For a moment Cristina felt sorry for what she had done. Then she thought of Nino – of his impassioned appeals for equality – his sincereness about his cause. He was right. To redistribute some of the wealth was a good thing.
She ached to be with him. Louis was sweet, he had always been sweet. But he was a baby. A rich, spoiled baby.
On the day before she was due to see Nino, Louis took her to an open-air concert outside the Opera House. After, he said he wanted to surprise her, and he drove his red sports car up into the mountains to a small country house his parents kept there. He had obviously been there earlier in the day because the table was laid for two, with candles waiting to be lit, and a cold supper in the fridge.
‘Surprise!’ he said. ‘I wanted tonight to be special.’
‘But I thought we were going dancing.’
‘We can go later if you want. I just thought it would be nice if we were alone together. We always seem to be surrounded by people.’
Suddenly he was all over her. ‘I like you, Cristina. You know how much I like you. I thought for a while that we were finished – you became so cold. Now we’re together again I want to ask your father’s permission for us to be married next year.’ He reached into his jacket pocket and produced a small box. ‘Here, I’ve brought you a ring. I love you, Cristina, I always have. We were meant to be married.’ He plunged his mouth down on hers, kissing her frantically.
Nino had not instructed her how to deal with this situation. She had another two weeks to go. If she shoved Louis away and told him her answer was no, that might spoil everything. Instinct told her she had to play him along. So although she didn’t feel like it, she kissed him back and let his hands linger for a moment on her breasts before pushing him away.
‘Don’t, Louis,’ she reprimanded him sharply.
‘I’m sorry. I don’t mean to take liberties with you. It’s just that I want you so much, I always have.’
Idly she glanced at the ring he had presented her with. It was a heart-shaped sapphire surrounded with diamonds. It must have cost a fortune. It was beautiful. She took it from the box and slipped it on her finger. It fitted perfectly. She could wear it for two weeks… Give it back to him when she told him that they couldn’t marry.
‘Do you like it?’ Louis asked anxiously. ‘If you don’t, we could change it.’
‘It’s very pretty.’
‘You’re very pretty.’ And he was grabbing her again, exploring her mouth with his tongue, allowing his hands to slip from her shoulders to her breasts.
In spite of herself she felt excited. He wanted her so much that she couldn’t help feeling a surge of power. She was a woman and he didn’t even know it. How surprised he would be if he knew how experienced she was.
She had noticed the bulge in his trousers, and that gave her a feeling of power too.
Louis was a good catch. Marie Therese had been mad about him for years, and Marie Therese was much prettier than she was, but it was she he wanted.
‘Have you ever been with a woman?’ she gasped, pushing him off once more and watching him to gauge his reaction.
‘No,’ he said, flushing.
‘But you must have,’ she insisted. ‘All boys of your age must have had some sort of experience.’
He turned away from her. ‘I don’t think I should tell you.’
‘Of course you must tell me. If we are to be engaged, I must know everything. There can be no secrets.’
‘When I was seventeen my father took me to a whore house.’
‘How exciting!’
‘Cristina! It wasn’t exciting. It was disgusting. Old women with floppy bellies. I did what I had to do and never went back. My father thought that made me a man.’
‘And did it?’
‘It made me sick. I swore I would wait until I found the girl I loved.’
‘And here I am,’ Cristina teased.
Louis was very serious. ‘Yes. Here you are. And I am glad that I have waited, because we will be able to start out together. It’s the way it should be.’
She wanted to laugh in his face. How young and naive and romantic his words were. Poor Louis. He was such a baby.
* * *
Evita could not understand it. One moment her daughter was starry-eyed about the boy called Nino – the next, Louis was back in her life.
Jorge was triumphant. ‘I told you not to worry about her,’ he crowed. ‘She probably quarrelled with Louis because he tried to take liberties with her. Now he realizes he cannot get away with that kind of behaviour. Our daughter is a good girl.’
