Confessions of a Wild Child

  “Lucky’s gonna make a wonderful wife for some fortunate guy one of these days,” Gino says with a friendly chuckle. “An’ whoever that guy is—the little bastard gets me for a father-in-law. Some deal, huh?”

  Talk about an inflated ego. Gino has it going on big-time. And no, I am not making anyone a wonderful wife, I am conquering the world first, and who knows—maybe I’ll never get married. It’s my choice whatever I do.

  “Of course,” Betty murmurs in answer to Gino’s comment.

  “Do you have children?” I ask Betty, striving to be polite.

  “We have a daughter and a son, Craven,” Betty replies.

  “Yes, and he’s a handsome son of a bitch,” Peter booms.

  “That he is,” Gino agrees. “You’re gonna meet him, Lucky. We’re all gettin’ together in Vegas.”

  “When?” I venture.

  “Soon enough,” Gino says.

  * * *

  Later, Dario and I make our escape through our usual downstairs window. We’ve called a cab to pick us up two houses away. By eleven we’re cruising Westwood. By twelve I’m shacked up with Scott at his place while his roommate is making out with a girl in the other room. Scott’s got it going on, and I am seriously contemplating going all the way when there is a minor earthquake—one of the joys of living in L.A.—and I realize I’d better get back to the house before someone starts checking on me and discovers I’m missing.

  Dario and I meet up at a designated spot, and Eric gives us a ride back to our house.

  We enter through the downstairs window and quietly make it up to our bedrooms. Nobody is around. My bed is still filled with bolsters and pillows so it looks as if I’m asleep under the pile of covers, should anyone care.

  I give a sigh of relief and collapse into bed.

  Soon I’ll be sixteen. It’s about time I started thinking about my future.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Gino doesn’t stay in L.A. for long. After dinner with the Richmonds he is preparing to take off again, this time to New York. A couple of days later he leaves with a promise that Vegas is definitely in my future. I start thinking that perhaps he’s lined up a school for me in Vegas—now that I can deal with. Before he goes I manage to get him to agree that I can take driving lessons, and since Dario has to return to his school in San Diego I am delighted to have something to do during the day.

  My driving instructor is named Carlos, a man with a devilish smile. He’s Latino and short—but quite attractive in an older-man kind of way. The thing is, I can already drive, so hanging out with Carlos for a couple of hours a day is a bonus. He’s funny and he sings aloud as if he’s planning to be the next Marc Anthony. We get along fine. Too fine, because although he wears a thick gold wedding band it doesn’t take long before he comes on to me.

  What is it with men? Do they all walk around with a permanent hard-on, waiting to pounce?

  I tell Carlos that I’m a virgin, and that he’d better back off or I’ll inform my father. This quiets him down, but after that things are not the same, and I get Miss Drew to cancel any further lessons and to book me a driving test, which I am happy to report that I pass. Now all I have to do is wait for Gino’s return, and hope that he’ll surprise me with a car for my sixteenth birthday. Wouldn’t that be something.

  Meanwhile, things are not going smoothly with Scott. He’s totally pushing me to go further than I’m prepared to, and we end up having a fierce fight, during which I scream at him, “I’m fifteen, you jerk!” And that’s the last I’ve seen of Scott. I guess age does matter.

  So how am I filling my days waiting for Gino to come home? Well, I’ve rediscovered reading and I’ve become obsessed with the biographies of well-known, successful businessmen and how they made it all the way to the top. Hey—riveting stuff. I’m totally into it.

  Learning is the new me. No more stupid boys who are only after one thing.

  Wow! Am I finally growing up? I think I am.

  * * *

  On the morning of my sixteenth birthday I awake to the news that Gino is back in L.A. Miss Drew knocks on my door and informs me that my father would love me to join him for breakfast on the patio.

  I experience a tingle of excitement as I jump out of bed. Will there be a Mercedes or a Porsche waiting for me in the driveway? All shiny and new, wrapped in a great big bow? Oh yes!

  I pull on my jeans and T-shirt and hurry downstairs.

  I am sixteen. Almost an adult. No more school for me. I want to get into my father’s business. I want to learn everything. I know I can do it.

