After a few minutes he came up for air. ‘You’re making me forget about Chicago,’ he said. ‘That woman is becoming just another distant memory.’
‘And that’s exactly the way it should be,’ Denver murmured dreamily, thinking that this was definitely turning out to be a weekend to remember.
* * *
On one hand Kev felt guilty, on the other hand he thought, screw it – he was entitled to make some decent money. Billy was rolling in it, bathing in it. Billy was a friggin’ movie star, and who was he? Poor old Kev who tagged along for the ride, and then got kicked to the kerb like some beaten-up old dog, without even a decent explanation. Oh yeah – S’long Kev. Book yourself a room, Kev. Charge it to me, Kev.
Was Billy forgetting the months he’d camped out in Kev’s apartment when he’d first made it to Hollywood? Billy Melina had not had a pot to piss in, and he, Kev, was the one who’d been paying all the bills, putting food on the table and supporting Billy all the way.
So fuck it. He had a chance of making some real money, and who could blame him for taking it?
It turned out that Ellie was more than just a pretty girl sitting at a bar scribbling in a notebook. Ellie was a freelance photojournalist who was in Vegas to dig up as much dirt as she could on the many famous celebrities flocking into Vegas for the big fight.
‘Y’know,’ she informed Kev, after they’d shared a couple of beers, ‘the right photo of a hot celeb can fetch anything up to a hundred grand. And with your boss going through such a public divorce – well . . . if I can get an exclusive photo of him with someone new – bingo! We’re in the money. You arrange it, and you’re in for half.’
Who was he to turn down such a lucrative offer?
Screw loyalty. It didn’t seem to matter to Billy.
* * *
Frankie frowned. Where was he supposed to start looking for Cookie? She wasn’t on the dance floor, she wasn’t in the damn club, so where the hell was she? He had no idea, but he did know that if he wanted to stay on Gerald M.’s good side, he’d better start searching for the little minx.
Gerald M. was the kind of dude he was desperate to hang with. Yeah, Gerald M. might be older, but he was a tried and true star – like a Smokey Robinson or a Lionel Richie. Old school. And Frankie would like nothing better than for Gerald M. to plant his ass in River every night, give the place some star power. He’d even supply him with free drugs for the pleasure of his company.
However, this wasn’t going to happen until he produced Gerald M.’s precious daughter.
How precious would Daddy think Cookie was if he’d seen her sucking Frankie’s cock on the drive up? Not so precious any more.
Frankie approached M.J. and was taken aback to observe his ex – Annabelle Maestro – sitting at the table, right next to Lennie Golden and the red-hot agent everyone was talking about – Eddie Falcon. He and Annabelle hadn’t spoken in months, not since he’d threatened to sue her for publishing a libellous untruthful book, painting him as some kind of dissolute low-life drug addict.
He knew Eddie – the agent had stopped by River on several occasions – so he said a brusque, ‘Hi,’ and attempted to ignore Annabelle.
Eddie wasn’t having it. ‘You know my girlfriend, Annabelle Maestro,’ he said. A pause, then – ‘Wait a minute, didn’t the two of you used to go out?’
‘Briefly,’ Annabelle said, refusing to look at Frankie.
‘Way back,’ Frankie said, turning to M.J. ‘You seen Cookie?’ he asked.
‘Dating juveniles now,’ Annabelle murmured. ‘How appropriate.’
Frankie pretended not to hear her.
‘She and Max were goin’ over to Wonderball,’ Cassie offered.
‘Wonder what?’ Frankie said, wishing he was anywhere but standing in front of this group.
‘It’s a kid’s club on the Strip,’ Cassie said. ‘Wonderball – everyone knows it.’
Great. His teenage girlfriend had run out on him to go party with the kiddies. Well, at least he could tell Gerald M. where she was.
‘Thanks,’ he said to Cassie.
‘No prob,’ Cassie responded.
Back to his table he went with his newfound information on Cookie’s whereabouts.
The table was empty. Gerald M. and his entourage – including the two blondes Frankie had lined up for later – had taken off. All that was left was the check.
His freakin’ luck. What the hell was he supposed to do now?
* * *
Max loved the fact that Billy didn’t want her to go; it meant that he really liked her.
