She almost laughed aloud. Gino Santangelo would never remember her. He would think Steven was a mad man, a mental patient. He would spit in his face.
‘What now?’ she asked quietly.
Steven leaned across and opened the passenger door. ‘I’ll speak to you in a day or so,’ he said brusquely.
Thank you very much. Shall I just put my life on hold while I wait for your next move?
‘Goodnight,’ she said, getting out of Jerry’s car.
He roared off into the night with not a backward glance. He didn’t even bother to see she got into the building safely. So much for love and concern, of which he had once had an abundance. He made her very sad.
She couldn’t sleep, and sat for a while by the window watching night-time shadows and listening to the perpetual whine of the police sirens. Memories invaded her head, and when she did finally fall asleep, it was an uneasy rest.
Susan was no slouch when it came to doing things her way. Within three-quarters of an hour she had phoned April Crawford and pleaded a dreadful migraine; phoned Chasens and ordered a supply of their wonderful chili; applied an understated make-up, and dressed in a simple peach caftan. When Lucky and Costa arrived she was ready.
Gino was also ready. He was delighted to be greeting the daughter he found he had really missed. ‘Kid!’ He threw open his arms.
‘Daddy!’ She fell into them. Too bad if he didn’t like the title, she felt like using it for once.
Susan smiled graciously at Costa. ‘Welcome. Do come in.’
They all trooped into the house. A casual Californian four million dollar mansion. Nothing pretentious.
‘Well, well, well,’ exclaimed Gino, surveying Lucky with a grin. ‘Lookin’ as good as ever.’ He turned to Costa, poked him playfully around the middle. ‘An’ you my friend, gettin’ a little gutty. Too much home cookin’, huh? Too many Miami widows handin’ you somethin’ hot?’
‘Yes,’ Lucky joined in. ‘I’ve been meaning to talk to you about your weight, Costa. They’re turning you into a fatso!’
They all roared with laughter, except Susan, who failed to see the humour in someone not watching their diet. She was meticulous about everything she put into her mouth, which was one of the reasons she had stopped performing fellatio on Gino a month after marrying him. He hadn’t been pleased, but too bad, there was nothing he could do about it.
‘What’ll you have to drink?’ Gino asked, putting one arm around Lucky and the other around Costa as he guided them toward the bar.
‘Pernod on the rocks,’ requested Lucky.
‘Something soft,’ said Costa.
‘Something soft! The story of your life!’ joked Gino, preparing to fix the drinks.
‘Hans will do that, dear,’ intoned Susan smoothly, gliding over.
‘Forget it. I’ll do it,’ replied Gino, already putting chunks of ice in the glasses.
Susan motioned Hans, the houseman, away. Then she turned to Lucky with a pleasant smile. ‘And how are you, my dear? It’s been quite some time.’
Phony broad
, thought Lucky.
You haven’t changed. Still doing your Grace Kelly number.
‘I’m in good shape, Susan.’
Ha! Wait until she hears I’ve married Dimitri Stanislopoulos. She’ll wet her panties!
‘You certainly look very well,’ said Susan. ‘A touch tired, but I expect it’s the time difference. I’m always wretched when I do that trip. Three hours difference may not seem a lot, but believe me—’
‘Hey – Gino,’ Lucky said, ignoring her. ‘You missing Vegas yet?’
He grinned. ‘Are you?’
‘Me? I’ve got a lot of other things to keep me busy.’
‘Like what?’
‘Like Atlantic City. I’m going in, before it’s too late.’
‘You are?’
‘Why not? It’s what I want. And now I’ve got the financing.’
‘Yeh?’
‘Yeh.’
‘Who from?’
‘I’ll tell you later.’
Susan’s smile was fixed. She had no idea what they were talking about. ‘I’ve ordered chili from Chasens, she announced. ‘I do hope you both like chili, but Gino gave me such short notice. I really—’
‘Why can’t you tell me now?’ demanded Gino, following Lucky’s lead and ignoring Susan.
‘Because,’ she replied, ‘it’s a long story.’
