Double Lucky

  “Look who’s here,” she bragged to her two sisters and wheelchair-bound mother. “Doesn’t Cesar look handsome?”

  Luis was dismayed to see him. He was not sure what Cesar knew about him and Señora Bonar—if anything. But it still made him uncomfortable that Cesar was in his house, making himself at home.

  Ana Cristina, Luis’s seven-months-pregnant wife, followed her sister-in-law’s lead and greeted Cesar as if he were royalty. Everyone was impressed with his job. “Security guard” had a special ring to it. They all hoped he’d marry Lucia or at least take her off to live with him. Their tiny house was so full, and with Ana Cristina and Luis’s baby due soon, Lucia’s absence would be a godsend.

  Luis, the only man in the house with four women, reluctantly offered Cesar a bottle of beer.

  Cesar patted Ana Cristina’s swollen belly. “Do we know what we’re having?” he asked, his hand lingering a little too long on his wife’s stomach for Luis’s liking.

  “A boy,” Ana Cristina replied, shyly lowering her eyes.

  “A boy! Congratulations!” Cesar exclaimed.

  “It’s a blessing,” Ana Cristina murmured.

  “Indeed it is,” Lucia said, hanging on to Cesar’s arm while fluttering her overmascaraed eyelashes. “Babies are always such a blessing, aren’t they, Cesar?”

  Cesar didn’t reply. “Let’s sit outside,” he said to Luis. “Enjoy our beers, watch the world pass by.”

  There was nothing Luis would like less.

  “Sure, Cesar,” he said.

  The two men stepped outside onto the patch of sparse sun-dried grass and sat down on two mismatched plastic lawn chairs.

  After a few moments of silence Cesar leaned over to Luis and muttered, “I want in.”

  “Excuse me?” Luis said.

  “I want in,” Cesar repeated.

  “In what?” Luis said, twisting his beer bottle.

  “Do not act as if you don’t know what I’m talking about.”

  “I don’t,” Luis replied.

  “You idiot!” Cesar said, becoming agitated. “I want in with the American woman. I want to sample some of that juicy American pussy you’ve been dipping into. And if you don’t arrange it, Luis, not only do I tell your fat wife, but I tell Señor Bonar too. Do we understand each other, amigo?”

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  Eventually the party moved outside to the tent where dinner was to be served. An eight-piece Cuban band played on a platform next to a circular dance floor, while a voluptuous Latina woman seductively crooned “Bésame Mucho.”

  Lucky was trying her best to enjoy herself, but she still couldn’t get over her anger at Max for not arriving home in time for the party, especially since she’d emphasized how important it was to her.

  “You gotta calm down, sweetheart,” Lennie said, attempting to soothe her bad mood. “You can’t walk around with a pissed-off expression. This is Gino’s big night—don’t let Max ruin it for you.”

  “Nobody knows better than me what a special night this is,” Lucky said, steaming. “But Lennie, I’m so mad at her. How could she do this to us? We have no clue where she is, or even who she’s with. It’s crazy.”

  “I know,” he agreed.

  “Trust me,” Lucky said, her black eyes flashing major danger signals, “when that child gets back she is so grounded. I’m not allowing her out of the house. She can say good-bye to her phone and her car.”

  “We’ll get into it when she comes home.”

  “Yes we will,” Lucky said fiercely. “And you’ll get into it with me, ’cause you’re not playing good cop while I’m the bad one. This is something we’re handling together. Her behavior is freakin’ beyond.”

  “You got it, Lucky,” he said, still trying to calm her. “Now, let’s try to relax and show Gino a good time.”

  * * *

  “What is going on with you?” Venus asked Billy, cornering him on the way to their table. “First I see you talking to one of the waitresses, and the next thing I know, you’re all over Cooper’s girlfriend like you’re long-lost buddies.”

  “Mandy was in one of my movies,” he explained. “She’s a sweet kid.”

  “Really?” Venus said archly. “What did she play, the child?”

  “She’s nineteen, babe,” he said, his mind still on his unfortunate encounter with Miss Broken Taillight.

