‘I’m thinkin’ of marryin’ Dahlia,’ he said mournfully. ‘She’s under the impression it’s time we walked that thin red line to Dullsville.’
‘Oh,’ Lina said, not even trying to hide her disappointment. ‘Does that mean I shouldn’t try seducing you tonight?’
‘I’m thinkin’ of marryin’ her,’ he said, with an affable grin. ‘Not doin’ it.’
‘So sex is a possibility?’ she teased.
A raunchy chuckle. ‘Thought you only slept with me t’ get the part?’
‘I did. But the sex was sooo good, I’ve decided I want more.’
‘Sassy and smart,’ he said, raising his glasses for a moment. ‘I like that in a woman.’
‘I do ’ave an ego, you know,’ Lina said, quite indignant. ‘Since we’ve been making the movie, you ’aven’t looked twice in my direction – ’cept as a friend.’
‘It’s safer being friends with me,’ Charlie said. ‘I might be carrying all kinds of unspeakable diseases.’
‘This is a twist!’ Lina exclaimed. ‘Usually it’s me beatin’ ’em off with a stick!’
He threw her a quizzical look. ‘Are you by any chance chasing me, my dear?’
‘Well,’ she answered cheekily, ‘I wouldn’t mind another slice.’
‘You English girls,’ he said, with a wild chuckle. ‘You and your funny language.’
‘What’s wrong with our language?’
‘Nothing that a nice fat joint won’t cure. Follow me,’ he said, leading her down a path to the serene lake where several magnificent swans made their home.
‘Oooh,’ she said, ‘now you’re talking. Got any coke?’
‘Don’t do coke,’ he answered calmly, as if it was a perfectly normal question – which, in the film and modelling worlds, it was. ‘A joint takes the edge off, makes me nice and mellow.’
‘A joint’ll do,’ she said.
‘You don’t wanna get into that whole coke scene,’ he lectured. ‘Snorting it up your pretty little nose – it ain’t ladylike.’
‘Ha!’ Lina said. ‘Ladylike is the last thing I am!’
‘I never argue with a female,’ Charlie said, producing a joint from his pocket and lighting up.
‘Good!’ Lina said, accepting a toke.
Then they strolled companionably by the side of the lake, sharing the cigarette, taking turns inhaling deeply.
When they were finished, Charlie said, ‘Now I’m ready to party.’
‘So am I,’ Lina said, winking at him. ‘Ready to rock ’n’ roll the night away!’
Chapter Fifty-Six
‘You look like shit,’ Carlo said, inspecting Brigette in an arrogant way. ‘Surely you can pull yourself together better than this?’
Lately he never had a good word to say. When they were first together he’d often told her how beautiful she was, especially after they’d made love and were lying relaxed in each other’s arms. Now, whenever he opened his mouth, it was to spew forth criticism.
‘I can’t help being pregnant,’ she said defensively. ‘Clothes don’t hang on me the way they used to.’
‘You’re an embarrassment,’ he grumbled, his handsome face full of disdain.
‘I’m doing my best,’ she said, fighting back tears, although she really couldn’t care less what she looked like. All she cared about was the comfort of drugs.
‘I can assure you,’ he said pointedly, ‘your best is not good enough.’
‘Carlo,’ she said restlessly, ‘before we go tonight I need . . . a shot.’ She glared at him accusingly. ‘You promised you’d get me something.’
‘I told you, Brigette,’ he said irritably, ‘you have to stop depending on that stuff so much.’
‘You introduced me to it and I like the feeling, so don’t try to cut me off because you’ll . . . you’ll regret it.’
‘Are you threatening me?’ he said, turning on her.
‘Yes,’ she answered bravely. ‘I am.’
‘You’re nothing but an uppity bitch!’ he said. And before she saw it coming he slapped her hard across the face.
It had been a while since he’d hit her, so she was taken by surprise. She fell back on the bed and before she could stop herself, started crying, engulfed in her own pitiful misery. ‘Can’t you see I need something?’ she sobbed. ‘And you’d better give it to me, or I’m not going anywhere tonight.’
‘Whiny bitch,’ Carlo sneered. ‘And to think that I, Carlo Vittorio Vitti, married someone like you. It seems impossible.’
