’

  ‘Happy birthday.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘I hear Lucky’s throwing you a big party.’

  ‘That’s right,’ Max said, wondering if Annabelle was fishing for an invite, because if she was it couldn’t happen on account of Cookie being with Annabelle’s ex.

  ‘How nice,’ Annabelle said.

  ‘It is,’ Max agreed.

  ‘Well . . . uh . . . have a good one.’

  ‘You too.’

  They both scuttled off in different directions, happy to make their respective escapes.

  * * *

  After waiting around outside the ladies room for a good ten minutes, Bobby tracked down M.J. and told him he was leaving.

  ‘What happened to Denver?’ M.J. asked.

  ‘Think she’s mad at me. She took off.’

  ‘Don’t tell me the great Bobby S. got himself dumped,’ M.J. said, laughing. ‘Finally! There is a God!’

  ‘Go fuck yourself,’ Bobby said, shaking his head. ‘She’s probably waiting for me in the room.’

  ‘You hope.’

  ‘I know, man. She’s got nowhere else to go.’

  ‘She could hop a plane back to L.A. Denver’s not one to put up with your crap.’

  ‘What crap?’

  ‘Half the club saw you dancing with Gia. She’s on the cover of Sports Illustrated, she’s kinda high profile.’

  ‘C’mon, man, it was nothing.’

  ‘Yeah, tell that to your girlfriend.’

  Bobby hurried from the club and out into the main hotel, where he took the private elevator up to their floor.

  To his chagrin their room was empty. No Denver. But the good news was her clothes were still there along with her laptop and her phone. It was no wonder he’d never got an answer when he’d tried to reach her on her cell.

  Damnit! Was she going to make him sit and wait for her?

  Apparently so.

  * * *

  Grabbing a cab outside The Cavendish, Annabelle set off for The Keys. She couldn’t believe what she’d almost got herself into. Drunken dancing hookers. An excessive amount of cocaine. A crazy sex fiend with cold hard eyes and a definite cruel streak. What was she thinking?

  Oh yeah, right. She was thinking that Armand Jordan might be the catch of the day. How wrong she was about that.

  Then – on top of everything else, she’d run into Lucky’s daughter. Where was Max going at such a late hour?

  Not her concern.

  After paying off the cab, she entered The Keys and headed straight for the ladies room where she attempted to clean herself up. Her white Chanel skirt had a few streaks of mud on it, and she realized she should’ve stopped off and changed. Too late now, she didn’t want to miss meeting up with Eddie, so after touching up her make-up, and brushing her hair, she headed for Mood.

  Armand Jordan was just a distant creepy memory.

  * * *

  Lennie and Alex were embroiled in one of their favourite arguments – the death penalty. Alex was for it, Lennie against, and neither of them would give an inch. Lucky had heard it all before, and since she wasn’t prepared to take sides, she moved over to sit with Venus, Eddie, M.J. and Cassie. Jorge was perched uncomfortably at the end of the table.

  ‘So that’s your little plaything,’ Lucky observed, checking out Jorge.

  ‘Not so little,’ Venus replied with a wicked grin.

  ‘You do know you’re ignoring him.’

  ‘He’ll get plenty of attention later,’ Venus said, fluffing out her platinum hair. ‘Besides, Bobby’s girlfriend was entertaining him.’

  ‘She was?’ Lucky said, surprised. ‘How did Bobby feel about that?’

  ‘How would I know? You’re his mother. And if you weren’t – believe me – he’d be next on my list of things I have to do.’

  ‘Calm down, he’s way too young for you,’ Lucky said with a low chuckle.

  ‘Sorry to disappoint, only the way I’m going, Bobby is exactly the right age.’

  ‘Yes, I seem to remember that you’ve always had a crush on him.’

  ‘This is true,’ Venus confessed with an unabashed grin.

  ‘At least you admit it.’

  ‘And you have to admit that your son is one hot catch.’

  Lucky nodded. ‘You got that right, which is why he has to be careful to avoid any girls who happen to be on the make. He’s rich, he’s handsome, and he’s available.’ A thoughtful pause. ‘What do you think of Denver?’

  ‘Didn’t get a chance to talk to her.’

  ‘She seems to be making Bobby happy,’ Lucky mused. ‘I think I might like her.’

