Deadly Embrace

  “Any grass?”

  “Don’t do drugs.”

  “Jesus!” Nando exclaimed. “Thank your lucky balls I’m back to give you a freakin’ life.”

  “Not in this house,” Vincent said quickly. “My mom would have a fit.”

  “Don’t tell me she’s made you into a mommy’s boy?”

  “Mom works very hard, so I try not to give her a hard time.”

  “You gotten laid yet?” Nando asked, throwing himself down on the bed. “Had any prime pussy come your way?”

  “I do okay,” Vincent said evasively, although the truth was he had not gotten laid.

  “ ‘Okay’ doesn’t cut it,” Nando said, yawning. “I can see I gotta give you an education. An’ one that doesn’t take place in school.”

  Dani wasn’t sure that the return of Nando was a good thing. She could tell that he was still a wild one, only now he was no longer a child. Even though he was only seventeen, he looked older. He was staying with them for a month, which meant that she’d have to watch both of them. She hoped he wasn’t going to be a bad influence on Vincent.

  Dean was flying back to Houston the next day, so that night they had their usual dinner together after the show. Over dessert she confided her fears.

  “Vincent won’t get into trouble,” Dean assured her. “He’s a decent kid.”

  “Do you think so?” she asked anxiously.

  “Yes, Dani, and you’re quite a woman.”

  “I don’t know, Dean,” she worried. “I feel I’ve done the best I can, raising him by myself. Then sometimes I look back on mistakes I might have made.”

  “What mistakes?”

  She picked up her wineglass and took a sip. “The thing with Michael.”

  “You’re dragging up Michael again?” he said, always reluctant to address the subject of the man he considered his chief rival. “I showed you the clippings and you made your own decision. You put your son first, which was the right thing for you to do.”

  “Sometimes I’m not so sure . . .”

  “Did he ever come back and try to change your mind?” Dean asked forcefully.

  “No,” she murmured.

  “Then what are you worrying about? Doesn’t it prove to you that you didn’t mean anything to him?”

  “Thanks, Dean,” she said sarcastically. “You make me feel like a million bucks.”

  “I’ll make you feel even better if you’ll marry me and stop this nonsense.”

  “What nonsense?”

  “Independent woman, still insisting on paying me back, have to keep on stripping in a show—”

  “I do not strip,” she said frostily. “I am a showgirl. I glide around the stage in gorgeous outfits. Something wrong with that?”

  “Vincent isn’t happy about it.”

  “Vincent should realize that what I do keeps us in the style to which he has become accustomed,” she snapped, fed up with criticism.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “When will you be back?”

  “I’m not sure,” he said, hesitating for a moment. “There’s a woman I’ve been seeing.”

  “Are you getting married again?” she asked lightly.

  “If you won’t have me, probably.”

  “Hmm . . . then perhaps this time you should try and remember to get a prenuptial,” she teased.

  “Yes, dear.”

  They smiled at each other. They had an intimate friendship. And over time it seemed to strengthen and get better.

  Nando’s visit turned into Dani’s nightmare. Just as she’d thought, he was obviously wilder than ever, and an extremely bad influence on Vincent. Running around town was his activity of choice.

  “You’re too young to play in the casinos,” she warned him.

  “Wouldn’t do that, Mrs. Castle,” Nando replied, pseudo innocent to the hilt, fake ID stashed firmly in his pants pocket.

  She didn’t believe him. She knew he was smoking pot; the smell permeated the house.

  “Vincent,” she asked her son, “does Nando do drugs?”

  “No, Mom.”

  “I can smell grass.”

  “Oh yeah,” Vincent answered vaguely. “That’s Nando’s special cigarettes. He has to smoke them for his, uh . . . throat.”

  “What are you talking about?” she said, frowning. “Do you think I’m a complete idiot?”

  “No, Mom, honestly—they’re medicinal.”

  “Not in this house. Tell Nando he cannot smoke here—medicinal or otherwise.”