‘When am I gonna see you again?’ he asked, sitting on the edge of the bed watching her as she pulled on her leggings and boots. ‘’Cause if I’m not gonna see you, I may as well hop a flight back to L.A.’
‘Well . . .’ she said, thinking about how she could work it out. ‘I’ve got lunch with my family, but after that I don’t see why I couldn’t come by. Maybe we could do something, go somewhere.’
‘Sweet dreams, babe,’ Billy said with a rueful laugh. ‘If I set one foot outta here, the paps’ll be all over me, an’ you’ll be labelled my new mystery woman.’
‘Is it that bad?’ she asked, thinking what a drag it must be to lose your privacy.
‘Believe me,’ Billy assured her, ‘it’s that bad. Even without the divorce thing it was full on. Now multiply that, an’ the situation escalates. I hate it.’
‘But surely they don’t even know you’re in Vegas?’ she questioned.
‘Oh, they know. They just haven’t found me yet.’
‘Does this mean we can’t go anywhere together? Even in L.A.?’
‘Not unless you’re prepared for everyone to find out about us.’
Max considered Lucky and Lennie’s reaction and shuddered. They would totally freak.
‘Okay,’ she said hesitantly. ‘Then why don’t I come back here later and we’ll watch TV or something.’
‘I’m liking the “or something”,’ he said with a lascivious grin. ‘Your education shall continue.’
‘Ha!’ she said scornfully. ‘Stop imagining that I’m like some innocent little flower you’re teaching how to grow. Honestly, I’m not that girl.’
‘Do not shatter my illusions,’ he said. ‘I’m happy that I’m your first. It makes everything very special between us.’
‘Hmm . . .’ she said, trying not to let him see how thrilled his words made her. She had to play it a little bit cool, couldn’t let him see how hooked she already was. ‘Well anyway, I gotta get out of here,’ she added, standing up.
‘Call me when you get to your room,’ he said. ‘I want to be sure you got back safely. I’d escort you, but—’
‘Yeah, I know, I know, those freakin’ paps.’
‘Right,’ he said grinning. ‘You catch on fast.’
‘You’ll find out soon enough.’
‘Lookin’ forward to it, Green Eyes.’
‘So am I!’
* * *
Lucky knew The Cavendish as well as she knew her own hotel. During the time she was building The Keys, she’d stayed in the villas many times. She was aware of exactly where Armand’s villa was located, having gotten the number from the switchboard at the hotel.
As she drove to the hotel, she decided she’d park in a special spot near the villas – no need to walk through the lobby or the casino. Later, at a decent hour, she’d call Renee, the owner of The Cavendish, and ask her to arrange for Armand Jordan to be thrown out.
But right now she was looking forward to having him exactly where she wanted him. It was a game. A game at which she excelled.
Chapter Fifty-Nine
If he wasn’t so stoned, Armand would have been well aware that what he was doing was reckless and beyond stupid. He would have known that he should summon Fouad to make sure that the details were handled properly. And he would also have known that Fouad would put an immediate stop to what he had planned.
Ah yes . . . Fouad would caution him tha
t he was behaving in an impossible and dangerous fashion. That he was putting himself in distinct jeopardy for dealing with such bad people. Whores and thugs who would do anything for money.
WHORES AND THUGS.
Armand laughed. He didn’t care. He had his mind made up.
He walked unsteadily into his bedroom, pulled out the money suitcase and unlocked it. Twenty-five thousand to get rid of an enemy was a cheap price to pay. Twenty-five thousand and goodbye Lucky Santangelo.
He stared at the neat stacks of bills, organized into bundles of twenty thousand. Cash. There was nothing like it. No paper trails to catch a man out.
Before he knew it, Luscious was standing beside him, her mouth gaping open as she gazed down at the suitcase stuffed full of money. ‘You rob a bank or somethin’?’ she asked, her eyes wide with greed.
‘My bank. My money,’ he replied, vaguely annoyed that she’d followed him into the bedroom.
‘You’re a rich mothafucker, ain’tcha?’ she said, hanging onto his arm. ‘Rich an’ sexy.’