‘Perhaps,’ mused Evita. But she wasn’t satisfied. Something wasn’t quite right, and she decided to go ahead with plans to take Cristina off for a long trip somewhere.
Her plans were shattered when Cristina flashed an engagement ring under her nose.
‘Louis wishes to meet with Poppa,’ her daughter said. ‘Some old-fashioned idea about getting his permission.’
‘It’s wonderful. I’m so thrilled for you, my darling,’ Evita said. But still she had a feeling of disquiet. Cristina did not appear to be particularly excited at the prospect of being engaged to one of the richest young men in Brazil.
‘We’ll throw an engagement party,’ Evita said. ‘We’ll make it a marvellous occasion. Would you like that?’
‘Oh, Mama, I don’t want a fuss. Can we wait a few weeks?’
‘Certainly, dear.’ But Evita couldn’t imagine why she would want to wait. ‘Whatever happened to that young man you brought home? What was his name? Nino?’
‘How should I know?’ replied Cristina crossly. ‘He was just a friend.’
Evita was quick to catch the evasive quality of her daughter’s voice. Somehow, in spite of the engagement, she felt that they had not heard the last of Nino.
* * *
He lay on his crumpled bed and grinned and said, ‘You didn’t waste any time then?’
Cristina grinned back as she stood beside the bed. ‘Some people find me irresistible.’
He patted a space beside him. ‘Come join me and collect your reward.’
‘I can’t. I have to get home, Louis is picking me up. We’re spending the day at his house.’
‘How nice. No time for me any more. I can see you did manage to live the week through without me.’
‘Nino! I’m doing it for us. You were the one who said I have to concentrate on Louis absolutely.’
Nino raised his eyebrows. Yes, he had said it, but he hadn’t expected her to take him quite so literally. He had imagined she would come running to him, unable to wait to leap into his bed. He hadn’t wanted to sleep with her, but he had steeled himself to the fact that he must. Now she obviously didn’t want to. Was he losing his touch?
He rolled off the bed and held her loosely round the waist. ‘Time for a kiss at least?’
She giggled. ‘Please! I’m engaged to another man. We can have none of this.’
Suddenly he was angry. ‘Are you sure you are not taking this game too seriously?’
She was contrite, showering his face with kisses. ‘I’m sorry – sorry – sorry. I’m only doing what you wanted me to do.’ Secretly she was thrilled, because Nino seemed almost jealous.
‘Yes, of course,’ he said. ‘So what information do you have for me?’
‘Plenty. I’ve found out everything I can. Louis thinks that I am Al King’s greatest fan! I can’t even stand him – my mother buys all his records.’
‘Well?’ questioned Nino, impatiently.
‘Let me see now.’ She paused provocatively, enjoying her small moment of power. ‘He’s arriving in Rio the day before the concert…’
‘What time?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Find out. It’s important.’
‘He’s travelling in his own plane.’
‘Who with?’
‘I don’t know yet, but apparently Louis’s father will be getting a list. Mr. Baptista will be meeting him at the airport wi
th television, photographers – a whole big deal. Then in the evening there’s to be a big party for him, to which I am naturally invited.’
‘Good. Be sure to meet him. Be sure he will remember you.’
‘How do I do that?’
‘We’ll think of something, but it’s important that he knows you.’
‘Why?’
‘I’m supposed to be asking the questions. I have a lot to work out.’
‘Anyway – I don’t know what he’ll do the next day – but in the evening there is the concert, and apparently he’ll be leaving for the airport immediately after. Something about he’s nervous of crowds and wants to get out before the people leave the stadium. I think Louis said a helicopter will be waiting to take him to the airport.’
‘You’ve done very well.’
‘I try to please. When do you think you will take him?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘If you manage it before the concert I guess they’ll pay you the money quickly. How many hours will you hold him? You won’t hurt him, will you?’
Nino shook his head. How stupid she was. ‘Everything will be fine. Nobody will get hurt.’
‘I’ve got to rush. Can I see you again this week?’
‘Phone me as soon as you find anything else out.’
