He decided he should give her money. Money he would have been sending her over the years if he’d known she’d had his child.
The sales assistant came over, a gay man thrilled to be dealing with two such handsome customers. “Well?” the young man questioned. “Have we decided?”
“Whatever my son wants,” Michael said. “And I’ll take the Armani.”
“Of course you will,” the sales assistant murmured admiringly. “It looks so good on you.”
Later that day Michael sat at his desk considering how much he should give Dani. He finally made her out a check for two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. Whether she’d accept it or not was another matter. He’d insist. She couldn’t say no.
His next problem was where to go for dinner. It would not be wise to take them anywhere Stella’s friends might see them, so he called Tina and requested suggestions.
“Come over here,” she said. “Max is barbecuing. It’ll be all family and fun—or chaos, depending.”
“You sure?”
“Why not?”
“We’ll be there.”
“Is everything going okay?”
“It’s an odd situation, but you’re right—I should get to know Vincent, so that’s what I’ve been doing.”
When he finally called Dani, she was initially reluctant. But after Vincent got on her case, she called Michael back and agreed to come for dinner.
That night he picked them up in a cab at their hotel. As usual, Dani looked breathtakingly gorgeous, in a white silk pantsuit, her long blond hair piled on top of her head, gold hoop earrings hanging from her ears.
“Hey,” he said, thinking about the good memories they’d shared.
“Hi, Michael,” she murmured, wondering why she’d agreed to do this, although relieved to see that he was obviously in a much better mood than the other night.
Deep down Michael knew Dani would have been a more caring mother to Madison. Only he couldn’t allow those thoughts to live in his mind. Stella was Madison’s mother, and that’s the way it had to stay.
At Tina and Max’s house, everyone was gathered in the backyard. Harry had a bunch of his friends over shooting hoops, while Susie was sitting around with a couple of her teenage girlfriends, who took one look at Vincent and immediately began to nudge one another and giggle self-consciously.
“I can see it’s family night,” Michael said, wishing Madison were there with him so that she could enjoy it too.
“Hey, Vinny,” Harry yelled, “get over here an’ play ball.”
“I’ve never heard him called Vinny before,” Dani remarked, watching her son as he joined Harry and his friends.
“You did know it was my father’s name?” Michael said, wondering if it was his imagination, or were her eyes even more startlingly blue than he remembered?
“No.”
“My name too,” he said, pursuing the subject.
“Your name’s Michael,” she stated.
“Vincenzio Michael Castellino,” he announced. “That’s what’s on my birth certificate.”
“Really?”
“You named him Vincent and you didn’t know that?” he said quizzically, not believing her for a second.
“Maybe I did,” she said offhandedly. “I think you might’ve told me once.”
“Yeah, but isn’t ‘Vincent’ kinda formal?”
“He doesn’t like it when people shorten it.”
“Well, well, well, this is just like old times,” Max said, strolling over. “Anyone want a beer?”
“Sounds good,” Michael said as Tina joined them.
“Why don’t you two go sit over there?” Tina said, pointing to a large picnic table set up next to her three prized rosebushes and a large patch of grass.
Michael took Dani’s arm, steering her to the table. It felt so good being with him, and yet she knew this could lead nowhere.
“He’s a great kid, Dani,” Michael said, sitting down. “You’ve done quite a job.”
“Thanks,” she answered coolly, adding a quick “Have you told your wife yet?”
“Not a good idea,” he said. “It’s better she doesn’t find out about Vincent.”
“Why?”
“Y’see, Dani, I really want him in my life, only I gotta keep him separate from what I got going on here. Can you understand that?”
“If Vincent understands, then I suppose I can.”
“I’ll be there for him. That’s a promise.”
“It’s definitely what he needs,” she said, relieved that things seemed to be working out.
“No,” Michael said firmly. “What he needs is some freedom.”
“Excuse me?”
“He tells me you’re always on his case—making him study and work hard.”
“That’s what he’s supposed to do, Michael.”
“He was telling me about his friend Nando—the one he wants to visit in Colombia. Says you’re against it.”
“I am,” she said, not liking the direction this conversation was heading.
“Why?”
“Nando’s a bad influence.”
“What’s a bad influence?” he said restlessly. “The kid hasn’t even gotten laid yet.”
“Michael!”
“He’s seventeen. You and me got together when you were sixteen. Don’t make him into a mommy’s boy.”
“I’m not,” she said stubbornly.
“You are.”
“I have to protect him.”
“From what?”
“Life.”
“Dani—you can’t protect anyone from living. I’d think you’d understand that better than anyone.”
She looked away, thinking about everything she’d gone through. She realized he was right, of course, but could she let Vincent go so easily?
“Anyway,” he added, leaning toward her, “I’m sorry about giving you a hard time the other night. It can’t have been easy for you.”
“It wasn’t.”
“So,” he said, suddenly grinning. “Here we are—sitting around like an old married couple, arguing about our son. That’s something, huh?”
“You’re the old married one,” she pointed out. “I’m still single.”
“You are, huh?”
