Sweet Revenge (27 page)

She scanned the crowd. There were dozens of people she knew, dozens more she recognized. The rich, the powerful, the famous. Members of the press were circling, documenting every pair of designer sunglasses. Guests had donned their best resort wear, from skimpy bikinis with gorgeous coverups to billowing silk skirts. No one had left her
gems at home. Diamonds flashed, gold gleamed in the tropical sun. For two days the little island of Cozumel had become a thief’s paradise. If she’d been looking for the big score, Adrianne could have moved among them, plucking stones.

Not quite like picking wildflowers in a meadow, she mused. But close, close enough when one was an accepted member of their very exclusive club. Interpol undoubtedly had agents on the island. But she hadn’t spotted Philip. Thank God.

“I’ve heard the clothes are marvelous.” Playing her role, Adrianne tilted her head and smiled for a photographer.

“You shouldn’t have heard anything. The clothes are under tighter security than the crown jewels. The bigger the secret, the bigger the anticipation. What do you think of the idea of putting the runway right over the pool?”

“Marvelous.”

“Wait until you see the finale.” She leaned closer, whispering. “The swimsuit models are going to dive in.”

“I can’t wait.”

“I’d wanted to fill the pool with champagne, but Charlie wouldn’t hear of it. I did get a champagne fountain in the ballroom, though. And you must try the piñata later. Such a quaint custom. You.” She turned on a waitress. The charming smile flattened into a hard line. “You’re supposed to serve the drinks, not just stroll around with them.” Lauren turned back, smoothing her features into a smile. “Where was I? Oh, the piñata. When Charlie and I were down here last year, we went to a fiesta. All these sticky-fingered little brats were swinging a bat at a papier-máché donkey. After it breaks—”

“I know the game, Lauren.”

“Oh, well then. I thought I’d adapt the custom more to our tastes. I had this gorgeous parrot designed. It’s filled with some charming little pieces of faux jewelry. Should make a marvelous feature on
Entertainment Tonight”

Adrianne had to bite her lip at the image of the attending luminaries scrambling on the ground to scoop up glass baubles and beads. “Sounds like great fun.”

“That’s what we’re here for. I’m determined everyone remembers this benefit. I can recommend the buffet, though I’ve had nothing but trouble with the staff.” She waved
cheerily to a group on the other side of the pool. “But, of course, they’re Mexican.”

Adrianne drank slowly and cooled her temper. “We’re in Mexico.”

“Yes, well, I can’t understand why they can’t make more of an effort to learn the language. Always muttering among themselves. Lazy too. You’ve no idea how difficult it is to keep them in line. But they will work cheap. Do let me know if you have any problem at all with the service. Christie darling, you look heavenly.” She sniffed as the leggy blonde strolled past. “What I could tell you about
her”
Lauren added.

“I’m sure you must have a lot on your mind at the moment.” And if I don’t get away from you, Adrianne decided, I’m going to scream.

“Oh, you’ve no idea. No idea at all. How I envy you your quiet life. Still, I’m certain this is going to be the biggest and splashiest hotel opening of the year.”

Well aware that Lauren wouldn’t have understood her own pun, Adrianne nearly smiled.

“I hope I didn’t make a mistake by planning this as an afternoon event rather than an evening. Afternoons are so … casual.”

“Island life is casual.”

“Mmmm.” Lauren watched a hot young film star stroll past, wearing brief trunks and a sheen of suntan oil. “There’s something to be said for casual wear. I’ve heard he’s got tremendous endurance.”

“How’s Charlie?”

“What?” Lauren kept her eye on the young stud, “Fine, just fine. I confess, I’m nervous as a cat. It’s so important that this event be a smash.”

“It will be. You’re going to raise thousands of dollars for leukemia.”

“Hmm? Oh, that too.” Lauren shrugged one slim bare shoulder. “But naturally people aren’t here to think about some nasty disease. Too damn depressing. The important thing is just
being
here. Did I mention that the Duchess of York sent her personal regrets?”

“No.”

“It was a pity she couldn’t make it, but we have you for
royalty.” She gave Adrianne’s arm an intimate squeeze. “Oh, I see Elizabeth. I must say hello. Enjoy, darling.”

“I will,” Adrianne murmured. “More than you know.”

People like the St. Johns didn’t change. Adrianne wandered behind a trumpet vine to sit in the sun and enjoy the music. A resort like El Grande certainly brought jobs to a troubled Mexican economy, just as the star-studded fashion show would earn funds for charity. For Lauren, and others like her, those benefits were accidental. Or worse, a springboard for their own ambitions.

