Authors: J. Fields Jr.
Stacey’s eyes lit up.
“Absolutely!”
She bopped out the door, ponytail swaying between her shoulder blades.
Shannon
came up beside Antonio and punched him lightly in the arm.
“Liar.
You know
Brandon
won’t be here for at least twenty minutes.”
“Yes, but Stacey will back in less than ten.
I’ve found that when reason doesn’t motivate people to action, deception will suffice in a pinch.
Pardon me while I check on dinner preparations?”
Chef Carl was conducting the placements at the dining table.
Crystal
flutes,
China
, and polished silver were accented by white rose petals.
The salad was being tossed in a chilled bowl, the herbs for the dressing were being mixed by one of Chef’s assistants using a mortar and pestle, and the air was spiced with dill and mustard seed.
Antonio stepped into the adjoining kitchen and spied on the preparations of the baked salmon fillet in cucumber cream sauce, rice and dilled zucchini.
Chef Carlson followed him in.
“When is dinner served?”
“Fifteen minutes.
Possibly twenty.
You’re aware of the nut allergy?”
“It’s too bad; I have a wonderful pecan honey glaze.”
He addressed his culinary team.
“I don’t want the salmon going dry.
Run back and put two more fillets on.”
Looking at Antonio he said, “You haven’t eaten since breakfast.”
Not waiting for a reply he told the departing sous chef, “Make it three.
One goes to Mr. Cruz’s office.”
“Thank you but I’m not convinced I’ll have time to eat it.”
“Make time.
Don’t waste my food.”
Antonio bowed.
“As you wish, Chef.
“Nice bowtie today.
What color is that – egg yolk?”
“
Champagne
.”
“Goes nicely with salmon.”
Antonio quickly complimented everyone and returned to the dining room to find
Shannon
admiring the two-foot ice sculpture of Pegasus in the center of the table draped in crushed velvet.
The crystal chandelier was dimmed, and on opposite sides of the room stood twin antique hutches shimmering with the light of four dozen battery-powered votive candles.
It was a clear evening outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, the quilted treetops little more than rumpled darkness far below, the ripe moon as enticing and bright as a slice of fresh fruit.
Shannon
took a thrilling breath and grabbed Antonio’s hand.
“It’s all perfect.
More beautiful than anything I’ve ever seen done in twenty minutes, and I’m from
Hollywood
.
Look at that moon – gorgeous.”
Antonio nodded.
“I’m not one to brag, but it did take a few phone calls to get that moon scheduled for this evening.”
His BlackBerry buzzed and he answered.
“This is Antonio.”
“This kid’s a prick.”
Antonio excused himself from
Shannon
and stepped a discreet distance away.
“I’m glad everything is going well.
I’m here with Miss Moon now, who is anxiously awaiting his arrival.”
The limo driver grunted.
“She must be on heroin like everybody else in that business.
This walking boner has rolled down his window five times to flirt with girls at stoplights.
I had to take backwoods roads so he would knock it off.”
Antonio suppressed a smile.
“Excellent. When do you anticipate arrival at the casino?”
“If he doesn’t jump out to fuck a deer we’ll be there in fifteen, maybe twenty minutes.
I’m flooring it to stay on schedule.”
“Very good.
Call me when you enter the property.”
“One more thing.
Aside from the slut mobiles, I’d say there’s a least three media vans following me, not to mention an SUV with about ten antennas and a dish on top of it.”
Antonio cringed inwardly, cursing Damien Valentine.
“We’ll be prepared.
Thank you.”
“Let me tell you something else.
If this punk doesn’t tip me I’m grabbing the first television camera I see and I’m telling the world what a first class moron this kid…”
“See you then,” said Antonio, ending the call and turning to
Shannon
.
“
Brandon
is on schedule.
They had to detour for traffic, but he sends his love.”
She inspected his face.
“You’re lying.”
“Guilty,” admitted Antonio.
“Traffic wasn’t that bad.”
She laughed.
“You should have been an actor.”
“Who says that I am not?”
Offering his arm to her, Antonio escorted his young guest into the living room where there was a glass of champagne waiting on a silver tray.
“As I promised, Miss Moon. One glass of Roederer Cristal.”
“If you don’t stop I’m going to kidnap you and take you with me to
L.A.
”
She took a sip as she picked up her cigarette pack.
“Damn.
I’m out.
I think I mentioned it to Max but then I spilled my drink all over his pants.
Could you…”
She stopped talking and instead stared at a gold Cartier cigarette case in the head butler’s outstretched hand.
