From Manhattan with Love: A Novella (The Fifth Avenue Series)

by Christopher Smith

  She and her fiancé, Mario De Cicco, had one of the penthouses. When she arrived, she dropped her keys onto a side table in the foyer and eventually found him in the kitchen. He was leaning against the island, a towel wrapped around his waist, an apple in his hand, his curly dark hair still wet from the shower.

  She dropped her bag and smiled at him. From his lightly hairy pecs to his thick abs and thicker, muscular thighs and arms, he was the embodiment of everything that turned her on and made her weak. She swept his body with her eyes and noted that every part of him that should be bulging was happily obliging.

  “Why do you do this to me?” she asked.

  He bit into the apple. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “You can’t just walk around like that.”

  “Why not?”

  “You know why.”

  “This is exactly how I walked around in Europe.”

  “Europe is Europe. It’s designed for partial nudity. Here, it might as well be a felony.”

  “Explain how this is a crime.”

  “Because I’m not myself when you’re like that. I get...distracted.”

  With a flick of his wrist, the towel hit the floor.

  “I can’t believe you’re doing this.”

  “Have a look. Become a believer.”

  She couldn’t help a laugh. “Come on. We’ve got less than two hours to get there. I need you to behave.”

  “And you need to relax. You look tense. The press is going to be there. You don’t want to look uptight when they’re photographing you, do you? You should be glowing. I can help.”

  “I have been a little tense lately....”

  He came behind her, lifted her hair and kissed the back of her neck. She closed her eyes. No one excited her more than Mario. He had a way with her that laid waste to any other man she’d been with. Her connection with him was so intense, it was palpable. She couldn’t wait to be married to him.

  He started to massage her shoulders, which felt just as good as she knew it would. He smoothed his hands up the length of her body and stopped to cup her breasts. She could feel him against her.

  And that was it.

  She turned to him and put her arms around his neck.

  “Okay, you big lug. You win. Sweep me off my feet.”

  He hoisted her over his shoulder.

  “So, what? Now I’m a cavewoman?”

  “Actually, now you’re being sensible.”

  “Ask me that same question in five minutes.”

  * * *

  Later, when they were showering in the master bath’s double shower, Mario decided he had to break the news to her at some point. The best time to do it was before they arrived at the event.

  “Your father called while you were gone,” he said.

  She had soap in her eyes and couldn’t see. “My father what?”

  “He called.”

  “How does he even know our number? It’s unlisted.”

  “He’s George Redman.”

  “Oh, right. Sorry. Forgot.” She moved under one of the two shower heads and rinsed her hair. Her issues with her father and how coldly he treated her when she was growing up still cut deep. “What did he want? I haven’t heard from him in a year.”

  “He knows about the hotel.”

  She shrugged. “I figured he’d hear about it at some point, especially with his building directly across the street from it. What did he say?”

  “You’re not going to like this.”

  “It’s my father. You know, the one who has won Father of the Year twenty-seven years in a row because of his excellent parenting skills. Anything that has to do with him I’m not going to like.” She stopped for a moment. “So long as it doesn’t have to do with my mother. We may not be on the best terms, but I don’t want anything happening to her.”

  “It has nothing to do with your mother, but he did mention that she hasn’t heard from you.”

  “We’ve been busy,” she said. “What am I supposed to say to her? ‘Hi, Mom. I hope everything is going well in prison. Hang in there. We’re all hoping for good behavior.’ It’s too much.”

  “You should call her.”

  “I actually plan on driving out to see her.”

  “Right,” Mario said. “Anyway, your father is going to be there tonight. He’s been asked to give you the award.” He held up his hand before she could launch into a rant. “The Millers know nothing about your beef with your father. They probably thought they were doing a kind gesture, especially Addy. He likes you. He always has.”

  “I have that effect on gay men.”

  “Addison Miller is gay?”

  “Of course, he is.”

  “How do you know?”

  “You hear things. You see things. You sense things. But it doesn’t matter. Addy is Addy and I love him. I just feel bad that he feels he can’t be who he is. He’s a nice man who deserves something better than living out the rest of his years with that hag Tootie.”

  “I don’t know her.”

  “You don’t want to. And you’re probably right about him suggesting that my father give me the award. Addy doesn’t know what our relationship is.” She twisted the water from her hair and reached for a towel. “But he’s about to find out.”

  She walked past Mario and stepped out of the shower.

  “What are you going to do?” he said.

  “I’m going to talk to Addy. If anyone will understand, he will. He can choose any number of people to give me that award, but it’s not going to be my father. I won’t take anything from him. Besides, he probably called here because he knew I’d react this way. He probably wanted me to let him off the hook.” She went into their bedroom and reached for the phone on one of the side tables. “In this case, I’m more than happy to help him out.”

  * * *

  When they were dressing, Leana stood in front of the mirror in her dressing room and appraised herself. She was going for a kind of retro thirties look and, as she turned and twinkled in the light, she decided she kind of dug it, even though some would probably say that the dress was too short and too gaudy for such an event.

  Not that that would be a surprise. Throughout her life, there always were those who found some reason to tear her down. She didn’t care. She liked the look.

