“Are you sure it won’t have a bad effect on me?” she asked, feeling the tiniest bit insecure.
“Positive.”
She took the bill from him, gingerly snorted the cocaine, and immediately sneezed, scattering some of the white powder onto the floor.
“Jesus Christ!” Andy shouted. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“Sorry,” she said, quite humiliated that she could have done such a thing.
“It’s good I got plenty,” he grumbled.
Anais wandered over. “Put some on my tits,” she commanded, thrusting her bare bosom at him.
“Later,” he said, waving her away.
“Now,” she said imperiously—a woman used to getting her own way. “And some on my pussy, too.”
“I’ll be with you in a minute,” Andy said, frowning. “I’m trying to teach Jenna how to snort without blowing everything all over the floor.”
“Order more champagne,” Anais said, not giving up with her demands. “I want to wash my hair.”
“You’re washing your hair now?” he said, finally paying attention.
“Yes.”
“Okay.”
Anais smiled dreamily. “If my boyfriend knew I was here, he wouldn’t be happy.”
“Who is your boyfriend?” Andy asked, unaware that she had one.
“He’s mega rich,” she said. “Mega, mega, mega rich.”
“So am I,” Andy said, which wasn’t strictly true, because by the time he’d paid his agent, publicist, stylist, manager, driver, and business manager, there was not that much left.
“Order ten bottles of champagne,” Anais said, distractedly touching her nipples. “And I’ll bathe in it.”
“Maybe you should just go wash your hair,” he said, turning back to Jenna, who by this time was feeling light-headed and adventurous. “You ready to try again?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said eagerly. “I’m ready.”
Michael tried calling Madison twice. He didn’t leave a message on her answering machine because he did not consider it safe to alert anyone where he was.
“At least you know where Madison is,” Dani said. “How do we go about finding Sofia?”
“Good question,” Michael replied. “When did you last hear from her?”
“A couple of weeks ago. She was in Marbella, in Spain.”
“I don’t know why you allow her to travel around the world by herself,” Vincent grumbled. “You should insist that she comes home.”
“Have you ever tried telling Sofia anything?” Dani replied. “Even when she was very young she wouldn’t listen to reason.”
“The kid probably takes after me,” Michael said. “Does things her way.”
“And look where it’s gotten you,” Dani said.
“Did she give you an address or phone number in Marbella?” Michael asked, ignoring her remark. “Somewhere we can reach her?”
“She said she was working as a photographer at a nightclub.”
“A photographer!” Vincent exclaimed. “What kind of job is that?”
“Did she mention what club?” Michael said.
“She didn’t say,” Dani replied. “You know Sofia—every time she calls, she refuses to leave a number.”
“I’ll get someone on it,” Vincent said. “We’ll find her.”
“Hey,” Michael said. “The good thing is, if we don’t find her, nobody else can.”
“You think it’s that serious?” Vincent said.
“Yeah, it’s serious.”
“What’s your next move?”
“I’m flying to L.A. in the morning. There’s someone I have to see.”
“Who?”
“Nobody you know,” Michael said abruptly. “Take care of the things I asked you to. I’ll be in touch. Anybody comes asking questions, I wasn’t here, an’ that includes your wife.”
“I know that,” Vincent said.
“Good.”
“How is Jenna?” Dani asked.
“She’s fine, Mom,” Vincent said quickly. He knew how his mother felt about his wife, and he refused to give her the satisfaction of telling her she was right. He’d work it out with Jenna in his own way. And if that meant a divorce—so be it.
In the middle of the night, Sofia awoke again. She was close to a man, a stranger, and he felt so good in his silk pajamas. She snuggled closer, rubbing her hands over the smooth material, loving the feel of it.
Nobody wore pajamas anymore. Why wasn’t he naked? She spooned even closer. He stirred in his sleep.
She moved her hands downward and felt that he was pleased to see her. By the time he awoke fully, she was making love to him, riding him in a wild fashion.
“My God!” Gianni gasped. “What are you doing?”
“I’m not playing tennis,” she giggled. “Shut up and enjoy it.”
He put his hands on her shoulders, vigorously pushing her off.
“Are you nuts?” she said. “I’m making love to you. Isn’t that what you want?”
“No, Sofia, it’s not,” he said, angrily sitting up in bed.
“Of course it is,” she said accusingly. “You were hard, you were ready.”
“I was asleep,” he said, reaching for the light switch.
“Oh my God, you are gay, aren’t you?” she gasped.
“No, Sofia,” he said crossly. “I am not gay.”
He got out of bed, marched into the bathroom, and slammed the door.
This was a first. A man who didn’t want to get laid.
When he emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later, he had put on a bathrobe over his silk pajamas and was still angry.
“Do you always make love with complete strangers?” he asked.
“You weren’t exactly reluctant.”
“I told you before, Sofia—I was asleep. I thought I was dreaming.”
“Some cool dream, huh?” she said, beginning to feel a bit foolish.
“I do not indulge in casual sex. Especially with a girl I’m supposed to be in charge of.”
“In charge of?” she exclaimed. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“If I was going to have sex with a woman, I would certainly want to know a lot more about her than I do about you.”