  Gino greets me with a smile and a “Happy birthday, kiddo.”

  A hug would’ve been nice, but he doesn’t move from his seat at the outdoor table.

  “Hi, Daddy,” I say, “welcome back.”

  “You bin behavin’ yourself?” he asks.

  “Of course,” I reply.

  “Good t’know,” he says. “’Cause I’ve decided to open a bank account for you. Plus I’m givin’ you that credit card you’re always carryin’ on about. I figured it’s about time you learned how to manage money.”

  Hmm … a bank account and a credit card. Yippee. Not quite a car, but still an excellent way to start the day.

  “Wow!” I murmur. “Thanks.”

  “Nobody gave me nothin’ when I hit sixteen,” Gino offers. “But I guess—since you’re my kid—I can spoil you if I feel like it. Right?”

  I nod attentively and slide into a chair opposite him. He still hasn’t said a word about the South of France and that whole episode. I keep on expecting some kind of dire punishment, but nothing so far. Maybe he loves me after all, and is simply relieved to get me back in one piece.

  I reach for a slice of toast and slather it with butter.

  “How was New York?” I ask.

  “Same old same old,” Gino replies.

  “Did you see Aunt Jen and Uncle Costa?”

  “Sure. Had a coupla things I wanted to check out with Jen.”

  “What things?” I ask curiously.

  “Stuff about you, if you wanna know.”

  “Me?” I say, quite startled.

  “Yeah, you.” Gino nods his head. “Does that surprise you?”

  “Uh … I never really thought about it.”

  “Well, start thinkin’, ’cause I think I kinda solved our problem.”

  “What problem?” I ask, although I know exactly what problem he’s talking about. Me and school. A horrible match. I swear if he sends me to another boarding school I’ll simply take off again, and this time I’ll make sure he doesn’t find me.

  Gino shrugs and sips his coffee—black and strong. “You got a pretty dress?” he inquires.

  Shows how well he knows me. I hate wearing dresses—not my style at all.

  “Why?” I ask carefully.

  “’Cause we’re goin’ to Vegas exactly like I promised.”

  “We are?” I ask, suddenly major excited. “When?”

  “Today, kiddo. Gotta celebrate your birthday in style, an’ tonight there’s this big charity event I’m hosting for Betty Richmond at my hotel, so go pack somethin’ nice—I don’t wanna see you in those crummy jeans an’ T-shirt. You’re my kid, you gotta shine.”

  Really? I’m his kid, am I? And the party I’m going to in Las Vegas is not for me, it’s for uptight Betty Richmond—our lady of the cold dead eyes.

  I am half furious, but only half, because at least I get to go to Vegas, and I guess that’s a bonus I can live with.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  Las Vegas is one big major thrill! Bright lights, sidewalks teeming with people, a mass of frantic activity. Everything is so unlike the staid winding streets of Bel Air. And as for the towering neon-lit hotels, all I can say is—wow! I’m excited. I can’t wait to get out of the limo driving us from the airport and explore the streets. However, no such luck, because the limo deposits me and Gino at his latest hotel, and I am whisked up to his penthouse suite where I am to stay. Gino immedia
tely takes off, leaving me in the charge of Flora, a thirty-something woman with a fixed smile, dyed red hair, and obvious fake boobs. She is one of the VIP hostesses at the hotel, and has obviously received a full set of instructions from Gino about where she is supposed to take me, and what we are supposed to do.

  I am pissed. Where is my freedom? Why is there always someone around to watch over me like I’m some kind of crazed criminal? Leave me alone, people!

  Our first stop is the beauty salon. A frightening place filled with dozens of anxious females busily working on a quest to look younger.

  I am perfectly happy with my image, thank you very much, but apparently Daddy Dearest is not—he has requested a “proper hairstyle” for me, whatever that might mean.

  Yikes! I like my hair exactly the way it is: an abundance of wild curls that frame my face. My hair is me, it reflects my personality. I don’t want anyone to mess with it.

  A middle-aged gay man with firmly pursed lips and a pinched nose does not get the message—he goes to town on me, attempting to curl my hair into neat little girly curls.