She kissed him. ‘I love you so much, Nino. I’ll be glad when this is all over and we can be together.’ She left quickly.
Nino sat thoughtfully on the side of his bed. She was playing games. She didn’t realize this was for real. She didn’t even realize the major part she was going to have to play in it.
Oh well – she would learn. If she wanted him she was going to have to pay for the privilege. And she would. He would make sure of that.
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Dallas hailed a cab at Las Vegas airport. ‘Take me to your leader!’ she giggled at the driver.
‘Hey, lady – you wanna go somewhere – tell me – I’ll be happy to oblige. You wanna play games, find another cab, I gotta livin’ to make.’
She mock saluted. ‘Yes, officer.’
‘So – where to?’
It suddenly occurred to her that she had no idea where Al was appearing. ‘Big charity telethon show,’ she mumbled – Christ but she was stoned. ‘Al King.’
He gunned the cab into action. Fortunately he seemed to know what she was talking about. She was delightfully out of it – spaced halfway to the moon.
She giggled quietly to herself. Wouldn’t do to annoy the driver. ‘Mustn’t annoy the driver…’ she found herself mumbling out loud.
He clacked his lips in disgust and ignored her. Dumb hooker. Any woman arriving unescorted in Vegas was automatically a dumb hooker. And this one was worse than most – with her messy clothes and tangled hair. Pretty enough – but who the hell did she hope to pick up in the state she was in?
‘I’ve been here before,’ Dallas announced. ‘Came here with a friend called Bobbie coupla years back. She died, y’know.’
‘I didn’t know that,’ the driver replied, his sarcasm lost on her.
She shook her head. ‘It doesn’t matter.’ She tried to recollect her day. It seemed she had just woken up and here she was. No. Somewhere along the way it had been a long day, and now it was night. She giggled quietly and reached for the remains of a joint stuffed in her jeans pocket. She lit up.
‘Put that out,’ snapped the driver. ‘You think I wanna get busted?’
‘Think I wanna get busted!’ mimicked Dallas.
‘Watch it, sister.’
She started to sing, ‘I ain’t your sister, whacha say to that mister?’ Then she laughed so hard she couldn’t continue singing. Wasn’t life fun? Why had she never realized it before? ‘I was in Palm Springs this morning. Woke up there beautiful day, so I swam, lay around in the sun.’
‘Why didn’t you stay there?’ asked the cab driver sourly.
‘You know something – I nearly did. But hey – how would you like to fuck an old guy of seventy?’
He swerved the cab over to the side of the road with a great mashing of brakes. ‘Out!’ he commanded. ‘I don’t havta listen to your foul language in my cab. I gotta daughter your age.’
‘Oh Christ!’ muttered Dallas.
‘Out!’ he screamed.
‘Shit! Don’t go gettin’ your balls in a sweat, sugar! Hey – I sound just like Bobbie. You know Bobbie?’
He was red in the face.
Dallas climbed out of the cab, and he threw her bag out after her.
‘Scum!’ he muttered.
‘Bum!’ she replied, still laughing, unperturbed at being dumped at the side of the road.
Yes. She could remember Palm Springs. She had left there sometime in the afternoon, been flown to Los Angeles in Aarron’s private jet. At LA airport she had booked herself out on the next flight to Vegas. Didn’t want to see anyone. Didn’t want anyone to know where she was.
Let them all sweat. She would return when she was ready.
On the plane she had met a lovely lady with freaked-out hair and granny glasses, who had sold her a fine supply of Quaaludes and some good grass. Fortunate, because she was starting to run out.
Why had it taken her so long to find out what a good time you could have when you were stoned? She had smoked joints on and off for years without much effect. But suddenly, jeeze –use enough – mix in a few amphetamines, a little speed, and you could be flying in no time at all. It was a wonderful feeling. Pure. Clear. Mind-expanding. For the first time she could understand Kip Rey’s hang-up. And to think she had been the one to criticize him, put him down, when all he had been doing was escaping to wonderland. Of course, he had died. Accident. Unfortunate.