“Oh,” she said, insulted. “You’re perfectly safe. I don’t have any sexual diseases or anything.”
“Is this always the way you behave with people you don’t know?”
“Not always,” she said, deciding that she hated him and was glad they hadn’t made love.
“You’re lucky I didn’t take advantage of you.”
“Are you saying I’m lucky you didn’t come inside me?”
“You have an extremely vulgar way of putting things.”
“And I suppose your girlfriend, Anais, is the perfect lady.”
“Anais has nothing to do with you.”
“Look, I’m sorry,” she said, suddenly contrite. “I thought it would be a nice kind of payment for you letting me stay here.”
“So now you’re a whore?”
“Fuck you!” she yelled, leaping off the bed. How dare he say such a thing to her? Who the hell did he think he was?
He was silent.
“Look,” she said at last, “I like you. I like being here. I was happy to get into bed with you. Why’re you so uptight?”
“You need to realize that things are not always as easy as you think. A thank-you is not sleeping with someone. I do not require sexual favors.”
“What are you,” she said rudely, “faithful to your girlfriend?”
He sighed. “You don’t understand, do you?”
“Most men would be very happy to sleep with me.”
“I’m sure they would.”
“Don’t you find me sexy?”
“You’re very sexy.”
“Well then, what?”
“I’m too tired to argue, Sofia,” he said, yawning. “You take the bed, I’ll take the couch. We’ll talk about this in the morning.”
br />
“Whatever,” she said, glaring at him. “We’ll play it your way. I suppose everyone always does.”
“Call those mothafuckers an’ tell ’em to get that helicopter outta here, or I’m throwin’ one of you from the van.”
“I don’t have a phone,” Madison said. “You took it—remember?”
“Fuck! Ace—” he said, turning around. “Get me a fuckin’ phone.”
At last a name. Ace. Probably a nickname.
Was Ace the one with the snake tattoo on his neck? No, Ace was the third one—the shorter guy with the sack full of loot and a pierced nose.
Ace fished in the black plastic garbage bag jammed on his knee. He soon located a cell phone, which he handed to the front.
The gunman took it and thrust it at Madison. “Call ’em. Do it now!”
“Please don’t hurt us,” the girl in the back of the van moaned. “Please, please, why can’t you let us go?”
“Shut the fuck up!” he said, turning back to Madison. “Come on, bitch! Make the call.”
“Who am I supposed to call?” she asked. “Did they leave you a number?”
“Don’t diss me, lady. Call nine-one-one. Tell ’em if the copter’s not outta here in two minutes, one of you is gettin’ thrown out.”
She took the cell phone and dialed 911. A dispatcher answered.
“This is Madison Castelli,” she said as calmly as she could manage. “I’m one of the hostages from the restaurant on Beverly Boulevard. We’re in the van. Please listen carefully—you have to tell the cops that they’ve got to get the helicopter above us away. If they don’t, they’re throwing a hostage from the van.”
The gunman grabbed the phone from her and hurled it in the back. “You’d better hope they do what you told ’em,” he said. “ ’Cause if they don’t, one a you mothafuckers is gonna hit the sidewalk.”
Michael—1975
By the time Karl Edgington was released from jail, Michael had accumulated a great deal of money of his own. And since he was paying taxes on most of it, it was perfectly legitimate. He’d followed instructions for the last four years, and every time he made an investment with Karl’s money, he’d made one of his own. Now that Karl was out, he wondered what would happen next.
Warner called and suggested they meet for dinner at “21.”
“I thought Karl would prefer me to come see him,” he said.
“No,” Warner replied. “Karl feels a social occasion is a better venue. So dinner it is.”
“If that’s what he wants.”
“It’s the safest way,” Warner assured him.
Michael had never been to “21,” although he was well aware that it was a very famous restaurant. He took a trip to Saks and bought himself a new suit, shirt, tie, and shoes for the occasion. He wanted to look his best. He also wanted to continue working with Karl.
Over the last few months many things had happened. He’d rented a decent three-bedroom apartment, hired a nanny, and moved Madison in with him. She spent most weekends over at Tina and Max’s, but then so did he when he wasn’t flying back and forth to Vegas.
His affair with Dani was going well. Every few weeks he got on a plane and visited her. She was always happy to see him, and they had a great time just hanging out. They always stayed at his hotel, even though Dani had a house. She never mentioned going there, and when he said he’d like to, she explained it was too soon for him to meet her son.
“Too soon for what?” he’d asked, last time he was there. “We’ve been seeing each other for three months. Don’t you think it’s time I met him?”
“Maybe on your next trip,” she’d said. “Only, you still can’t stay at my house.”
“How come?” he’d asked, perplexed.
“Vincent’s too young. It wouldn’t look right.”
“You really are an old-fashioned girl, aren’t you?”
“Something wrong with that?”
He didn’t mind. He liked that about Dani. She wasn’t a tramp who’d been around the block a hundred times.
She wasn’t Beth either, but then Beth was unique.