  I hate him. I hate the curls. Ugh! I emerge from his chair looking beyond hideous!

  “You look adorable,” Flora says, admiring her reflection in the mirror.

  What does she know? Anyway, could be she’s talking about herself, not me.

  Next it’s on to a fancy boutique, where Gino has personally chosen two dresses he wants me to have. One is shocking pink (yes, I kid you not!). It is frilled at the neck and hem. I can’t even describe the other dress ’cause it’s even worse.

  “Mr. Santangelo has requested that you wear the pink one tonight,” Flora says after I have tried the monstrosity on.

  “No way,” I protest, staring at myself in a full-length mirror. “It’s hideous.”

  “Your father chose it personally,” Flora says, adding a cloying “Surely you don’t want to let him down?”

  Yes I do. I do.

  “And I guess I shouldn’t tell you this,” Flora adds, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Mr. Santangelo has a big surprise for you. I must say I’m quite envious.”

  A car, is it a car? I want to yell.

  Now that would be true compensation for the hair and the dress.

  “What is it?” I demand.

  Flora giggles nervously. “I can’t tell,” she simpers. “It’s a surprise.”

  Back at the hotel I sneak a shot of vodka from behind the bar, flirt with the room service waiter who delivers me a club sandwich, and play a game of lone pool on the full-size table. I’m pretty skillful at pool—if nothing else works out I can always be a pool hustler! Oh yeah, wouldn’t everyone love that.

  Gino’s penthouse suite is like an amazing apartment—it even has an indoor-outdoor pool with fountains and a full music system. Talk about major luxury.

  I explore the setup. Four bedrooms and that’s not including Gino’s. Why he needs four bedrooms, all with their own en-suite marble bathrooms, is beyond me. After Flora leaves I spend some time roaming around Gino’s bedroom. There is a huge oversize bed, where he probably entertains an army of women. A giant TV that lowers from the ceiling. A Picasso painting on the wall. A closet full of clothes—including many of his favorite tailor-made suits, shirts galore, and dozens of silk ties in many colors. Daddy certainly knows how to look after himself. He has the best of everything.

  I find myself wondering if he enjoys the fact that he has children—me and Dario. Or does he resent us?

  Sad to say I honestly don’t know.

  * * *

  Later, after I have brushed my hair back to some sort of normalcy, I put on the vile pink dress and wait until eventually Gino reappears. The good news is that he is with Marco!

  Oh my God. Marco is all dressed up in a dinner jacket and black tie, and looks like a freaking movie star. I feel young and dumber than shit in my stupid dress. This is not the way I wanted Marco to see me. I am totally humiliated.

  “Hey, kiddo,” Gino says, hurrying to his room and calling over his shoulder. “Ten minutes an’ we’re outta here.”

  This leaves me and Marco alone in the vast living room with the mind-blowing view. I’m at a loss—what am I supposed to say?

  I hover.

  He ignores me.

  I continue to hover.

  He walks over to the bar, where he fixes himself a drink. Doesn’t offer me anything. Doesn’t say a word.

  I wonder if he knows about Dario.

  No. Why would he?

  Should I tell him?

  No. Why would I?

  “This is my first Vegas trip,” I venture, because the silence is just too awkward.

  Marco gives me a long look. “Yeah?” he says, as if he couldn’t care less.

  I nod vigorously. “One day I’m going to be doing this,” I add.

  “Doing what?” he asks, still disinterested.

  “Building hotels, making things happen.”

  “Don’t you mean that’s what your brother’s gonna be doing?” Marco says. “Gino has big plans for Dario, he’s gonna be the man.”

  I narrow my eyes. I am shocked. What the hell is he talking about? I’m the one who is going to inherit the family business. I’m the one with a million ideas for the future. Dario isn’t interested in carrying on the family business. I know that for a fact because we’ve talked about it. Dario has absolutely no desire to follow in Gino’s steps, he wants to write or paint. He’s actually very artistic, so Marco is full of it.

  “Dario has plans of his own,” I mutter.

  “Yeah?”

  “Yes,” I answer firmly.

  Marco consults his watch. “We gotta go,” he says, ignoring my comment about Dario’s plans. “Mrs. Richmond doesn’t enjoy being kept waiting.”

