Confessions of a Wild Child

  Transformation? What the hell!

  They can force me into a marriage, but they cannot take away who I am. And that’s for sure.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  I don’t dress for dinner. Why should I? Isn’t it enough that I’m agreeing to this farce of a marriage? Gino wants me to marry Craven Richmond, and he wants me to do it fast. According to Betty Richmond, within the next ten days!

  A shotgun wedding with no shotgun involved. Hmm …

  Why is everyone on board with this? Why are the Richmonds sacrificing their only son? Not that Craven is much of a sacrifice. He seems like a dolt, a nerd, a nonentity. Perhaps they realize he needs a girl like me to push him to be someone other than Peter Richmond’s boy.

  Suddenly I am getting into this whole scenario. I will be Sadie Sadie Married Lady—and then I can do whatever I like. However, I am determined to find out how Gino has orchestrated this whole thing.

  I pick up the phone and call Aunt Jen in New York. “Did you know about this?” I ask, curious to find out what she has to say.

  She waffles on, tells me that Gino is only doing this to protect me from myself, and that I should be thankful he’s so concerned about me.

  I love Aunt Jen, but she’s not the smartest cookie in the jar.

  “Do you know the Richmonds?” I ask.

  “We had dinner with the senator and Gino,” Aunt Jen says, sounding vague. “Let me see, it was when Gino was dating that famous movie star—what was her name again?”

  “Marabelle Blue?”

  “Yes, lovely woman.”

  I am curious. “Marabelle was friendly with the senator, too?” I ask.

  Aunt Jen suddenly goes all evasive, which immediately gives me cause to be suspicious.

  “I’m not sure,” she says, then quickly changes the subject. “Costa and I will be flying in for your wedding. We’re very excited for you.” She lowers her voice. “It really is for the best, Lucky. You’re very mature for your years. It’s time for you to settle down. Gino knows what’s right for you.’

  And if they think that settling down is what I’m going to do, then they’d better all think again. Because this girl has plans. Major plans.

  * * *

  Craven is waiting for me at the Polynesian restaurant in the hotel. He leaps up when he spots me approaching, almost knocking a tall vase of flowers off the table. He’d wanted to meet me at the bottom of the elevator, but I’d demurred, saying I would see him at the restaurant.

  What a strange situation I am caught up in. Yet I’m feeling kind of in control and powerful—I’m not sure why.

  “Good evening, Lucky,” Craven says in a choked-up voice.

  “Hey,” I reply. I haven’t chosen to wear one of those disgusting dresses hanging in my room, but I have put on a short skirt and a black sweater. My hair is wild as usual, and my diamond earrings flash nicely.

  “You look b … beautiful,” Craven stammers.

  “Thanks,” I say, sitting opposite him instead of sliding onto the banquette next to him.

  “I’m s … s … sorry we couldn’t play tennis this morning.”

  I shrug as if it doesn’t matter. “I’m not a very good tennis player, anyway. You’d probably have beaten me.”

  “Mother is a ch … ch … champion,” he boasts. “She always wins.”

  “I bet,” I say, stifling a random yawn.

  “Mother is an excellent sportswoman. Golf, swimming, skiing.”

  “Wow!”

  “Do you play golf?”

  “Isn’t that a game for old people?”

  “Mother finds it invigorating.”

  “Well, I’d sooner catch a movie.”

  Polite conversation is now taking place between two people who don’t even know each other, but will shortly be a married couple. And all Craven can do is praise his dear old mom. Bizarro!

  I wonder if he’s going to propose. How awkward will that be.

  Fortunately he doesn’t. Instead, later in the evening he produces a tray of rings and suggests I choose two. “An engagement r … r … ring and a w … w … wedding band,” he stammers, red in the face.

  The truth is I feel sorry for him. He’s not any kind of threat, and he sure as hell isn’t sexy. He seems introverted and devastatingly shy. And then there’s the stammer.

  I inspect the rings. Not my style, but I choose a nice-size diamond and a thin gold wedding band.

  Nervously he leans across the table and slips the engagement ring on my finger.