  ‘How nice,’ Venus drawled. ‘Maybe they’ll get married and give you a bunch of sweet little grandbabies.’

  ‘Get the fuck outta here,’ Lucky said good-naturedly. ‘Bobby’s got a lot of living to do before he even thinks about settling down.’

  ‘Ohhh . . . Momma Bear’s veree protective,’ Venus said, laughing, before adding a succinct, ‘and here comes trouble.’

  Lucky glanced up to observe Annabelle Maestro approaching their table. They all knew Annabelle from her days with Frankie, her famous parents, and her very public confessional book.

  ‘Remember what the late great Andy Warhol said about fifteen minutes of fame,’ Venus remarked, slowing sipping a cocktail. ‘Well, this one is milking it for the number one prize. I feel sorry for her father.’

  ‘You feel sorry for Ralph Maestro?’ Lucky said, quite aghast. ‘Why would you feel sorry for him? He murdered his wife, for God’s sake. He should be sitting in jail.’

  ‘He arranged her murder,’ Venus pointed out. ‘It’s not the same.’

  ‘Damn!’ Lucky said, shaking her head in amazement. ‘You should go sit with Lennie – the two of you can discuss the advantages of having murderers walk the streets. What fun you can have.’

  ‘Excuse me, everyone,’ Eddie said, standing up as Annabelle arrived at the table. ‘I’d like you all to meet my girlfriend, Annabelle Maestro.’

  * * *

  ‘Hey,’ Billy said.

  ‘Hey,’ Max responded, standing at the door to his villa, feeling a tad shy.

  Loud music was blaring from the villa across from them, a lizard darted in front of her, and there was a brisk night breeze. She shivered, Billy smiled, and all was well in Max’s world.

  ‘Can I get a hug?’ he said, his intense blue eyes drawing her in.

  You can get anything you want, Billy Melina.

  ‘Of course you can,’ she said, falling into his arms, immediately forgetting how much she’d been hating him.

  He hugged her, then led her inside. ‘Someone’s having a party over there,’ he remarked.

  ‘Sounds like it,’ she said, breathless at the sight of him.

  He shut the door and they stared at each other.

  ‘Sorry about L.A.,’ he said at last.

  ‘What about it?’ she said, keeping it casual.

  ‘Well, y’know,’ he explained. ‘I kinda let you get away.’

  ‘From what?’ she asked, going for the flippant approach.

  ‘Then you took off.’

  ‘I told you I was coming to Vegas.’

  ‘Why d’you think I’m here?’

  ‘Really? Just to see me?’

  ‘Yeah, really.’ And he moved in for a kiss that dispelled any doubt that she was doing the right thing.

  * * *

  ‘We’re going,’ Venus announced, standing up and signalling Jorge that it was time to leave. He had a resentful scowl on his boyishly handsome face. She’d ignored him all night, and now she was summoning him to come with her like a pet dog.

  He got up anyway, and stood stiffly beside her. He had no alternative.

  ‘I’ll be in touch,’ Eddie said to Venus, jumping to his feet, bowing and scraping a little, for landing Venus as a client would be a huge coup. ‘We can do great things together.’

  ‘I’m sure,’ Venus
murmured. ‘All you have to do is prove it to me.’

  ‘I can do that all right,’ Eddie said with a boastful smirk. ‘You won’t be disappointed.’

  ‘We’ll talk.’

  ‘We certainly will.’ He sat back down, a satisfied expression on his face.

  ‘Did you just poach Venus from her agent?’ Annabelle asked, quite impressed.

  ‘Not yet, but I will,’ Eddie said, full of confidence, and quite unaware of where his girlfriend had spent the last few hours.

  ‘Congrats,’ Annabelle said. ‘I’m proud of you.’

  ‘That’s a change from calling me a cheating asshole.’

  ‘You know I didn’t mean it.’

  ‘How about I get that in writing?’

  ‘Spoken like a true agent,’ she giggled.

  God! she thought. It’s so nice to be back among normal people.

  She turned to Lucky. ‘I understand I should be congratulating you too,’ she said, delighted to have the opportunity to hang out with Lucky Santangelo.

  ‘Why’s that?’ Lucky asked, looking around to see where Bobby was at.

  Annabelle lowered her voice. ‘I know it’s supposed to be a big secret and all, but I heard that you’re selling The Keys.’