The St Johns were concerned first with the St. Johns—money, status, fame. Adrianne sipped her drink and watched Lauren flutter around poolside.

She’d get her press, all right. More than she bargained for. Adrianne imagined the theft of Lauren’s diamond and ruby jewelry would make excellent copy.

“Are you playing Greta Garbo, or would you like some company?”

“Marjorie!” Flooded with genuine pleasure, Adrianne sprang up. The daughter of actor Michael Adams who’d been such a friend to her and Phoebe in Hollywood, Marjorie had become her friend after they had both broken away from the film world. “I had no idea you were coming.”

“Impulse.” The slender California-style blonde returned Adrianne’s embrace.

“Did Michael come with you? I haven’t seen him in over a year.”

“I’m sorry. Daddy couldn’t make it. He’s on location in Ontario of all places.” She glanced around and grinned. “Give me palm trees any day.”

“He never stops, does he? Give him my love when you see him.”

“Day after tomorrow I’m going up to spend Christmas with him.” Marjorie shook her hair back as she settled onto a chaise. “Fruit juice,” she told a passing waiter. “A double.” She let out a long sigh. “Quite a zoo, isn’t it?”

“Don’t start.” But Adrianne grinned too. “So what are you doing here? You’ve never been one for haute couture.”

“A yen for the tropics—and for Keith Dixon.”

“Keith Dixon?”

“I know he’s an actor.” Marjorie lifted a hand. “That’s why I’ve been dragging my feet, but …”

“Is it serious?”

She turned the hand over to reveal a marquise-cut diamond. “You could say so.”

“Engaged.” When Marjorie put a finger to her lips, Adrianne lifted a brow but lowered her voice. “A secret? Does Michael know?”

“Knows and approves. The two of them get along so well, they hardly need me. It’s weird.”

“Weird that they get along?”

“Weird when I spent most of my life looking for friends and lovers Daddy wouldn’t approve of.”

Adrianne settled back. “Must have been exhausting.”

“It was. With Keith it’s been the easiest thing I’ve ever done.”

“So why the secret?”

“To avoid the gossip columns for a while. Anyway, it’s a secret for only a few more days. We’re going to be married on Christmas. I’d love it if you could be there. But I know how you feel about the holidays. Can you have dinner with us tonight, in the village?”

“I’d like that. He must make you happy,” she added. “You look wonderful, Marjorie.”

“I am better.” She pulled a cigarette out of the pocket of her linen skirt. They were the one vice she still allowed herself. “Sometimes I look back and I can’t believe what I put Daddy through, what I put myself through. I weigh a hundred twenty these days.”

“I’m happy for you.”

“I’ve kept a picture of myself, one of the newspaper shots from when I got out of the hospital three years ago. Eighty-two pounds. I looked like a ghoul.” She crossed long, shapely legs. “It reminds me I’m lucky to be alive.”

“I know Michael’s proud of you. The last time I saw him you were all he could talk about.”

“I wouldn’t have made it without him—once I got it through my head he wasn’t the enemy.” She took the glass of juice and passed the waiter an American five. “You helped too. To second generation Hollywood brats.” She tapped her glass against Adrianne’s. “Your coming to the hospital to see
me that time, talking to me even when I didn’t want to listen, telling me how difficult it had been to watch your mother lose herself. Addy, I’ve never been able to tell you, really tell you what that did for me.”

“You don’t have to. Michael was one of the few people who really cared about my mother. He wasn’t able to help her, but he tried.”

“I always thought he was a little in love with her. With both of you. I really hated you when we were kids.” Marjorie laughed and tapped her cigarette out. “Daddy used to talk about you all the time, what a model student you were, how well-bred and polite.”

“How revolting,” Adrianne added, and made. Marjorie laugh again.

“So I inhaled, smoked, swallowed any drug I could get my hands on, married a creep I knew would abuse me, made a spectacle of myself in public whenever possible. In general, I did everything I could to make Daddy’s life miserable—and it nearly killed me. The anorexia was the last.”

“The key word is last.”

“Yes.” Marjorie smiled, the same quick, self-deprecating smile that had made her father famous. “Well, enough of ail that. Did you know Althea was here?”

“Althea Gray? No.”

“Yes, indeed. Right—” Marjorie scanned the crowd, then honed in. “There.”

