Double Lucky (87 page)

This street was turning out to be a dead end.

*   *   *

“So?” Bobby said, joining M.J. in the coffee shop.

“So?” M.J. retaliated, stirring his coffee, a blank expression on his face.

“You know what I'm asking,” Bobby said, signaling the waitress, who came hurrying over.

“Yeah,” M.J. agreed. “But I don't got an answer yet.”

“Are you telling me you haven't talked to Cassie about keeping the baby?” Bobby said as the waitress filled his cup with strong black coffee. “You
know
you gotta do it.”

“Uh … you could say we're kinda at an impasse,” M.J. admitted, staring miserably at the table.

“Impasse not good,” Bobby stated.

M.J. gave a weary sigh. “Tell me about it.”

“You gotta grow a pair,” Bobby insisted. “It's time.”

“Comin' from you, that's sweet.”

“What does
that
mean?” Bobby said, a frown creasing his forehead.

“Since you hooked up with Denver, the clubs have taken second place,” M.J. complained. “You're never here. An' you're sure as crap not in New York.”

Bobby could not believe what he was hearing. “You
gotta
be shittin' me,” he said, still frowning.

“Just tellin' it like it is,” M.J. responded.

“Goddammit, M.J. I was here three days ago jerking off the Russians. You got a short memory.”

“Big of you to drop in.”

“Fuck
you
. What's with the attitude?”

“So now I got
attitude?
” M.J. said, losing his cool. “I'm here every night bustin' my stones, while you're camped out in L.A. cozyin' up with your girlfriend. We're supposed to be partners.”

“Jesus,” Bobby said, annoyed that M.J. was taking his problems out on him. “Where the fuck is this coming from?”

“I dunno,” M.J. admitted, shrugging helplessly. “I'm gettin' buried here. Don't mean to rag on you.”

“Look,” Bobby said understandingly. “I get it. You're under pressure, you need a break.”

“What I'd like to do is take Cassie on vacation, get into her head an' convince her to do the right thing.”

“Then you gotta do it.”

“I want this baby, Bobby, an' I know I hav'ta tell her exactly how I feel before it's too late.”

“Then like I said—do it.”

“I was thinking we could take off after Max's party. Maybe hit the Bahamas.”

“Cool with me.”

“You'll handle things here?”

“Sure,” Bobby said, mentally canceling all his next week's plans. “And as a bonus, you can even use my plane.”

“Shit!” M.J. said. “You certainly know how to throw it back.”

“Oh yeah,” Bobby said, with a wry grin. “I certainly do.”

“Thanks, man,” M.J. said, relieved. “I've been going crazy.”

“Once again, I get it.”

“How about dinner tonight?” M.J. suggested. “Just you, me, Cassie, an' Denver.”

Bobby hesitated for only a second. M.J. was going through a personal crisis, and when a friend was in any kind of trouble, he was there.

“Sure,” he said, wondering how Denver would react to this sudden change of plans. “How about eight o'clock at the steak house?”

“We'll be there.”

*   *   *

Enjoying another brief casino visit, still closely followed by her bodyguards, Venus ran into Alex on the casino floor. They had worked together in the past and enjoyed a cordial relationship, even though they'd fought like lions on the set of the movie Alex had directed her in.

“Alex,” Venus said, throwing him one of her cultivated sultry looks. “Meet my friend Jorge. He's from Brazil.”

“Your what?” Alex said rudely, his eyes raking over the studly young Brazilian. “Who is he—your son?”

“Alex!” Venus scolded, mock cross. “Behave yourself!”

“I would if I could, but you always bring out the bad in me.”

“Do I now?” Venus replied, flirting slightly because Alex was such a brilliant director and she wouldn't mind working with him again.

“You know damn well you do. Remember our fight-a-minute movie?”

“How could I ever forget?” She sighed, playing with a lock of her platinum-blond hair. “You cast Billy in it. Thanks a lot.”

Alex gave a twisted grin. “Sorry about that.”

“Well,” she said, with a half smile, “I suppose you weren't to know I'd be foolish enough to turn around and marry him.”

