Lovers and Gamblers (66 page)

Halfway up the stairs they heard voices. Louis froze.

‘Who is it?’ Cristina whispered, alarmed.

‘I don’t know,’ Louis whispered back. ‘You go out to the car, I’ll investigate. Hurry.’

She rushed back to the car which was parked around the back. Suddenly she was nervous.

Louis joined her within minutes. His mouth was set in a grim line. He jumped in the car, took off the handbrake and allowed the car to coast silently away from the house.

‘What is it?’ Cristina hissed.

‘My dear father,’ Louis replied, obviously upset, ‘in the bedroom with a woman.’

‘Oh! You mean we caught him?’

‘You could say that. Only he didn’t see me. I looked through the keyhole. Tonight he’s supposed to be in São Paulo.’

‘What a lucky escape! Can you imagine if we had burst in on him?’

‘You would think he wouldn’t take a woman to a bed he shares with my mother,’ Louis complained.

Cristina tut-tutted in agreement. But secretly she was intrigued at the thought of portly Mr. Baptista in bed with a woman. She wondered if her own father did such things… The thought excited her. ‘Stop the car, Louis,’ she whispered urgently. ‘I want to do it with you. I want to do it with you now!’

* * *

When they met, five days later, Nino sensed the change in Cristina immediately. He was furious. After all, she did not know that he had not been completely serious about his intentions. As far as
she
was concerned, he loved her and was preparing to marry her.

A lot she cared. He had misjudged her. She wasn’t the pliable, stupid, little girl he had thought. She was stupid all right – but devious stupid.

‘I’m so tired,’ she complained to Nino. ‘Parties, parties, parties.’

He managed to smile sympathetically. Only a few more days… keep her sweet for a few more days. ‘You look well on it,
carioca
,’ he assured her.

‘Do I?’ she asked, knowing full well that she was positively glowing. The experiment with Louis had turned out to be an unqualified success.

‘Do you have a copy of the list of everyone travelling with Al King for me?’

She fished in the straw bag she carried and produced it. ‘I took it from Mr. Baptista’s desk. Honestly, I felt like a private detective in one of those American television serials!’

‘Clever girl.’ He took the list and studied it.

‘I can’t stay,’ she said quickly. ‘Today Louis is taking me to Paqueta Island. He wants to know where I am every minute. You know, I’ve been thinking – I don’t know if we should see each other for a while. It might not be wise.’

Carefully Nino placed the piece of paper on a table. He held Cristina playfully around the waist. ‘Do you mean we will not have time to make love today?’

She attempted to squirm free. He held her extremely tight. ‘Well,
carioca
? Not today, huh?’

‘No, not today, Nino.’

He held her even tighter. ‘You still love me though?’

‘You’re
hurting
me…’

‘Not as much as I could.’ Suddenly he let go of her and she lost her balance and fell back on the bed.

He stood over her, slowly unzipping his jeans.

She lay back, frightened at the menace in his eyes.

‘You know what I want you to do,’ he said.

‘I told you…’ she began.

‘I thought you loved me,’ he mocked. ‘If you love me you’ll do anything for me.’

‘Next time.’

‘And when will that be?’

‘Soon. I promise you.’

‘And this is the girl who was not sure if she could live three weeks without me. What happened,
carioca?
Does Louis have a bigger one than me? Or is it just the fact that his is coated in money and mine is merely coated with the slime of the
favelas
?’

She reddened. ‘Don’t be silly, Nino.’

‘Don’t be silly,’ he mocked. ‘Do you think I am a fool? Do you think I don’t know what is going on?’

She lowered her eyes. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘You’re sorry!’ he exploded. ‘Just like that – you’re sorry. And what about me? What about my plans?’

‘I’ll still help you,’ she said quickly. ‘I promised I would and I haven’t let you down. I got you the list, didn’t I? And if I find out anything else I’ll let you know…’

‘Thanks.’ Sarcasm dripped bitterly from his lips. ‘How kind of you.’

She attempted to sit up. He pushed her back with one hand.

‘I’ll tell you the plan’, he said coldly. ‘Listen carefully.’

She was frightened; his eyes were alive with a hatred and contempt that she had never seen before.

‘Al King arrives on Thursday – in two days’ time. Naturally you will be at the party Louis’s father is throwing for him. Be sure to meet him, talk with him and the people close to him. Be sure they know you are to marry Carlos Baptista’s son. Friday is the day of the concert – you attend – but early on you and Louis slip away and go straight to the airport. You make sure that you reach there before Al King does. I will meet you there. That is all you have to know for now.’