Deliberately, Adrianne tipped on her sunglasses before she looked. The actress was indeed present, wearing a snug tank and mini in hot pink.

“That outfit might be suitable for her teenage daughter, if she had one.”

“Althea always liked to show her talent,” Adrianne said.

“Her last two movies were bombs—I mean nuclear.”

“So I heard.” It didn’t interest her. She’d had her revenge on Althea years before. A particularly fine set of opals with diamond baguettes had translated into an anonymous contribution to the Retired Actors’ Fund.

“She had her thighs sucked a few months ago.”

“Meow.” But she couldn’t help taking a harder look at Althea’s legs.

“I gave up drinking and drugs and studs, Addy, let me
have something. Oh, I heard another tidbit from tinsel town—about your mother’s former agent. Larry Curtis.”

Adrianne’s smile froze.

“It seems the rumors about his preference for young girls were feet. He was caught last week
auditioning
a new client. She was fifteen.”

Nausea churned in her stomach. With deliberate care she set her drink aside. She heard her own voice, glassy, distant. “You said he was caught?”

“In the act and by the kid’s father. The scumbag came out of it with a broken jaw. Too bad somebody didn’t tie those balls he’s so proud of around his neck, but it doesn’t look like he’ll be working again. Hey.” Alarmed, Marjorie sat up. “You’re white as a sheet.”

She wasn’t going to remember. Adrianne swallowed, battling the hard knot in her stomach. “Too much sun.”

“Let’s get you into the shade before this production starts. Can you stand up? I hate to use a cliché, but you look as if you’d seen a ghost.”

“I’m fine, really.” She had to be. Larry Curtis was in the past. All of that was. She rose and walked with Marjorie to the chairs set under a bright red canopy. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

“It promises to be quite a show.”

It did indeed. She watched as Lauren went up to a podium decked with tropical flowers. Tomorrow, she had a production of her own.

Adrianne’s suite at the El Grande was decorated in pastels with wraparound windows that opened up onto a flower-strewn balcony. It had a fully stocked refrigerator and wet bar, a mirrored bath with a whirlpool tub, and its own key-lock safe. It had its points, but she preferred the rooms she’d engaged at the El Presidente under the name of Lara O’Conner.

With some regret Adrianne had retired Rose Sparrow.

In her second suite of rooms, Adrianne kept her supplies. A few hours after the fashion show she was seated at the small table near the window, nibbling on kiwi as she studied the blueprints of the El Grande. She wasn’t yet certain which of the two methods of entry she would use. A perfectionist, she worked out the finer details of both.

The phone beside her rang. “
Hola. Sí.
” Adrianne tipped back in her chair. Her contact was anxious. In her experience, messengers tried to sound their toughest when they were nervous. “I’ll be there, exactly as agreed. If you don’t trust me, amigo, now’s the time to pull out. There’s always another buyer.” She waited, sipping from her warming glass of Perrier. “You know his reputation. When The Shadow makes a deal, he delivers. You wouldn’t want me to tell him you doubt his ability to complete this transaction? I thought not. Mañana.”

She replaced the receiver and stood, working out the kinks in her back and neck. Nerves. Annoyed, she closed her eyes, rolling her head slowly from side to side. She couldn’t remember having nerves like this in years.

The job was routine—almost too simple. And yet …

Philip, she thought. He’d thrown her a curve and she hadn’t quite fielded it. It worried her that he wasn’t on the island. It would have infuriated her if he had been.

He could prove nothing, she assured herself as she pushed the balcony doors open. And soon, very soon, she’d be finished with what she’d set out to do.

The sun hung in the western sky, brilliantly gold over the water. In a few hours the moon would rise, cool and white.

The Sun and the Moon. Adrianne rested her palms on the rail and leaned out. Symbols of night and day, of continuity, of eternity. I’ll take it back soon, Mama, she vowed silently. Once I do, maybe we both can have some peace.

The breeze fluttered over her face, warm fingers, caressing. There was a scent, hot, floral, that rose everywhere, inescapable. She could hear the waves hitting the sand, then sucking back. Over that was the sound of people laughing; shouting as they walked along the beach or snorkeled among the reefs.

Loneliness. Adrianne squeezed her eyes tight but couldn’t ward it off. The season—she could blame it on the holiday season and the memories it brought back. She could even blame it on seeing Marjorie, and envying her hold on life after so many years of floundering. But it was more, so much more than that. She wasn’t just a woman standing alone on a balcony. No matter how many people she knew, or how involved she kept herself, she was alone everywhere.