“Jesus Christ!” Alex said, shaking his head at the many memories he had of dealing with Billy. “That kid was a pain in the ass to work with, but I gotta say—a talented little prick.”

“‘Little prick' is about the right description,” Venus murmured succinctly.

Why is it that whenever a woman gets mad at a man,
Alex thought,
the first thing she goes for is the size of his dick?

Growing impatient, he glanced across the packed casino. “What's your game of choice tonight?” he asked.

“I was thinking roulette,” she said as her bodyguards blocked a steady stream of excited autograph seekers.

“Of course you were,” he replied. “Nothing like a game of chance to get the juices flowing.”

“Hmm … don't think I need a round of roulette to do that,” Venus replied, with an almost imperceptible nod toward Jorge.

Alex gave a low chuckle.

“I think the three of us should have dinner tonight,” Venus said, fluttering her hand on his arm. “Since Lucky is all tied up with Lennie, the least we can do is try to amuse ourselves, don't you agree?”

“What about the boy from Ipanema,” Alex asked, motioning toward Jorge. “Does he speak?”

“Not a lot,” Venus replied. “But then again, he doesn't have to.”

“Will he be joining us?”

“I promise you he'll sit quietly.”

“Okay, Venus, we'll dine. I got nothing better to do.”

“Where?” she asked, delighted she'd convinced him.

“Asian.”

Venus smiled knowingly. “Naturally.”

 

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Peggy was big on charm. She'd used it all her life to get her own way. The king had fallen under her spell, and then poor old Sidney Dunn, who'd given her the lifestyle she'd desired. Sidney had worshipped her. Peggy's little secret? Lots of flattery and charm mixed with excellent oral sex could keep a man very happy indeed. Sidney had never had cause to complain or look at another woman, Peggy had made damn sure of that.

Sometimes, during her years with Sidney, she'd yearned for the days and nights of her youth. Wild sex with Joe Piscarelli. Parties. Recreational drugs. Her one night with the infamous Gino Santangelo. Not to mention the fervent admiration of so many men as she'd paraded across the stage half naked.

The king had sometimes enjoyed the company of two or three women at a time. Since they were all his wives, it never really bothered Peggy. She'd quite enjoyed the softness of another woman's lips and the silkiness of their skin.

She had never revealed any of this to Armand; he would be shocked. Her son was quite a mystery, not the warm and nurturing man she had hoped he would turn out to be. Armand had a cold personality, and a certain disregard for women she could not understand. Surely she was the perfect role model. She's always been an elegant presence, always available for him.

But no, Armand did not appreciate all that she'd done for him over the years.

Earlier, Fouad had called and informed her of their move, and that they might be staying in Vegas longer than expected. He'd also wanted to know why she'd asked about Gino Santangelo. “I thought it was someone I knew,” she'd lied, keeping it casual. “But I was mistaken. Wrong name.”

Fortunately for Peggy, her charm worked on everyone but Armand, and after starting up a conversation with Paige Santangelo in the beauty salon, she soon had Paige's attention as she chatted about New York and what an exciting and vibrant city it was to live in.

“We had an apartment in New York once,” Paige mused, a tad wistfully. “However, my husband, who's quite a bit older than me, decided we should live in Palm Springs, so that's where we've stayed. It's a little boring.”

“You're fortunate your husband is still alive,” Peggy said, playing the sympathy card. “I lost my dear Sidney a year ago. He was twenty years older than me. I have to say it's been quite hard being by myself, but with the help of my son and dear friends, I manage. I do not mean financially; Sidney left me set for life. But women of our age, alone—it's not easy.”

Before long, the two women found they had plenty in common. After a while Paige asked Peggy if she would care to join her and Gino for dinner.

“I'd be delighted,” Peggy responded. “Tell me where and when, and I will be there.”

*   *   *

Armand flicked through the dossier Fouad had sent him on Lucky Santangelo. The only thing he found interesting was that she had children—two sons and a daughter.

Ah … children. A weakness he could use against her if he had to. But unfortunately, they were not little children; two were teenagers, and one a grown man.

