As Summer had no idea of where Ricardo Lantis was taking her for dinner, she had dressed neutrally in a pair of black pants and a dark green silk vest. It was conservative for her and she felt a little old, but she didn’t want to be too sexy either. On the dot of eight, a black Bentley convertible came to pick her up. The driver introduced himself as Samuel and politely asked, as it was a warm night, if Summer would like the top of the car down. Summer had grinned but declined the offer, preferring to sit in darkened anonymity as they wound through the streets of London, finally gliding to a stop in a grand residential street in Belgravia.
‘This is Mr Lantis’s house,’ said Samuel, indicating an impressive Georgian house as he opened her door. Rather apprehensive, Summer walked up to the polished black front door and knocked.
An olive-skinned woman of about forty answered. She was too smartly dressed for a housekeeper, thought Summer. She was polished and haughty and a little frightening.
‘I am Dita. Good evening,’ she said, stepping back to allow Summer to enter. The cream walls of the hall were lined with framed photographs of Ricardo in all sorts of exotic
locations – on the ski slopes, on a yacht, driving a sports car – and in each, his arms were around all sorts of glamorous blondes, brunettes and redheads.
‘Would you like a drink?’ asked Dita. She beckoned to a butler who was already pouring a glass of champagne.
‘You must think I am terribly rude,’ smiled Dita, pressing the glass into her hand. ‘I haven’t introduced myself. I am Ricardo’s cousin. I am afraid Ricardo has just called to say he is going to be a little late. Work is his life,’ she sighed. ‘If something needs doing he will not stop until it’s done. Why don’t you go through and meet the others?’
Others?
thought Summer, following Dita into a magnificent drawing room. Beautiful tapestries and art lined the walls and at one end was a walnut bar stocked with expensive-looking liqueurs in decanters. Stretched across the plump ivory sofa were two slim, beautiful girls, who were chatting and drinking from crystal tumblers. A third girl, with waist-length black hair and a backless dress was giggling as she tried to play the black grand piano. They all looked up as Summer entered, but none of the girls seemed surprised to see Summer.
‘Hi. I’m Tasha,’ smiled the prettiest of the three, ‘that’s Rachel and Becki.’ Tasha was about Summer’s age. She had long wavy chestnut hair swept up into a high glossy ponytail and a body that could carry off skin-tight black leather trousers and a fitted white T-shirt that had a diamanté palm tree on the front. For a second Summer wondered if they were Ricardo’s sisters. Or even
daughters
.
‘Are you coming out with us tonight?’ asked Tasha brightly.
‘With Ricardo?’ said Summer cautiously.
‘Sure,’ laughed Tasha. ‘Actually he’s just called, did Dita tell you? We’re meeting him at the club now. There’s no point leaving here for an hour or so, so make yourself comfy and we can all get to know one another.’
Summer was beginning to wonder what she had got herself into.
Sitting in a VIP booth of the Athenaeum, a cavernous basement club made to look like a nineteenth-century opium den, Summer wondered when it would be polite to make a getaway. It was almost midnight. They hadn’t left Ricardo’s house until 10 p.m. and Ricardo himself had only showed up an hour later, when he’d given her ten minutes of chitchat about working late and how fantastic she looked before he had begun to circulate around the rest of the VIP area. Summer wondered how she had managed to get the wrong end of the stick. Suddenly, the loud Euro-pop stopped and the DJ played a cheesy fanfare. A waitress walked towards their table with a jeroboam of Cristal, putting the huge, £5000 bottle of champagne in front of them with a flourish. Summer cringed. She had seen this ritual before at Les Caves du Roy in St Tropez, but on home turf it seemed an even more vulgar display of wealth. Tasha, however, seemed delighted, clapping her hands and holding out her glass as the waitress struggled to open the huge bottle.
‘Are you coming back to the house later?’ she asked Summer, her eyes sparkling.
‘I’m not sure,’ said Summer. ‘Will Ricardo’s cousin be there?’
‘Who?’ asked Tasha.
‘Dita.’
‘Oh, Dita’s not his fucking cousin!’ laughed Tasha, running her hands through her ponytail. ‘She’s his … hmm …’ Tasha paused and frowned, putting her finger to her lips. ‘She’s his fixer.’