  “Oh wow, nineteen,” Venus said sarcastically. “Just about young enough for Cooper.”

  “Bitchy! Bitchy!” Billy said, baiting her.

  “Doesn’t she get that she’s fucking her grandfather?” Venus snapped.

  “You wouldn’t be jealous, would you?” Billy said, grinning.

  “Me? Of course not, but a little more attention in my direction might be nice.”

  “You can’t always be the center of attention,” Billy teased. “Is Miz Superstar feeling neglected?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You heard.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “You’re the one who’s carrying on about nothing.”

  “Stop chasing after my ex-husband’s underage girlfriend and I’ll stop carrying on.”

  “Who’s chasing? I’m being polite.”

  “Your idea of being polite and mine obviously differ,” she said, hating herself for sounding like a jealous shrew.

  “C’mon, babe,” he said, turning on the Billy Melina charm, “lighten up.”

  “Don’t tell me to lighten up when you’re the one doing all the chasing.”

  “Do you seriously think I’d do that?”

  “You’re sure talking to her a lot.” Oh God, Venus, stop it already!

  “Mandy doesn’t know anyone here.”

  “And since when did that become your problem?”

  “We’d better go sit down,” he said, leading her to the table next to Gino and Lucky’s.

  Venus took a quick peek at the place cards. Billy was seated next to her, and on her other side was Alex. Charlie Dollar was already sitting across from them with his date, another juvenile delinquent.

  What was it with these fifty- and sixty-something men who thought that the only date worth having was a twenty-something Twinkie? They probably imagined it made them look like a big sexy stud, when all it actually did was make them look older and kind of pathetic. Without Viagra they’d all be singing the blues.

  “Hi, Charlie,” Venus said, waving at her old friend.

  “There’s my Venus,” Charlie drawled with a jaunty wink. “Queen of the tasty treats.”

  Charlie Dollar was a huge movie star, a stoned icon for his generation. A superlative actor and quite a man about town; whatever he did, it always involved a little bit of magic. Even at sixty-something he still managed to snag any girl who took his fancy. Slightly balding with a paunch and a maniacal grin, Charlie was up there with Nicholson and Pacino as one of the all-time movie greats.

  “Say hello to Bubbles,” Charlie said. “She’s my latest project.”

  “Hi, Bubbles,” Venus said, waving at his very young date, wondering if she was a stripper. Who else would walk around with a name like Bubbles? Oh yes, Michael Jackson’s monkey.

  “Ohmigod!” Bubbles trilled in total awe, flapping her hands. “I’m so thrilled and honored to meet you. I grew up watching you on TV and listening to your music. My daddy is your biggest fan!”

  Christ! What was this? Make-Venus-feel-old night?

  “Thanks, dear,” Venus said, about to sit down. Before she could do so, strong arms grabbed her from behind. “Good evening, gorgeous. I’ll be watching everything you put in your mouth tonight, an’ that includes food.”

  “Who is this?” she asked, struggling to turn around.

  “Your main man.”

  She spun around and there was Cole, her trainer. He was with Rich Morrison, a fifty-something billionaire English rock star, who favored white suits and an abundance of expensive jewelry. Rich was considered an icon, having been in the business for twenty-fiv
e years, and having scored numerous awards and more gold records than Elton John.

  Cole, a black beauty, and Rich, all in white, made quite a couple.

  So this is the giver of Cole’s new Jag, Venus thought. She was delighted to see her old friend Rich. She’d had no idea he was Cole’s latest admirer, but it made perfect sense because Cole was a black Adonis and smart—and those were the two qualities Rich coveted above all else.

  At the next table Lucky was trying to get her people seated. Gino was at the head of the table with Paige on one side and Steven’s wife, Lina, on the other.

  Lina, a beautiful black supermodel, was full of personality—she lit up any room. Next to her sat her daughter, Carioca, then Gino Junior, with Lennie next to him. Lucky had Bobby on her right, then Brigette and Steven. It was the family table; the only person missing was Max.

  At least Gino seems to be enjoying himself, Lucky thought. Ninety-five years old and forever a party animal.

  She wondered how he really felt. Pretty old, no doubt, but still holding up.