‘You begged me to marry you,’ she cried.
‘Don’t make me regret it,’ he said warningly. ‘Now that you are my wife, it is about time you started living up to the title I’ve bestowed on you. Not that you deserve it.’
‘Just get me something,’ she moaned.
He marched out of the room. Brigette lay on the bed, pulling her knees up and hugging them to her stomach.
I have a baby growing inside me, she thought. And what am I doing? I’m feeding it heroin, not eating properly, allowing this man to beat me. And yet . . . I don’t care, because all I crave is the drugs.
And she knew she was spiralling downwards, but there was absolutely no way she could stop herself.
* * *
Gino had flown in from Palm Springs accompanied by his wife, Paige.
‘Whatever you’re doing to him, it works,’ Lucky said, drawing her stepmother to one side. ‘He looks sensational.’
‘Gino is in excellent health,’ Paige said briskly. She was quite a woman, with her mass of red hair, compact curves, and genuine love for her much older husband. ‘He’s planning a European tour for us next year. I told him I can’t keep up with him.’
Lucky smiled. ‘Yeah, my old man’s something, isn’t he?’
‘He certainly is,’ Paige agreed. ‘And I wouldn’t trade him for Mel Gibson!’
Lucky knew that her father and Paige had a chequered past. At one point in their relationship, before they were married, Gino had caught Paige with another woman – the other woman being Susan Martino, his wife at the time. That particular incident had nearly been the end, but somehow or other they’d got through it, and now they were happy in their Palm Springs house, playing golf and poker, and hanging out with their friends.
‘Where’s Lennie?’ Paige asked. ‘I haven’t seen him.’
‘Sulking somewhere,’ Lucky said, with a shrug.
‘Oh?’ Paige said. ‘Anything you want to talk about?’
‘Not really,’ Lucky said offhandedly. ‘It’s just that I can’t be told what to do. It drives me crazy, and Lennie knows it.’
‘Hmmm . . .’ Paige said knowingly. ‘You’re exactly like your father. You look like him, you sound like him, you are him.’
‘I’ll take that as a compliment,’ Lucky said, grinning. ‘Although I’m not too sure about the looking like him.’
‘Tell me, dear,’ Paige said, always one for a quick gossip, ‘what exactly is Lennie sulking about?’
‘Oh, something stupid,’ Lucky said casually, not wanting to make a big deal out of it. ‘I’m planning on producing a movie with Alex Woods, and Lennie’s under the mistaken impression that Alex will immediately jump my bones. It’s quite ridiculous.’
‘Well, won’t he?’ Page drawled, giving her another knowing look.
‘Don’t you start,’ Lucky said, with a weary sigh. ‘Alex and I are the best of friends. Can’t anyone understand that?’
‘Maybe you protest too much,’ Paige ventured.
‘What?’ Lucky said.
‘Nothing,’ Paige said, suddenly distracted as she glanced over towards the bar. ‘I’ve got to go rescue your father. He still attracts the women. Look at that silicone blonde draping herself all over him. It’s disgusting what these girls will do to get a man.’
‘He’s eighty-seven, for God’s sake!’ Lucky exclaimed, quite amused. ‘You can’t possibly be jealous.’
‘I’ve always found it prudent to keep a beady eye on my terr
itory,’ Paige said, smoothing down her short dress. ‘If you’re smart, Lucky, you’ll do the same.’
‘Right,’ Lucky murmured, irritated because Lennie had not yet emerged to join the party, and she hated having to greet all the guests by herself. God! He could be a pain. And yet, she understood him, because in some ways they were exactly alike. Stubborn, stubborn, stubborn.
Still, there was no way she was giving in to him. She’d never objected when he was an actor and had to perform steamy love scenes with sexy actresses. After all, it wasn’t as if she was planning a love scene with Alex. They were simply going to work together as friends. What was wrong with that?
Just as she was thinking about him, she spotted Alex coming through the door accompanied by Pia. Hmm . . . Lucky thought. This one is definitely lasting longer than any of the others.
‘Hi, Pia,’ she said, lukewarm as the girl came towards her. ‘Welcome to our house.’