“Yes,” she said casually—throwing in a provocative “even though Dean is always begging me to marry him.”
“Who’s Dean?” he asked, frowning slightly.
“Oh, didn’t I tell you about him? Dean is a very special friend.”
“How special?”
“We’ve known each other a long time.”
“You sleeping with him?”
“I really don’t think that’s any of your business.”
“Is he the one who told you about Beth?”
“As a matter of fact—yes. How did you know that?”
“Just a hunch,” Michael said, deciding that whoever Dean was, he was a prick.
Max ambled over with several bottles of beer and dumped them on the table. “Who’s gonna help me with the barbecue?” he asked.
Michael stood up. “I will.”
“You’d better be good at it, ’cause I make the best damn barbecue sauce known to man. So if you screw up the steaks, you’re in big trouble.”
After the barbecue, Harry asked if he could take Vincent off to a party.
“I don’t think so,” Dani said.
“I think so,” Michael said. They looked at each other and Michael burst out laughing. “You told me you wanted him to have a father in his life. Well, here I am.”
“Yes, but—”
“Let the kid go to a party,” he interrupted. “How many times is he gonna be in New York?”
“And exactly how will he get back to the hotel?” she asked, knowing she sounded like an uptight, overly protective mother, but she couldn’t help herself.
“He’s seventeen, for crissakes. He’ll find his own way.”
“Only if he’s back by midnight,” she said, compromising
. “We do agree he should have a curfew, right?”
“Midnight, one in the morning, what difference does it make?”
“It makes a difference to me.”
“Hey,” Michael said, grinning. “You know what I was doing when I was seventeen?”
“I’m sure you were a wild one.”
“You weren’t exactly Miss Prim and Proper, if I remember correctly.”
“You took advantage of me, Michael,” she said, quite flushed.
“Yeah?” he said, his eyes meeting hers.
She couldn’t help smiling. “Well . . . maybe I encouraged you.”
“You were a naughty little girl,” he said, grinning again.
“And you did encourage me,” she countered.
“C’mon,” he said, standing up. “I’m taking you to your hotel while our son goes out and has himself a great time.”
They said good-bye to Tina and Max, and while Dani was thanking Tina, Michael slipped Vincent a hundred bucks and told him to enjoy himself.
They took a cab to the Plaza, and when the cab pulled up outside the hotel, Dani said, “You don’t have to get out.”
“Yes, I do,” Michael replied, paying the driver and escorting her into the lobby.
“Well . . . Michael,” she said. “This was nice.”
“Let’s go to the bar and have a drink,” he suggested, once more taking her arm.
She found herself nodding, even though she really knew she should say no. Having a drink with Michael always seemed to lead to other things.
“Vincent really likes you,” she said as they settled at a table.
“I really like him, too,” he said, ordering a bottle of champagne.
“So I did the right thing?”
“Looks like it.”
“I’m glad.”
He reached in his pocket, took out a pack of Lucky Strikes, and offered her one. She shook her head.
“Here’s the deal,” he said, lighting up. “You gotta give the kid a chance to see the world before he goes to college. I’ll finance his trip—he shouldn’t have to depend on Nando. But he’s gotta get out and experience things for himself. You can’t hold him back, Dani.”
“Sending him to college is holding him back?” she said stiffly.
“He doesn’t want to go.”
“How do you know?”
“He told me.”
“He’s too young to make that kind of decision.”
“No, he’s not. And now that I’m in Vincent’s life, you do know that I have a say legally.”
“What?”
“You wouldn’t want me getting my lawyer involved, would you?”
She looked at him incredulously. “I don’t believe you said that.”
“Then let’s not talk about it anymore. We should just sit here reliving old times, ’cause seeing you is very special.”
“Don’t change the subject.”
“I want you to think about it. The kid has my genes, he wants to find things out for himself. All I’m askin’ is for you to give it some thought.”
“Okay,” she said reluctantly.
The waiter brought the bottle of champagne, opening it with a flourish. After he’d filled both their glasses, Michael toasted her. “To old times and new ones,” he said.
“How’s married life?” she blurted, bringing him back to reality.
“It’s uh . . . interesting,” he said guardedly.
“I’m sure you’re very happy.”
“No,” he said, gazing into her eyes. “It should’ve been you and me—we both know it.”
“Maybe . . .” she murmured. Oh God! She was falling under his spell again, and she couldn’t let it happen.
“So, here we are,” he said, reaching over and taking her hand.
“Yes,” she answered softly. “Here we are.”
“By the way, this is for you,” he said, reaching into his pocket and handing her an envelope.
“What is it?”
“Don’t open it now. Wait until you get back to Vegas.”
“Okay,” she said, figuring he’d written her a letter of apology, because his attitude was so different from the other night.
Two glasses of champagne later, and Dani was feeling quite light-headed. Michael still exerted the same old irresistible charm, a charm she couldn’t seem to escape. Then she thought, Why should I? I’m a grown woman. I can do anything I want.
So when he suggested they go upstairs, she didn’t argue. Why fight a losing battle?
