The Santangelos (6 page)

Calm down,
he told himself.
You’re simply being Mr. Good Guy
.
Nothing’s going on here
.

Once they reached the door of her suite, he once again attempted to say good-bye. Nadia was having none of it. “Please, Bobby,” she pleaded. “Can you come in for a moment and check out the closet and bathroom? I know I sound crazy, but anyone could be hiding.”

“You’re kidding?”

“It was a frightening experience, the thing that happened to me—I fear I’ll never get over it.”

Checking his watch, Bobby realized that it was past eleven. He’d already been gone for half an hour, and if he didn’t get back soon, M.J. would definitely accuse him of getting laid. That’s all he needed.

Tomorrow morning he’d tell Denver what happened, and how innocent it all was. She’d understand; she always did.

Reluctantly, he entered Nadia’s suite, dutifully checking out the bathroom and opening the closet doors. By the time he was finished, she was standing in the living room proffering him a drink.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“Vodka,” she said boldly. “For luck. For love. For the future of our loved ones. And,” she added quietly, “for me to thank you so very much. If my fianc
é
was here, he would thank you too.”

She picked up her own glass and clinked it with his.

One drink. What could it hurt?

CHAPTER EIGHT

Hyton Abbey was Athena’s family’s ancestral home. Located several miles from Windsor Castle, it was a magnificent if somewhat crumbling country estate. Half of the abbey was open to the public on weekends, while the rest of the time Athena’s esteemed parents, Lord and Lady Hyton-Smythe, lived there in solitary splendor. Well, not exactly splendor, because money was extremely tight—currently they were down to employing a measly four servants to take care of the rambling abbey, which boasted fourteen bedrooms, numerous bathrooms, and a couple of random ghosts.

The first time Max visited, she’d had an “encounter,” which had totally freaked her out. She was washing her hands in one of the downstairs powder rooms when she’d sensed someone standing behind her while fingertips played tag on her shoulders. Startled, she’d spun around, only to find that there was no one there. Running from the room, she’d bumped straight into Lord Henry Hyton-Smythe, who’d chuckled when she’d told him what had happened.

“No worries, child,” he’d boomed with a rakish leer. “We have a couple of resident ghosts here. They’ll do you no harm, although I must say, they certainly enjoy frightening our guests.”

Max was speechless. Ghosts! Why hadn’t Athena warned her?

That evening while they were all sitting in the dining room, the entire Hyton-Smythe family had enjoyed a hearty laugh at her expense.

“I wonder if it was Great-aunt Sephora. Or perhaps it was the stable boy,” Athena giggled. “The story is that Sephora stabbed him with a pitchfork back in the eighteen hundreds, and they’ve both been hanging around ever since.”

“I bet it was the stable boy,” Tim, Athena’s brother, intoned, his thin face lighting up. “Nothing he likes better than watching a pretty girl pee!”

Lady Harriet Hyton-Smythe roused herself from a half-drunken stupor, her dangly silver earrings clinking below her droopy earlobes. “Stop being so disgusting,” she slurred. “Max is a guest in our home.”

Athena was totally into spending weekends at the abbey with her family. They were an eccentric group—her brother, Tim, was a cross-dresser who refused to admit he was gay. Lady Harriet started drinking in the morning and was never finished until she slumped her way up to bed past midnight. Lord Henry spent most of his time checking out his gun collection, going hunting with his cronies, and ogling the prettiest tourists who visited to take the tour.

Sometimes Max considered not going with Athena for the weekend, instead opting to hang out by herself in the flat they shared in Kensington. But Athena always managed to persuade her to go. The Hyton-Smythes were the closest thing to family Max had in London, so why not spend time with them?

Once a week she called home. No more than once a week, because she didn’t want her parents thinking of her as being clingy. Lucky was okay with it. Lennie complained that he’d like to hear from her more often.

Her parents had better get used to it, for she was an independent being, not some little girl constantly whining that she was lonely. Although the truth was that sometimes she
was
lonely. Athena’s lifestyle was totally out there, and even though Max tried to keep up, at times it was all too much. Early on, Max had decided to stick it out until she made a real name for herself. Only then would she return to L.A.

