The Santangelos (35 page)

“I know, I know,” he said. “Just don’t lose your cool.”

“I have no intention of doing so,” she said crossly. “And kindly stop lecturing me.”

They met with Frankie and his attorney in an interrogation room at the jail.

Being in the presence of Frankie Romano reminded Denver of how much she couldn’t stand him. There was something about Frankie that screamed “bad news.” It came off him in waves. It always amazed her that he and Bobby had once been friends. They were so different, and yet at one time—along with M.J.—they’d been very close, almost like brothers.

How was that possible? Frankie Romano was a fast-talking piece-of-shit drug dealer who lured young girls to his apartment and then stood by while they almost overdosed. He was the lowest of the low. What could he and Bobby possibly have in common?

In spite of her feelings about Frankie, she endeavored to stay neutral as they listened to everything he had to say. He spoke fast, as usual—claiming to know plenty, then refusing to reveal any details until he got a guarantee of protection.

His attorney sat stiffly beside him saying nothing. Both Denver and Leon were well aware that Horace P. Bendon was being paid by Rafael—Alejandro Diego’s business partner—and that Horace P. Bendon’s loyalty would always be with the Diego family. The moment this meeting was over, Horace would report back to Rafael, and when the Diego camp heard that Frankie was willing to talk, his life would be in danger. The DA’s office had already issued an order that Frankie be kept in a cell by himself, away from the general prison population.

If Frankie was bluffing and he
didn’t
have the information he claimed to have, then things could get even worse for him, especially if he was put back into general. His best bet was if he came through with solid information; then he would be sequestered in a hotel with twenty-four-hour protection until they were able to indict Alejandro.

It was very complicated, and it all depended on what Frankie had to give them.

“We’re gonna have to talk to the chief deputy DA,” Leon said.

“Don’t make me wait too long,” Frankie answered, his left eye twitching. “Jail food is crap. An’ oh yeah,” he added, throwing a dirty look at his lawyer, “I’m firing this douche.”

“Jeez!” Leon said in the car on their way back to the office. “He sure is one slippery piece of work.”

“Told you,” Denver said.

“You think he’s gonna come up with anythin’ concrete?”

“Who knows?”

“Didja get a look at the lawyer’s face when he dumped him?”

“Classic,” Denver said, lapsing into silence as her thoughts turned to Bobby. It would be so nice if she could discuss the Frankie deal with him. Right now it didn’t seem possible, since they appeared to be on a break.

Was a break what she wanted?

As of now—yes
.

Or no.

She wasn’t sure
.

As far as Frankie was concerned, she was torn. Was he bluffing about what information he had, and even more important, could he be trusted to deliver? Leon didn’t seem to be so sure, and neither was she.

Only time would tell.

*   *   *

A family dinner was taking place at the Malibu house. Lucky excelled in the kitchen, making pasta and a delicious Bolognese sauce that had been Gino’s favorite. She was trying to act as if nothing had taken place, and cooking for the family seemed to be the most normal activity she could think of. Not that she spent a lot of time in the kitchen, but when she did, it was major.

After everyone had helped themselves, she glanced around the table. Lennie was sitting next to Steven. Bobby and the two younger boys were chatting away. Everything was peaceful. She was thankful that the people closest to her were all assembled—everyone except Max.

Had she made a mistake not summoning her daughter home immediately?

Lennie was pissed that she hadn’t commanded Max to get on the next plane. “She’ll be here soon enough,” Lucky had assured him.

This did not satisfy him. He wanted his daughter home, where he considered she’d be safe.

Lucky disagreed; she was convinced that Max was safer staying where she was.

What does
safe
mean anyway
? she thought
. Every day is full of risks. Every time you set foot outside, anything can happen.

Gino. On his morning walk.

Gone. Shot. Killed
.

Fucking brutally murdered
.

She tried not to think about it, but unfortunately, she couldn’t stop herself.

Earlier she’d spoken to Chris, who was on his way to the airport in Chicago. After informing her that his contact at face recognition had been unable to come up with a match on the man in the Palm Springs video, he’d added the news that they’d been successful in identifying the Latin man who’d set Bobby up. Chris had a name and a location.