But still, children made a person vulnerable. And yes, most people would do anything to protect their offspring. It was a basic human instinct.

Peggy phoned, interrupting his train of thought. He'd forgotten about his mother; she was the furthest thing from his mind.

“What?” he said curtly.

Peggy did not appreciate his tone of voice, but she chose to ignore his gruffness.

“Fouad told me you have moved to a villa at my hotel,” she said. “I hear the villas are lovely.”

Armand was immediately furious. What was wrong with Fouad? Couldn't he keep his stupid mouth shut about anything? Now he'd have Peggy turning up, infuriating him even further.

“Yes,” he said flatly. “However, I cannot take you to dinner tonight. I have business to attend to.”

“Not to worry, dear,” Peggy said, sounding surprisingly mellow. “I wasn't asking you. I already have plans.”

“You do?” he said, quite surprised. “With whom?”

“Old friends from my past have invited me to dine with them.” She paused, then said, “Perhaps I can come by for breakfast tomorrow?”

“We'll see,” Armand replied, relieved that he didn't have to bother getting rid of Peggy tonight. It seemed she could look after herself.

“I'll phone you in the morning,” Peggy said. “Fouad told me we may be staying longer than anticipated, and I'm open to that. Are your meetings going well?”

“I have to go,” he said abruptly. “I'm running late.”

“Very well, Armand. Tomorrow.”

“If I can,” he said, banging down the phone.

Peggy. His mother. Why had she insisted on coming to Vegas? She brought him nothing but aggravation and bad luck. She and Fouad were bringing him down. He hated them both. The two of them reeked of bad karma.

If it weren't for them The Keys would already be his.

*   *   *

Armand Jordan had requested big breasts, and Yvonne Le Crane decided she would find him big breasts. And while she was at it, how about enormous breasts? Breasts of a ludicrous size? Fake shockers?

She'd informed Armand she would accommodate him, and dispatched a messenger to pick up the cash. Soon the two women she'd booked would be on their way to his hotel.

She'd ordered them from a strip club in town called Dirty Den's. Yvonne was on cordial terms with the owner, a former boxer. She'd called him up and offered him a thousand apiece for two of his freaks, and he was more than happy to oblige.

It was a done deal.

This would teach Armand Jordan for calling her girls filthy whores when they were the crème de la crème of Vegas talent.

Now she was about to walk away with a $28,000 profit, so Armand Jordan could go piss in the wind.

Once again it gave her extreme satisfaction to know that Mister Sicko was about to get exactly the kind of girls he deserved.

 

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

The secret to a sensual, sexy marriage is knowing when to leave children, pets, family commitments, and business affairs at the door.

Lucky had a knack for being able to do just that. She and Lennie shared a bond that dated back to the first time they'd met, a true bond that neither of them had ever allowed to slip away. Sex was sex, and they'd both decided early on that if they expected their marriage to stay hot, then they had to work at keeping the passion on permanent sizzle. They both knew how to do that. Sometimes it involved role-playing. Sometimes it didn't. But whatever it took, they were into it one hundred percent.

Rule number one: Leave any family problems outside the bedroom.

Rule number two: Remember the first time.

Rule number three: No inhibitions.

And rule number four—the most important rule of all: Absolutely no interruptions.

Anticipating Lennie's arrival, Lucky felt the old familiar excitement. They were never together long enough for either of them to get bored with each other. Their reunions were always going to be something special, she made sure of that. So even though family and invited guests were in Vegas for Max's party the following night, Lucky had decided that tonight family and friends were on their own, for tonight belonged to Lennie. He was her number one priority. Always. That would never change.

By the time he arrived, she was ready to greet him, a stunning vision in a soft black leather dress, slit thigh high, her jet hair framing her oval face, the drop emerald earrings Lennie had presented her with last Christmas her only adornment.

Tonight she was nobody's mommy. She was Lucky Santangelo at her wildest.

The moment Lennie entered the apartment, she strode toward him and handed him his favorite drink—a black Russian.