‘We’ve driven past it on many occasions,’ Pia said, pretty and petite in a Vera Wang cocktail dress, her shiny black hair worn in a straight, shoulder-length bob with a fringe. ‘Alex always points it out. Last time I said to him, “Alex, if you tell me one more time this is Lucky Santangelo’s house, I’ll throw myself out of the car screaming.”’
‘Very funny,’ Lucky said. ‘I guess Alex feels I’m some kind of a tourist attraction.’
‘Leave out the tourist and you’ve got it,’ Pia said succinctly, her almond-shaped eyes never leaving Lucky’s face.
Oh, God, what was this? Pick-on-Lucky-and-Alex Night? Did everyone think they were all set to have a raging affair?
‘Where’s the happy couple?’ Alex asked, walking up to join them. ‘I brought them a wedding present.’
‘That’s nice of you,’ Lucky said.
‘This is their wedding celebration, isn’t it?’
‘I suppose so. What did you get them?’
‘A set of knives.’
‘Excuse me?’
‘One of those wooden block things where you keep ten lethal knives. It’s my standard wedding gift. I figure one of these days somebody’ll turn around and stab their partner, then I can take the credit. Maybe even make the movie.’
‘Alex,’ Lucky said, shaking her head and smiling, ‘you do know you’re a little off.’
‘You only just realizing that?’ he questioned.
Pia studied both of them then, seemingly bored by their conversation, she wandered off to the bar.
‘What’s up with this long-lasting romance?’ Lucky asked, nodding after the pretty Asian woman.
‘Jealous?’ Alex said, grinning.
‘Pleeze!’ Lucky responded scornfully.
‘I like it when you get into my love life.’
‘Who’s getting into your love life?’ she said, unamused that he should think she cared.
‘You are.’
‘Don’t flatter yourself, Alex,’ she said coolly. ‘Oh, and by the way, not a word to Lennie about our movie.’
‘How come?’
‘Because . . . well, I kind of mentioned it to him earlier and he’s not exactly dancing.’
‘That’s pretty stupid,’ he said, plucking a canapé from a tray held by a passing waiter.
‘I know, but do me a favour and don’t bring it up. Unless, of course, he does. In which case, sort of dismiss it. Tell him it’s one of many movies you’re involved with, and you probably won’t be able to spend much time on it.’
Alex gave her a long, sardonic look. ‘Never thought I’d hear you talking like this.’
‘Like what?’ she asked irritably.
‘A nervous married woman.’
‘Bullshit.’
‘Truth.’
‘It’s merely polite in a marriage to keep your partner happy.’
‘Oh, really?’ he said, teasing her. ‘The only things I’ve heard about marriage is that once you sign those papers, sex goes out the window.’
‘I can assure you, Alex,’ she said haughtily, ‘that is not the case with my marriage.’
‘I can assure you, Lucky,’ he said, still grinning because he loved it when he could get to her, ‘I believe you.’
They locked eyeballs, challenging each other.
‘Where the hell’s Brigette?’ Lucky said, breaking the look and glancing at her watch. ‘I throw a party in her honour and she’s not even here.’
‘Have you met the husband?’
‘I wanted to take them for a quiet dinner last night. However, she informed me they were busy. I have a gut feeling he’s going to be a money-hungry prick.’
‘What’s worse?’ Alex asked. ‘A plain prick, or a money-hungry one?’
She laughed. ‘A prick is a prick is a prick.’
‘So eloquent.’
‘But of course.’
‘I love you,’ he said lightly.
‘Right back at you,’ she said, without taking a beat.
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Much as he hated doing it, Price contacted his ex-wife, Ginee, with an eye to bringing her into the loop before the press jumped on the story.
‘We have a crisis with Teddy,’ he said, over the phone. ‘I need to see you immediately.’
‘Who’s this?’ Ginee wanted to know – as if she didn’t.
It crossed his mind to say, ‘Hey, this is the dude who’s been paying you all that alimony you sure as hell don’t deserve for the last twelve years.’ But he held back: he needed something from her, so the deal was to play it like a gentleman. Not that Ginee was any kind of lady – she was a coked-out nightmare, always had been. He’d married her when he was equally out of his head, and the moment he’d stopped doing drugs he’d realized his mistake. By that time they had a kid – Teddy – and a nightmare of a marriage.