“Compliments of Max,” said Antonio.
“I believe you’ll find your brand inside.”
Seemingly speechless, she turned the case in her hands.
There was a pink diamond on the side and she pressed it.
The case opened smoothly, like it was taking a breath.
Resting within were twenty perfectly aligned cigarettes behind a knotted pink ribbon.
“Wow.
This pushes back my resolution to quit smoking at least three months.”
She kept staring at the case.
“It’s just beautiful.
How sweet is he?”
She withdrew a cigarette and allowed Antonio to light it for her.
“Max is your protégé, isn’t he?
I can tell he looks up to you.”
“We have spent a considerable amount of time together over the years.”
“So you guys are friends?”
Antonio realized he was answering that question for the second time in the same evening.
“Yes, we are.”
Shannon
clicked the Cartier case closed.
“Do you guys hang-out outside of work?
Go to clubs.
Pick up chicks.
Stuff like that?”
Antonio laughed.
“I work a considerable amount of hours.
I spend my free time in quiet pursuits.”
“Is he married?
He kind of freaked out when he saw me naked.
Only married guys are that twitchy.”
She took another drink of champagne.
“He mentioned a girl.
Trixie, right?”
Antonio watched her casual mannerisms very closely.
“Though I hesitate to delve into such subjects in regards to anyone, whether their acquaintance is of a personal or professional nature, I may make an exception if I were privy as to the reason for your curiosity.”
He arched an eyebrow at her to punctuate his point.
She arched her own eyebrow back at him.
“I can do it pretty good, huh?”
“Very impressive.”
“Oh Antonio,” she sighed, dropping down to the leather sectional and dribbling champagne across her peasant blouse.
“Shit.”
She took Antonio’s offered handkerchief and patted at her breasts.
“Who knows where I come up with half the stuff that comes out of my mouth?
Maybe I’m just nosy.
It’s a
Hollywood
thing.”
“In that case, Miss Moon, I will respectfully decline answering your question.”
“I knew you were going to say that.”
The opaque vases arrived along with a gumless Stacey who was now wearing eye shadow, wet lipstick, and to the surprise of Antonio, no longer wearing a bra beneath her uniform shirt.
Her nipples protruded as if they, too, were anxious to meet
Brandon
.
“Thank you Stacey,” said Antonio. “You may go.
I’ll place these myself.”
Stacey’s eyes searched the room hungrily.
“I’ll do it.”
Antonio took the box of vases from her.
“Have a nice evening, Stacey.”
Shannon
stepped up beside him and took in an eyeful of Stacey’s uniform shirt.
“Gee, does it feel cold in here to you, Antonio?”
Antonio directed Stacey to the door.
“Thank you again.”
As the door firmly closed Shannon said, “
Brandon
brings out the inner slut in the best of them.”
She turned the Cartier case in the light.
“Okay, what if I wanted to know because I thought he was cute?”
Antonio gave the vases to one of the chef’s assistants.
“Then I would inform you that Max is not married.”
“Are him and Trixie serious?”
“That discussion would be better had with Max.
I’m sure you understand.”
“The butler code of silence?”
“Good old fashioned ethics, Miss Moon.”
Antonio answered his BlackBerry.
“This is Antonio.”
The limo driver said, “We’re here.”
“Did you arrive to the casino with your escorts intact?”
“A whole convoy.”
Antonio informed Chef Carlson that dinner would be served in less than ten minutes.
To
Shannon
he asked, “Would you like to accompany me downstairs?”
She fell back onto the couch and pulled the champagne bottle from the ice bucket.
“Antonio,” she said, “there’s not enough umbrellas in the world for what you’re about to see.”
Chap
t
er Twelve
Antonio barely made it into the porte-cochere.
It was like stumbling upon the red carpet at a music awards gala.
More accurately, it was like being trapped on the red carpet during an emergency evacuation of a music awards gala.
The valet port was packed with paparazzi, fans, spectators, innocent bystanders and somewhere, he hoped, security officers.
It was a bobbling mass of teenage heads out of which stuck hands holding picture phones.
Photographers climbed onto the roofs of gridlocked cars.
Behind him a wave of latecomers were attempting to barge their way out of the lobby’s glass doors.
In front of him the frenetic horde of teenage girls raised their cell phones like an offering to the gods and pressed him, the pagan interloper, continuously back from whence he came.
One in particular convulsed against him so lewdly he was afraid someone might see them together.
When a random elbow cracked into his jaw he knew that he must move onward with all haste, or perish.