Double Lucky (10 page)

Although what did it matter? Lennie was right: she could reach Max on her cell at any time.

Yes, but Max should have come and said good-bye. She'd wanted to make absolutely sure her wild little daughter was back in time for Gino's party. Right now unreliable was Max's middle name.

Sixteen. Some age! She remembered it well. At sixteen you thought you were invincible, you thought you owned the world, you thought you could do anything and get away with it, you thought your parents were moronic idiots.

Yeah. Sixteen. Fun memories. Until Gino had married her off to Craven “the lox” Richmond, and she'd been too young and too foolish to realize she could've said no.

Ah well … She had no intention of marrying Max off, but she did plan on keeping a closer eye on her. After Gino's party, after the launch of the Keys, she would spend some quality time with her daughter. She had to convince Max that not cutting school was important for getting into the right college. And even though
she'd
made it without a formal education, she wanted Max to experience all the advantages.

Philippe approached. The very precise Philippe had come with the house, and although Lucky often found his manner to be too formal, she put up with him because he was a stickler for making sure the house ran smoothly. Now, with houseguests arriving, Gino's upcoming party, and the opening of her hotel in Vegas, she was grateful to have Philippe and his organizational skills. At least she knew he was there ready and willing to take care of everything.

“Mrs. Golden,” he said stiffly.

“Yes, Philippe?” she answered briskly.

“There is another hand delivery for you,” he said, passing her an ecru envelope.

She ripped open the envelope and inside was a Cartier card with the same scrawled message—
Drop Dead Beautiful.

What kind of an invite is this?
she thought.
Quite stupid if it doesn't include a save-the-date.

“Did you see who left it?” she asked, opening the fridge and reaching for a can of 7UP.

“No, Mrs. Golden. It was in the mailbox with the rest of the mail. But I can assure you it was hand-delivered.”

Drop Dead Beautiful
. Sounded like a movie or maybe the opening of a happening new club. Hollywood publicists were getting much too inventive.

The phone rang, taking her mind off the latest note. Sticking it under a pile of cookbooks, she took the call. It was Alex Woods.

“Lucky,” he said. “We haven't spoken in a while. Thought I'd check in.”

“Alex, what's going on?” she said, always pleased to hear from him even though she knew he still harbored a mild crush.

“I'm shooting my movie.”

“I know that,” she said, taking a swig of 7UP from the can. “How's it going?”

“Great. How's our hotel progressing?”

“We're on schedule. I have a fantastic team in place, and we'll be opening on time. You'll be there of course.”

“Wouldn't miss it. When I invest money I want to see the results.”

“Oh, you will. The Keys is going to rule Vegas, I can promise you that.”

“Everything you do always works out, so I'm confident this'll be another moneymaking triumph.”

“Enough with the compliments—Lennie tells me the two of you have been trading missed calls.”

“
You
know what it's like when you're at the end of a shoot, no time for anything.”

“Ah yes, I remember it well,” she said, momentarily nostalgic for her producing days.

“We should develop another movie together.”

“Oh sure,” she said sarcastically. “I can do that—in my spare time.”

“We'd have a blast, just like before.”

“How's Billy working out?” she asked, quickly changing the subject.

“I hate goddamn actors,” Alex said vehemently. “Once they make it, they're out of control.”

“I know you do, but you wouldn't be able to do your job without 'em,” Lucky said, wondering what Billy was up to now.

“Ever heard of animated flicks?” Alex said.

“Yeah,” she said, laughing. “I can just imagine an animated Alex Woods movie. Cute little rabbits and adorable farm creatures beating the crap outta each other with machetes! Blood and severed limbs everywhere!”

“Ah … she knows me so well,” he said dryly.

“Oh yes, Alex, I do.”

“Any chance of lunch anytime soon?”

“Thought you were busy shooting.”

“I am. But maybe you'll visit the set one day. I'll have them set up lunch in my trailer.”

“You, me, and Lennie?”