‘I got all night.’
Her black eyes gleamed. ‘Why are you so anxious to know? You want to come in with me?’
‘Hey’ – he laughed. ‘I know what your game is. You don’t have all the money, and you want me in for a slice of the action. Right?’
‘Wrong.’
‘Yeh?’
‘Yeh.
I
am finally building
my
hotel. I don’t need any . partners.’
‘And how have you managed that?’
‘Wouldn’t
you
like to know.’
‘I’ll know ’cos you’re gonna tell me.’
‘Yeh? Don’t bet on it.’
They were both smiling broadly, playing games, batting words back and forth just like they used to when things were good and togetherness was the name of the game.
‘Dinner will be here in a minute,’ Susan said stiffly.
‘Did I hear you mention chili?’ Costa asked politely.
‘Yes,’ Susan replied, favouring him with a glance, and not particularly liking what she saw. Why did Gino have to burden her with his dull friends as well as his difficult daughter?
‘Perhaps – if it’s no trouble – I could have something else,’ Costa requested quietly. ‘A can of soup, some eggs.’ He patted his stomach. ‘Chili’s too spicy for me. Doctor’s orders.’
‘I’ll see what I can do,’ Susan said frigidly. Gino and Lucky had moved to the end of the bar and were deep in conversation. Gino was withdrawing from her, she had sensed it for months. Now, seeing him talking to his daughter, so animated and alive, she realized she had better be careful, it was possible she could lose him. And she wasn’t ready for that. Not yet.
Quickly she moved to his side and took his arm proprietorially. ‘Now, Lucky, we want to hear all about what you’ve been doing, dear. Everything.’ Her voice was honey, her tight smile, sugar. ‘You know, this household really misses you. We miss her, Gino, don’t we darling?’
* * *
Gino insisted that dinner be served in the kitchen. ‘It’s chili for crissake. Whatta ’ya wanna make a big deal for?’
So dinner in the kitchen it was, much to the servants’ annoyance. The kitchen was their domain, they did not appreciate being banished.
Susan kept her smile in place all night, but it wasn’t easy. Gino, Lucky and Costa formed a group. All Gino wanted to talk about was the good old New York days, and Costa was the perfect foil, Lucky the perfect listener.
Susan had no desire to hear any of it. The good old days sounded sordid and disgusting.
Halfway through dinner Gemma arrived home with several friends. ‘I thought you were going out,’ she said rudely. ‘And what the hell are you doing in the kitchen?’
Susan delicately patted her lips with a napkin. ‘A change of plans, dear. Gemma, you remember Lucky, don’t you? And this is Costa . . .’ she paused, trying to think of his surname. ‘Zennacot.’
‘Zennocotti,’ Gino corrected.
‘Ah yes,’ Susan said quickly. ‘Zennocotti.’
‘Hi,’ Gemma said, but her heart wasn’t in it. She had hoped to have the house to herself so she and her friends could relax and do a little coke. Now they would have to go elsewhere. She had no intention of sitting around with this over-the-hill group. Sulkily she left the room.
Lucky pushed her half-eaten plate of chili away. She wished that she, Gino and Costa were alone. There was something stifling about Susan. Her glassy smile, and the way she tried to join in. And the house was oppressive, not homey, more like something out of a magazine. And now Gemma, the uptight daughter. Gino seemed so like his old self, surely he didn’t enjoy living with these people?
‘Why don’t you come by the hotel?’ she said to him quietly. ‘I have a surprise for you.’
‘What is it?’
‘Come with me and you shall see,’ she teased.
He didn’t need much persuading. ‘Let’s go.’
Susan was not pleased when they left immediately after dinner. She wanted to accompany them, but Gino said, ‘No, I’ll be right back. You stay here.’
They piled into Lucky’s rented car and raced to the hotel, laughing all the way like kids playing truant.
As she parked the car on Crescent Drive, Lucky thought of the enormity of the surprise she was just about to spring on Gino. She hadn’t even told him she was married. She took a deep breath. He had to be thrilled. What other reaction could he possibly have when he first set eyes on Roberto?
