Double Lucky

  What book? Bobby was tempted to say, but then he vaguely remembered Denver mentioning something about it.

  “My Life: A Hollywood Princess Tells All,” Annabelle said, reminding him of the title. “Currently out in trade paperback, which is why I’m in New York doing publicity. I was on Watch What Happens Live this week with the adorable Andy Cohen. Did you see it?”

  Was she kidding?

  “’Fraid not,” he said, opening a courtesy packet of nuts. “This has been a quick trip for me.”

  “Trip?” she questioned, fluffing back her long hair. “I thought you lived in the city.”

  “Uh … yeah, but now I kinda spend most of my time on the West Coast.”

  “Hmm,” Annabelle said, giving him a piercing look. “Don’t tell me you’re still seeing Denver? That’s a surprise.”

  “Why is that a surprise?” Bobby asked, sensing that a bitchy response was headed in his direction.

  “You know,” Annabelle said with a dismissive shrug. “Denver’s hardly the girl I see by your side.”

  “Yeah?” Bobby said, not about to put up with her crap. “And who would you see by my side?”

  A coy giggle. “Someone like me.”

  Jesus Christ, did she honestly imagine he would ever go for someone like her? All fake—from her hair extensions to her obviously enhanced cheekbones. No freaking way.

  “The thing is,” Annabelle continued, unfazed by his lack of response. “You and I come from the same background. We’re pedigrees, while I guess you would have to call Denver some kind of mutt.”

  “Jesus, you’re a real bitch!” Bobby exclaimed. “Are you listening to what you’re saying?”

  Annabelle shrugged. “The truth can be a harsh pill to swallow,” she said. And then, “Where’s your plane? Shouldn’t we be taking that to L.A.?”

  Bobby abruptly stood up. “Go fuck yourself,” he said, loud and clear. And then he walked off.

  * * *

  Dinner with Gino again, not such a bad thing. This time, Paige, his third wife, was with him. And Jeffrey Lonsdale joined them, along with the owners of the Cavendish Hotel—a lesbian couple, Renee and Susie, whom Lucky liked very much. Renee was a ballsy old broad, and her partner, Susie, was an ex–Hollywood wife. They both had plenty to say for themselves, and Gino always enjoyed their company.

  Lucky had organized a window table at François, the best French restaurant in Vegas. Since it was located at the top of The Keys, the view of the sparkling Las Vegas lights was breathtaking.

  Sitting across the table from Gino, Lucky couldn’t help staring at him and wondering what the hell she’d do without him. They had such a rocky history, but she loved him with every bone in her body, and she was fiercely protective of him, as he was of her. Over the years, they’d fought off many enemies from Gino’s past, but in the end they’d reigned victorious, although it had not been an easy ride.

  Lucky smiled thinking of the family motto, Never fuck with a Santangelo. They were words to live by.

  Earlier, she’d called Max at the house to see how she was doing. No answer there. No answer on her cell. Lucky wasn’t worried; Max could take care of herself. She’d thwarted that crazy pervert who’d attempted to kidnap her a year ago, and she’d come out a winner.

  In her heart Lucky knew that Max was a true Santangelo and could protect herself come what may.

  * * *

  Max took a cab to Billy’s house. Like most L.A. cabdrivers, her driver barely spoke English and drove as if he were involved in a high-speed car chase with cops inches behind him. The cab stunk of garlic, and the driver kept on muttering under his breath in a foreign language. Several times he applied the brakes so hard that she almost fell on the floor. Lovely!

  By the time they reached Billy’s, she was nervous and flustered, a combination of the out-of-control ride and the thought of seeing Billy again. She hadn’t mentioned what had taken place between her and Billy to anyone, not even Harry, who at times could be relied upon to be fairly discreet. Harry had dropped by her house earlier, apologized for running out on the chaos and mess, then proceeded to smoke a joint and rave about Paco for one full hour. Eventually she’d told him he’d better leave because she had to get ready for a hot date. Interest piqued, Harry wanted to know who her date was. She’d managed not to tell him, even though she was dying to confide in someone.

