by Joanna Rees
‘It’s nothing. No one.’
He stared at her. In silence. That old negotiator’s weapon. Waiting for her to fill the void with words. But she said nothing, until he eventually smiled. He seemed to relax as he picked up his chopsticks again.
‘Good,’ he said. ‘It’s not that I don’t wish you happiness. I do. Some day. And not that you’re not entitled to a private life. Of course you are. But I’m glad that whatever it is between you and this “nothing, no one” person isn’t too serious. Because right now, I need you, Lois. All your attention. All your dedication.’
‘Roberto?’ she asked. ‘Let’s be straight with each other. I need to know what this – me being here – is all about.’
Roberto let out a laugh. ‘Ah, Lois, my Lois. This is way too big to simply tell you. I’ve brought you here to show you. Show you everything I’ve been dreaming about for the last two years.’
Roberto’s private plane was waiting for them at the airport. He was keen for Lois to sit by the window.
As she strapped herself into the soft cream leather seat, she felt her apprehension increase along with her annoyance that Roberto was clearly as excited as a little boy, but still hadn’t put her out of her misery.
‘Just tell me, Roberto. Please. Where are we going?’
‘Shangri-La,’ he announced, with a clap of his hands.
So she’d been right. Roberto did have a plan after all.
‘You see, Beijing is determined for Shangri-La to be a shining advert for the new China. They’re keeping a very watchful eye on the Western investors. They know that the first sign of this turning into bad propaganda would allow the hardliners at home to shut the whole project down.’
‘And . . .’ Lois prompted.
‘And that’s what nearly happened. The French consortium behind one of the concessions went into financial meltdown. Which meant the French were kicked off the project and their concession was up for sale again.’
But Lois was still confused. ‘I still don’t get why this is good news for us,’ she said.
Roberto laughed. ‘Because our friend Jai Shijai put in a good word for us.’ He grinned in triumph. ‘Lois baby, I gotta tell you . . . this is the opportunity of a lifetime.’
‘You mean you’ve bought the French concession? You’re going to build one of the casinos out there?’
‘Me and several of Jai Shijai’s other friends. Private investors mostly. In fact, you met some of them at the game on his island.’
‘You mean that was a set-up? You already knew we’d be involved?’ Lois was outraged. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘Because I’d signed a confidentiality agreement. None of it was official then. Not like it is now. But the new investors wanted to meet you. Wanted to know what – who – they were buying into. So Jai Shijai set up that little tournament on the island. To showcase your talents and to prove what a classy act the Enzo Vegas is.’
So it had been a job interview all along. She’d been paraded that whole weekend without knowing it. The information left her reeling. She remembered how shocked she’d been that Jai Shijai had described her as Enzo’s ambassador. But that was exactly what she had unwittingly been.
She didn’t know whether to be furious at being manipulated like that, or relieved that she’d passed their test.
And what about Aidan? Oh God! She felt sick. Was Aidan one of the investors too?
‘I didn’t tell you because you would have got nervous if you’d realized how much was at stake,’ Roberto said. ‘And anyway, I trust you. I knew you wouldn’t screw up.’
Lois forced herself to concentrate. She’d figure out Aidan later. For now she had to deal with Roberto.
‘But if Jai Shijai’s got all these other investors, why does he need us?’
‘Know-how,’ Roberto said simply. ‘No point in putting in a bid unless you know what to do with the concession once you get it. You need someone to run it. To make it work. Us.’
There it was. That us word. Not me. Not just Roberto. But Lois too.
‘And what about Jai Shijai? Has he invested too?’
‘No. I’m sure he’d love to. But his government is very clear on that. His position has to remain strictly advistory. His role is to help broker the deal. Shangri-La is about bringing money into China, not sending it out.’
He took a bottle of champagne out of the ice bucket by his feet. ‘Shangri-La will be even better than Macau. This is where the market is. There are millions to be made. Millions. And we’ll be the first to open,’ he added, with a twinkle in his eye. ‘The French were way ahead of Hudson. Way ahead.’