‘What, like a concierge?’ asked Summer, taking the drink Tasha offered.
‘Of sorts,’ smiled Tasha a little patronizingly.
Summer looked over at Ricardo sitting squashed in a booth with Rachel on one side, Becki on the other. She noticed that Ricardo had his hand right at the top of Becki’s thigh, her short skirt having ridden up so that Summer could almost see her knickers. Summer felt her cheeks flush, feeling stupid.
‘Dita is a
madam
?’ she said, realizing she sounded like a prude.
‘Easy tiger,’ laughed Tasha. Discreetly she opened a pill box, tipped a small pyramid of coke onto the back of her hand and snorted it. She shook her head, ponytail swishing in the air.
‘Dita isn’t a madam, silly. But she kind of helps Ricardo. I mean, when you’re that successful and rich, you don’t have time to sort out a social life, do you? Think about it.’
‘Well, he found the time to ask me to dinner,’ replied Summer moodily.
‘You’re upset about tonight, aren’t you?’ said Tasha, offering her the pill box. Summer shook her head. She was feeling light-headed enough, drinking on an empty stomach.
‘What did you think tonight was going to be? Hearts and flowers and some candlelit dinner for two?’
Tasha rested her hand on Summer’s knee. ‘I’m sorry, honey, I didn’t mean it to sound that way. Ric obviously likes you, but tonight he wanted to party a little bit. He’s probably had a really hard day. But listen. Stick with him, yeah? He’s so much fun, and so generous. He’s offered to pay for this fashion design course I’ve been desperate to do.’ She lowered her voice. ‘Becki says she heard that if you become one of his favourite girls, he’ll pay for your flat, car, holidays everything. It must be true. At Easter we all went to his chalet in Courcheve which was mental.’
Summer didn’t want to be involved with anything
mental. In fact she had made up her mind to leave, but she felt in a very awkward position. Ricardo was Molly’s friend, after all; she didn’t want to embarrass her mother. Just then, Ricardo came over to her, motioning Tasha out of the way.
‘Drink up, Summer,’ he said, handing her a cocktail. ‘What about another glass?’
She sipped the drink politely, but Ricardo noticed Summer’s reluctant expression. ‘I can see the look on your face and I completely agree with you. It’s dull, here. Dull, dull, dull.’ He clapped his hands together and Rachel, Becki and Tasha, plus a couple of other girls Summer hadn’t noticed before, all stood up, ready to leave.
‘Actually Ricardo, I’ve had a fun evening, but I think it’s time I got going,’ said Summer as they walked towards the entrance.
Ricardo wrapped his arm around her waist and guided her out to the pavement. ‘Come on, honey,’ he urged. ‘The house is only five minutes’ drive away. I have some great cognac.’ He moved closer towards her, out of earshot of the other girls, his manner becoming reassuringly more serious. ‘Don’t you think I wanted a nice dinner tonight, too? I was really looking forward to good food, good conversation, but what can I do when friends come round to the house?’ He looked round at the girls and shrugged. ‘Next time I’m going to tell Dita that she must send them all home.’
Summer wasn’t sure if he was blatantly lying or if he genuinely believed this to be the truth.
Like hell Dita will send them all home. She is the one that invites them in the first place.
‘I’m really sorry, Ric, but I must go,’ she stressed as the Bentley had pulled up at the kerb and Samuel had come round to open the rear door.
‘Five minutes,’ smiled Ricardo. There was something unsettling about Ricardo, but somehow that made him more attractive. She knew she was a little tipsy, but she felt powerless to resist. Summer doubted that anyone ever said no to Ricardo unless he wanted them to.
She got into the back seat, telling herself she would stay twenty minutes and then request that Samuel take her home.
‘You don’t like clubs.’ It wasn’t a question.
She smiled weakly. ‘I think I’ve just had enough of them.’
‘Not like your mother. Now she can party.’
When Ricardo mentioned Molly, there was a definite tone of affection. ‘How about next week, we’ll do something quiet, yes? I’m sorry again for tonight,’ he said, resting his hand lightly on hers. ‘Sometimes you just need to let your hair down, have a few drinks, see some friends. I thought that would be okay with you too, but I was thoughtless.’