‘What are you talking about?’ Cristina gasped. ‘I can’t do that. What are you thinking of?’

‘I’m thinking of the Von Cougats and the Bogatos. I’m wondering what they would say if they found out it was sweet little Cristina Maraco who had provided the plans to their houses – in her own sweet handwriting – plans that enabled them to be robbed. I’m also thinking of your father. Would it interest him to know about his daughter and me? Would he like to know what you and I do together? Would your mother be pleased to hear from the doctor who fitted you for a diaphragm? The doctor I arranged for you to see?’

Cristina’s face drained of colour. ‘You wouldn’t…’ she whispered in horror.

‘Try me,’ Nino replied arrogantly. ‘Or maybe I could compare notes with Louis on your performance.’

‘You pig!’

Nino shrugged. ‘Of course, if you help me out with Al King, then I will have no need to tell anyone anything – ever.’

‘But how could I explain going to the airport, leaving in the middle of the concert, to Louis?’

‘I’m sure you could think of something.’

‘But why do you need us?’

‘For access. To board his plane. Don’t worry – you will be in the clear. I promise you no one will know we are connected. Once I’m on the plane, you can go – we need never see each other again.’

She covered her eyes with her arm. What a mess she had got herself in.

‘Do we have an agreement?’ Nino persisted.

She took her arm away and stared at his handsome arrogant, hateful face. ‘All right,’ she muttered. What choice did she have?

‘Good. I will contact you by phone to give you further details – times and places, and I want a report from you twice a day in case any plans get changed.’ His mouth twisted into a thin smile. ‘Well, my little
carioca,
shall we make love before you go? Or are you still in a hurry?’

Dallas woke up slowly, stretched, spread her arms out, opened her eyes, and wondered where the hell she was.

She felt hot, and kind of sweaty, and realized that she still had her jeans and T-shirt on.

She tried to remember, but everything seemed to be a vague blur, the clearest memory being Palm Springs.

She sat up, looked around the ornate hotel bedroom, located the bathroom, and locked herself in there. She stripped off her clothes and stepped under an icy shower. The cold water refreshed her. She grabbed some soap and washed herself thoroughly, including her hair. Then she wrapped herself in a towelling bathrobe which was hanging behind the door, and turbaned her hair in a towel. There was a tube of toothpaste lying on the side, and she squeezed some onto her fingers and rubbed it over her teeth, rinsing her mouth out with water.

Things were becoming clearer. She could remember getting on a plane to Las Vegas and meeting a frizzy-haired girl who had fixed her up with a lot of good things. Wow – that was it. She had gotten good and stoned, and come to think of it a joint and some pills wouldn’t be such a bad idea now. She felt depressed and down. Al King… Al King… Hadn’t she been following up some wild idea of visiting him? Christ! She must have been stoned!

She walked out of the bathroom looking for her bag. Then she noticed that there were men’s clothes around the room, and a suitcase that wasn’t hers.

She tied the bathrobe tightly around herself and walked into the living room.

Al King was sitting at a room service table drinking orange juice and reading a newspaper. He looked up when she came in. ‘Good morning. How did you sleep?’

She stared at him, waiting for recollection of the previous evening to come flooding back. Nothing. She bit her lip. Now her goddamn head was beginning to throb.

Al smiled pleasantly at her. ‘Want some breakfast?’

She shook her head. Breakfast wasn’t what she wanted. ‘You seen my bag?’ she muttered, disgusted with herself for what obviously must have happened.

‘It’s over there.’

She picked up the bag and headed back to the bedroom, emptying the contents out onto the bed. A bikini. A T-shirt, denim shirt, some shorts. Bottles of make-up, a hairbrush, small hair dryer, several packs of chewing gum, a hand mirror, box of Kleenex, tube of suntan cream, and a make-up bag. That was it. The entire contents.

She turned the bag upside down and shook it. A few hairpins fell out. Where the hell were her pills? Her joints? Shit. She
couldn’t
have demolished them
all
.

She went in the bathroom and picked her jeans up off the floor, rifling through the pockets. She pulled out a cheque and squinted at it in amazement. Thirty thousand dollars. Made out to her. She went back in the living room, waving it in the air. ‘Where did I get this?’ she demanded.

‘Don’t you remember?’ Al asked innocently.