  “Who is she anyway?” I ask with a sulky scowl. “And why is Gino kissing her butt?”

  “Gino doesn’t kiss anyone’s butt,” Marco says with a dry laugh.

  “Well, throwing a big event for her when it’s my birthday, that’s major sucking up.”

  Marco shrugs. “Gino does what he wants to do. Surely you’ve figured that out by now?”

  I keep scowling, it feels good. I could get a master’s in scowling.

  “I’m never kissing up to anyone,” I say with conviction. “They’ll kiss my ass—and they’ll love doing it.”

  Marco can’t help grinning. White teeth flash. Sexy dark eyes. Deep olive skin like mine. I know we would have the most incredible-looking children.

  “You’re somethin’, little Lucky,” he drawls, staring me down. “You really are.”

  And I know for sure that I’m totally in love.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  The venue for Betty Richmond’s event is massive, a vast ballroom filled with dozens of perfectly set-up tables with massive flower arrangements and an actual band playing on a stage. I gaze around in awe. Everyone appears to be rich and old, although the men seem to be a lot older than their female partners. What else is new?

  As I trail behind Gino into the room, I notice Betty and Peter Richmond holding court. Gino immediately heads in their direction, and I start wondering where Marco is. He came downstairs with us and then vanished. I will him to reappear.

  Biting my lip, I follow my father, feeling most uncomfortable in my stupid dress. Gino treats me as if I’m a kid always ready to do his bidding. It’s time I straightened things out with him, let him know who I really am.

  And who exactly is that? Oh yes, a smart sixteen-year-old who plans to rule the world, or at least the world of hotels and gambling in Vegas.

  I want to be you, Daddy. I want the power. And one day I will have it.

  Girls can do anything. This I know for sure.

  Gino is now greeting Betty Richmond, kissing her on both cheeks, then shaking Senator Peter Richmond’s hand.

  And who’s the tall, skinny jerk standing next to the Richmonds?

  “Hey, kiddo,” Gino says, turning to me. “Wancha t’m
eet Craven, Betty and Peter’s son.”

  I give the tall one a quick scan. He’s about twenty, and so not hot. He is horse-faced like his mom, with a ruddy complexion like his dad. He has ears that stick out, short hair, and a bad case of acne. I throw him a quick nod of acknowledgment. Too bad he’s not hot, maybe we could’ve gotten into some trouble. But no, I can tell trouble is not on his radar.

  Gino leads me over to a nearby table. “You’ll be sitting here tonight,” he informs me.

  “With you?” I ask, although I already know the answer.

  As usual Gino doesn’t disappoint. “Sorry, kiddo,” he says, not sounding sorry at all. “I gotta sit at the head table with the Richmonds. Craven’s gonna be right next to you. I want you two kids t’get to know each other.”

  Huh. Is he joking? Craven Richmond is the last person I want to get to know. Before I can ask why he thinks I should get to know Craven, Marco reappears, passes Gino a small package, and sits himself down.

  Things are suddenly looking up. Is Marco at my table? Yes! It seems he could be.

  Gino shoves the package in his pocket, summons a waiter to bring over a bottle of champagne, and favors me with a benevolent smile. “You’re a good kid at heart,” he says. “An’ here’s the deal—you’re gonna be okay.”

  I don’t know what to say to that. It’s not as if I have a terminal illness or anything—of course I’m going to be okay.

  Recently I’ve decided I can handle anything: It’s a powerful feeling and I’m sticking with it.

  I slide a glance toward Marco. Surely it’s not fair that one man can be so devastatingly handsome? Dark hair, dark eyes, and a look that women obviously find irresistible.

  The champagne arrives, glasses are filled, and Gino clinks his with mine. “Happy birthday, kiddo,” he says, digging into his pocket and pulling out the package Marco handed him earlier. He gives it to me. “For you, Princess,” he adds.

  I tear open the package. It contains an expensive-looking leather box. I open it and there, nestled against a velvet background, are two glittering diamond ear studs.

  “Wow!” I gasp, throwing my arms around Gino and hugging him. “These are amazing!”