  ‘Excuse me?’ Lucky said, quite startled.

  ‘Please don’t worry. I won’t say a word.’

  ‘I’m not worried, I’m confused. Who told you this?’

  Annabelle glanced quickly at Eddie, who was busy talking to Lennie and Alex. ‘Uh . . . Armand Jordan. I ran into him at the casino.’

  ‘My casino?’

  ‘No. Over at The Cavendish. He’s staying in a villa there.’ A long pause. ‘I’m so sorry, I guess I shouldn’t have said anything. Armand swore me to secrecy.’

  ‘About what?’

  ‘That he’s buying The Keys, and the deal will be set tomorrow.’

  ‘You are kidding me, aren’t you?’

  ‘No, I’m not,’ Annabelle said, feeling a slight shiver of apprehension because the deep anger in Lucky’s eyes was unmistakable. ‘I’m simply repeating what Armand told me.’

  ‘Where do you know this man from?’

  ‘New York. We uh . . . went out a couple of times.’

  ‘How well do you know him?’ Lucky asked, her dark eyes glowing.

  ‘Not . . . uh, not that well. He’s more of an acquaintance than a friend,’ Annabelle stammered, realizing that she had probably said the wrong thing. Lucky did not seem at all happy about it.

  ‘Then if you know him at all, you know he’s a misogynistic, lying, delusional scumbag.’

  Alex leaned in for the end of Lucky’s speech. ‘Talking about me again,’ he said with a wry grin.

  ‘You wish,’ Lucky said, abruptly standing. She beckoned M.J. ‘I need to make a private call. Take me to the office.’

  ‘Certainly,’ M.J. said, jumping to his feet. ‘Follow me.’

  ‘I think I just pissed Lucky off,’ Annabelle said to Eddie.

  ‘Well, darlin’,’ he replied, ‘seems you’re an expert at doing that. C’mon, let’s dance, I’m in a celebrating mood.’

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  It was a while before Armand realized Annabelle wasn’t coming back. By this time he was blurry-eyed, from too much cocaine, too much booze, too much of everything.

  ‘Where is she?’ he demanded of Luscious, who was using a tall potted palm as a makeshift stripper pole.

  Luscious stopped what she was doing and said a ladylike, ‘We gonna fuck or what?’

  By this time Seducta had almost passed out. She was slumped on the floor, her eyes half closed.

  It was a sorry scene, but Armand was too high to even notice.

  ‘Where is she?’ he repeated, rising from the couch, swaying slightly, almost losing his balance altogether.

  ‘Your girlfriend took off an hour ago,’ Luscious offered, leaving her potted palm and moving over to him. ‘Least I think she did. Either that or she’s dead in the bathroom.’ Luscious snickered. Wouldn’t that be something. Another psychic revelation. Although if the girlfriend was dead, best not to hang around.

  ‘Bathroom?’ Armand questioned. He wasn’t thinking straight at all. His heart was pounding and he felt nauseous.

  ‘Yeah,’ Luscious said. ‘She went in there. Want I should take a look?’

  ‘Why?’ Armand said, giving her a hard stare.

  ‘See if she’s there.’

  ‘Do you have a gun?’

  ‘’Scuse me?’

  Armand threw her a disdainful look. ‘A gun?’

  Luscious wrinkled her nose; this motherfucker was sicker than she thought. Although she preferred him in this state rather than the way he was when he’d slapped her and Seducta around. ‘Whaddya want a gun for?’ she inquired, thinking it might be smart to humour him.

  ‘Because,’ Armand stated mysteriously.

  ‘’Cause what?’

  ‘Because I have time to kill,’ he answered grandly.

  Shit! He was off his rocker – something her mom used to say when the old cow was sober enough to say anything at all. What the hell. He was either a stark raving looney or a dangerous psycho.

  ‘You’re not lookin’ so hot,’ she ventured. ‘You’d better sit your ass down.’

  ‘Are you aware that I have more money than you’ll ever see in your lifetime?’ Armand boasted, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a stack of hundred-dollar bills. ‘You’re a whore, you should appreciate money,’ he added, tossing a handful of bills at her.

  The money fluttered around her naked, skinny, tattooed body before falling to the ground.

  This nutjob with the snake eyes was definitely crazier than she’d thought.

  She squashed the urge to bend down and snatch the money up.