‘You think I’m sexy?’ Armand said, quite pleased that she would say so. He’d never given a woman the opportunity to call him sexy before – he’d always been too busy humiliating them, or telling them that they weren’t fit to speak.
‘Sure you is,’ Luscious said, still clinging onto him. ‘An’. . . I got a treat for you all set up in the other room. Somethin’ real special.’
‘What would that be?’
‘You ever done crack, Arnie? ’Cause if you never did, then I’m gonna take you somewhere you ain’t never gonna forget.’ She pulled on his arm, dragging him away from the suitcase stuffed full of money. Leaving it unlocked and open. ‘Let’s go, big boy. This’ll be a night t’remember.’
* * *
Crouching in the bushes near Billy’s villa alongside Ellie and her long-lens camera, Kev experienced a pang of guilt. He and Billy went way back, they were longtime friends, and now he was about to sell him out.
But hey – it was all Billy’s fault. Billy had decided not to trust him, and that was okay. No trust between friends meant all was fair.
‘We could be stuck here all night,’ Kev muttered, not relishing the thought.
‘Okay with me,’ Ellie replied, perfectly cheerful. ‘Whoever is in there with him has to come out eventually, and when they do, I’ve got the shot.’
‘You’ve done this before, haven’t you?’ Kev said, wondering when he should make his move. After all, this was Vegas, and tonight he was definitely getting laid.
‘A few times,’ Ellie replied, a tad sarcastic. ‘Learned from my dad. Now he was one of the greats. He shadowed Jackie O. Captured Elvis fat and thin. Michael Jackson in his pjs. O.J. on the run. Diana and Dodi. Oh yes, my dad nailed it every time. He taught me that the trick is to lie dormant until the exact right moment, then go for it. Kinda like bird-watching. The subject doesn’t even know. Night vision camera, sweet lens. It’s a trip.’
‘I dunno who he’s with in there,’ Kev said for the third time. ‘Could be Venus for all I know. We ran into her earlier.’
‘What a shot that’d be,’ Ellie said, adjusting her camera position. ‘Front page everywhere. Oh my!’
‘He’s been seeing Willow Price,’ Kev offered.
‘Old news. Besides, everyone knows she’s a pussy hound.’
‘Then there was this young girl in L.A.’
‘Young is good,’ Ellie said matter-of-factly. ‘Or black. Or a porn star. The best would be if he pulled a Charlie Sheen, always a winner.’
‘Not Billy,’ Kev said surely. ‘That’s not his scene.’
‘No? One thing I’ve learned in this business, anything is possible.’
* * *
‘I really don’t wanna let you go,’ Billy said, walking Max to the door, his arm around her waist.
‘And I really don’t want to go,’ she responded, reaching up to playfully touch the dimple in his chin.
He opened the door, and they stood there, bathed in the moonlight, not ready to part company.
Billy leaned forward and kissed her on the lips, a long sexy kiss. ‘Night, Green Eyes,’ he said. ‘See you tomorrow.’
‘I guess I should make up with a nickname for you,’ she said, reluctant to leave. ‘How about Dimples?’
‘How about that sounds like somebody’s pet monkey,’ Billy said, snorting with mirth. ‘Dimples, my ass. Think of something macho.’
Giggling, Max wrapped her arms around his neck. ‘What then?’
‘You’ll come up with something,’ he said, hugging her affectionately.
‘Oh yes, I will.’
‘Oh yes, you will.’
And neither of them heard the steady click of the camera lens hidden in the bushes.
* * *
The euphoria that overcame Armand was like nothing he’d ever experienced before. Sharing hits from a crack pipe with these people – his new best friends – was magical. They were his friends.
No. Better than that. They were his loyal subjects, here to do his bidding. Here to help him achieve greatness.
Yes. Greatness. FOR ARMAND JORDAN WAS THE MAN WHO WOULD BE KING.
And when he was the ruler, he would transport everyone to Akramshar where they would all live in harmony and peace.
He stared at the two women – Luscious and Seducta. These women were not whores, they were beautiful creatures. Exquisite. He wanted to fuck them. He wanted to fuck them both. He wanted to fuck them forever.
They would all float together in a sea of happiness. Their bodies would be filled with wonderment. It’s the way it was supposed to be.