  “C’mon, Mom. I’ll look like a real jerk if I tell him that.”

  “Should I tell him then?”

  “No way,” Vincent said sulkily. “I’ll do it.”

  Nando was into the Rolling Stones. He played their music day and night at full volume. The raunchy rock and roll sounds reverberated throughout the house, giving Dani a permanent headache.

  God knows what they got up to while she was at work. Unfortunately she was unable to watch them twenty-four hours a day.

  One night she came home and there were girls in the house—not one, not two, but five of them. All sitting around in her kitchen, smoking, drinking wine, and generally enjoying themselves. They were in their twenties and looked suspiciously like hookers.

  “Vincent,” she said, standing at the kitchen door, feeling like a prison guard, “can I see you for a moment?”

  He emerged, quite unsteady on his feet. “Yeah, Mom?”

  “Have you been drinking?”

  “No.”

  “What is going on?”

  “Huh?” he mumbled, obviously drunk.

  She was furious. “Who are these girls?” she asked.

  “Friends of Nando’s,” he explained, a stupid grin on his handsome face. “I said it was okay for them to hang out.”

  “Well, it’s not.”

  “You mean I can’t have friends over to the house?” he said, spoiling for a fight.

  “I’m not saying that.”

  “Then what are you saying?”

  She didn’t want to create a scene in front of people—it certainly wouldn’t help matters to humiliate him. “Make sure they stay in the kitchen,” she said firmly. “Do not take them upstairs to your room.”

  “Sure, Mom,” he mumbled sarcastically. “Wouldn’t wanna do anything to upset you.”

  It was at that precise moment it occurred to her that Vincent definitely needed a strong man to control him. He needed a father.

  The truth was he had a father. Michael Castelli. A man she’d sent away. Only now was she beginning to regret it. Oh yes, he’d been accused of a murder, and Dean seemed to think that he’d done it. But according to the newspapers he was acquitted, and she hadn’t even given him a chance to explain why he hadn’t told her.

  She was beginning to realize that it wasn’t fair to deprive Vincent of his real father.

  Sometimes, when she thought about Michael, she was overcome with deep feelings of regret. She’d never fallen out of love with him, and that was something she had to face up to.

  As soon as Nando left, she was taking Vincent to New York, where they were going to check out some college campuses.

  In her mind she made a major decision. When she got to New York, she would contact Michael and tell him the truth.

  Vincent deserved to know who his real father was. It was time.

  Tuesday, July 10, 2001

  The van hurtled down Beverly Boulevard at full speed. Madison was scared that if they crashed she’d be thrown through the front window. She wished she could reach for a seat belt. Though it was kind of a stupid thought in view of the circumstances, she realized.

  Cole wasn’t saying a word, he was concentrating on his driving, which was good. Unfortunately the helicopter still hovered above them, shining lights in the black sky.

  “Get that fuckin’ copter outta here!” the gunman yelled.

  “It’s not in my control,” Madison responded.

  “Fuckin’ bitch!” he muttered. “T
hink you’re so fuckin’ smart.”

  “There’s nothing I can do,” she said through clenched teeth. “It’s the media—they play by their own rules.”

  “They better get the fuck outta here. ’Cause two more minutes, an’ one of you mothafuckers leaves this van.”

  The young woman in the back began to moan.

  “Don’t you have any conscience?” Madison asked, staring at him angrily. “You’ve already shot two people. What kind of an animal are you?”

  “I got nothin’ to lose,” he jeered, small pig eyes full of hate. “You’re the fuckin’ losers. It ain’t my fault if you can’t control shit.”

  The Manray was an extremely spacious and noisy establishment, with blowup photographs of naked girls displayed outside and a man on the street doing his best to lure customers inside.

  Nando pulled his Ferrari up to the door and handed the parking valet twenty bucks. “Keep a watch on this car, and there’s another twenty for you when I come out.”

  “Yes sir.”

  “Well,” Jolie drawled, surveying the scene. “This looks like a pleasant little place.”