  Arriving at Billy’s house, she was horrified to observe a bunch of paparazzi milling around outside the gates. Hurriedly, she instructed the driver not to stop, and had him take her around the corner, where she pulled out her cell and called Billy.

  “There’s an alley behind the house,” he informed her. “Take that, an’ I’ll make sure the back gate is open.”

  Her heart was beating fast. She had a date with Billy Melina. She’d actually screwed Billy Melina. Or he’d screwed her. Whatever. She’d done the deed, and that was all that mattered.

  Man, this was totally surreal.

  * * *

  Over coffee and dessert, Lucky grilled Jeffrey about their morning appointment. “Exactly why do you feel it’s necessary for me to meet with these people from Jordan Developments?” she asked.

  “Because they have plenty of money to invest in future projects, and in my opinion it’s always prudent to keep that money close,” Jeffrey explained. “Who knows what you’ll decide to do next, Lucky. And in this economy, investors with actual cash are gold.” Jeffrey had worked with Lucky for several years, and he always tried to keep a step or two ahead of her. Knowing the way her mind worked, he was sure she would eventually want to expand, so he was merely putting everything in place should this happen. “I checked out the company,” he continued. “It’s solid. Armand Jordan is legitimate. He’s a billionaire and a useful man for us to know. Fouad Khan is his right-hand man.”

  “Isn’t this the company you told me wanted to buy The Keys?” Lucky asked, sipping a limoncello.

  “Initially, yes. But they know it’s not an option. No harm in seeing what they have to offer.”

  “I suppose you definitely want me to be there?” Lucky questioned.

  “It’s a meeting,” Jeffrey said firmly. “What’s to lose?”

  “Fine,” she said, downing the rest of her limoncello in one quick gulp. “And now it’s time to get personal. What’s all this about you getting a divorce?”

  Jeffrey fidgeted uncomfortably; he hadn’t been expecting this.

  “Tell me everything,” Lucky continued. “Don’t hold anything back.”

  Reluctantly Jeffrey began to reveal every little detail. Lucky had a knack for getting people to talk. She would have made an excellent interrogator.

  “Enough,” Gino said at last, intervening with a hoarse chuckle. “Give the poor bastard a break. You’re makin’ him sweat.”

  “Sure,” Lucky said with a half smile. “I’ll let Jeffrey off the hook. Only you have to agree that I would’ve made a great shrink. Oh, and Jeffrey, after the board meeting tomorrow, I expect plenty more info on your marital woes, so be prepared.”

  “Yeah, and you’d better come up with somethin’ juicy,” Gino added with a crafty grin. “You know my Lucky, she always goes straight for the goods.”

  “Ah yes, and guess who I learned it from?” Lucky replied with a wink.

  “I do believe a toast is in order,” Gino’s wife, Paige, announced, lifting her glass of champagne. “To the Santangelos. May they never stop bickering!”

  Everyone laughed and clinked glasses.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  “Hey,” Billy said, greeting Max at the back gate, barefoot and casual in jeans and a faded denim work shirt.

  “Hey,” she replied, thinking he truly was so majorly hot that it almost hurt.

  Leonardo, Taylor, Rob, take a backseat. Billy Melina is the hottest dude in town—any town.

  “Wassup?” Billy asked, heading toward the living room.

  “Had a cabdriver from hell,” she complained, trailing behind him. “He drove
the freeway like a maniac. Thought I’d be, like, dead before I even got here.”

  “That sucks.”

  “Totally,” she said, her eyes darting around his living room, which was all sparse concrete curves and modern furniture. “This is different,” she remarked.

  “I’m renting,” he explained. “Not my style, really.”

  “Nice pool,” she said, moving toward the glass doors that led outside.

  For a brief moment he was tempted to take her out to the pool, have her blow him the way he enjoyed, then send her on her way.

  But no. Max wasn’t that kind of girl.

  “I guess when the divorce is finalized I’ll be lookin’ to buy,” he said. “Maybe at the beach. I kinda love Malibu.”

  “When’s that gonna be?” she said, thinking how cool it would be if Billy was her neighbor.

  He gave a casual shrug. “Dunno. Soon, I hope.”

  “Uh … how was your interview?” she asked, wondering if she should sit down, or were they going straight out?