Was it the same man who’d shot Gino?

Was the man a paid assassin who’d been hired to do both jobs?

Lucky shuddered when she thought about what the son of a bitch could’ve done to Bobby. He’d had him in his power, drugged and helpless. Anything could’ve happened.

Instead he’d killed the girl.

She didn’t get it. Why murder the call girl when Bobby had been the obvious target?

“I’ll meet you at LAX,” she’d informed Chris. “I’m coming with you.”

“Not a good idea,” he’d replied. “It’s better that I find out if this is our man, or if he’s simply the hired help. It’s useless for you to waste your time.”

“Shouldn’t I be there when you talk to him?”

“No, Lucky. I’ll keep you informed.”

“You’d better.”

“Don’t worry, I will.”

*   *   *

After dinner the boys started talking about going down to the beach and swimming.

“No way. It’s too dark and creepy,” Lucky pointed out. “Who knows what’s waiting out there in the ocean.”

“Ew, scary!” Gino Junior said, mocking her. “Big freakin’ monsters!”

“Let ’em go,” Lennie said, joining in. “If they drown or get eaten, it’s no big loss.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Leo said with an indignant scowl. “Didn’t know you loved us so much.”

“I’ll go with them,” Bobby volunteered. “I wouldn’t mind taking a swim.”

“I thought you were going home,” Lucky said.

“I was thinking I might stay over,” Bobby responded. “If that’s okay with you.”

“You know it is,” Lucky said, thinking that he and Denver must still be on the outs. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that. Before Denver, Bobby had sampled a slew of girlfriends. Since being with Denver, he’d seemed more centered. Denver was good for him. But trust was a big part of any relationship, and if his girlfriend didn’t trust him …

Bobby jumped up. “Move it, Steven. You’re coming with us.”

“You can count me out,” Steven said, holding up his hand. “I don’t even go in the ocean when it’s bright sunlight, let alone at night.”

“Lennie?” Bobby said.

“Gonna pass.”

“Jeez!” Bobby exclaimed. “What a bunch of chickenshits.” He turned to his brothers. “C’mon, kids, let’s go.”

“I’m no kid,” Gino Junior complained. “I’m sixteen.”

“You’ll always be a kid to me,” Bobby teased. “And we’re goin’ commando—no pants.”

“Cool!” Leo chortled.

“Try not to get your little dick bitten off by a shark,” Lennie joked. “The big ones come out at night, y’know, sniffing out a tasty piece of meat.”

“
Dad!
” Leo groaned. “You’re so lame.”

Then they were off, running through the back of the house to the steps that led down to the beach.

“Maybe we should send one of the guards with them,” Lucky suggested.

“Forget it,” Lennie said. “Bobby’ll watch out for them. Let ’em enjoy themselves. Nothing’s going to happen.”

Gino was enjoying himself when he went out for a walk,
Lucky thought dourly.
Look what happened to him
.

“Okay,” she said, wondering how soon she would hear from Chris.

She was ready for action.

Once again, she was ready to take revenge.

CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

Billy didn’t call. Billy didn’t text. Was Max disappointed?

Yes.

Was she surprised?

No.

It was her own fault for falling back into the trap that was Billy Melina.

At least she hadn’t jumped into bed with him again like some kind of lovesick teenager.

Not that he’d asked. And what was
that
about? He’d acted all into her and major romantic, so how come he hadn’t made a move?

Puzzling. Annoying. What was his deal?

Back at the hotel, she called her mom to check in, and was happy to hear that Bobby was back in L.A. Lucky still had no firm date for Gino’s funeral, so she instructed Max to stay where she was until there was further news.

Okay, then,
Max thought.
I guess I can concentrate on being the new face of Dolcezza
.
Nothing wrong with that
.

Lorenzo had assured her that soon the photos from the press conference would be everywhere and that she would be much in demand for photo spreads in magazines, while journalists would be clamoring for interviews.

Alfredo had informed her through Lorenzo that she was not to do any more press until the actual ads started to run. She’d also been told that coming up there would be full-page ads in all the most glossy and exclusive magazines, and shortly after that she and Carlo would be off to a series of exotic islands, where they would shoot the actual photos for the campaign.

