Dangerous Kiss

  ANYONE WITH INFORMATION

  CONCERNING A CAR-JACKING ROBBERY

  ON 1 SEPTEMBER AT THE CORNER OF

  WILSHIRE AND LANGTON WILL BE

  ELIGIBLE TO COLLECT A REWARD OF

  ONE HUNDRED THOUSAND DOLLARS

  The reward announcement was bad enough. But there were also pictures – supposedly of him and Mila. Not that the sketches looked like either of them, but there were certain similarities. Mila’s narrow eyes and sharp nose. His wide forehead and cropped hair.

  He immediately ran to the burger joint where Mila worked and told her what was going on.

  She freaked out. ‘You’d better keep your mouth shut,’ she warned. ‘Nobody knows we did it. There are no witnesses. They don’t have the number of the jeep, so we’re safe. Remember – keep your fucking mouth shut, Teddy.’

  But even as she uttered those words, her mind was zooming in a million different directions. A hundred thousand dollars. Boy, what she couldn’t do with a hundred thousand dollars!

  Teddy, meanwhile, was making his own plans. It was definitely time to run: things were getting too hot. Any moment the cops could come knocking at the door, and when his father discovered he’d been involved in a murder . . . Well, it didn’t bear thinking about. He shuddered at the memory of that horrible night. If his dad ever found out he would definitely kill him. Price was a maniac when he lost his temper. He expected his son to be perfect.

  Teddy decided he’d better get to his mother’s fast. He knew she lived in an apartment on Wilshire, and even though he’d had no contact with her in years, he was sure that when he arrived at her door she wouldn’t turn him away. He’d make up a story that Price was back on drugs and beating the crap out of him: that way she’d have to take him in.

  Saturday afternoon he put on his best rapper outfit – baggy pants swaddling his hips, a hooded oversized sweatshirt and high-top Nikes – then attempted to sneak out.

  Price was lounging on the couch in the den watching football on TV. ‘Wanna catch some plays with me?’ he called, as Teddy tried to sidle past.

  ‘Gotta see some friends, Dad,’ Teddy said, in a low voice.

  ‘What time you comin’ back?’

  ‘Later.’

  ‘Later,’ Price repeated, tossing pretzels into his mouth. ‘Now, don’t you go smokin’ no weed with any of your friends. ’Cause I’ll know, an’ I’ll whack the shit outta you. Got it, boy?’

  ‘Yes, Dad,’ he said, moving towards the back door.

  As he walked out to the garage, Mila appeared from the kitchen, wearing a tight T-shirt with no bra, and a short fake red-leather skirt. She’d dyed her dark hair a startling shade of white blonde and cut it even shorter so that it looked like a crew-cut. He knew why.

  ‘Where you goin’, Teddy?’ she asked.

  He couldn’t take his eyes off her nipples, they were sticking out under her T-shirt, demanding attention.

  She saw him looking and stuck them out even further.

  ‘Gonna hang with some friends,’ he mumbled, not about to confide in her – she’d be the last one he’d tell.

  ‘Shame,’ she said, chewing on a hang-nail. ‘Thought we’d do something today.’

  She’d hardly spoken to him since the night of the murder, except to warn him of the dire consequences if he opened his mouth. ‘Like what?’ he ventured, frightened of her, yet at the same time drawn to her.

  ‘Dunno,’ she said, with a casual shrug. ‘Take a drive, catch a movie.’

  ‘Not me,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘Not after the last time.’

  ‘Shit, man,’ she said scornfully. ‘That’s never gonna happen again. I don’t even have a gun.’

  He didn’t believe her, but her nipples were beckoning and he was beginning to weaken. ‘You sure?’

  ‘Course I am,’ she said, thrusting her tits in his face. ‘Besides, you an’ I never get t’ spend any time together since I’m workin’. Don’t you think we should talk?’ He nodded. ‘You like my hair?’ she added.

  ‘’S okay,’ he said.

  ‘How about it?’ she said, moving even closer. ‘Can we do something together?’

  ‘S’pose I could meet the guys later,’ he said.

  ‘That’s my Teddy,’ she said, giving him a playful punch on the chin. ‘Let’s go see The Bodyguard.’

  ‘Who’s in that?’ he asked suspiciously.

  ‘Kevin.’