Half of Hyton Abbey’s extensive grounds were kept in pristine order. The lawns were picture-perfect green and neatly mowed, the numerous rosebushes and banks of colorful flowers blossomed. Tall, stately trees adorned the property. This was all on the public side of Hyton. Behind the scenes, where paying visitors were not allowed to venture, it was a vastly different story. Overgrown, unkempt grass scattered with fast-growing weeds; a stagnant pond filled with water, a slick of green slime floating on the surface; old pool furniture rusting beside an empty, leaf-filled swimming pool.

Whenever the London sun came out—which was rare—Athena and Max laid threadbare crested towels over the rusting pool furniture and sunbathed. Today was one of those days.

“I should have taken advantage of the free drugs last night,” Athena ruminated. “Such a damn waste not to.”

“Why didn’t you?” Max responded, adjusting her bikini top.

“’Cause
you
ran away, you rotten spoilsport,” Athena complained, yanking the top half of her bikini off and throwing it on the ground. “Don’t you simply hate feeling confined?”

“I’ve noticed that you do. Tits on display whenever you feel like it.”

“You should take your top off too,” Athena suggested. “Free up those luscious boobies.”

“No way,” Max said, trying not to stare at Athena’s outrageous nipples attached to her almost flat chest.

“Why not?”

“’Cause your dad might appear. I didn’t want to mention it before, but he has a weird habit of creeping up on me.”

Athena hooted with laughter. “That old fart,” she said derisively. “Henry couldn’t get it up if you ran naked into his bedroom. Dear Daddy’s all talk and no action.”

“Good to know,” Max said crisply. “But I have no intention of going anywhere near his bedroom.”

“Ha-ha! Mummy and Daddy haven’t had sex in yonks,” Athena giggled. “I think I was their last hurrah. Mummy told me on one of our spa days. She couldn’t wait to inform me that Daddy’s dinky is no bigger than his pinky!”

“
Oh my God!
Too much info,” Max exclaimed, flashing onto her family’s Malibu house with its azure pool overlooking the blue Pacific Ocean. She wouldn’t mind being there right now.

Athena rose up, stretching her long lean frame, nipples still erect. “I think I’ve decided where we’ll go,” she announced with a grand gesture.

“Where?” asked Max, trying to stop herself from thinking about Billy, because Malibu was where it had all happened. Memories came flooding back. One night she’d thrown a wild party that had gotten so out of control, she’d escaped to the beach below the house, and that’s where Billy had found her, and that’s where they’d made love for the first time.

Oh, Billy. What happened? Why haven’t I heard from you?

“You’re not concentrating,” Athena admonished.

“Huh?”

“I just told you, silly goat. We’re staying at a friend’s house in Saint-Trop.”

“When?”

“We’ll take off tomorrow. Tim knows someone with a plane we can borrow. Commercial is
so
yesterday.”

“I can’t,” Max said. “I have that jeans shoot.”

“Blow it off. Something else will come along.”

“I’m not you, Athena,” Max was quick to point out. “I don’t book jobs like the jeans campaign every day. This is important to me.”

Athena raised a quizzical eyebrow. “Surely you’re not saying no to a divine trip to Saint-Trop?”

“Seems like I am.”

“Oh dear me. I think it’s time you got your priorities in order, Sweet Eyes.”

“They
are
in order,” Max said firmly. “I’m staying here and doing the shoot. It’s a commitment.”

“Well,
I’m
going to Saint-Trop,” Athena said with an entitled pout.

“That’s great. I’ll join you.”

“When?” Athena said, throwing Max a penetrating look.

“Uh, I don’t know exactly. Probably the next day or so.”

“Hmm … well, I suppose I could wait.…”

“You don’t have to,” Max said quickly, thinking that there were times Athena could be a little clingy, and a few days apart might be a welcome change. “I’ll make my own way there.”

“Whatever,” Athena said, crossing her arms across her small breasts.

Later there was dinner with the family, a home-cooked meal of leg of lamb, peas, gravy, and roast potatoes. After dinner, Tim drove Athena and Max back to their flat. He was an erratic driver. Max refused to sit in the passenger seat, especially as he was smoking a joint.

“Frightened that I’ll pounce on you like old Henry?” Tim teased.

“Do you tell your brother everything?” Max demanded, turning to Athena.

“Tim is my closest confidant,” Athena said, plucking the joint from Tim and taking a long deep drag. “He knows how to use information,” she added, offering the joint to Max.