Extracting Ginee from his life had taken a long time, for she had not gone without a vicious, dragged-out battle. And when he’d married his second wife – the ten-month mistake – even though it was four years later, Ginee had really freaked.
He’d been paying ever since.
‘Don’t fuck with me,’ he said sharply. ‘This happens t’ be important shit concernin’ both of us. Can you come over?’
‘Why should I come there?’ she sneered.
‘’Cause it’s about your son.’
‘Oh,’ she said sarcastically. ‘Do you mean the son you insisted on having custody of? That son?’
Once a bitch always a bitch. ‘Quit breakin’ my balls, Ginee.’ He sighed, hating the fact that he had to talk to her again after all these years.
Her voice curled with sarcasm. ‘Still got ’em, have you?’
With great difficulty he kept his cool. ‘If it’s easier for you, I’ll come there.’
‘Have your ass here in ten minutes,’ she said shortly. ‘I havta go out.’ And, true to form, she hung up without waiting for his answer.
Swearing to himself, he grabbed a jacket and hurried out to his car, because if he knew Ginee she wouldn’t wait.
On the drive over to her apartment on Wilshire he listened to some vintage Al Green, attempting to get his head in a better place. Nothing worked. By the time he got there he was ready to explode. He needed a joint and a drink. And he needed them like an hour ago.
Ginee met him at the door clutching a miniature French poodle in her arms. The surprise was that his once gorgeous ex-wife must have piled on over a hundred pounds. She was now a big fat mama with dyed strawberry-blonde hair and an even more belligerent attitude than he remembered.
Mountains of flesh came towards him, clad in patterned leggings and a purple knit top. Huge jiggling breasts, wobbly thighs, and incongruously thin calves balanced on red patent hooker heels. What a sight!
He pretended not to notice her tremendous weight gain. She knew that he did and it infuriated her. ‘S’pose you think I put on a pound or two,’ she said, challenging him to say yes.
A pound or two! Was the woman nuts? She was a walking, talking mountain for Chrissakes.
‘Can I come in?’ he said.
‘Ha!’ she snorted. ‘Too goddamn famous to stand out in the corridor.’ She spun around, and he followed her mammoth ass into the apartment.
Her taste level was the same as when they’d parted company. Pink, pink, and more pink. Oversized pink couches, fancy pink cushions and rugs – even a large shell-shaped pink coffee table. Above the fireplace hung an enormous oil painting of a much thinner Ginee wearing a diaphanous gown and leaning on a grand piano. The outrageously vulgar portrait dominated the room.
‘You, Price Washington, are a motherfuckin’ bastard,’ she announced, before he had time to take a breath. ‘You ruined my goddamn life, my gorgeous figure, my everything!’
Bad-assed, foul-mouthed drama queen. Nothing had changed about Ginee – except her weight.
‘Teddy’s in trouble,’ he said dourly, sitting down on one of her overstuffed pink couches.
‘What kinda trouble?’ she demanded, heavy false eyelashes fluttering above her small eyes like a series of trapped birds.
‘He’s bin involved in a shooting.’
‘I knew you could never be a decent father to that poor boy,’ she shrieked. ‘You got him runnin’ around in gangs shootin’ people. It ain’t right!’
‘He’s not in a gang.’
‘Then what in hell was it? A drive-by?’
‘Ginee, I repeat, he is not in a gang. This has to do with some girl gettin’ hold of him an’ leadin’ him astray.’
‘What girl?’ she asked suspiciously.
‘Mila.’
‘Who’s she?’
‘My housekeeper’s daughter.’
‘Jeez!’ Ginee exclaimed. ‘That Russian witch. I coulda told you her brat would turn out no good. You shoulda fired her skinny ass years ago.’
‘Well, I didn’t,’ he answered patiently. ‘An’ it’s not Irena’s fault.’
‘Nothin’ was ever that cow’s fault,’ Ginee muttered, double chins quivering with indignation as the dog struggled to escape from her suffocating embrace. ‘She musta bin blowin’ you stupid with all the shit you let her get away with.’
He focused on the reason he was there. ‘Can we concentrate on Teddy?’ he said gruffly.
‘Sure, honey,’ she replied, with a sugary smile. ‘All you gotta do is tell me what you want, an’ then I’ll tell you exactly how much it’s gonna cost you.’