  Glancing over at the table next to her, she observed Venus and Billy indulging in some kind of verbal battle, while Alex was nursing a half-full glass of Scotch, and Ling didn’t appear to be too happy. It was definitely time for Alex to settle down with the right girl and take himself off the market.

  Was Ling the right girl? Probably not.

  Lucky knew that Alex still harbored a big crush on her. She’d thought that by this time it would’ve faded—but no, Alex was forever hopeful.

  At the last moment the party planner had switched tables, and somehow or other Cooper and his girlfriend had ended up at Venus’s table, which had not been Lucky’s intention. She hoped Venus wasn’t too mad.

  “Lucky,” Steven said. “This is a wonderful evening.”

  “Thanks, Steven,” she said. “I wanted it to be special for Gino. I mean, how often is he going to be ninety-five?”

  “Take a look at him,” Steven said, beaming. “The old man is in his element.”

  “I know.” Lucky nodded. “Surrounded by beautiful women and feeling no pain. The story of his life.”

  “Where’s Max?”

  “Oh, you know Max,” Lucky said vaguely. “She’s off running around with her friends. Teenage girls, what can I tell you? Hopefully she’ll make it later.”

  “I was thinking of flying up to Vegas with you next weekend,” Steven said. “Thought I’d take a look at everything before the grand opening.”

  “I’d love that.”

  Lucky appreciated having Steven in her life. A half-brother was so much better than no brother at all, and since Dario had been so brutally murdered it was great having found someone she could look up to. Steven was the result of Gino’s one-night affair many years ago with a black woman, Carrie. It had taken Gino a while to accept the fact that he’d fathered a black son who had not appeared in his life until he was an adult, but once Steven had shown up, Gino had rallied and eventually accepted Steven into the family.

  Steven was an extremely successful lawyer. Several years previously his wife had been shot and killed in a carjacking, and sometime later he’d married Lina. They seemed to be very happy together, in spite of Lina’s somewhat wild past.

  After dinner was served Gino stood up and prepared to make a speech. The room hushed. Someone handed Gino a microphone—he held it gingerly.

  “First time I had one of these things stuck in my face,” he joked. “Plenty of guns, never one of these.” Pause for laughter. “Y’know,” he continued, “never thought I’d make it to ninety-five friggin’ years old. It’s a miracle I’m still around, an’ I plan on stayin’ around a lot longer for my family. My unbelievable ballsy daughter, Lucky. My son, Steven, who came into my life late and made it even better. My grandkids, I love ’em all. Then there’s my wife, Paige, she’s the woman who keeps an eye on my drinkin’, gamblin’, an’ womanizing.” Another big laugh from the crowd. “Paige is kinda like a prison guard,” Gino continued, warming up. “An’ believe me, I’ve crossed paths with a few of them in my time. Anyway, I wanna thank you all for comin’ out tonight, for supportin’ me and my family. An’ a special toast to Lucky for makin’ this party for me. So drink up an’ have a good old time, ’cause me—I can’t wait t’hit the dance floor.”

  Lennie gave Lucky a nudge. “Your turn.”

  “I’m not good at speaking in public,” she protested.

  “Do your best, sweetheart, I know you can.”

  “Guess I’ve got no choice,” she said, taking a long deep breath before standing up and tapping the side of her glass until the room was silent again. A tentful of expectant eyes turned toward her. She hated being in the spotlight; keeping a low profile was much more to her liking.

  “Uh, thanks, Gino,” she began. “Your speech was beautiful, and this is quite an occasion.” Her eyes met Lennie’s. He nodded encouragingly. Taking another deep breath, she continued speaking. “So … y’know, ever since I was a little girl Gino never allowed me to call him Daddy, I have no idea why. Then I got to thinking it was because of the parade of women coming in and out of our house, and he didn’t want some little kid running in yelling, ‘Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!’” Everyone laughed. “Well … after that I got used to calling him Gino, and I got used to his ways. Hey, you all know Gino, I had no choice.” More laughter. “Anyway, growing up with Gino was a major pain in the ass, so to compensate I decided to become an even bigger pain in the ass than him. But anyone who knows us realizes that we finally got together and made our peace, and since that time Gino has been everything to me. I can’t even begin to tell everybody how great he is, and I’m so happy that he’s hitting ninety-five. Wow! Some freakin’ landmark! So Gino,” she said, tilting her champagne glass toward him. “I toast you and everything about you.” A long slow beat. “Oh yes, and thanks … Daddy … I love you, I really do. Happy birthday!”