Max turned it down. Not that she was into being all goody-goody, but she’d decided not to smoke or drink before the shoot.

Outside their flat, a couple of paparazzi were camped out on the steps, hoping for a weekend sighting.

“Bloody pests,” Tim growled, hopping out of the car and immediately mooning them.

“That’ll go down well with the old folks,” Athena observed as cameras flashed, catching his naked white bottom. Then, grabbing Max, she planted a kiss full on her mouth.

The two photographers leaped into action, thrilled to be earning next month’s rent.

Max wiped her hand across her mouth. They both played at being lesbians for the press, only there were times Athena took it a step too far.

“You coming?” Athena called out to Tim.

“No. Just breathing heavily,” he said with a wolfish grin.

“For God’s sake!” Athena snapped. “You’re such a juvenile.”

Following them upstairs, Tim headed straight to Athena’s closet, where he began trying on her clothes, then parading around their flat, wobbling on dangerously high heels.

“Are you
really
gay or just playing?” Max inquired curiously.

“Gay?” Tim questioned, raising a shocked eyebrow. “Why would you think that?”

“’Cause you’re always dressing up in our clothes,” she stated, cocking her head to one side. “Can’t you just come out and admit it?”

“No, my dear, because I am certainly
not
gay,” Tim said, narrowing his eyes. “So there.”

“I’ve never seen you with a girl,” Max accused.

“Or a boy,” Athena said, joining in.

“You two lezzies need a thorough spanking,” Tim said, quite peeved.

“Oh yes,” Athena said with a wild giggle. “And wouldn’t we love
that
.”

Unzipping himself out of Athena’s Valentino dress, Tim unceremoniously dropped it on the floor. “I’ve had enough,” he said, glaring at them. “Good night, ladies—and trust me, I use the word
ladies
loosely.”

“Bye-bye, baby bro,” Athena crowed. “See you tomorrow.”

For a moment Max missed her half brother, Bobby—along with Gino Junior and even Leo. Bobby was such a major fox. She wondered what he was up to and if he was still with Denver. She decided that come morning, she would definitely phone him and catch up on everything.

“Time for beddy byes,” Athena announced. “I’m
totally
exhausted.”

“Me too,” Max agreed, although once in her room, she couldn’t sleep. After half an hour of tossing and turning, she finally grabbed her laptop and googled Billy. She knew she shouldn’t submit to such torture, but why not? The only person she was hurting was herself.

There were a few new photos, nothing of interest. Billy standing by the ocean looking beached-blond and tousled and so freaking
hot
!

Too bad.

Yes. Too bad for him. They would’ve made a great couple.

After a while, she decided to call Cookie, her best girlfriend in L.A. Maybe Cookie would have some more up-to-date news about Billy.

“I got an amazeballs new boyfriend,” Cookie announced. “He’s a rapper. Dad hates him.”

“A name might help.”

Cookie stifled a giggle. “Taste Shit.”

“Nice.”

“The dude is cutting-edge. Harry is
way
into him.”

“How
is
Harry?” Max inquired, thinking about her other best friend in L.A.

“Gettin’ gayer by the day.”

“I miss both of you,” Max said wistfully. “And I miss L.A.”

“Come home, then,” Cookie urged.

“Yeah, maybe soon.” After a long meaningful beat, she asked, “Any news on Billy?”

“Oh crap, you’re not still thinkin’ of
him
, are you? He’s just another actor. They’re all the same: chasing supermodels, making dumb action movies, and getting high.”

“Is Billy chasing a supermodel?” she asked, filled with alarm.

“Face it, babe, as far as Billy and you are concerned, it’s over. You gotta move on.”

“I have.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Max clicked off her phone, depressed. Eventually, she fell asleep, Billy’s image firmly embedded in her head.

CHAPTER NINE

Denver was not into Hollywood parties. She found them to be boring and pretentious. Nobody ever seemed to have anything intelligent to say—it was all about movie grosses and endless mindless gossip.

Annabelle fit right in. As the wife of Eddie Falcon, one of the most powerful agents in town, she had finally found her place in the Hollywood hierarchy. A former redhead, Annabelle was now blond and bodacious. She was the daughter of two movie stars, one of them deceased—shot to death in her bed, some said by Annabelle’s father, Ralph Maestro. Nothing was ever proven.