‘Let your hair down, that’s what Tasha said you wanted.’
‘She’s knows me well, that one. She’s an old friend. A very talented designer.’
They pulled up outside the house. A couple of lights were on; Summer wondered if Dita was still up. In fact she wondered whether Dita actually lived there. The taxi pulled up simultaneously and five girls piled out, laughing and shouting.
‘Hey, come with us!’ said Tasha, grabbing Summer by the hand and pulling her inside the house, following the other girls up a marble staircase in a clatter of heels to an enormous bathroom
Peering inside, Summer was startled to see that the girls were all in various states of undress. Rachel was in just her bra and knickers and was turning on the jacuzzi, so the sound of gushing water echoed round the room.
‘Ricardo, do you mind if we use the sauna?’ shouted Becki, running in wrapped in a teeny white fluffy robe.
Ricardo walked to the doorway of an adjoining room. He had kicked off his shoes, undone a couple of buttons on his shirt and was holding a tumbler of amber-coloured liquid. ‘Cognac?’ he said to Summer, beckoning her into the room. He handed her a glass and walked into a large closet. Summer sipped the drink cautiously, feeling very uncomfortable standing in what was obviously Ricardo’s bedroom.
What the hell am I doing?
she thought.
‘Shall we go and join the girls? It’s playtime,’ purred Ricardo, returning wearing a white towelling robe.
‘Ricardo, I think … I think I …’ she said, putting a hand on a wall to steady herself. Suddenly she felt dizzy and the room was beginning to swim. She could feel his hands on her arm, leading her towards the spa room. Three girls were now in the jacuzzi. Tasha was naked and Becki was kissing her mouth and breasts, while Rachel was perched on the side of the jacuzzi, snorting a line of cocaine.
It was becoming a nightmare.
‘Ricardo, I need to go home,’ mumbled Summer, finding it difficult to get the words out.
‘Relax, Summer! You might just enjoy yourself,’ laughed Ricardo, rubbing her shoulders.
‘I want to GO!’ she said more forcefully, shrugging off his hand.
He stepped towards her, a smile still plastered on his face, but it was somehow cruel and mean.
‘Well, you know where the door is,’ he spat.
Summer jolted backwards, stumbling on a towel and slamming into the door. She scrambled sideways and made for the stairs, slipping on the marble and twisting her knee, but fear pushed her on through the pain.
‘I never had this problem with your mother,’ yelled
Ricardo after her, as Summer opened the front door and gulped in the night air.
Head pounding, vision blurred, she felt a huge weariness – she just wanted to lie down and rest, but panic was driving her, telling her to get away from the house. She zigzagged down the street, bumping into railings and cars, unable to coordinate her movements. Finally she could see the Berkeley Hotel ahead of her. Surely she could wave down a taxi from there, she thought. A doorman in a grey suit and bowler hat noticed her and put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. ‘Madam, are you alright? Can I do anything to help?’
Summer was summoning the energy to speak, when the hotel’s doors opened and she heard a familiar voice.
‘Summer? What’s wrong? What’s going on?’
She could barely focus now, but she heard the voice again.
‘Okay, Robert, she’s a friend. I’ll take it from here,’ and she felt firm, reassuring hands on her back and she allowed herself to be helped into the expensive leather seat of a large car.
‘Thanks, Adam,’ she managed weakly. ‘I don’t know what’s the matter with me. But I’ve just had the evening from hell.’
When Summer woke up, it was dark and still. For a moment she thought she was dead, until she realized she was lying under a soft blanket on a black leather sofa.
‘Easy does it,’ said Adam softly, handing her a glass of water as she tried to sit up. He was dressed in sweat-pants and a T-shirt and had a bleary, pink-eyed look, as if he’d just woken up himself.
‘Where am I? Have I been asleep?’
‘Don’t worry. You’re at my apartment. I was going to take you straight home but you passed out in the car after
a few minutes. You’ve been asleep for a couple of hours.’
Summer felt a rush of emotions: relief, fear, shame. ‘Urgh, I feel dreadful.’
‘I’m not surprised after spending the evening in the company of that jerk. I think he might have given you Rohypnol.’