  “Some pissy uptight girl with attitude. All she wanted to talk about was Venus an’ the divorce. After ten minutes of her crap, I cut the interview short.”

  “What did your PR say? She must’ve been pissed.”

  “Who gives a shit,” he said, moving to the open-plan kitchen. “Want somethin’ to drink?”

  “Yes please,” she said, testing him. “I’ll have a double vodka on the rocks with a twist.”

  “Very funny.”

  “You asked.”

  “A Coke? 7-UP? Sprite?”

  “What makes you think I don’t drink?”

  “Do you?”

  “Not much.”

  He gave her a quizzical look. “So what’s it like being Lucky’s kid?”

  “Don’t call me that.”

  “You get along, don’t you?”

  “I take after my brother Bobby,” she explained. “Of course, I love Lucky, and my dad. But I gotta forge my own identity. That’s why I’m moving to New York.” She hesitated for a second, then added, “Uh … maybe.” Because now that she’d met Billy, she wasn’t so sure she still wanted to make the move east.

  “I get it,” Billy said, nodding. “That’s exactly how I felt being married to Venus. It was a total downer. I was never my own person. However famous I got, she was always more famous. It’s a drag tryin’ to live up to somebody else’s success.”

  “Don’t I know it.”

  “Uh-huh. You got it comin’ at you from both sides. Your mom, an’ then Lennie.”

  “That is so true,” Max agreed, thrilled that he seemed to understand. “Being the daughter of two famous parents is no joke.”

  Billy opened the fridge, took out a can of 7-UP, and handed it to her. “I’m guessing,” he said.

  “Good guess,” she answered, opening it and gulping down a few blasts.

  Billy decided that now was the time to tell her he had something else to do, but somehow he wasn’t feeling it. He liked having her in his house. He liked spending time with her.

  “So … are we going out or what?” she asked, immediately regretting her words because God forbid she come across as pushy.

  “It’s kinda not a cool idea,” he replied. “Y’know, what with the paparazzi an’ all. They’re doggin’ my every move ’cause of the divorce.”

  “Oh yes,” she said quickly. “I totally get it.”

  “But,” he added, noting her disappointment, “that doesn’t mean we can’t send out for food. What d’you feel like?”

  I feel like you kissing me, and telling me that last night meant something to you. That I’m not just another notch on your movie-star belt. That you want to see more of me. Much, much more.

  “Uh, pizza,” she said.

  Billy grinned. She noted that he had amazing dimples and extremely white teeth. “Cheap date,” he remarked. “Thought you were gonna ask for caviar.”

  “Caviar’s not for me,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “It’s gross and tastes all fishy.”

  “Right on!” Billy said, heartily agreeing. “Venus was always trying to get me to like it. ‘Caviar’s an acquired taste,’ she would say. Too bad for her I never acquired it.”

  Max giggled, wished that she hadn’t, wished that he wouldn’t keep mentioning Venus, wondered if they were going to do it again, and hoped that he would make a move.

  He didn’t. He picked up the phone and ordered two large Margherita pizzas from Mulberry Street.

  “Uh … how was driving the Ferrari?” she ventured.

  “Some freakin’ car!” he enthused, thinking it was best not to mention that he’d gotten pulled over on San Vicente and that a dozen paparazzi had materialized from nowhere, capturing the whole thing with a thousand intrusive flashes. “Nearly got me a speeding ticket, but the cop recognized me an’ let me take off.”

  Max was relieved that he hadn’t gotten a ticket, which would have automatically been sent to the owner of the car. Or maybe not. Was a speeding ticket the same deal as a parking ticket? She didn’t know and she didn’t care, as long as Lucky’s Ferrari was in one piece. That was all that mattered.

  “Must be a kick getting recognized,” she said, wondering if she’d ever be famous. Not that she wanted to be. Her plan was to succeed in business just like Bobby. Although what business that would be she hadn’t quite figured out.

  “At first, yeah,” Billy said, with a casual yawn. “Then it gets old, real old. Fame comes with plenty of downside.”

  “And plenty of money,” she blurted, hoping the yawn wasn’t a hint that she should go.