“Just you and me was what I had in mind.”

“It's good I don't take you seriously.”

“Why's that?”

“'Cause then I'd have to tell Lennie you were hitting on me, forcing him to kick your ass.”

“Sounds dramatic. But I was always under the impression that
you
had the balls in the family.”

“Low blow, Alex.”

“Just telling it the way I see it.”

“Lennie has plenty of balls, believe me.”

There was a short silence while she tried to figure out what was on his mind. Every so often he made an attempt to get together without Lennie. She always laughed him out of it. She was very fond of Alex as a friend, and that's the way she wanted to keep it. Yes, she'd slept with him once and once only, but it was long ago and it didn't really count, because at the time she'd thought Lennie was gone forever. It was obviously a night Alex had never forgotten.

“You're coming to Gino's party on Sunday?” she asked, breaking the silence.

“Wouldn't miss it,” Alex replied.

“Bringing Ling I hope.”

“Should I?”

“
Why
are you asking
me?
She's
your
girlfriend. Isn't it about time you made it legal?”

“Gotta go,” he said abruptly. “See you Sunday.” And he hung up.

That's right, Alex, let's not get anywhere near your personal life,
Lucky thought. She wished he'd find that special someone, because even though he'd been living with Ling for a couple of years, she obviously wasn't it.

There were times Lucky found it uncomfortable between her and Alex—especially as she'd never told Lennie about their one-night stand. The truth was she wanted Alex and Lennie to remain friends, but if Lennie ever found out …

It was all too complicated, she refused to think about it. There were too many other things to deal with, and right now making Gino's party perfect was number one on her agenda.

 

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Friday morning Brigette and Bobby Stanislopolous met at a private airport in New York, ready to board the Stanislopolous plane to Los Angeles. Neither of them used the plane much; it was the company jet and usually flew members of the Stanislopolous board and chief executives around Europe. However, it was at their disposal whenever they needed it.

When they met up at the airport, Brigette realized she hadn't seen Bobby in almost a year. “Look at you,” she exclaimed, genuinely pleased to see him. “Handsome!”

Bobby was indeed handsome. Like Lucky he was tall, with olive skin, jet-black hair, and intense black eyes. Like his late father, Dimitri, he had a Greek nose, strong chin, and dominant personality. He was a hybrid—half Santangelo, half Stanislopolous.

“Is that any way to talk to your uncle?” he teased, checking out his devastatingly pretty niece.

“Oh, sorry,
Uncle
Bobby,” Brigette said with a flicker of a smile. She was naturally blond and cover-girl pretty. “I hear your club is doing great,” she added. “Good for you.”

“Yeah,” Bobby replied, nodding his head. “We got written up in
New York
magazine last month. How come I've never seen you there?”

“I finished with the club scene after I finished with modeling,” she said. “It's not for me. Too many needy people on the prowl.”

“You gotta be my guest one night,” Bobby said, full of enthusiasm at the thought of showing off his gorgeous niece. “I'll look after you. We'll have fun, that's a promise.”

“Thank you,
Uncle
Bobby,” she answered, smiling. “I shall look forward to that.”

Wow! She's such a babe
, Bobby thought.
What a waste. I know a dozen guys who'd give their left nut for a shot at her. And if we weren't related …

“Is the plane ready for boarding?” she asked.

“All set,” he said, scooping up her Fendi overnight bag and throwing it over his shoulder.

“Then let's go,” Brigette said, standing up.

“You got it,” he said, taking her arm.

Together they headed for the plane.

*   *   *

Meanwhile, Gino Senior sat in the front passenger seat of his new Cadillac, while Paige, his wife of twenty years, drove. For an old broad Paige still had it going on, or at least Gino thought so. He couldn't have asked for a more spirited, loyal, always-there-for-him wife. And attractive too, with her flaming red hair and pocket Venus figure. Even in her seventies Paige still cut a swath. He'd made a smart choice when he'd dumped his third wife, the frosty Susan Martino, and married her best friend, Paige. There'd been a few bumps along the way—nobody was perfect. He'd never forget walking in on the two women in bed together. But that was ancient news, and who was he to make judgments? After all, his past was hardly blameless.