“You wait here. I’ll go book us a suite,” he said. “That way we can relax, and you won’t be worried about Vincent walking in on us.”
“I don’t know, Michael,” she said, suddenly overcome with doubts. “You’re married. It’s not right.”
“Dani,” he said, fixing her with his incredible green eyes. “You were in my life long before Stella. I want to be with you, and not just for one night.”
She nodded quietly, aware that saying no to Michael was an impossibility.
Tuesday, July 10, 2001
The van raced along the freeway, narrowly missing other vehicles as it weaved in and out of lanes. The gunman kept on leaning out of the window to see if he could spot the helicopter. When he finally realized it had gone, he chortled with laughter. “Mothafuckers,” he sneered. “All it takes is action.”
“You threw a girl out of the van,” Madison said, staring at him with loathing. “Don’t you have any mercy?”
“Shut the fuck up,” he snarled. “You talk too much. How d’you put up with her?” he asked Cole, whose eyes stayed fixed on the road ahead.
“That poor girl,” Madison continued, her voice filled with disbelief. “You tossed her out of the van like a dead animal.”
“Yeah,” the gunman said, chuckling as if it was a big joke. “You got that right. Roadkill! Some fuckin’ trip!”
“Your mother must be very proud of you.”
“You leave my fuckin’ mother outta this,” he growled.
“I hope I get to meet her one day, so I can tell her what a fine son she raised.”
“Keep talkin’ an’ you’re next, bitch!” he threatened.
His words were ominous. She took a quick look at Cole, who was still concentrating on his driving.
She remembered watching a movie involving a hostage situation. Never get in a vehicle with a gunman, because chances are you’ll end up dead.
One piece of advice had been to crash the car if you found yourself in such an unfortunate position. That’s what Cole should do—smash the van into the center divider.
Of course, being on a freeway, an accident like that could kill all of them.
Still, anything was better than this journey of certain doom.
Leroy Fortuno was an extremely large black man in his thirties, dressed rapper style, while Darren Simmons bore a strong resemblance to Snoop Doggy Dogg—tall, thin, and emaciated-looking, with gnarly dreadlocks and darkly hooded eyes. They both wore Sean John sweats, Nike running shoes, and big diamond crosses hanging around their necks.
“My God,” Jolie gasped as they approached. “They look like a couple of major drug dealers.”
“They’re in the record business,” Nando explained. “Everyone looks like that.”
“Are you certain you want to be partners with these people?” Jolie asked unsurely.
“I got no choice. If Vin refuses to come in with me, there’s no way I can swing it on my own.”
“You could be making a big mistake.”
“It pisses me off when you’re negative,” he said, shooting her a look. “I’m offering you a piece of the action here. So be quiet, and be nice.”
“Hey, bro’,” said Leroy, high-fiving Nando, who came up with the appropriate response. “Let’s go park it in the crib.”
“This is my wife, Jolie,” Nando said.
“Hey, baby,” Darren said, giving her a perfunctory check from head to toe. “Lookin’ hot.”
Jolie felt a s
hiver of annoyance run up and down her spine. She was not a snob, but these two were the lowest of the low, and it didn’t take a detective to figure that out.
Naked, uninhibited, and wallowing in a coke-induced haze—with Andy Dale pounding into her and Anais sucking on her nipples—Jenna lay spread-eagled, imagining herself in a huge house in Bel-Air, with many servants to do her bidding and several luxury cars parked in the garage. Of course, there would be an entourage of famous people, all of whom would want to be her best friend, because she was Andy Dale’s wife.
These fantasies flitted through her head as she murmured an automatic, “Oooh, Andy, you are such a sensational lover.”
Even as she said it, she realized that he wasn’t. Andy Dale was not particularly well endowed, whereas Vincent Castle was.
However, Andy Dale was a movie star, and that compensated for a few missing inches.
“You’re not so bad yourself, cookie,” he said, pounding into her with as much finesse as a pile driver.
“I’d really love . . .” Jenna gasped, “to have my photo taken with you.”
“Yeah. Why not?” A long, drawn-out groan. “Spread ’em, baby. I’m coming!”
Vincent arranged for a private plane to get Michael to L.A. as fast as possible. Dani suggested that she go with him, but he told her, under no circumstances.
“Where can I reach you?” she wanted to know.
He gave her the number of his cell phone.
“Vincent,” he said, “you’re responsible for keeping your mom safe, finding Sofia, and getting her back here.”
“I’ve already got people on it,” Vincent said. “Are you sure I shouldn’t come with you?”
“If I need you, that’s when you’ll hear from me.”
Dani put her arms around Michael’s neck and kissed him on the lips. “Be careful,” she murmured.
“You know I will,” he said. “Because when I get back, there’s things we should discuss.”
“What things?”
He gave her his magical grin—the one that made him look thirty again. “Good things,” he said.
And she loved him more than she ever had.
It was 8 A.M. Wednesday by the time Sofia arrived back at her beachfront lodging house. Her landlady, Mrs. Flynn, a flamboyant Englishwoman who drank too much, greeted her in the kitchen, clad in a bright orange, floor-length caftan.