A truck was pulling over to the side of the road, the driver whistling at her. ‘Need wheels, baby?’
She smiled. Nice, kind guy. ‘Sure.’
‘Climb aboard.’
She threw her bag into his cab, jumped in.
‘You got a great pair,’ he said. ‘They for real?’
‘Bout as real as your balls.’
He laughed, jamming the big truck into motion. ‘Where to, big eyes?’
‘Caesar’s Palace,’ she said mentioning the first place that came to mind.
‘I’ll give you door-to-door service, ’cos I like you. What you gonna give me in exchange?’
‘Whatever turns you on, sugar sweets.’ Pure Bobbie dialogue. It amused her to use it.
He opened his legs slightly, patted his crotch. ‘I could use a hand job.’
Wasn’t this where she had come in?
She waited until the truck stopped at a traffic light, jumped out.
‘What the f—’ began the driver.
‘You’re too late,’ shouted Dallas. ‘I gave it up. Give yourself a hand job, sport. You might enjoy it!’
She looked around. Where the hell was she? Shit. What a lousy idea this trip had been.
* * *
Three numbers, but they were screaming for more. Al looked to the side of the stage and shrugged. The sooner he was off, the sooner he could get back to the tables. Fifty thousand down was a bummer – a loser’s trip. He was a winner – and he was going to win it back – every goddamn dollar.
The redhead had been the catalyst, if she hadn’t huffed and puffed all over his dice he would have won. She was a definite loser – thank Christ he hadn’t touched her. She probably would have given him a dose.
One more chorus of ‘Bad Black Alice’. These charity telethons were a pain in the ass. But he had agreed to do it. Every goddamn star in California had agreed to do it. The money was being raised for invalid children and as far as Al was concerned that was one charity you did anything for. Top priority.
Karmen Rush was waiting at the side of the stage to follow him on. He ignored her.
Christ, it was hot – he was sweating like Bernie. Jeeze!
Luke was waiting with towels. Paul was waiting with a choked expression – he was more pissed off about Melanie
giving him the boot than Al was about Edna. Poor sod. He should be dancing in the streets with joy – after all, he had the children – his prime concern.
Al knew what he was going to do. He had made up his mind. After South America he was going to return to Los Angeles. He was going to buy himself the best goddam house around – and he was going to do the movie – give it a try. Then he was going to take six months off to write some new songs – stuff he really wanted to do.
Beyond that he didn’t know. By that time his divorce should be through. He would be free.
Free to what? Fuck America?
He was sober again. Cold stone sober. The telethon hadn’t given him much of a high. After playing such large venues a small audience was a bit of a come-down. Millions had been watching him on television – but that wasn’t the kick. The real thrill was having them out there before you. Feeling them. Smelling them. Peaking with them. The ultimate orgasm. He was looking forward to Rio. Two hundred thousand in one fell swoop. What an experience that should be.
* * *
The patrol car cruised to a stop beside Dallas, and one of the policemen leaned out. ‘What are you doing out here?’ he asked.
‘Some creep gave me a lift and tried to rape me. I jumped out and here I am!’
‘Hop in,’ the cop said. ‘Where you headed?’
Thankfully she climbed in the back of the car.
‘I want to get to the big charity telethon that’s going on here tonight.’
‘You got a ticket?’
‘No, but I got a friend.’ Stay straight, she warned herself, don’t let them see you are out of your head.
‘You hitch all the way here?’
Did she look that bad? Come to think of it, she hadn’t looked in a mirror all day. She had just thrown a T-shirt and jeans over her bikini when she left Palm Springs – all right in a hot little asshole of a town during the day – but not quite right for now. ‘Yeah,’ she said. Who needed conversations?
‘You looking for a job here?’
‘Not really.’
‘It’s a tough city if you don’t have a job. My cousin can always use pretty waitresses – Joe Vondello’s on the strip – tell him Mac sent you.’
Lovers and Gamblers Page 50