If it hadn’t been for the thought of flying back to L.A. for her grandfather’s funeral, she would have felt a whole lot better. Billy had taken her mind off things for a while, but now her head was full of thoughts about her family and how in spite of her burgeoning career, she wished she were in L.A. with them. Yes, she’d craved her independence, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t miss them.

Lorenzo had spoken on her behalf to Alfredo and the Dolcezza sisters. They’d agreed that when the time came, she could return to America for the funeral, but only for a day or two.

A day or two was better than nothing. And what could they do if she decided to stay longer—kill her?

She giggled at the thought. They couldn’t do anything to her except cancel her contract.

Hmm … that wouldn’t be cool. Although with the announcements and press conference, surely she was safe? It had to be too late to replace her.

She decided to call Athena, whose tweets and Instagrams were out of control. Athena posted at least ten selfies a day of her on various beaches and luxurious yachts where she was lazing in the sun, showing off her butt in the smallest of thongs, flashing her boobs, cavorting with a series of random men and girls. Athena sure loved her bad-girl reputation.

Max picked up her iPhone and actually got through to her.

“Where the flipping hell have
you
been?” Athena demanded. “I text you, you don’t reply. I summon you, you don’t come.
What
is going on? We’re supposed to be having delicious summer fun together.”

“I’m the new Dolcezza girl,” Max blurted.

“
Whaaat?
” Athena exclaimed. “Tell me everything.”

Max explained how it had happened. Athena was silent.

“Right now I’m in freaking
Rome
!” Max said excitedly. “I had a press conference today. It’s been totally crazy. The attention I’m getting is insane.”

“I thought it was shady when you asked me if I’d heard of them. But you never mentioned you were up for the job,” Athena said, sounding a tad frosty. “Why didn’t you tell me? I thought we were besties.”

“We are,” Max replied. “Only I didn’t want to jinx myself, so I didn’t mention it to anyone until it was a done deal, not even my family.”

“Aren’t
you
the secretive one,” Athena said, still sounding cold. “I hope they’re paying you oodles of cash.”

“Uh … I guess so.”

“What do you mean, you guess so? You always were an idiot when it came to business.”

Max did not appreciate being called an idiot by one of her supposed best friends. Shouldn’t Athena be congratulating her, not criticizing?

“I’m working with Carlo,” she said. “He’s taking the photos.”

“Ah, Carlo the stud,” Athena drawled. “Have you done the dirty with him yet?”

“No way,” Max said, frowning. “And even if I wanted to—which I don’t—he’s engaged to Natalia Dolcezza.”

“Oh my God! That see-you-next-Tuesday,” Athena spat. “Natalia’s the jealous cow who turned
me
down.
I
should have been the face of Dolcezza. You knew that, didn’t you?”

“No,” Max said, quite surprised. “You never mentioned anything about it.”

“Yes, sweetie, it should’ve been me,” Athena said grandly. “Anyway,” she added, “I hear they’re dreadful people to work for, so a ton of luck with that.”

Max had been hoping to talk to Athena about Gino and Billy, and everything that was going on in her life, but Athena was in a foul mood and obviously couldn’t wait to get off the phone, telling Max that she had a hot date with a man who owned the biggest yacht in Saint-Tropez, and that he was madly in lust with her, and was anxiously waiting to whisk her away to Sardinia. “See you, dear” were Athena’s parting words.

Realizing that their friendship was probably over, Max experienced a pang of regret. She’d never imagined that Athena—queen of the European “It” girls—would be envious of her good luck. It was a shame, because they’d had so many fun times together. Obviously, Athena did not appreciate competition, and now she, Max, was the competition.

Too bad. Too sad.

*   *   *

“First Capri, then on to Positano,” Carlo informed Max over an espresso on the terrace of an outdoor restaurant near the foot of the Spanish Steps. “Is
bene, s
ì
?”

“Totally, Carlo,” she replied, wondering if anyone had told him that she might have to fly home.

“We leave early tomorrow,” Carlo continued, waving at a passing girl who blew him a kiss.