  “For you,” he says.

  “Thanks,” I reply, wondering if there’s any chance of making a run for it later and hitting the town.

  The rest of the dinner is uneventful. Craven continues to talk about his mother, a lot—it’s as if in his mind she’s some kind of supergoddess who can do no wrong. I note he doesn’t have much to say about Peter, his father. If I was to hazard a guess, I’d say that Peter finds him to be a big disappointment.

  “Are you interested in following your dad into politics?” I inquire, thinking what it might be like to be a political wife. I could conquer Washington instead of Vegas. What a trip that would be.

  Craven shakes his head. I decide that he needs to grow his hair—the way he has it cut now does not flatter him.

  “Not at all,” he says firmly. “Never.”

  “What do you do now?” I ask curiously. And I have a hundred more questions such as—Where will we live? Who are your friends? What are your hobbies? Are you into travel? Have you ever had sex?

  “I work with Mother on her charity events,” Craven says with a proud smirk. “She r … r … raises millions for excellent causes.”

  Oh crap! That sounds like a shitload of laughs.

  “Surely you want more?” I venture.

  “More than what?” he says with a slight frown.

  “More than just being your mom’s errand boy.”

  I’ve offended him. He throws me a hurt look and clams up.

  “I know what I want,” I announce. “I plan on following in my father’s footsteps. Gino builds amazing hotels, and one day I’m doing the same.”

  “You’ll need plenty of money for that.”

  “I can raise it,” I say confidently. “I’ll put together a bunch of investors who will definitely share my vision. It’s not that difficult.”

  “Mother says that women shouldn’t work unless it’s for a good cause.”

  I raise a caustic eyebrow. Is he kidding me? “That’s a very antiquated point of view,” I say sharply. “Kinda dumb actually.”

  “It’s the way the world is,” Craven replies, a smug look on his face.

  No stutter when he’s sure of what he’s saying. Interesting.

  “Can I ask you something?” I venture.

  “Go right ahead,” he says, his expression still smug.

  “Why exactly are you doing this?”

  My question throws him.

  “Doing w … w … what?” he stammers.

  “Marrying me, of course.”

  He shifts uncomfortably. “You’re very pretty,” he says at last.

  “So is our waitress,” I point out.

  “Mother th … thinks we will be a good match. She wants me to be married.”

  “How convenient.”

  “What?”

  “Gino’s desperate to marry me off ’cause he considers me out of his control. I’m interested to find out what kind of deal he made with your parents to throw you into the mix?”

  Craven manages to look pained. “There is no deal. Mother s … s … says we will grow to love each other. Her only wish is to see me happy.”

  “Hmm…” I murmur.

  “I do like you, Lucky,” he adds with a sincere nod. “You’re very different from other girls.”

  “Have you had a lot of girlfriends?” I ask curiously, although I think I already know the answer.

  He looks down. “Not really,” he mutters.

  Oh, big surprise. I’m dying to
ask him if he’s ever had sex, but I figure now is not the appropriate time.

  We finish our dinner with a chocolate soufflé, quite delicious actually. Then Craven escorts me to the elevator and I receive another chaste kiss on the cheek.

  I’m busy thinking about what I might get up to later. Maybe roam the streets and soak in the Vegas sights and sounds. It’s a plan.

  However, once I get upstairs I note a security guard stationed outside the penthouse.

  Dammit! Gino’s got my number. No escape for me tonight.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  “How’d your dinner go?” Gino asks. We are sitting at the breakfast table on the terrace of his penthouse, the first time I’ve seen him since he announced my upcoming nuptials.

  “Okay,” I reply, flashing my diamond engagement ring in his face. “Got this.”

  “He’s a generous kid,” Gino remarks.

  “Betty Richmond chose it.”

  “She has good taste.”

  “You think?”

  “Craven is a nice boy,” Gino says, picking up his coffee cup.

  Craven is a total mommy’s boy, I’m dying to shout, but I don’t. I’ve decided to play Gino’s game, because I have a hunch that going along with it is my first step on the road to freedom. Right now I’m a teenager with no rights. Soon I will be a married woman who can do whatever she wants.