  Glasses were raised and champagne was drunk.

  Lucky sat down.

  “Perfect,” Lennie murmured in her ear. “You’re a talented woman.”

  “It wasn’t that good,” she said modestly. “Just some hokey speech I came up with at the last minute.”

  “It was from your heart,” Lennie assured her. “That’s all that matters.”

  “You think?”

  “I know,” he said, taking her hand and squeezing it tightly. “God, I love you.”

  “Right back atcha!” she said, reaching up to touch his cheek.

  “Let’s blow this party and go make out.”

  “Now?”

  “Right now. You and me in the guest bathroom. How about it? Just like old times, huh?”

  “Lennie…” she began.

  “What?” he said, giving her the look she could never resist.

  “Nothing,” she said, standing up. “So c’mon, move it, Mr. Golden, or are you all talk?”

  “That’s my Lucky,” he said, grinning.

  “Oh yes, mother of your children and sex maniac!” she said, pulling him to his feet. “That’s your Lucky.”

  Laughing together they left the tent.

  * * *

  Nursing his fourth—or was it fifth?—tumbler of Scotch, Alex watched them go. Lucky. His Lucky. Without her existence things could have been so simple. But with her around nothing was simple, and nothing was ever enough. Not the endless women, the expensive possessions, his successful career. Three fucking Oscars, and he’d give them up tomorrow for just one night with Lucky. She was his ultimate woman, and yet she belonged to Lennie. And what could he do about that?

  Nothing.

  Exactly nothing. And the pain of not having her never left him.

  “Alex,” Billy said, breaking into his thoughts.

  “What?” Alex growled.

  “I heard tell you think success has gone to my head?” Billy said, taking a belligerent stance.

  “Huh?” Alex questioned, standing up. He hated it when punk actors got in his face—this wasn’t the first
time.

  “Yeah, you told Lucky an’ she told Venus, who told me,” Billy said, determined to force a confrontation.

  “What the fuck is this, grade school?” Alex spluttered.

  “No. Reality,” Billy said. “I’m not that green kid you put in his first movie. It’s time you gave me some respect.”

  “Respect!” Alex chortled. “You’ll get my respect when you do somethin’ to deserve it.”

  Billy’s handsome face darkened. “What?”

  “You heard.”

  “Fuck you, Alex,” Billy said in a loud voice. “You’re yesterday’s news, an old guy who’s losin’ it. So whyn’t you wake up an’ smell the retirement hittin’ you smack in the face.”

  Alex took a step forward and spewed a litany of insults. “You dumb, no-talent, ass-kissin’, fuckin’ boy toy prick. You—”

  Before Alex could utter one more insult, Billy hit him square on the jaw. Pow! A direct shot that took Alex by surprise, but not enough to stop him from retaliating. As a Vietnam vet, Alex had a few moves of his own, and he came back at Billy with a vengeance. Suddenly it was on, a full-out fistfight.

  Venus, who’d been deep in conversation with Cole and Rich, jumped to attention. “Oh my God!” she screeched. “Somebody stop them!”

  And Gino, sitting at the next table, looked on admiringly. “Now this is what I call a party!” he crowed to Paige. “Trust my Lucky to come up with the right friggin’ mix! This is the best damn party of the year!”

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  Max was asleep, once more locked in her prison, when she thought she heard a scratching sound coming from the outside of the boarded-up window.

  The sound awoke her instantly. She quickly sat up, got off the bed, and padded toward the window, her heart beating fast. She’d persuaded the freak to keep the shackle off her ankle—the sense of freedom it gave her was quite liberating.

  “Anyone there?” she whispered, attempting to peer out, but all she could see was pitch blackness.