“I don’t fucking believe this,” Joel said.
“Believe it,” Testio said, snorting a line of coke. “Carrie’s been successful for so long she lives her life like a man. Knows what she wants and goes after it. So get her what she wants, an’ I’m sure you can persuade her to go with you.”
“You make it all sound easy,” Joel said, nonplussed. “Where am I supposed to find a horny, good-looking fifteen-year-old Puerto Rican boy?”
“Try Madam Sylvia’s,” Testio said casually.
“Who’s Madam Sylvia?”
“Where have you been?” Testio said, snorting a second line of coke. “Madam Sylvia’s is an escort service for rich women. If you’ve got the cash, they’ve got the kid.”
“Then how come Carrie doesn’t go straight to this Madam Sylvia?”
“ ’Cause she can’t. Too famous. Somebody has to do it for her,” Testio explained, snorting a third line. “I’m telling you, Joel, this is what she wants. Find it for her, and believe me—she’s all yours.”
•
Now that Dexter was home, Rosarita decided to go out, she had no desire to sit around making conversation with the husband she was soon going to be rid of.
“Where are you going?” Dexter asked.
“Barney’s,” she said, although her plan was to visit a few bookstores and start doing research on various poisons. She’d decided that a hotel in Vegas, where they’d be surrounded by people, was the perfect place for her to do the deed. She had in mind something simple like arsenic or strychnine—a poison that would work fast and not throw suspicion on her. In Vegas anything could happen.
“I’ll come with you,” Dexter offered.
“No you won’t,” she answered quickly. “I’m choosing outfits for Vegas, and you’ll get in the way.”
“I’d like to see what you’re planning to wear.”
“You will. When I’ve decided. Right now I’m only at the looking stage.”
Rosarita was a big spender. Because of this, Chas still took care of her credit-card bills. “I don’t make the kind of money you’re used to,” Dexter had told her early on in their marriage.
“I realize that,” she’d snapped back at him. “I’ll get my father to pay.”
So Chas still continued to settle her sometimes exorbitant bills.
Rosarita swept from the apartment, claiming she’d be back in an hour.
Dexter was well aware that this meant at least three hours. Now that he did not have the studio to go to every day, he was at a loss. He missed the camaraderie of shooting a TV series. He missed being treated like a star on the set. And he especially missed the reassuring presence of Silver Anderson, who’d given him the sense that he was at least working with a true professional. Even though she’d behaved in such a vulgar way at the end, he still couldn’t help missing her.
He wandered around the spacious apartment, thinking about his future and what it held. Annie had assured him she would call him later with the address and number of the acting coach she had in mind. “Go see him,” she’d said. “Do what Johnny Depp did; study and study hard. Now Johnny Depp is considered a real actor, not just another pretty face. And that’s because he studied his craft with a professional.”
When the phone rang, he grabbed it before Conchita could pick up.
“May I speak to Mrs. Falcon?” a female voice said.
“She’s not in right now,” Dexter replied. “Can I take a message?”
“This is Dr. Shipp’s secretary. The doctor asked me to call and make an appointment for Mrs. Falcon next week.”
“What does she need to see him about?” Dexter asked.
“Excuse me?”
“Uh . . . this is Mr. Falcon. I was wondering what the appointment was about.”
“Oh, Mr. Falcon, what a treat!” the secretary gushed. “Congratulations. It’s wonderful news.”
“Thanks,” he said—and then a shot in the dark—“You mean about the baby?”
“We’re so excited for both of you. I’m sure Mrs. Falcon has been longing to get pregnant. And may I say, I love you on Dark Days. I set my VCR so I can watch it when I get home. I’m such a fan.”
“Thanks,” he said, always happy to hear from someone who thought he was great, because he sure as hell never heard it from Rosarita. “I’ll have Mrs. Falcon call to make an appointment.”
He put down the phone and was suddenly overcome with a wild desire to dance around the apartment, yelling triumphantly.
He’d gotten Rosarita pregnant!
His wife was knocked up!
No wonder she’d stayed in bed all day.
This news was the answer to all his prayers.
Now he didn’t have to worry about his marriage.
All he had to worry about was his sinking career.
CHAPTER
29
“NOW WHAT?” said Kimm, hands on her solid hips as she and Madison stood side by side in the double room Juan had booked for them.
“Guess I’ll have to sleep on the floor,” Madison said, straight faced.
“This is a ridiculous situation,” Kimm snapped.
“But you have to admit,” Madison said, “it is funny. And, oh boy, was I ready for a laugh. Besides,” she added thoughtfully, “since we’re a couple, we won’t have a ton of guys hitting on us tonight.”
“And what makes you think there’d be a ton of guys hitting on you?” Kimm said.
“Us,” Madison corrected. “Because, as I’m sure you’re aware, once men see women out alone, their dicks go into overdrive.”
“I don’t find this situation at all amusing,” Kimm said, poker faced. “This new you—full of lighthearted cracks. Do you regard being a lesbian as some kind of joke?”
“Not at all,” Madison protested. “It’s just that I’ve never had a close relationship with a gay woman before, so maybe I’m not behaving in the correct fashion. Am I supposed to ignore that you’re gay and never mention it?”