  “How well do you know him?” I ask.

  “Well enough,” Gino replies.

  “Oh,” I say, sure that Gino doesn’t know him at all.

  “Got a surprise for you, kiddo,” Gino says.

  Oh, like the arranged marriage isn’t enough of a surprise?

  “What?” I ask, adding a hopeful “Is it a car, ’cause I really need a car.”

  Gino laughs. “Is that what you want?”

  I nod.

  “So I’ll buy you a car as a wedding present,” he announces. “Deal?”

  “Can I choose it?” I ask, jumping at the opportunity to get something I really want.

  “Yeah, sure,” Gino says amiably.

  Seems to me that Gino is so pleased that I’m going along with this wedding deal that he’s prepared to give me anything I ask for. Obviously it’s time to take advantage.

  “I’d like a Ferrari,” I say, going for it big-time. “A red one.”

  “Nix on a Ferrari, kiddo,” Gino says with a chuckle. “More like a family car, ’cause before you know it you’ll be raisin’ a family.”

  Oh, how well he doesn’t know me!

  A quick switch of subjects. “What’s the surprise?”

  “I’ve arranged for Dario to fly in.”

  Good news at last! Dario, baby brother, someone I can bond with.

  “When?” I ask.

  “He’ll be here tomorrow.”

  I am excited. I miss my brother so much, and I need to share with him why I’ve decided to go through with this sham. He’ll understand. He always does.

  “When are we going back to L.A.?” I inquire, not so anxious to stay in Vegas anymore.

  “We’re not,” Gino states with a note of puzzlement in his voice. “Didn’t anyone tell you? The weddin’s takin’ place here in Vegas.”

  No, Daddy, nobody told me. Why would they? It’s only my wedding.

  “I need to get back to L.A. All my stuff’s there,” I insist.

  “Call Miss Drew. She’ll bring anythin’ you want. She’ll be here in a coupla days.”

  This sucks. What I want are my clothes and my personal items. The teddy bear Mommy gave me when I was three. My journals, books, photos, clothes. My whole life is in L.A. I don’t care for the thought of Miss Drew rooting through my personal possessions.

  Why is this happening to me? Why am I being isolated in Vegas unable to do anything except go along with a planned wedding? Is now the time to rebel, inform Gino I’m not doing it?

  No, my inner voice warns me. The alternative is another school, more authority. This way you’ll be free.

  Well, I think, kind of. I’ll be married to Craven, but I’ve already figured out that he’s no threat. I can control him once I get him out of Betty Richmond’s clutches.

  “I don’t see why I can’t fly back to L.A. for a day,” I complain with one of my famous scowls. “It’s not as if it’s a big deal. It’s only an hour on a plane.”

  “Settle down,” Gino says, trying to calm me.

  “Why should I?” I retort.

  Before Gino can reply, Marco appears.

  Ah, my betrayer, handsome as ever, but my love for him has turned sour.

  “Mornin’, Lucky,” he says, handing Gino a large thick envelope.

  I ignore him and concentrate on buttering a slice of toast.

  One of these days, Marco, you will be sorry you treated me like a dumb little kid. Ah yes, eventually I will have revenge.

  Gino weighs the sturdy envelope in his hands. He grins at Marco. “Business must be boomin’,” he says.

  “It was a good night,” Marco responds. “The Asians were out in force.”

  “As always,” Gino agrees.

  “Yeah, they love losin’ their money,” Marco says, rubbing his hands together.

  “Fortunate for us,” Gino says with a sly grin.

  I wonder what’s in the envelope.

  Cash, of course.

  I wonder how much cash.

  A lot.

  “Join us,” Gino says to Marco. “Sit down, grab yourself a coffee.”

  Marco shoots me a look. I refuse to meet his eyes. “Got a meeting,” he says.

  Am I making him uncomfortable? Good. I sincerely hope so.