  She was adjusting the two diamond necklaces that plunged between her breasts when Mario stepped inside.

  “You look handsome,” she said.

  “And you look amazing.”

  “I hope you don’t think I’m being a pain in the ass about my father.”

  “If there’s anyone in your life who also understands a strained relationship between a father and his kid, it’s me.”

  “We’re quite a pair,” she said.

  “Actually, we are.”

  “And by the way,” she said. “When are you planning to call your father?”

  His eyes brightened. “I plan on driving out to see him soon.”

  She laughed. “You’re so full of shit.”

  “What did Addy have to say?”

  “Just that he didn’t know about my relationship with Dad, but that he understood. He asked if I knew Jean-Georges Laurent, the businessman. I do, but between us, he gives me the creeps. Harold, who rarely had a bad word to say about anyone, hated him for some reason. Now, I can only imagine why. Laurent is as cut throat as it gets and he might have had something on Harold.”

  She shrugged. “But I know how these events work. He’s important, people know him and that’s what matters, especially when it comes to that crowd and to the press. I said I’d be pleased if Jean-Georges gave me the award and Addy said he’d call my father to give him the news.”

  Mario fixed his tie. “Think he’ll show anyway?”

  “No idea. But he doesn’t want to come near me if he does.” She caught the concerned look on his face and said, “Don’t worry. If he does, I’ll just politely walk away.”

  “You know, people haven’t s
een you in a long time. They haven’t talked to you since that night. They’re bound to ask you questions. Are you ready for that?”

  “I know what they’ll do. I also know what I’ll say.”

  “What’s that?”

  “That I appreciate their concern but I’m not ready to discuss it. That should end it.”

  “Not if a member of the press asks you the question.”

  She hadn’t thought of that.

  “Want a tip?”

  She nodded.

  “A simple ‘no comment,’ repeated firmly if necessary, always works.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  When they arrived at the party, they were fifteen minutes late, which was perfect. Dozens already had arrived. Now, if she worked it correctly, Leana could ease inside with as little fuss as possible, which is how she wanted it.

  She’d been off the circuit for a year and even though she told herself she didn’t care how she’d be received by people, a part of her cared. She knew she’d do fine with the new money, because she understood them as well as they understood her. But the old guard was the old guard. Although some had worked with her father and Celina on deals in the past, the Redmans never had been fully accepted into the highest levels of society.

  And they never would be.

  People like Addison Miller, who led one of the world’s largest banks and whose lineage was linked directly to one of the country’s founding fathers, welcomed them, but that was likely because on some level, probably due to his hidden sexuality, he was more open to accepting others, even though he ironically couldn’t accept himself.

  As for his wife, Tootie Staunton-Miller, she was an unbearable ice bitch who remained in her own circle as much as possible.

  Events such as this brought everyone together, sure, but Tootie only held them if she was certain they advanced her. Trotting out Leana and giving her an award for backing suicide prevention allowed her to be viewed in a position of power. It was she, after all, who backed the charity that was giving the award. Leana was just there to accept it. There was a clear difference in the power structure. Tootie chaired charitable events. Leana just signed a check and handed it to them.

  As for the massive photographs that showed off her newly renovated mansion on Fifth, that also was pure positioning. While the photographs presumably were meant to emulate something of an art installation, a way for people to see how seriously the Martins tended to every detail in their home, the not-so-subtle undercurrent was the bragging rights that came with owning such a home. Who here wouldn’t want to live where they lived? Who wouldn’t want to call that home their home?

  But beyond that, Tootie and Addy had saved one of the avenue’s key residences. Now, they were considered architectural heroes. They had spent tens of millions of their old money to preserve an increasingly shabby-looking corner of Fifth and bring it back to its former glory. For those who lived near Tootie and Addy--and there were plenty here who did--their work would only benefit them in what remained a difficult real estate market.

  Countess Castellani and her blind husband, Count Luftwick, were the first couple Leana and Mario came upon.

  Leana had known them since childhood and in spite of the fact that the countess could become a bit of a mess when she decided to skip the vermouth in the many martinis she tended to favor, she didn’t mind them, especially because of their commitment to HIV research, which was unwavering.

  Like Leana and Mario, they also had just arrived and were standing with three vipers Leana didn’t care for at all--Kitty Flem Dixie, the tobacco heiress; Lorvenia Billiups, the department store heiress; and Frieda Zulrika Teeple, the diamond heiress whose affair last month with three black workers from one of her South African diamond mines had caused a worldwide scandal. Apparently the affair, or orgy as it were, took place in one of the mines while Frieda Zulrika Teeple’s workers cheered them on.

  Leana was surprised to see her here.

  She looked up at Mario with a gleam in her eyes. “Let’s go over and say hello.”

  “You’re joking.”

  She grabbed his hand. “When my mother was sent to prison, every one of them, with the exception of the count and countess, threw her under the bus. They were quoted in interviews. They tore her down. They were happy to vilify her. Much of what they said wasn’t even true.” She looked at them all. “I always knew that karma would run them over. I just didn’t know that I’d be driving one of the vehicles.”

