“You girls had dinner?” he asked. “If you haven’t, I’ll take you out to ‘21.’ ”
“I don’t think!” Madison said, still giggling.
“Hey—one of these days I will. When you’re old enough.”
“I wanna go to ‘21,’ Daddy,” Madison pleaded. “I hear it’s the finest restaurant in town.”
“Listen to you, madam,” he said, laughing at her way of putting things. How many other eleven-year-olds would come out with a sentence like that?
“Do you get the best table, Daddy? Do they treat you like a king?”
“Of course they do, sugar.”
“Your dad is sooo good-looking,” Jamie said admiringly when they reached the privacy of Madison’s bedroom, dragging all the loot behind them.
“Looks like a movie star, doesn’t he?” Madison said proudly.
Jamie nodded. She so envied her best friend, who got to do everything she didn’t and had such a great-looking dad.
“He’s cool, too,” Madison added.
“The coolest,” Jamie agreed.
Madison went over to her record collection and started riffling through it. “Cyndi Lauper, or the Go-Go’s?” she asked.
“The Go-Go’s!” they both yelled in unison, and collapsed giggling on the floor.
Michael walked into the bedroom. Stella was lying on the bed leafing through Harper’s Bazaar.
“Another headache?” he said.
“A migraine,” she replied, putting down the magazine.
“You should see a doctor about your headaches.”
“I will,” she murmured.
“So,” he said, sitting on the edge of their king-size bed, “did you get to spend a lot of time with Madison while I was away?”
“Of course,” she lied.
Actually, she’d spent no time with Madison at all. That’s why she always made sure there was a capable housekeeper in the apartment and an excellent cook. Child-friendly staff were absolutely essential.
Stella was not child friendly. And pretending to be Madison’s mother for all these years was getting her down. Materially she had everything she desired, only she knew that Michael put Madison first, and that drove her a little bit crazy.
“You know, darling,” she said, “Madison is growing up very fast.”
“I realize that,” he said, loosening his tie.
“She’s so smart,” Stella continued. “And quite frankly, I don’t think the school she’s attending is good enough for her, so I’ve been investigating other possibilities.”
“You have?”
“Yes, and I’ve found a top-rate boarding school I think we should send her to. A talented child like Madison needs academic excellence.”
“A boarding school?” he said unsurely. “Have you spoken to her about this?”
“She’s too young to know what’s good for her. However, I have discussed this with some of my friends, and they all agree that she should be getting the best education possible. The boarding school I’m suggesting is the best.”
“Where is it?” he asked, not sure if it was such a great idea.
“Connecticut.”
“So she could come home every weekend?”
“If she wants to.”
“I don’t know . . . she won’t like being away from Jamie.”
“Jamie’s a little giddy, don’t you think?” Stella said. “Madison’s much more mature for her years.”
Michael nodded. He trusted Stella’s judgment. After all, he’d married her, hadn’t he?
He walked into his wood-paneled dressing room and removed his jacket. Michael Castelli, businessman, investments, real estate mogul. Boy, had he moved up in the world.
After Dani had dumped him in such a heartless way, he’d turned to the nearest woman, who happened to be Stella, Warner’s good friend.
Stella was there for him. She’d given him all her attention, comfort, and plenty of sex. None of it meant that much, but he’d begun to see her as the woman who might make a great mother for his child. He refused to allow Madison to grow up without a mother the way he had. His child was going to have it all—and that included responsible parents.
After a couple of months of seeing each other, he’d broached the subject to Stella. She’d been quite amenable when he’d told her what he had in mind. “Here’s the deal,” he’d said. “If I marry you, then Madison has to grow up believing that you are her natural mother.”
“What about her real mother?”
“Beth’s gone. And I don’t want Madison ever finding out what happened. As far as she’s concerned, you are her mother.” In his mind he’d decided that Madison would always come first. He’d allow no half brothers or sisters to compete with her. “And Stella, one more thing,” he’d added.
“Yes?”
“You have to promise me that you’ll never have children.”
She’d agreed, and they’d gotten married on a spring afternoon in New York with Karl and Warner as witnesses.
He didn’t love her. He was not prepared to love again.
Stella had neither Beth’s fire nor Dani’s sweetness. What she did have was great beauty. In a physical way she sometimes reminded him of Dani.
Talk about being left at the altar. Dani hadn’t exactly left him at the altar, but he was left at the airport, waiting for her to fly in.
She’d never arrived, and when he’d called Vegas to find out where she was, her housekeeper had informed him that Dani and her son had gone away for a while and would not be back anytime soon.
The next day he’d received a letter via FedEx.
Dear Michael:
Circumstances have changed. I cannot see you anymore. Please do not try to contact me.
Dani
He had no idea what had happened to make her feel that way, but he had his pride, and even though he’d considered getting on a plane and confronting her, he had not done so.
Four months later, he married Stella.
The last seven years had been good to him. His fortune had grown, and he was able to have more or less anything he wanted, regardless of the cost.