  Seducta wasn’t so patient. After watching the money fall, she began crawling over on all fours to collect.

  Luscious wasn’t having it. Before Seducta could get there, she quickly bent down and scooped up as much money as she could. Holy fuck! she thought, cramming the bills together. There has to be a coupla thou here. This asshole is loco for sure.

  ‘A gun,’ Armand said. ‘I wish to obtain a hired gun. Do you know where I might find such a service?’

  ‘Why?’ Luscious said boldly. ‘You gonna shoot your girlfriend?’

  ‘What makes you dare to think that you can speak to me in such a fashion?’ Armand said, glaring at her, a disdainful look on his face. ‘Do you not know who you are addressing?’

  ‘You di’nt give me your name,’ Luscious said, noticing a couple of hundred-dollar bills she’d failed to pick up.

  ‘Not a name,’ he announced with another grand gesture. ‘A title. Prince Armand Mohamed Jordan, soon to be King of Akramshar.’

  ‘Sure, honey,’ Luscious said, carrying on humouring him while grabbing her purse and stuffing the money inside. ‘Whyn’t I just call you Arnie?’

  ‘A hired gun,’ Armand continued, nodding to himself. ‘To kill an enemy of the people. Get me that and money is no object.’

  ‘No object, huh?’ Luscious said, a thousand jumbled thoughts running through her head. ‘Y’know what, Arnie? I gotta hunch you might’ve gotten yourself a deal.’

  * * *

  Randy Sorrentino lay back on a lounger (a couch that was about to fall off the back of a truck was being delivered next week), abstractedly stroking his cock and balls, while a Real Housewives of somewhere played on the TV in front of him. Rich pieces of ass with tight faces, plastic bazooms and stupid fuckhead husbands made it a trip to watch. Plus he liked checking out their over-the-top houses to see how easy it would be to break in and relieve them of some of their stuff. They all had too much stuff – a little sharing wouldn’t hurt.

  Randy was done for the day. He’d taken care of business, now he could relax until Luscious got home.

  His girlfriend of almost a year was a piece of work. She catered to him like no other woman ever had before, and that was saying somethin
g, because there had been a lot of women. Oh yeah, too many to remember, especially when he’d been into making porn flicks, and there’d been an assembly line of fresh gash every week – each girl desperate to make it as the next Jenna Jameson.

  Yeah, Luscious was different, and if it wasn’t for her crazy jealous streak he might have even considered making it legal between them. But the jealous thing turned him off. He couldn’t help that he’d been endowed with a huge piece of meat. It wasn’t his fault that plenty of women wanted to give it a good old chewing.

  For instance, Seducta was always coming on to him, rubbing her big tits up against him, whispering dirty messages in his ear, trying to grab a quick feel, suggesting that they’d make a fine team.

  No way. She was married to his older brother, and Mikey – like Luscious – was jealous as shit. So Randy attempted to steer clear, but Seducta was relentless, she kept pushing, and lately Luscious seemed to think that it was him coming onto Seducta.

  It was a fucked-up situation, and if Mikey got wind of it he’d beat the crap out of him. Which would be a shame, because over the past couple of months he and Mikey had patched up their differences and were getting along fine, which hadn’t always been the case. Right now they had a lucrative drug business going, which suited both of them. Steady money, it made a pleasant change.

  Randy was considering whether to whack off or not, when his cell phone buzzed.

  It was Luscious.

  ‘What?’ he said impatiently.

  ‘Get your ass over here,’ she said in a hoarse whisper, her voice rising with excitement. ‘We got ourselves a live one. An’ bring the crack pipe, your piece, an’ your big old self. We’re about to make us some real money.’

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  Sonofabitch! Lucky thought. Sonofamotherfuckingbitch! What kind of balls did Armand Jordan possess, going around telling people that he was buying The Keys. No fucking way was she letting the asshole get away with it. He was dealing with the wrong woman.

  She’d known he was trouble the moment he’d set foot in her office with his women are inferior attitude and smug expression. What a dumb prick! And in Lucky’s world if a prick had the temerity to challenge her, she was up for it. Oh yes, nobody got away with this kind of shit. To think that he had the nerve to go around saying that tomorrow The Keys would be his. This was something she had to put a stop to immediately. She didn’t care that it was way past midnight. This was too infuriating to wait: it had to be dealt with now.