Lois stared at him, trying to take it all in. So this was about him and Hudson after all.
‘And what about me?’ she asked. ‘You still haven’t told me why I’m here.’
‘Because you’re in charge,’ Roberto said, as if this were a given, his eyes boring into hers.
‘What?’
He took her hand and squeezed it. ‘I’m not getting any younger, Lois. And I gotta be back home in Vegas. So I’m relying on you. You’ve got to make this thing happen. You’re going to make Shangri-La happen.’
‘Oh Roberto,’ she said, ‘I don’t know what to say.’
‘Yes, if you’ve got any sense.’
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Savvy was still in a good mood and feeling positive as she drove to her apartment. But the moment she walked in and breathed in the stale, fetid air, the reality of her old life came crashing back.
She had to physically force herself to step over the threshold. Dust motes swirled as she pulled back the blinds and opened the windows.
The place was an utter mess. Like a snapshot in time, evidence of her former existence lay all around. A torn VIP wristband for the Slits’ backstage party. Cigarette butts floating like dead fish in a half-drunk bottle of Coca-Cola. A make-up mirror speckled with white powder and a dirty rolled-up twenty-dollar bill.
She felt like a burglar walking in here. As if it wasn’t really her apartment at all. It certainly wasn’t a home. It was nothing more than a glorified changing room. She looked in at the bedroom with its unmade bed, the wardrobe doors hanging open. Piles of designer clothes, shoes and bags spilled out over the floor.
She’d make herself a pot of coffee, she decided. Then tidy up. She walked through to the kitchen.
That was when she saw it. Perched precariously on top of the refrigerator. The sparkly silver box winking at her in the late afternoon sun.
Of course, she’d known it was here – waiting for her. The stack of wraps. Her emergency rations of coke. Seeing it . . . right there in reach . . . made her feel momentarily light-headed. She had to clutch the back of the kitchen chair to keep on her feet.
She hauled the noisy chair across the tiled floor and shoved it up against the refrigerator door. She climbed up and grabbed the box, then shakily removed the lid.
Do it, she told herself. Do it right now.
She couldn’t give herself time to think. She ran into the bathroom and lifted the toilet seat, tipping the box upside-down so that the wraps cascaded into the water. Then she flushed. She watched them swirl. Round and round. Down and down. Until they were finally gone.
She drank black coffee, sitting hunched by the open window in the sitting room listening to the sirens and car horns and watching the jets etch vapour trails like chalk marks across the board of the sky.
She smoked the last two cigarettes in the packet. She knew that she ought to give up, but somehow this last remaining vice offered some kind of comfort and the one or two a day she smoked was hardly the end of the world.
She’d been so excited about coming back to city life when she’d left Peace River, but now she felt small and hemmed in. Sucked into a city that she no longer wanted to be a part of. The trouble was, she didn’t know where she belonged. Peace River was gone and this place was wrong.
She needed change. New horizons, new challenges to keep her mind occupied. The coll
ege prospectuses that Paige had given her were scattered across the cushions of the sofa, but she couldn’t seem to find an answer in them either.
There was no point in tying herself up in knots, she thought, hearing Red’s voice in her head, as if he was speaking to her. She was here to deal with her life. Right now. Just concentrate on the here and now, she told herself again, getting up and walking through to her bedroom. The message light on the phone by her bed was a continuous red, signalling that the tape was full.
She pressed the button, knowing what awaited her. The first message she’d heard a thousand times before. For over two years now, she’d never found the will to delete it.
‘Sav, it’s me.’ Elodie’s voice was clear and bright. ‘Hud needs you—’
The beep sounded and other messages followed. Recent ones. But Savvy went back and played the first message again. Each time, the message ended in static as Elodie’s cell phone cut out.
The full message could have been about almost anything that had happened over two years ago. Hud needs you to talk to him about money. Hud needs you to discuss plans for the party. Hud needs you—
But did he still need her now?
She picked up the phone. It was now or never.