  ‘Kevin who?’

  ‘Kevin Costner, dunce!’

  ‘Who wants to see him?’

  ‘I do. Anyway, you can jerk off over Whitney Houston. She’s in it, too.’

  ‘Okay,’ he said, unable to resist.

  ‘Okay,’ she mimicked, teasing him. ‘I’ll go get a sweater.’

  He waited patiently, hoping she’d come back soon. He could always go to his mother’s in the morning. If he had a chance to be with Mila, he didn’t want to blow it, even though she still scared the crap out of him.

  She emerged a few minutes later, a blue sweater tied casually around her narrow waist. ‘Let’s go,’ she said bossily.

  He looked at her long legs, then at her tits. ‘I’ll drive,’ he mumbled.

  For once she didn’t argue.

  * * *

  Irena took her boss lunch on a tray. Price was lounging in front of the TV in a tracksuit with no underwear. Irena was well aware that on weekends he never wore underwear, it was one of his little idiosyncrasies.

  ‘Okay, hon,’ he said, indicating the coffee table in front of him. ‘Put it there.’

  ‘Yes, Mr Washington,’ she said.

  He glanced up at her briefly, his heavily lidded eyes immediately swivelling back to the TV. ‘Teddy’s out. Where’s Mila?’

  ‘She went with him,’ Irena said. ‘They’re seeing a movie.’

  ‘Nice t’ see the kids gettin’ along,’ he remarked, although he would have preferred Teddy not to hang out with Mila – he still considered the girl a bad influence.

  ‘They should,’ Irena said. ‘They were raised together.’

  ‘Right,’ he said, splaying his legs in front of him.

  She couldn’t help noticing that he had a semi hard-on, quite obvious in his tracksuit pants.

  ‘Sit down here for a minute,’ he said, patting the space next to him. ‘Watch the game with me.’

  ‘I have things to do, Mr Washington.’

  ‘I got things for you to do, too,’ he said, pulling her down beside him.

  Irena was tense. Price Washington was her boss, but he was also, when he felt like it, her lover. Well, not exactly her lover. A more apt description would be that she was his sex slave.

  She hated herself for doing everything he asked. She hated herself for being there whenever he felt like getting serviced and none of his girlfriends was around. She knew she was a fool to oblige him. But the sad fact was . . . she loved him.

  Price Washington had taken her in when she’d had nothing, just the one small suitcase of possessions that was all she’d brought with her when she’d fled Moscow, where her life had been unbearable. Thank God for the man in the American Embassy who’d befriended her and helped her get an exit visa in her dead cousin’s name. They would never have let her out of the country, a convicted prostitute and felon who’d done jail time for killing her pimp, an unspeakable monster who’d grabbed every rouble she’d ever made, and amused himself by carving his name on her buttocks. She’d been lucky and escaped. And when she’d arrived in America, Price Washington was there for her. She would always be grateful.

  ‘Eat your lunch, Mr Washington,’ she said stiffly.

  ‘Quit with the Mr Washington shit,’ he said, taking her hand and placing it on his crotch. ‘There’s nobody around.’

  She knew exactly what he expected her to do. She was supposed to rub it a little, make it hard, take it out, suck it, put it back and go away. The routine never varied.

  ‘I have work to do,’ she said.

  ‘Work this,’ he said, moving her h
and up and down.

  In a way she supposed she should be flattered. Price Washington had many girlfriends, and any one of them would have been only too happy to sit in front of the TV with him all day doing whatever he wanted. But Price enjoyed watching football alone. He liked making his phone bets, hollering at the players on the TV screen, and snacking on a variety of junk foods. Maybe he even liked having her around. She didn’t know. He never told her.

  Once in a while he summoned her to his room late at night when Mila and Teddy were asleep. There were times he even touched her, but not very often. Once, when Teddy was away at summer camp, and Mila was staying with a girlfriend, she’d spent the night in his bed, naked and in total abandon. It had been the most memorable night of her life. After it was over he’d never mentioned it again.

  When he’d first started coming on to her it had been in his drug days, those lazy, hazy days when he had no idea what he was doing. She’d dismissed his attentions at first. But even after he was stone cold sober and absolutely straight, he continued from time to time to call on her services.