Stella was addicted to their lifestyle: a luxurious Park Avenue apartment; vacations in the Bahamas; shopping trips to Paris and London. The only thing she did not love was having a daughter. Especially an extremely smart eleven-year-old whom her husband adored more than he did her. It was infuriating. However, she never let on to Michael how she felt, and whenever he was around, she acted out the perfect-mother role.
After a while, Tina and Max had refused to visit.
“You want me to be frank with you, Michael?” Tina had said. “Stella’s a cold bitch. She doesn’t like me, and I don’t like her. So we’re not hanging out anymore. You want to see us, come over and bring Madison.”
So that’s what he did. Every other weekend he drove over to their house with Madison, and they spent the day together.
Soon Stella put the pressure on, and his visits to Tina and Max became less frequent. He felt guilty about not seeing as much of them as he would’ve liked. After all, Max was his best friend and they shared a long history together. However, Stella was his wife, and more than anything he wanted a happy marriage for Madison’s sake.
Gradually Stella began drawing him into a whole new social circle. She had many friends in the arts, and soon he’d found himself attending the opera, theater, and ballet. They went to gallery openings, parties, and all the hot new restaurants. At first he kind of enjoyed it, although he did not enjoy the ballet and the opera—he considered them one big yawn. However, since Stella loved doing it so much, he went along for the ride. And she always looked like a million bucks hanging on to his arm, wearing the designer clothes he paid for, the fur coats, and the expensive jewelry. Diamonds were definitely Stella’s best friend.
Sometimes he imagined what things might have been like if Beth had lived. Far different from his current lifestyle.
And what would have happened if he’d married Dani? He could pictu
re them lying in bed, munching on hamburgers, watching TV, just hanging out and having fun. In spite of her Vegas fame and glamour, Dani was a simple girl. Stella wasn’t. The only time Stella lay around was when she had a headache or wanted to study her magazines—finding out what was new and exciting in the beauty world. She was very into the latest beauty treatments and heavy maintenance. Manicurists, facialists, and masseuses were always in and out of the apartment, ministering to her every need.
She tried to get him into it. One pedicure and he ran screaming from the apartment.
Business became his focus, building a financial empire. And he was good at it; he’d learned well. First—in a small way—from Grandma Lani. And then the real deal from Karl Edgington. Money was his passion, he had a genius way with numbers.
Over the years, he and Karl had partnered in many ventures. They owned buildings, shopping centers, and real estate. He’d also kept up his association with Vito Giovanni. He took care of Vito’s investments. Vito trusted him and sent plenty of money his way. He’d heard that Mamie had given up her New York apartment and moved to the West Coast. Vito was currently still living with Western Pussy—a woman almost forty years his junior.
Financially, Michael could do just about anything he wished. He had an office on Wall Street and employed a small staff of competent people, including his old friend Charlie, who was now working for him as his accountant. Several years ago he’d paid for him to take a business course, and Charlie had come up trumps. Now Charlie was making plenty of money, had a secure job, and he’d even gotten married to a pretty girl who worked in the office.
Michael was very fond of Charlie, although they didn’t socialize. Stella did not consider it prudent to mix business with pleasure.
Basically he had it all. A beautiful wife, a smart daughter, and enough money to do whatever he wanted.
So why wasn’t he happy?
He didn’t know.
Max—who now owned several car dealerships—had informed him it was because he was living a lie.
“What kinda shit remark is that?” he’d asked one day while they were having lunch.
“Stella’s a big snob,” Max had said. “An uptown bitch with attitude.”
Michael was so offended by Max’s criticism that he’d stopped seeing him. Which was a shame, because apart from Charlie, Max was Michael’s only true friend from the old days.
He missed the old days. He missed hanging out with Tina and Max, goofing off.
Work compensated. He was obsessed.
Stella decided that he should be the one to inform Madison that they were sending her away to boarding school. When he told his daughter she burst into tears. “I don’t want to go, Daddy,” she sobbed.
“It’s for the best, princess.”
“No!”
“You’ll soon get used to it.”
“I won’t!” she said adamantly.
“I promise that you will.”
She stared at him with her big green eyes—his eyes. They looked alike, although her deep olive skin and lustrous dark hair always reminded him of Beth.
“I’ll go, Daddy,” she said at last, “but I promise you this—you’ll really miss me.”
And he did, in spite of Stella’s social efforts, which seemed to escalate with Madison’s absence.
He began making more and more business trips—inspecting a shopping mall here, a piece of property there. And so his empire grew.
Michael Castelli was a very successful man.
Michael Castellino was just a distant memory.
Dani—1982
If you don’t marry me, there’s somebody else who will,” Dean threatened.
“I wish her luck,” Dani said, smiling.
“You know it’ll happen one day. Why do you insist on waiting until we’re old and gray?”
“Because.”
“Because what?”
“Because,” she said patiently, “I have to pay you back the money I owe you first.”
“At the rate you’re going, we’ll both be dead!”
“Are you two fighting again?” Vincent asked, entering the brightly lit kitchen. “The way you go at it, you might as well be married.”