His
grandson.
His
flesh and blood. Oh God! Why did she feel so nervous?
They made their way carefully along the foliage-lined paths to her bungalow. She put the key in the door, opened up and sprung the lights.
‘Where’s my surprise?’ Gino asked genially, looking around.
‘What did you expect? A Ferrari?’ she jested.
‘I kinda thought you’d have my portrait waiting. I always fancied hangin’ on somebody’s wall.’
She laughed softly. ‘Wait!’ she commanded. ‘Fix him a drink, Costa.’
Hurriedly she went in her bedroom, shutting the door behind her. Roberto was asleep in a cot beside her bed. CeeCee was watching television in the other bedroom.
She stared at her baby, her little boy. Sixteen months old and totally sensational.
He slept face down. Santangelo black hair, jet eyes, and long curling lashes.
She loved him so very much. Gino had to feel the same way. He had to.
Gently she picked him up. He was warm and damp and smelled of talcum powder and soap. ‘Roberto’, she whispered. ‘Mommy’s home.’ The child’s eyes flickered open. ‘Hey – this is a really big day’, she crooned. ‘You – my fantastic little boy, are just about to meet your grandpop.’ She hugged him. ‘Now you
are
going to be a good boy, aren’t you?’ Roberto displayed a three-toothed grin. He had the greatest disposition in the world.
She hugged him even tighter. ‘Let’s move it, baby kid’, she said. ‘Let us go and make a good impression.’
Lennie felt like someone had delivered a blow to his stomach.
Pow.
Right in the solar plexis.
Take that you sonofabitch.
For a split second his eyes met Eden’s. She did not nod or indicate in any way that she knew him. She merely turned to the man seated beside her and requested a cigarette. He knew she did it purposely. It was a ‘don’t care’ gesture. A shrug of indifference, as if to say – the rest of the audience might think you’re hot stuff, but frankly, I don’t give a damn.
Thin-faced bitch.
She looked knock-out.
While all these thoughts were churning through his head he maintained a cool exterior. Did not blow a line. Just kept right on doing what he was so good at doing, while the bitch drew on her cigarette, and sipped her wine, and pretended she didn’t know who he was.
She spurred him on. Made him soar. Made him hotter than a whore on pay-day. He went beyond what he had planned and rehearsed. He ad-libbed, played with the audience, ran ten minutes over, and received a tumultuous ovation.
Lennie Golden. Star. If she hadn’t known it before, she knew it now. He leapt off stage, high on adulation and applause, ready to do it all over again.
‘You were senfuckingsational!’ enthused Jess, bright-eyed and filled with delight.
The thunderous applause wouldn’t quit. He went back three or four times to take a bow, until Vitos Felicidade’s theme music cut into the noise, and it was on with the second half of the show.
‘Good Golly Miss Molly,’ raved Jess. ‘You sure gave ’em Great Balls of Fire tonight.’
Everybody was crowding his dressing room. Isaac and Irena, Matt Traynor, Mouth, with her cameras, the ever-present reporter from
Rolling Stone.
He wanted to be alone. Needed just a few moments of peace and quiet. Jess caught the message and emptied the room while he shut himself in the bathroom, stripped off his clothes – and stood under the icy needles of a cold shower.
Eden was here.
Maybe she had come specially. Unlikely, but a thought.
He turned off the shower, wrapped a towel around his waist, and re-entered his dressing room.
Jess sat on the couch hugging her knees and balancing a glass of champagne. She raised the glass in his direction, ‘Salute.’
‘Eden’s here,’ he said. ‘Find out who the fuck she’s with.’
* * *
Vitos Felicidade was gazing straight at her. She knew it, but she refused to react. Since every other female in the audience was swooning with joy she was not about to join the club. She was Olympia Stanislopoulos. And she could have any man she wanted. Any time. Any place.
Unfortunately, after the rather unkempt but adventurous attentions of Flash, Vitos – with his limp-wristed delivery and sickly smile – presented no challenge. But he would do. For now.