“You’re not supposed to ignore it,” Kimm said, frowning. “But you don’t go around telling everyone you’re my companion because you think that will protect you from all the men who’ll be chasing after you. God,” she snorted, “you must’ve led a spoiled life.”
“I’m sorry if I’ve offended you in any way,” Madison said, truly not understanding why Kimm seemed so upset. “I’ll go down to the desk and get us another room. I figured this wasn’t a problem.”
“It’s not a problem,” Kimm said, still on red alert. “I’m sure I can manage to keep my hands off you for one night.”
“Oh, now it’s your turn to be funny.”
“Anyway,” Kimm said truculently. “I have other clients that need my attention. So if you want to meet your aunt, you’d better do it tonight, because I’m out of here and back to New York first thing tomorrow.”
“I fully intend to meet her,” Madison said. “And meeting her this way means she can’t slam the door in my face.”
“And what exactly is your plan?” Kimm asked. “To sneak up on her and say, ‘Oh, by the way, I’m the niece you don’t want to see.’ ”
“I’ll figure it out as I go,” Madison said, refusing to be put off.
“Good,” Kimm said, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “Then basically you don’t need me, so I’ll stay in the hotel.”
“I do need you,” Madison insisted. “I feel more secure with you around.”
“Why?”
“I just do.”
“Okay,” Kimm said reluctantly, sighing. “If you absolutely insist.”
“I do,” Madison said. “And since neither of us came dressed for a night on the town, I suggest we go shopping. My treat.”
“I hate shopping,” Kimm grumbled. “Nothing ever fits me. And I’m perfectly comfortable in my tracksuit—it’s my uniform.”
“No, no, no,” Madison said. “We’re in Miami. We have to look good. Besides, I’ve never seen you in a dress.”
“And you’re
not likely to,” Kimm muttered.
•
Lione’s at night was a sight to behold. Throbbing Cuban music was being played by a live group. Exotic creatures were everywhere. Fantastic-looking women and handsome, sexy men, all as snake hipped as Juan, and everyone ready to party.
“Jesus,” Madison breathed, glancing around at the throng. “And I thought South Beach was simply media hype. Seems I was wrong.”
It was ten o’clock, and Juan, who greeted them at the door, informed them the real action didn’t start until after midnight.
“Can’t wait to see what the real action looks like,” Madison deadpanned.
“Dancing, drinking, smoking . . . fucking,” Juan ventured, giving a naughty little boy grin. “Did I say something wrong?” he added innocently.
“Not at all,” Madison replied coolly. “I’ve done a little of all of them in my time.”
Kimm threw her a quick glance as if to say, Don’t encourage him.
“Where do we sit?” Madison inquired. “I’d appreciate a prime position.”
She was wearing a skimpy black dress that clung to her body like a second skin. Her hair was long and wild. Gypsy gold hoops hung from her ears, and she’d even put on makeup.
Heads turned. She didn’t care. She felt different, more free. She didn’t know why. What she did know was that she was in desperate need of a drink to bolster her courage.
Kimm was dressed in her new outfit—black leather pants, boots, a red shirt and a long black leather coat. Madison had insisted on buying the clothes for her in spite of Kimm’s hearty protestations. “We’re not going to a fashion show,” Kimm had grumbled.
“We have to look the part,” Madison had insisted. “Anyway, I feel like spending money, and black leather suits you admirably.”
Reluctantly, Kimm had agreed to the purchase. In spite of her height and heavy build, she was a good-looking woman—strong and powerful, with attractive features emphasizing her Native American heritage. Madison had a feeling that if her own sexual inclination traveled in a different direction, Kimm might be the perfect choice. That’s if k.d. lang wasn’t available.
Earlier, Madison had called Jamie. “What are you doing in Miami?” Jamie had asked, perplexed. “I thought you were going through some kind of crisis.”
“I am,” she’d replied. “This is part of it.”
“Miami is part of your crisis?” Jamie had said like it was the most ridiculous thing she’d ever heard.
“I’ll be back tomorrow and explain everything.”
“You’d better.”
Juan led them toward a center table. “May I say that you two ladies look very beautiful tonight,” he crooned. “It is a shame you are . . . involved.”
Kimm threw Madison another warning glance. Do not even go there, it said.
“How about you, Juan?” Madison asked. “Do you have a girlfriend?”
“One, two, three.” He grinned again. “I have many.”
“Why is it that I’m not surprised?” Madison said, as they reached a key table near the already-crowded dance floor.
She sat down, looked around again, ordered a margarita and wondered what the hell had happened to her in such a short period of time. She’d thought she was so together, and then everything she was so sure of had crumbled. But she would get through it, she was a true survivor. And tonight was only the beginning.
An hour and three margaritas later, she was feeling no pain. Even Kimm was starting to relax, as the sensual beat of the music and the hedonistic atmosphere swept over them. While not exactly drunk, Madison was aware she was not totally in control. She’d been trying to spot Catherine, but so far her aunt had not put in an appearance.
Finally, when Kimm went off to the ladies’ room, she asked Juan where the owner was.
“I told you,” he said. “She will not be interviewed.”