Vincent was, at seventeen, undeniably handsome. He was also a dead ringer for Michael. Black hair—worn long. Perfect features. Six feet tall and a great body. The girls were crazy for him, which didn’t do them much good, since he was more interested in studying and sports.
Dani, who was only in her mid-thirties and still a knockout, could not believe she had a grown son. The boy needed a father, so thank God for Dean, who—although he and Dani were no longer romantically involved—had stepped into the breach and spent as much time with Vincent as he could. Which wasn’t easy, considering he still lived in Houston.
His divorce had helped. Dani had never asked him why his marriage hadn’t worked out, because she knew why. Dean had never gotten over her. His crush was a lifelong thing. And although she loved him in her own way, he was more like a big brother.
Over the last seven years she had not exactly been celibate. Although she had not resumed her affair with Dean, there had been other men. None of them had measured up in any way whatsoever, and currently she was not seeing anyone. Somehow she was so much happier by herself.
Recently Vincent had received news that Nando’s grandfather had died, and that Nando was planning to visit.
Vincent was totally psyched. “This is gonna be so cool, Mom,” he enthused. “I can’t wait!”
“You haven’t seen Nando in a long while,” Dani warned. “Don’t expect too much, he’s probably changed.”
“No way,” Vincent scoffed. “Nando and me are like brothers. He’ll be exactly the same.”
Dani was still appearing in the show at the Magiriano, only now she was a featured player. She made two grand entrances during the course of the show, and her fan base kept expanding. Dani Castle—the staggeringly beautiful showgirl—had become quite a legend in Vegas.
The fact that she walked around topless onstage embarrassed the hell out of Vincent. “When are you going to quit, Mom?” he kept on nagging. “You’re too old to be taking your clothes off.”
“Don’t tell me what to do,” she said. “My job has put bread on the table and you into the best school. The day you graduate college is the day I’ll quit.”
“So you’ll still be doing it when you’re forty?” he complained. “That’s gross.”
“Thank you, Vincent dear. I love it when you pay me compliments.”
“C’mon, Mom, it’s just not cool. And I sure don’t want Nando finding out.”
“Then don’t bring him to the show.”
“Believe me—I won’t. But there’s photographs of you all over the hotel.”
“Then don’t go to that hotel.”
Dean was on Vincent’s side. “Maybe you should give some thought to retiring,” he said.
“Why? Don’t you think I look good anymore?”
“You always look beautiful,” Dean assured her.
“Then why should I give it up? I have no other skills.”
“Marry me,” he said, always hopeful, “and you won’t need any.”
There he goes again, she thought. And yet she couldn’t help feeling flattered.
Vincent went to the airport to meet Nando. He was excited. He couldn’t wait to see his best friend from childhood. Then he began wondering if Nando had changed.
When Nando strode off the plane, carrying a tote bag and a stack of magazines, there was no mistaking him. He had that I am trouble glint in his eyes. His hair was even longer than Vincent’s, and he was wearing the tightest of ragged jeans and a black shirt. Only Nando could get away with wearing a black shirt in the middle of summer. Not conventionally handsome, he was attractive in a quirky, offbeat way, and very skinny.
Vincent took a deep breath. How did men greet each other? He didn’t know, he’d never had a father to teach him.
Nando waved, dropped
half his magazines, picked them up, and raced over. “Son of a bitch!” he exclaimed. “You’ve gotten more handsome. Screw you, asshole!”
“Screw you, too,” Vincent retorted.
Then they hugged.
“Sorry to hear about your grandfather,” Vincent said as they walked from the airport.
“Forget it,” Nando said. “Esai was a miserable old bastard.”
“He was?”
A pretty girl walked by and Nando made appreciative sucking noises. The girl ignored him.
“The good news is that when I’m twenty-one I inherit everything. I’m a rich kid now.”
“You?”
“Yeah, me,” Nando boasted. “The money’s in trust, so I can’t get my hands on it yet, but when I do—watch out!”
“Wow!” Vincent said. “Cool.”
“Yeah,” Nando said, winking at another girl. “I’m buyin’ me a Ferrari!”
“Red?”
“Naw. Black. An’ you and me are gonna take a trip around the world.”
“We are?”
“Betcha ass.”
“What about college?”
“Who wants to waste time in college?”
“My mom’s planning a trip back east to take a look at colleges there.”
“Your mom still a babe?”
“She’s uh . . . looking good.”
“Hot lady,” Nando said.
“Don’t talk about my mom like that,” Vincent said, frowning.
“Sorry,” Nando said, whistling at a passing brunette in a short red dress.
Vincent fervently hoped that Nando would not find out about Dani’s topless appearances at the Magiriano. It was bad enough that he’d had to take so much ribbing at school. Nando seeing her like that would be too humiliating.
Back at the house, Dani greeted the two of them warmly. “You sure grew into a big boy,” she said, giving Nando a hug.
“Yes, Mrs. Robinson,” he answered with a cheeky grin, holding the hug for a few seconds too long.
“Excuse me?”
“Joking!” Nando said, still grinning.
Vincent took him upstairs to his room.
“Got a cigarette?” Nando asked, prowling around.
“Don’t smoke.”