‘If I remembered I wouldn’t be asking, would I?’ she snapped.

‘What
do
you remember?’

She glared at him. ‘Nothing.’

‘I’m not surprised. You were flying without wings. Maybe you can tell me what happened to set you off.’

She slumped into the chair opposite him and picked at a bread roll. ‘I feel like Doris Day,’ she said miserably. ‘Every old movie I ever see of hers she wakes up with some guy and doesn’t know whether they made it or not. You know – like she was drunk or something. So come on, Rock Hudson – fill me in.’

‘You won the money at roulette. We didn’t make it – oh, you wanted to – but I figured it might be more fun to wait until you knew who you were screwing. Old-fashioned of me, I know, but I’m like that.’

She laughed suddenly, clutched her head and said, ‘Ouch! That hurts. You mean I
won
thirty thousand bucks? Wowee!!’

‘I thought you were going to say “you mean you didn’t screw me? Thank you, Al, I always knew you were a first class gentleman”!’

She laughed again. ‘Doesn’t really matter one way or another, does it? I’m not a virgin like Doris Day – or didn’t you realize?’

‘I realized.’

‘Never mind. For one me, there’s always hundreds of others. What am I doing here anyway?’

‘
You tell me
.’

She shrugged. ‘Don’t know. Guess I had this stupid idea of you and me finally getting together. I’ll be honest with you, Al. I find sex no great turn-on – I thought maybe with you…’ She trailed off.

‘I could have had you doing cartwheels last night. In LA you didn’t want to know about me. Why the sudden change of mind?’

‘Can I have some orange juice and coffee? And maybe some eggs. I feel like I haven’t eaten for six years. Hey – I had some joints in my bag – you seen them?’

He shook his head. ‘I’ll order you breakfast. How do you want your eggs?’

‘Scrambled. Oh, and some toast and jelly – and some crispy bacon.’

He phoned room service, glanced at his watch. Time was running tight.

‘I should call Cody,’ she mused. ‘He’s probably going out of his head.’

‘I thought you were working.’

‘I have taken a week off, courtesy of Mr. Margolis. Do you know him? Such a charming man. He and his lovely wife.’

‘I think I might do a movie for him.’

‘Lots of luck!’

‘You still haven’t told me how you managed to appear in Las Vegas stoned out of your head.’

She made a face. ‘It wasn’t easy.’

‘I’m glad you’re here though. I wanted to explain about Karmen…’

She held up a hand. ‘Nothing to explain, I don’t care.’

‘But that’s it. I
want
you to care…’

‘Oh, Al, please. Don’t get corny with me. I understand. I’m a very understanding lady. You can screw who you want.’

‘Then why wouldn’t you talk to me in LA?’

‘I could
really
appreciate some grass. With your influence couldn’t we summon some up?’

‘You’re changing the subject.’

‘What subject?’

‘Look, I have to be on my plane in an hour. We’re stopping in LA to pick up my son… Then I have a couple of gigs in South America and I’ll be back in a few days. Why don’t we plan on getting together when I get back?’

‘Just like that, you’re flying to South America today?’

‘I can drop you in LA.’

‘Terrific. What makes you think I want to go back there?’

‘Don’t you?’

She reached over and drained his orange juice. ‘Where’s the food? I’m getting desperate.’

An idea was forming in his head. ‘I said don’t you?’

‘As a matter of fact I don’t.’

‘So why not come to Rio with me? No strings – I won’t touch you – or I’ll touch you. Whichever you want.’

‘Why do you want me to come?’ she asked suspiciously.

‘Because I like you. I think we understand each other. I think we could have some laughs.’

‘I have to be back in LA next week.’

‘We will be.’

She smiled, dazzling him. ‘Why not?’

* * *

Paul nudged the girl who was asleep beside him. He had been nudging her on and off since six a.m. in the hope that she would wake up and leave. It wasn’t that he didn’t like her. She was an attractive girl of twenty-nine, intelligent, articulate, good in bed. She was one of the producers on the telethon, not some little nothing groupie. They had made love once, quite satisfactorily as far as he was concerned. But he had been unable to rise to the occasion a second time, and far from being put out, she had produced a life-sized penis substitute from her purse, and requested most politely that he use it on her. He had done as she asked, albeit reluctantly, and he had been somewhat put out by the amount of orgasms she had proceeded to achieve. With his cock – one. With a plastic substitute – multiple. It didn’t seem right somehow.