  Why did I say such a stupid thing? I don’t care if he has any money or not.

  “Gotta pay my agent, manager, PR, accountant, business manager, and the tax man. It’s not as much as everyone thinks,” Billy said. “At least I don’t hav’ta pay Venus alimony, an’ I want nothin’ from her. Our only fight is over a couple of properties.”

  Once again Max wished he would stop mentioning Venus. Every time he did, it brought her back to reality with a nasty jolt.

  “Wanna talk about what happened last night?” Billy asked, startling her.

  No! She did not want to talk about last night. Too embarrassing. Did he honestly think they were going to have a casual chat about him taking her virginity? No thank you!

  She wished she’d never told him it was her first time going all the way. After all, it wasn’t as if she was inexperienced with guys. She’d gotten down and dirty with a few of them. Oral sex was nothing new—although Billy hadn’t asked her to do that. She and Ace had definitely taken it to the brink on many occasions, stopping just in time.

  Anyway, it was no big deal. She was glad she’d waited. And she was thrilled that Billy had turned out to be The One.

  When and if she ever confided in Cookie, her friend would say “What the hell were you waitin’ for, girl? It’s not just the boys who can have fun!”

  “Uh … last night was great,” she mumbled. “What time’s the pizza coming?”

  He arched an amused eyebrow. “Starving hungry or in a hurry?”

  “Both,” she answered in a rush.

  “Didn’t you say you had time to go to dinner?” he said, crinkling his blue eyes.

  “Well, we’re not doing that, are we?” she said, a touch truculently.

  “Disappointed?”

  “Why would I be?”

  He shrugged, somewhat perplexed that she seemed to be veering toward a bad mood. Had he said something? Done something?

  Females. Mercurial creatures, always changing. They were all the same, whether they were seventeen or forty.

  “I’ll call back an’ put a rush on it,” he volunteered.

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “Hey, if you’re in a hurry—”

  “I’m not,” she said, feeling like an idiot. Why was she giving him a hard time? It wasn’t as if she meant to.

  “Then whyn’t we go outside, sit by the pool, put on some sounds an?
?? relax,” he suggested.

  And just when she was thinking how perfect that would be, his doorbell rang.

  * * *

  It was past midnight and, finally back in L.A., Bobby used the stealth move to get into Denver’s apartment. He made his way in very quietly, but Amy Winehouse heard him at the door and came bounding out of the bedroom, tail wagging.

  Hurriedly, he quieted the dog, then began stripping off his clothes before heading for the bedroom.

  Just as he thought: Denver was asleep, au naturel as usual, with only a sheet covering her.

  He slid into bed beside her, edging up against her smooth body. Man, she had skin like satin.

  Screw Annabelle Maestro for daring to call her a mutt. What a jealous bitch, because not only was Denver gorgeous, she was smart, thoughtful, and dedicated to her job, but most of all she was real in every way. Every one of her qualities added up to one hell of a lethal combination. Annabelle Maestro should be so lucky.

  “I’m home,” he whispered in Denver’s ear, feeling a familiar stirring.

  “Mmm,” she murmured, slowly turning over so that she faced him. “It’s about time.… Why’d it take you so long?”

  “Didn’t mean to wake you, sleepyhead.”

  “That’s okay,” she said softly, all thoughts of being pissed at him vanishing as she reached down under the sheet and began caressing his burgeoning hard-on.

  “I really didn’t want you to wake up,” he repeated.

  “Sure you didn’t,” she drawled, still caressing him. “This fine upstanding member of society wouldn’t wake me at all.”

  “I’ve been saving up,” he quipped, loving the feel of her hands on him.

  “How very thoughtful of you,” she replied, experiencing a fervent rush of desire. Her man was home, and that was all she cared about.

  “Missed you,” he said, moving even closer. “Really missed you.”

  “You did?”

  “Of course I did.”

  “Missed you too,” she responded, reveling in the feel of him hard and strong against her thigh.

  And without any further conversation, his hands began exploring her body, touching her in all the places he knew she liked to be touched. Kissing her breasts, fondling her nipples, kicking off the sheet and moving down her body with his tongue, licking her skin every inch of the way.