  “Well, kiddo.” Gino turns to me as Marco leaves. “Your future mother-in-law has got the weddin’ planner flyin’ in today. She’s arranged for the two of you to spend the day with her tomorrow.”

  “Why?” I look at him blankly.

  “To make decisions,” Gino replies a tad impatiently.

  “What decisions?” I ask, purposely being obtuse.

  “How would I know?” he snaps. “Food, flowers, crap like that.”

  Ah, my father is so damn eloquent.

  “I’m not interested in the details,” I say grandly. “I’m sure Mrs. Richmond can handle everything. She doesn’t need my help.”

  “Suit yourself,” Gino says with an I’m-not-getting-involved shrug.

  Oh I will, Daddy, I will.

  * * *

  Later Gino goes to his safe to stash the envelope of cash Marco handed him.

  I have discovered that his safe is located behind the Picasso in his bedroom. I discovered this by spying on him when he left the breakfast table. I’d make an excellent spy. Quiet and stealthy.

  “You seein’ Craven today?” he asks, before he leaves the penthouse.

  Craven has already called and invited me to lunch—I declined, pleading a headache.

  “Probably,” I reply, although I have no intention of doing so.

  “Yeah,” Gino says with an affirming nod. “I knew you two kids would get along. I gotta hunch ’bout these things. You’ll make a great couple.”

  Bull … shit, Daddy. I have to find out what’s in it for you other than getting me off your hands.

  As soon as he leaves I check for any hovering housekeepers. All clear. I take a deep breath and make it into Gino’s bedroom.

  The Picasso stares at me, a wild configuration of bright colors and odd shapes.

  I stare back.

  Hello, painting. What deep, dark secrets are you guarding?

  I slide the painting out of the way and confront a large safe. It will not be pleasant if I’m caught doing this, but I’ve put the security lock on the main door to the penthouse, so nobody can get in without pressing the buzzer for attention.

  Hmm … how am I supposed to open the formidable-looking safe? I am adept at many things—however, safecracking is not one of them.

  I remember the safe Gino has in his study at the Bel Air house. I remember him opening it once when I was in t
he room. I remember noting the numbers he used, even though I was only eleven at the time: 7 7 7 8 8 8. So simple.

  Of course he must’ve changed the code since then. But what the hell, I decide to give it a try anyway. And bingo! To my total surprise the large safe clicks open.

  I am both startled and exhilarated.

  C’mon, Gino! This is a bonus. What will I discover, that is the question.

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  Money. Cash. Stacks of it. Hundreds and thousands of dollars. A box full of delicate jewelery—maybe it was Mommy’s? Why is he holding on to it? Why isn’t he giving it to me?

  There are two handguns and several boxes of ammunition. A clutch of expensive watches. A dozen gold coins.

  Another box—this time full of photos, photos that make me want to cry. Gino and Maria on their wedding day. Such a beautiful couple, Maria—my mom—so young, only a few years older than me. And Gino, handsome and charismatic. My parents. Memories of my mother murdered in the family swimming pool come rushing back. I push them away and continue to search the safe.

  Next I find a separate eight-by-ten manila envelope which reveals nude photos of Marabelle Blue, and not the artistic kind one sees in men’s magazines.

  I stare at them, feeling like a total voyeur. I wish I hadn’t investigated this particular envelope.

  Finally I discover another envelope tucked right at the back of the safe, marked “The Richmond File.”

  My pulse races. Am I about to hit pay dirt? Is this what I’ve been looking for?

  I have a strong hunch it is.

  My hand shakes as I open the envelope. I am filled with guilt as I snoop through Gino’s private things. But I’m entitled, aren’t I? Surely I should know why I’m being delivered to the Richmond family on a silver platter.

  Yes. I have rights.

  I open the envelope, and for some strange reason I am not surprised by what I see.

  Gino’s ammunition.

  Gino’s hold over the Richmonds.

  A series of graphic bedroom photos of the senator and the movie star.

  Oh my God! And I do mean graphic.

  I take a gulp of air and quickly stuff the photos back in the envelope. So this is what Gino has. Blackmail material against Peter Richmond.