  “Remember what I told you,” Nando said, taking her arm as they walked inside. “Sure, it’s sleazy now, but here’s my thinking. We can make it into the hottest strip club in town. A place where guys can spend their money and not feel as if they’re gettin’ ripped off.”

  Jolie was hardly prepared for the amount of nudity that assailed her. Naked girls were everywhere. The waitresses had no clothes on as they went about their business, lap dances were taking place all along the side of the stage, and on the stage itself, ten females were doing their thing, totally nude and uninhibited.

  “This is a cesspit,” Jolie said, wrinkling her nose. “The girls aren’t even attractive.”

  “What did you expect—the Folies in Paris?”

  “Why do you think the owners will consider partnering with you?”

  “ ’Cause everybody gets off on makin’ a buck. And I can guarantee this place three times the amount of revenue it’s taking now.”

  “I still think you should bring Vincent in on it.”

  “Oh yeah, Vincent. Mr. Pure.”

  “What’s he done to upset you?”

  “Look,” Nando explained, “I grew up with Vin. I know him better than anybody. He was repressed by that mother of his.”

  “Don’t you like Dani?”

  “She’s okay. Problem was she stifled the shit outta him.”

  “Is that why you think he’s uptight?”

  “Now you’re getting it. He is uptight,” Nando said, leading her through the vast room. “He probably fucks with the lights off.”

  “They must be making a fortune,” Jolie remarked. “The place is packed.”

  “Yeah, with a bad crowd who don’t have two bucks to rub together. We can make it into the classiest strip club in town. We’ll put in private rooms, a VIP area, hire gorgeous girls. I’m tellin’ you, babe, this is a major moneymaker.”

  “I don’t feel comfortable here, Nando,” Jolie said as a skinny black waitress with enormous boobs swayed past them, balancing a tray of drinks.

  “We’re not sittin’ around socializing,” Nando pointed out. “You gotta agree—the space is unbelievable. Remember what I’ve always told you—”

  “I know,” Jolie sighed. “Location, location, location.”

  “Here come the guys—Leroy and Darren. Now be nice.”

  “Aren’t I always?”

  “Am I stoned?” Jenna giggled, totally stoned.

  “You’re just in a good mood,” Andy said, stroking her arm.

  “No, I think I’m stoned,” she said, starting to giggle again. “I feel all kind of tickly and tingly.”

  “That’s ’cause you got too many clothes on,” Andy said, tugging at her dress. “Here, let me help you.”

  “That’s all right,” she said, backing away.

  “C’mon, cookie, don’t be shy.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Then let me see those beautiful little titties you’ve been thrusting at me all night.”

  “I haven’t been thrusting anything at you.”

  “C’mon,” he coaxed again. “Look at Anais—she’s not shy.”

  Jenna glanced over at the beautiful black girl, who was once again lounging on the couch, legs spread, ebony skin glistening.

  “Did you know that Anais likes girls?” Andy said, moving close and nibbling on her ear.

  “I like girls, too,” Jenna said. “I’ve got lots of girlfriends.”

  “I didn’t mean in that way,” he said, pushing back a lock of his trademark dirty blond hair. “Have you ever made out with a girl?”

  “What do you mean?” she asked, widening her eyes.

  “God!” Andy said. “You are young, aren’t you?”

  “I’m twenty-two,” she said matter-of-factly. “How old are you?”

  “Same,” he mumbled.

  “What’s your star sign?”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “Yes, it does,” Jenna said earnestly. “A person’s star sign is the key to their personality.”

  “Take off your dress. I wanna look at your boobs.”

  “I don’t think—”

  “I’ve seen ’em once tonight in the Jacuzzi—remember? So what’s the harm in showing me again?”

  “Okay,” she said agreeably, beginning to disrobe.

  “That’s more like it,” Andy said, rubbing his hands together in anticipation.