He’d been thinking very seriously about taking things further. Before he did that, he had to meet her son and get to know him. If things worked out, he expected Dani to give up her job and move to New York, which was for the best, because he wasn’t crazy about her parading around the stage with her boobs on display.
Recently he’d persuaded her to request a week off so that she could come and visit him in New York. He liked the idea of being in a different environment, where they could discuss their future together without the distraction of her appearing in her show every night.
She’d finally agreed. He was looking forward to her visit. She’d never met Madison, and he was hoping she’d fall in love with his adorable and smart little girl. If she did, and Madison liked her, then marriage was definitely an option.
“You’re acting like the queen is coming to town,” Tina complained as they ran around town purchasing new sheets and towels and dishes, preparing for Dani’s arrival.
“Just making things nice.”
“This really must be love, huh?” Tina said as they wandered around the bedding department in Bloomingdale’s.
“You could say it’s serious.”
“I’m glad for you,” Tina said, inspecting sheets. “Uh, Michael,” she said hesitantly.
“Yeah?”
“Have you told her about Beth yet?”
“What about Beth?”
“Y’know,” Tina said awkwardly. “The thing that happened, the, uh . . . murder.”
It was a subject he never cared to address. And yet he knew Tina was right, he had to reveal everything to Dani.
“I’m tellin’ her this weekend,” he said abruptly. “It’s something I couldn’t get into before.”
“You have to tell her, Michael,” Tina said, her pretty face quite grave. “You were accused of killing Beth. I mean, you were all over the papers here. You’re lucky nobody’s mentioned it.”
“You’re right,” he said. He knew what he had to do, he didn’t need a goddamn lecture.
“We all know you didn’t do it,” Tina continued.
“Thanks,” he said dryly.
Later in the week he had dinner with Karl and Warner. Warner brought along her friend Stella, a beautiful young woman who could have doubled for Marilyn Monroe, with her shoulder-length platinum hair, creamy skin, pouty lips, and voluptuous figure.
“What do you do?” he asked, making polite conversation.
“I’m a showroom model,” she said, sipping a martini, her hazel eyes checking out the room. “I model clothes for the out-of-town buyers when they come into the city. Warner used to model with me. Now she’s getting her own costume jewelry business together. Karl’s helping her.”
“Sounds like a good idea.”
“It is. Warner’s an excellent businesswoman. She’s always been interested in designing.”
Designing. The very word reminded him of Beth. I’m going to be the biggest dress designer in the world, Beth had boasted. If she’d lived, she probably would have made it, he thought. Beth could have accomplished anything she set her mind to.
“Are you and Karl old friends?” Stella asked, toying with the stem of her martini glass.
“Kind of,” he said, returning to the present. “You’re lovely, Stella, only I hope you realize this evening is purely business.”
“I didn’t imagine it was a blind date,” she said caustically. “I’m here as a favor to Warner.” She sipped her martini. “I wouldn’t go on a blind date. Never have, and never will.”
“I can see that you wouldn’t need to.”
She smiled—a dreamy, Marilyn Monroe–like smile. “You’ve got that right.”
When the girls went off to the powder room, Karl started talking. “I’m pleased with the way you’ve handled yourself, Michael,” he said. “You’ve done everything I’ve asked of you, and more besides. I hope you?
??ve made yourself a lot of money along the way.”
“I’ve done okay.”
“Then there is no reason why we shouldn’t continue with this arrangement.”
“Why would you need me, now that you’re out?”
“It’s always good to spread one’s assets around. Take my advice and do the same thing. Employ your friends, and give them ten percent. You’d be surprised how well this works.”
Interesting man, Karl Edgington.
Getting on with his life and being a responsible father to Madison meant putting his past behind him, and that’s exactly what he’d tried to do. Much as he wanted vengeance for his mother’s death—and he certainly craved revenge for Beth’s murder—he’d decided that the most prudent thing to do was nothing. He could not risk getting sent back to jail. Madison was his priority now; he had to be there for her.
That didn’t mean that Mamie or Bone was forgotten. Eventually an opportunity would present itself, and if that opportunity was completely foolproof, he’d do something about it.
Once in a while he got together with Vito Giovanni, who was now living with his favorite stripper, Western Pussy.
“This girlie is the greatest,” Vito crowed. “Come see her one night. I’m gonna make her a star.”
“A star of what?” Michael asked.
“Porno. It’s all the rage. This kid can do anything.”
“You want your girlfriend to be a porno star?”
“Why not? She gets off on it. To tell you the truth,” Vito said with a lewd wink, “so do I.”
No accounting for taste.
The following night, Vito took him to the Gentlemen’s Club, where Western Pussy was performing. Michael had no desire to go, but since he now handled all of Vito’s investments, it seemed prudent to keep him happy.
When Western Pussy hit the stage, the male audience began whooping and hollering with enthusiastic delight. She was one of those in-your-face strippers with attitude, her most noticeable asset being her boobs, a fully enhanced 46D. Something Vito had forgotten to mention.
As she whirled around the stage, doing things that only a contortionist could usually manage, Vito chortled with laughter.
“Ain’t she something?” he said, slapping Michael on the back. “Greatest little girl in the world.”