  There weren’t any other men in Irena’s life. She lived for Price, he was all she cared about.

  Of course, there was her daughter, Mila. But Irena was well aware what a devious little bitch Mila could be. There was nothing she could do about it. She’d given up trying.

  Although if she was truthful with herself, she’d admit that she’d never really tried in the first place.

  Her most fervent hope was that Mila would find a man, get married and go away. And then when Teddy left, she’d finally be alone with Price, and maybe, just maybe, he’d realize she was the only woman who genuinely cared about him.

  * * *

  To Teddy’s amazement, Mila snuggled close in the cinema. He couldn’t believe it. This was something he’d dreamed about ever since he’d hit puberty, yet he was still scared of her. He couldn’t help thinking of her firing the gun . . . killing Mary Lou. At the same time he wanted to grab a feel of those perky little tits and touch those hot sexy thighs. He wanted to shove his johnson at her and have her caress it.

  He’d never touched a girl – he was way behind the other dudes in his class, who’d all been making out while he’d been shut in a boys-only school in New York, thanks to Price, who thought that would force him to concentrate on his work.

  Price did not want him getting into any of the things that he’d done. Endless women, wild sex, drugs, and booze. Price wanted him to be perfect. And that was impossible.

  ‘Wanna touch my tits?’ Mila whispered seductively in his ear.

  ‘Wh-what?’ he stammered, sure he hadn’t heard correctly.

  ‘Do you?’ she encouraged, moving even closer.

  ‘C-can I?’

  ‘Christ, Teddy,’ she said forcefully. ‘You’re such a loser. For God’s sake, go for it.’ And with that, she grabbed his hand and shoved it up her T-shirt.

  Feeling her hard, pointed nipples, he nearly came in his pants. Her tits were the best thing he’d ever felt.

  Was this sex? He had a giant hard-on – which was nothing new because he got hard every time he looked at a girlie magazine. Only this was the real thing, this was Mila, and his heart was pounding.

  Her hand crept down to stroke his erection. ‘Oooh, aren’t you a big boy?’ she said, licking her lips with a snake-like pink tongue. ‘My little Teddy – what a surprise!’

  They were sitting in the back row, her choice. Whitney Houston and Kevin Costner were emoting on the screen, but who cared? Teddy certainly didn’t. Right now he didn’t care about anything except his interaction with Mila – the object of his lust.

  She snaked her hand down the front of his pants. Flesh upon flesh. He thought he’d died and gone to heaven. Then, without warning, he felt himself squirting all over her hand.

  ‘Ha!’ she exclaimed. ‘That was quick. Now you belong to me. Did you know that, Teddy? You always belong to the first woman you have.’

  ‘But – but I haven’t had you,’ he stammered.

  ‘That’s okay,’ she said matter-of-factly. ‘We’re just starting. We got plenty of time.’

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  ‘I haven’t heard from you in a while.’

  ‘Who’s this?’

  ‘You’re kidding, right?’

  Lucky sighed and held the phone tight. ‘Hi, Alex,’ she said. ‘Your timing is impeccable.’

  ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘It means that twenty minutes ago Lennie and I had a big fight and he walked.’

  ‘Walked?’

  ‘You heard it here first.’

  ‘Jesus! This isn’t right.’

  ‘Tell me about it. I’m sitting in an empty house with nobody to punch in the face.’

  ‘If it’s a face you want, you can have mine.’

  ‘I’m angry and frustrated.’

  ‘Sounds healthy.’

  ‘Are you alone?’

  ‘I could be in ten minutes. Why?’

  ‘Thought I might come over and vent.’

  ‘Want me to drive to your house and collect you?’

  ‘I’m still capable of driving, thankyouverymuch.’

  ‘I’ll get out the vodka.’

  ‘I’ll see you in ten.’

  What am I doing? she thought. Running to Alex at the first sign of trouble. This is insane.

  And, yet, why shouldn’t she go to Alex? Whether Lennie liked it or not, he was her best friend. And she couldn’t burden Steven: he had enough to cope with.

  Besides, her relationship with Alex was absolutely platonic.

  Of course, there was that one wild night five years ago . . . but that had been a one-off they’d both agreed to forget about. And, anyway, Alex only went for Asian women, and she was in love with Lennie. There was absolutely no chemistry between her and Alex. Absolutely none.