  Dani walked into the bedroom and lay down on the bed. She needed to rest, her mind was buzzing. There was so much going on, what with Michael turning up unexpectedly and the new accusation against him—which couldn’t help reminding her of the last time he’d been accused.

  First Beth.

  Now Stella.

  She was sure he was innocent, but how strange for it to happen twice.

  She could hear the murmur of conversation as he talked to Vincent in the other room. Father and son bonding. She loved it when they were together.

  Reaching for the TV remote, she clicked on the news. Almost immediately she heard Madison’s name mentioned, and her photograph was flashed on the screen.

  “Michael!” she called out, abruptly sitting up. “Michael, Vincent—quickly—get in here!”

  “What?” Michael said, entering the bedroom, Vincent right behind him.

  The newscaster—a prettier-than-a-movie-star blond—relayed the latest. “A high-speed chase is currently taking place in Hollywood. Journalist Madison Castelli is one of the captives in the van with four other hostages. There are three gunmen involved, and apparently two hostages have already been shot.”

  Michael stared at the screen and paled. “Jesus!” he said. “They must’ve got to her before we did. Those bastards!”

  Sofia couldn’t sleep. She felt embarrassed about what had happened, and she also didn’t care to face Gianni in the morning. This was the first time a man had rejected her, and she couldn’t believe it.

  Stealthily, she got out of bed, found her clothes, and dressed. Then she left his suite.

  At the front desk she asked the concierge to call her a cab.

  “May I ask where you will be going?” the concierge inquired, a snooty man with attitude.

  “Ask away,” she said, “because it’s really none of your business.”

  The concierge gave her a superior look and informed her that the cab would arrive in fifteen minutes.

  “I’ll wait outside,” she said.

  She walked from the entrance of the luxurious hotel and sat down on the curbside.

  Good-bye, Gianni. Sorry it didn’t work out.

  “Fuck!” the gunman said as the helicopter continued to track them, spotlights shining down from the dark sky. “Slide open the side door.”

  “Huh?” Ace said from the backseat.

  “Slide open the fuckin’ door, an’ shove that whinin’ bitch out.”

  “I’ll
pull over,” Cole said, swerving the van.

  “Yeah, if you want a bullet in your head.”

  “No!” the girl in the back started to scream, as the two gunmen began manhandling her. “No, no, no!”

  It was too late.

  Ace and the other guy slid open the side door and tossed her from the moving van like a sack of garbage.

  Her frantic screams hung in the air.

  Michael and Dani—1982

  Michael was in his office when his assistant, Marcie, informed him there was someone called Tina on the phone. He could tell that Marcie—who was very protective—did not want to put her through. “She says it’s personal,” Marcie said, with a disbelieving curl of her lip.

  “I’ll take it,” he said, picking up the receiver.

  “Michael?” a female voice said.

  “Tina?” he responded, genuinely pleased to hear from his old friend. “How you doing?”

  “Fine, thank you very much,” Tina replied crisply, adding a succinct “Not that you care, since we never see you anymore.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Yes, it is, and Max is fine, too, in case you’re interested.”

  Good old Tina, snippy as ever. “It’s great to hear your voice,” he said.

  “I’m surprised you would say that.”

  “C’mon, Tina,” he groaned. “It’s not my fault you don’t get along with Stella.”

  “And whose fault is it that you never see your best friend, Max, anymore? Do you understand how hurt he is?”

  Here it came, the lecture. Tina was a master at breaking a man’s balls. “You didn’t hear what he said about Stella.”

  “Whatever it was,” she argued, “I’m sure it wasn’t bad enough to end a friendship.”

  “Stella’s my wife, Tina. I have to show her respect.” God! Shades of Vito Giovanni. Had the man really had that much influence over him?

  Yes.

  And sometimes he still did.

  “Anyway,” Tina continued. “That’s not the reason I’m calling.”

  “What is?”

  “Somebody’s looking for you.”

  “And who would that be?”

  “Remember Dani?”

  Did he remember Dani? Yes, he certainly remembered Dani.