Regardless of what Paige had said, about it being too early to contact him, Savvy felt spurred on by what Marcus had told her. Hud did care, didn’t he? And if he did, then he would want to hear from her, right?
She dialled Hud’s cell. He was probably in the White House, she thought, biting her lip as she heard it ring, imagining him in the Oval Office, the sun streaming through the window.
Would Paige have told him about their meeting in Miami – how healthy Savvy was, and determined? Had Paige passed on her message? Her heartfelt sentimental message. But it was the truth. Surely if Hud had heard that his only daughter still loved him, his heart would have softened?
She bit her lip, trembling with anticipation, waiting to hear his familiar voice.
But it was Paige who answered Hud’s phone.
‘Savvy? Is that you?’
Savvy realized that her caller ID must have come up on Hud’s cell.
‘Is he there?’ Savvy asked, wrong-footed. ‘Paige, what’s going on?’
‘Oh Savvy, we’ve been trying to get hold of you,’ Paige said. ‘It’s Hud . . .’
Savvy gripped the phone. ‘What? What’s happened?’
There was a sob. ‘He had a heart attack last night. He’s . . . he’s dead.’
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Even though she was wearing her darkest shades, as Savvy walked out to the arrivals hall of McCarran International Airport in Las Vegas, the camera flashes of the waiting photographers were blinding. She held up her hand as a reporter ran forward, thrusting out his microphone, barging into her so forcefully that she was almost knocked to the ground.
‘Get off me,’ Savvy yelled.
She realized now that she should have listened to Paige and waited for the private plane to pick her up, but she hadn’t wanted to wait. Her gut instinct had told her to leave LA and get to Vegas as soon as she could. Only some bastard on the flight must have tipped off these vultures.
Savvy clutched her purse to her chest and strode forward, as a TV camera crew snaked along beside her, filming. A buffed-up celeb reporter strafed her with rapid-fire questions: Was she aware of her father’s drug habit? Was he a sex addict? When did she get out of rehab herself? Was it true he hadn’t spoken to her in months?
Her father was dead, she wanted to scream at them. Did they have no shame?
She looked past the baying pack of reporters to the glass doors. A mirage of heat beat down on the tarmac. Where the hell was Paige? She said she’d be here.
‘Savannah, did you give your dad the drugs that killed him?’ one of the reporters shouted.
Savvy pushed past him, desperate to get away. Desperate to get away from these lies.
‘Miss Hudson, did you ever meet the call girl in question? The girl who had been with him on the night he died?’
Girl? What girl? Hud had been with a call girl before he died?
A numbness spread through her. She stopped for a moment. She felt herself crumbling, like she was being dissolved, like she was about to disappear.
But then a figure burst out of the crowd. Paige. She put her arm around Savvy’s shoulder, shouting at the reporters to leave them alone.
‘Quick,’ she hissed in Savvy’s ear, covering her head with her coat. ‘Don’t say anything. The car’s just outside.’
Savvy felt herself being led, as if in a dream. Through the doors into a wall of heat outside. More shouted questions. An open limo door.
Paige bundled Savvy into the back. They sat behind the tinted windows watching silently as the reporters lurched in close. It was like being attacked by a plague of locusts. But these scavengers wanted more than her flesh. They wanted her soul.
Savvy could hear herself pant. Don’t cry, she told herself. Keep it together. Give in to the tears now and they’re not going to stop.
She took a deep breath and turned away from the window, taking off her shades. She realized that she and Paige were not alone.
A grey-haired man in a dark suit was sitting quietly opposite Paige. He looked vaguely familiar.
‘Savvy, I don’t know if you’ve met Len Johnson before. He was a good friend of your father’s and has agreed to work the case for us.’
‘I’m sorry for your loss,’ Len said, leaning forward to shake her hand.
‘Who are you? A cop?’ Savvy asked.
‘He’s better than a cop,’ Paige said.
A detective then. Ex-FBI. He had the look about him. There’d been plenty of Lens on Hud’s payroll over the years.