  Before leaving, she called Palm Springs to talk to her children. Instead she got Gino, who informed her they were all eating dinner. ‘Everything okay with you, kid?’ Gino asked.

  ‘Of course. Why?’

  ‘Somethin’ in your voice.’

  Oh, he knew her very well indeed, her father. He was a canny old man. ‘Don’t be silly,’ she said lightly. ‘I’m enjoying the break.’

  ‘We’ll keep the kids as long as you want,’ he said. ‘They’re havin’ a good time.’

  ‘Thanks, Gino. And please thank Paige for me.’

  Five minutes later she was in her Ferrari on her way to Alex’s house. He lived further along the Pacific Coast Highway, in a Richard Meier-designed modern masterpiece. They were neighbours in a way, although neither of them ever dropped by.

  He was standing at his front door, waiting for her. ‘This is a nice surprise,’ he said. ‘Sorry to hear that you’re so pissed off.’

  ‘Right,’ she said, getting out of her Ferrari. ‘And so would you be.’

  ‘I’ll tell you what the plan is,’ he said, holding her arm. ‘We’ll take my car, ’cause I hate your driving.’

  ‘Take your car where?’

  ‘We’re going up the canyon to the Saddlebag Inn, where we will have a leisurely dinner, during which you can tell me everything.’

  ‘I wasn’t planning on dinner,’ she said, gesturing at her outfit. ‘I mean, look at me – I’m in jeans and a sweater.’

  ‘Lucky, I don’t know how to tell you this – but you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.’

  ‘You’re prejudiced, Alex, ’cause I’m your best friend.’

  ‘Could be. But since you’re also the smartest woman I know, we won’t argue. Here’s the deal. My fridge is empty and we both need to eat.’

  ‘I’m not hungry.’

  ‘You’d better be. I was planning a wild night of tantric sex with Pia, but since you’ve ruined that little scenario, let’s go satisfy me in some other way.’

  She couldn’t help smiling. ‘Hmm . . . just because I’m not into tantric sex . . .’

  ‘Ha ha!’ Alex sa
id. ‘I’m amused.’

  ‘I aim to please.’

  ‘Stop carrying on,’ he said, ‘and get in my car.’

  ‘God, you’re bossy,’ she grumbled. ‘I’d forgotten what it was like being around you.’

  ‘I’m a director,’ he said briskly. ‘That’s the way we are.’

  She climbed into his Mercedes and they set off.

  As they drove up the canyon, she started laughing.

  ‘Glad to see I’ve brought a smile back to your face,’ he said, glancing over at her. ‘Care to share the joke?’

  ‘I’m remembering,’ she said.

  ‘What?’

  ‘The last drive we took under adverse circumstances.’

  ‘You mean that drive when we were supposed to go see Gino in Palm Springs?’

  ‘That’s the one,’ she said. ‘I was in a freaked-out state ’cause that’s when I thought Lennie was dead. But instead it turned out he’d been kidnapped. Only we didn’t know that, right?’

  ‘Sounds like a plot from one of my movies.’

  ‘I hope not.’

  ‘If I remember correctly you were so wasted. And we ended up in a sleazy bar with some crazy stripper – what was her name?’

  ‘Driving Miss Daisy,’ Lucky said, chuckling as she remembered the outrageous black stripper they’d somehow gotten attached to.

  ‘Right,’ Alex said, laughing too. ‘You insisted I give her a job.’

  ‘And you wouldn’t,’ Lucky said.

  ‘God!’ Alex said, smiling at the memory. ‘That was some night. You were totally out of it.’

  ‘And I suppose you were stone cold sober.’

  ‘As a matter of fact I was,’ he said. ‘Had to be. One of us needed to be in control.’

  ‘Sure,’ she said.

  ‘Then we had wild sex in that Norman Bates motel in the middle of nowhere,’ he reminded her. ‘And in the morning you were gone.’

  Lucky stopped laughing. ‘Alex,’ she said, her face serious, ‘you were never supposed to mention that. I was drunk. I didn’t know what I was doing.’

  ‘Never thought I’d hear you come up with an excuse like that,’ he said, shaking his head.

  ‘It’s not an excuse, it’s a fact. For all I know we didn’t even have sex. You probably passed out.’