  They started to walk toward them. When Mario saw Frieda Zulrika Teeple, he squeezed Leana’s hand.

  “Isn’t that the woman--”

  “That’s her.”

  “The one who had the orgy?”

  “That’s right. That’s her.”

  “That was just a month or so ago.”

  “Isn’t it great? She’s either brave or deluded to be seen so soon. We’ll find out. Oh, and keep in mind that Count Luftwick is a little off.”

  “Jesus.”

  “Countess Castellani,” Leana said as they joined the group. “Count Luftwick. It’s good to see you.”

  Every head turned in their direction.

  “Leana,” the countess said while appraising her. “You look beautiful. Very thirties. Very now. Uber fresh. I bet Frieda wouldn’t mind having those diamonds--or your legs. How is your mother?”

  “Still scrubbing toilets in prison.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “I’ll be sure to let her know.”

  “It must be awful for her, all that urine and whatnot.”

  “She’s getting by.”

  “All felons must do their time,” Kitty said.

  “That’s true, Kitty,” Leana said. “I remember when your father did his time for allegedly raping that young woman in a Kentucky funeral parlor while in the next room, they were preparing her father’s body for the viewing. The security camera footage obviously was faked, regardless of what people say and how real it looked. I think he got a raw deal.” She paused to admire the piece of jewelry at the woman’s throat. “That’s a lovely brooch. I love how the green matches your eyes.”

  The woman seemed surprised by the compliment and undone by the mention of her father, whose actions had disgraced the family for years. She put her fingertips to the giant emerald and was about to say something when Count Luftwick said, “Leana, I can’t see you, but I’m certain you’re one of the room’s stars.”

  “She certainly is glittering,” Lorvenia said.

  Leana looked at Lorvenia Billiups with a smile. “Lorvenia, I don’t think I’ve seen you since they were running your trial in re-runs on Court TV.”

  “You watch Court TV?”

  “When I can’t sleep, it calms me to see old friends.”

  “They’ve put me in re-runs?”

  “I’m afraid you’re everywhere right now. I try not to miss that channel because you never know who will turn up. For instance, just recently it was you. Can I just tell you that I don’t believe for a minute that you knew about all those illegals working at your department stores?”

  “Thank you. I had no idea.”

  “Of course not,” Count Luftwick said under his breath. “Mexicans have a knack for blending in.”

  They all heard it and a few eyes widened at the racist overtones. There was a pause in the conversation while Lorvenia lifted her chin.

  “I’m sure you didn’t know,” Leana said. “But I’m glad it turned out as well as it did for you. I wish my mother had received only an ankle bracelet and--” She paused. “How long did you serve?”

  “Six months. In my Bar Harbor mansion along the Maine coast. Stunning views. Friends flew in for dinner. My children visited. The Fords and the Rockefellers came by to offer support. Oddly, it wasn’t uncomfortable at all. I was able to garden, entertain and spend time with myself, which I never do because I’m always so busy. It was something like a vacation. Maybe even out of a dream.”

  “Sounds like a nightmare to me,” Count Luftwick
said.

  “Not at all,” Lorvenia said. “But then you’ve never actually seen the house. It’s divoon. The views! Oh, how I wish you could see them!”

  “I can’t see shit, Lorvenia. You know that. So, get your finger out of my ass, will you? Stop tickling my eyeballs. Jesus.”

  “Anyway,” the countess interjected. “We’re glad it went as well as it could for you, Lorvenia.”

  “I would have liked that for my mother,” Leana said.

  “But your mother committed murder,” Frieda said. “It’s not quite the same thing, Leana.”

  “It isn’t,” Leana said. “That true.” She scrutinized the woman’s face. “You’re always so sharp, Frieda. So quick. I admire you for that. And I’m sorry I haven’t written you since your recent public crisis. I’ve meant to, but we only just got back from our trip around the world. It’s awful that you’re facing such lies and humiliation because of something the press made up. Friends were talking about it in Paris. Others in Saint Petersburg and Beijing. A South African orgy? With three men in one of your mines? How does that even happen?”

  “It didn’t happen.”

  “But they won’t stop saying it happened.”

  “I believe it happened,” the count said. “In this town, gossip might as well come from the Lord’s lips. I look for the worst in everyone. Even you, Frieda. Sometimes, especially you. Sorry.”

  “He’s just joking,” the countess said, and Leana noticed that the woman was digging her nails into the count’s arm.

  “They were talking about me in Beijing?” Frieda said.

  “They were. But the good news is that your lawyers, I presume, were quick enough to remove the footage from YouTube,” Leana said. “That’s when I learned about it, when news about the video was trending on Twitter.”

  “I was trending on Twitter?”

  “At one point, you held the top spot. I viewed the video and even though the rough parts were smudged out, I swear it wasn’t you. I think the only one who believes it is Lady Molesworth, who I hear can’t shut up about it. But you know how she is. When even the hint of a scandal hits, she’s not happy until she gets on the phone and calls everyone who matters. She phoned my mother in prison the day the news hit. They still keep in touch. I think she’s the reason so many people found out.”