“If I don’t use the interview, surely I can speak to her?” Madison persisted.
“Why would you want to speak to her if you will not use it?”
“Because Lione’s is her creation, and it’s obviously very successful. Did she open this place by herself, or does she have a husband, or maybe a business partner?”
“You ask a lot of questions,” Juan said, a wary look in his eyes.
“I’m a journalist,” she said. “That’s what we’re supposed to do.”
“Miz Lione does not care for journalists,” Juan said, his young face hardening.
“Surely she wants publicity for Lione’s?” Madison said. “I’ve never heard of a restaurant club owner who doesn’t.”
“The restaurant speaks for itself,” Juan said woodenly. “Miz Lione never does publicity.”
“Then let me speak to her husband.”
“There is no husband.”
“Where is he?”
“Not around.”
“If I promise not to mention that she owns this place, will you introduce me?”
“Why are you so anxious to meet her?” he asked, staring at Madison suspiciously.
“ ’Cause I think it’s fascinating a woman has created all of this. It’s not usual. I’m sure you’ve never heard of it, but there’s a restaurant in New York called Elaine’s that’s owned and run by a woman. And then there’s Regine’s in Paris. Two exceptions—not a lot of women create this kind of sensation. Your boss should be proud.”
“You think I am stupid?” Juan said haughtily. “Of course I have heard of Elaine’s and Regine’s. When I first came to America, I worked as a busboy at Le Cirque in New York. I know much about restaurants.”
“When did you first come here?”
“I came from Havana when I was thirteen. My mother sent for me.”
“What does your mother do?” Madison asked.
Before he could reply, Kimm returned from the ladies’ room, and Juan retreated into the throng.
“What’s going on?” Kimm said, sitting down and peering at her. “I think you should order a black coffee. You’re starting to look glassy eyed.”
“I’m not,” Madison protested. “I’m having fun—something I don’t get to do too often.”
“You’re drunk.”
“Bullshit,” Madison said. “Merely relaxing.”
“Ha!” Kimm responded, not believing her, and rightfully so.
“Don’t you drink at all?” Madison demanded.
“Surely you know?” Kimm said with a sarcastic edge. “We can’t hold our liquor very well.”
“Who’s we?”
“Native Americans.”
“Oh, please—what kind of crap is that?”
“I prefer not to put it to the test,” Kimm said. “Anyway, my goal is to keep a clear mind.”
“Yeah, well while you’re keeping a clear mind, you might have missed the beautiful black creature sitting over there who’s been eyeing you for the last half hour.”
“Excuse me?” Kimm said, immediately blushing.
“Take a look,” Madison said, indicating the corner table.
Kimm glanced over. Sure enough, there was a very tall black girl in a long blond wig and skimpy gold dress. The girl smiled at Kimm and raised her glass.
“Methinks somebody might be getting lucky tonight,” Madison singsonged. “And unfortunately it’s not me.”
“You know,” Kimm said slowly, “it’s okay for straight people to sleep around, but contrary to popular belief, the gay community is a touch more discriminating.”
Madison burst out laughing. “That’s the biggest bullshit I’ve ever heard,” she said. “I have gay friends who think nothing of doing three guys a night.”
“That was before AIDS,” Kimm pointed out. “Things have changed.”
“Maybe at first,” Madison said. “But now everyone’s gone back to their good old ways.”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Kimm said. “You’re half drunk and completely hopeless.”
At which point, the black girl got up and slinked her
way over. “Wanna dance?” she said, standing directly in front of Kimm.
Kimm was just about to say no, when Madison gave her a prod and answered for her. “She’d love to.”
Reluctantly, Kimm got to her feet. It was at that moment that Madison observed Catherine entering the room. She was accompanied by the man in the white suit from earlier.
Madison jumped up. “I’ll be back,” she said.
She maneuvered her way around the edge of the dance floor, trying to avoid the pulsating, swaying figures. Without hesitating she hurried over to Catherine. “Excuse me,” she said excitedly, totally blowing her cool. “I’ve been waiting to meet you all night. I’m writing about Lione’s for a magazine, and although I’ve been made aware you don’t do personal publicity, I wanted to shake your hand and say uh . . . this is an amazing place.”
Catherine stared at her for a long, silent moment, her face very still. “You are my niece, aren’t you?” she said without a trace of emotion. “I told the woman who phoned that I did not wish to see you, so why are you here?”
“Because,” Madison said sadly, as the room began to spin. “I don’t know who I am anymore, and you’re probably the only person who can help me find out.”
CHAPTER
30
“HI, HONEY—how are you feeling?”
Rosarita gave Dex a wary look. Why was he acting all concerned? “I’m feeling fine, thank you,” she said, although she wasn’t, having had an extremely frustrating trip to several bookstores. It wasn’t easy digging up information about poisons, but she’d managed to do some research. Strychnine, she’d discovered, increased reflexes, caused jumping of the muscles when touched, followed by painful spasms, dilated pupils and asphyxia cyanosis—which did not tell her a lot.
Arsenic was not much better than strychnine. Heat and irritation in throat, vomiting, cramps and restlessness, even convulsions, prostration and fainting.