Ah … So many women, so many memories …

Now he was old. Frigging
old
. And it didn't seem possible when in his head he was still maybe forty years of age. Christ! Looking in the mirror and seeing an old face peering back at him was not something that thrilled him. Better than the alternative, though; he was a true survivor and let no one forget it. He'd outlived them all—Enzio Bonnatti, Pinky Banana, Jake the Boy—all the old crew. He'd weathered jail, a heart attack, the death of a child, a couple of assassination attempts, the murder of his beloved first wife. Jeez! And a thousand other things.

In two days he was about to be ninety-frigging-five, and it wasn't so bad, apart from the fact that his body was falling to pieces. His knees were gone, arthritis had claimed his hands, his back hurt, his eyes were fading fast, and worst of all, he couldn't get it up anymore. Not that he had any desire to, sex was off the agenda—had been for a couple of years. Gino the Ram was no more. He'd had a good run, and he didn't regret one step of the way, although he did feel sorry for Paige—she must miss the action. Not that she complained; Paige would never do that.

“Can't wait t'see the kids,” he said, settling back. “This should be some weekend.”

“Fasten your seat belt,” Paige said, sounding quite bossy. “If we have an accident, you could go through the windshield.”

“Big friggin' deal,” Gino replied, indulging in a vigorous coughing fit. “I'm gonna be ninety-five, woman. Ya think a goddamn seat belt's gonna save me?”

“Be sensible, Gino.”

“Now, when's
that
gonna happen?” he said, shooting her a quizzical look.

*   *   *

“What time is everyone getting here?” Lennie asked, wandering into the den, where Lucky was busy making notes.

“Brigette and Bobby should be here at four,” she said, putting down her pen and stretching her arms above her head. “And Gino and Paige are arriving around the same time.”

“Full house this weekend,” Lennie remarked.

“Gino wanted to stay in a hotel, but I told him he has to stay here.”

“Maybe he likes hotels,” Lennie said, walking over to her and starting to massage her shoulders.

“Hey, maybe
I
want him here,” Lucky retorted.

“That's 'cause you're Miss Control Freak.”

“I am certainly not,” she objected.

“Y'know,” Lennie mused, “if anyone had told me you'd turn into Earth Mother, I would've laughed in their face.”

“You would, huh?” she said, turning her head.

“Lucky Santangelo Golden, former wild one—Earth Mother supreme.”

“What
are
you talking about now?”

“Take a count. Three kids—well, four if you count Leonardo. One father. A stepmother. A goddaughter. A husband—”

“That would be
you
,” she said, starting to smile.

“Yeah, me,” he said, smiling back. “And we'll all be in the same house this weekend, getting ready for Gino's big one. And if I know you, you'll be watching out for everyone. Like I said—Earth Mother supreme.”

“Who'd've thunk?” she said ruefully. “Me. The original independent woman. But I wouldn't have it any other way. Would you?”

“No, sweetheart, not for a minute. You make my life complete.”

“I do?”

“Y'know,” he added thoughtfully, “we've been through a hell of a lot together.”

“Now, ain't
that
the truth,” she said, getting up.

“So … I want to thank you, Mrs. Golden. And if you come over here, I'll show you how.”

“Hmm…” she said, smiling. “Might I remind you it's the middle of the day?”

“No shit?”

“And I have a thousand things to do.”

“So I suppose a blow job's outta the question?” he said, only half serious.

“Lennie!” she exclaimed, taking a step back.

“I know, I know,” he said, ruefully. “It's the middle of the day. But hey, I can remember the time when—”

“When
what?
”

“You know what.”

“Okay,
husband
,” she said, impulsively grabbing his hand. “I think you need to come with me.”