His heart was on a crazy trip of its own. It was beating so fast he could hardly keep up. And yet the rhythm was comforting, it made him feel warm and safe.
He could do anything.
Being alive was such a pleasure.
It was heavenly.
He was heavenly.
* * *
‘Do you recognize her?’ Ellie asked, keeping her voice low.
‘Think it might be the one from L.A.,’ Kev said, squinting to get a better view. ‘Max somethin’ or other.’
‘She looks young,’ Ellie observed.
‘She is young.’
‘All the better,’ Ellie said, clicking away with her long lens as Billy and Max continued to hug and kiss.
Kev wondered if, when Ellie had taken enough photos, he was going to get laid.
Laid and paid. It was a no-lose situation.
* * *
‘Seems to me your wife is on the missing list,’ Alex said, making digs at Lennie as he’d been doing all night.
‘My wife is at home in bed waiting for me,’ Lennie responded.
‘You mean she leaves you in a club without so much as a goodbye?’ Alex taunted, swigging more Scotch.
Lennie gave a dry laugh. ‘Just goes to show how well you know Lucky. She does her thing, I do mine. We never feel the need to check in.’
‘A modern marriage, huh?’
‘Modern, not open.’
‘Just asking.’
‘Ask away, Alex.’ A long meaningful beat. ‘But I think I should tell you – Lucky will never be yours. Never. And that’s something you can take to the bank.’ Another long beat. ‘Do we understand each other?’
* * *
‘I’m tellin’ you,’ Luscious whispered in Randy’s ear. ‘We gotta forget about the hit. There’s a shitload of money in a suitcase in the bedroom – could be more than a hundred thou.’
Randy had just taken a solid drag on the crack pipe and he wasn’t concentrating, which infuriated Luscious. So did the fact that Seducta was lolling all over him, and he was not shoving her off. Her tits were in his face and he didn’t seem to mind.
Sometimes Randy didn’t get the bigger picture, but Luscious was sure that Mikey certainly would. She was starting to think that it was time for her to move on.
Mikey was standing by the window smoking a long thin cheroot. He’d already pockete
d the twelve thousand five hundred dollar deposit, now he was waiting for the client to tell him who the subject was.
It had already crossed Mikey’s mind that he could take the money he already had, stick it in his safe-deposit box and do nothing. This visiting prick was so out of it he wouldn’t know the difference. And if he did that – there was nothing the john could do. The asshole would be fucked, screwed, caught on a freeway without a ride and no pants.
Mikey gave a grim smile. He didn’t do drugs. He smoked. He drank – never to excess. Mikey was a man intent on staying in control.
As he watched them all getting wasted he felt sorry for them. No willpower. No backbone. Truth was, they were nothing but a bunch of losers.
He observed his wife sucking on the pipe. Dumb as shit. The puzzle was – why had he married her?
Could it be that in a weak moment he’d succumbed to the power of pussy and the lure of big tits? Foolish. Even Luscious – who was no prize herself, was smarter than Seducta.
As if reading his mind, Luscious sidled up to him. ‘We gotta move fast,’ she said in a low voice.
‘Move fast what?’ Mikey said, flicking ash on the rug.
‘There’s a suitcase in the bedroom stuffed fulla money. I saw it.’ She indicated Armand. ‘He’s too fucked up to know anything. What we gotta do is take it an’ get the shit out.’
‘How much money?’ Mikey questioned, his interest piqued.
‘Go look for yourself,’ Luscious insisted. ‘I’m tellin’ you – it’s worth runnin’.’
Mikey didn’t need telling twice. He headed purposefully toward the bedroom.
Chapter Sixty
‘The timer has come,’ Bobby said. ‘For us to move in together.’
‘Don’t you ever sleep?’ Denver groaned, rolling over in bed. ‘What’s the time?’
‘A house, I’m buying us a house,’ he said decisively. ‘Half-yours, half-mine. I’ll decorate my half, you can go for it on yours.’
‘Oh,’ she said, yawning. ‘So now you’re a decorator.’
‘I know what I like. I worked with my design team on Mood.’
‘You’re something else, Bobby Santangelo Stanislopoulos,’ she sighed. ‘A man of many talents.’
Goddess of Vengeance Page 36