‘This woman they were talking about in there?’ Savvy’s eyes flashed at Paige. ‘It can’t be true. Tell me it’s not true.’
Paige couldn’t meet Savvy’s eyes.
‘You didn’t tell me?’
‘I didn’t know what to tell you,’ Paige said. ‘We’re all shocked. Devastated.’
Paige handed Savvy a newspaper. As she saw the picture of her father, fresh tears threatened to choke her. The article’s headline was unbearable.
Vegas Tycoon Dies in Drug-Fueled Sex Romp.
Len cleared his throat. ‘They’re saying it was a severe heart attack. Whoever the girl was, she panicked. She left him there to die.’
Savvy’s eyes blurred as she tried to read the words that she could hardly comprehend. How her father had been found dead in the White House having had a heart attack, apparently after a rampant sex session. How Hud had a notorious predilection for up-market call girls. How ‘several sources close to Hudson’ had suggested that his secret habit was the reason for Savvy’s mother’s suicide.
‘Who are these sources?’ she snapped. ‘Who has been talking? Peddling this rubbish?’
‘That’s what we’re trying to find out,’ Paige said.
‘The police are all over the White House,’ Len said. ‘We’ve got to wait our turn. But we will get to the bottom of this mess.’
‘You’re not trying to tell me there’s any truth in this bullshit?’ Savvy shook the paper at Paige.
Paige didn’t answer.
‘Tell me it isn’t true,’ Savvy shouted.
‘I only heard the rumours,’ she said. ‘I never saw anything – anyone – myself.’
Savvy felt sick. She watched her best friend, Hud’s greatest fan, rub away a tear on her cheek.
‘What rumours?’
Paige sniffed. ‘That he used . . . well, had used agency girls.’
Savvy thought of Tracy, the girl at Marcus’s apartment. But Marcus and Hud . . . they weren’t the same. She couldn’t bear to hear any more. Hud had been snatched away from her and already her memories of him were being sullied as well.
‘And the drugs? That can’t be true, can it? It doesn’t make any sense. Daddy was a fitness freak. He was so careful. He’d never have done drug
s. He hated drugs. You know that.’
Paige glanced at Len. ‘The preliminary blood tests show that there were several milligrams of cocaine in his system,’ Len said.
This was all wrong. Savvy refused to believe it. Wouldn’t believe it.
‘You’re going to get to the truth,’ she told Len Johnson. ‘You’re going to find out whoever’s responsible for what happened to Hud. No matter how long it takes. Or how much it costs.’
There were more photographers waiting at the White House. A helicopter thwacked overhead.
As the limo slid through the gates, as sleek and sedate as a hearse, Savvy saw the yellow police tape across the side entrance to the house and unfamiliar cars parked at random angles on the drive.
She closed her eyes for a second and took a deep breath, bracing herself.
Paige held out her hand to Savvy and together they hurried up the front steps, knowing full well that telephoto lenses would be trained on them from above.
In the domed hallway, a uniformed officer stood guard at the bottom of the staircase.
‘I need to see him,’ Savvy said, walking towards the stairs.
Paige grabbed her wrist. ‘He’s not here. They’ve taken his body. And the police are still upstairs.’
‘Where’s Martha?’ Savvy asked, looking towards the kitchen. She knew that she’d be devastated by what had happened.
‘She’s resting. You can see her later. There’ll be plenty of time.’
Savvy looked longingly again at the kitchen door, needing the comfort of Martha’s familiar embrace now more than ever, but Paige was already on the move. Savvy followed her into the Oval Office and Paige shut the doors behind her.
Three men in grey suits – people Savvy instantly recognized as her father’s lawyers – stood crowded around Hud’s polished desk. They all stopped talking immediately and turned to face her. Their looks were searching, ashen.
Peter Murasaki, the head of her father’s legal team, came to her side. He’d been one of her father’s favourite employees. Hud had poached him from a career at a Japanese bank after they’d hit it off one night at La Paris.
‘I’m so sorry, Savannah,’ he said. ‘We’re all going to miss him terribly.’
