Ah . . . the aura of a rock star. Not for them the ordinary entrance. They like attention, people, and plenty of noise. Flash was no exception. He was dressed in black leather and flowing – if ragged-looking – white silk scarves. His hair was long and dyed a very stern black (grey was not a colour rock stars cultivated). He wore the customary gold hoop earring – only one, and his teeth looked worse than ever.
Olympia took one peek and her heart gave a little leap.
Flash paused at the entrance to the discotheque just long enough to let the peasants know he was honouring them with his presence.
The disc-jockey – no slouch in the
I can recognize a celebrity at twenty feet
stakes, immediately abandoned the Pointer Sisters, and slyly changed over to Flash’s most famous hit, ‘Raunchy Lady’ – written in the mid-sixties when he was living with a former nun.
‘Flash!’ exclaimed Olympia.
But she was not alone. Half the females in the club breathed an excited ‘Flash!’
‘Yeah – yeah – yeah – there’s my man!’ recited the Cockney dress manufacturer – who would sooner have been a full-time drug dealer any day. And he pocketed Olympia’s money and raced toward his hero, who he knew would spend – spend – spend!
Olympia frowned. Flash was not alone. He had a blonde on one arm, and a brunette on the other. Both jet-set groupies whom Olympia knew and loathed. No wife in sight.
She stuck out her chest (Flash was a tit man) and made her way over to his table. ‘Well!’ she steamed. ‘We meet again.’
His eyes were bloodshot and wary as he squinted up at her.
‘Ello darlin’,’ he mumbled at last, not sure who she was for a moment.
‘How’s married life?’ she demanded sarcastically. ‘Miserable I hope.’
‘Cor blimey! It’s you! Tubs!’ he cackled. ‘Put on a pound or two ’ave we?’
Automatically she pulled her stomach in. ‘Trust you to be rude,’ she spat.
‘You
look like the walking dead.’
‘Hello, Olympia,’ said the blonde, clinging to Flash’s arm as if he was a lifeboat.
Olympia favoured her with a cursory nod.
The brunette, taking care of his other arm, said nothing. She had spotted her reflection in a mirrored wall and was admiring her own sultry beauty.
‘Thought you was gonna be ’ere sooner than this,’ remarked Flash cheerily. ‘Thought we was gonna go on yer old man’s fishin’ boat.’
‘You missed the boat,’ said Olympia grandly. ‘My husband and I are on it.’
‘Yer sound like the bloomin’ Queen!’ cackled Flash.
‘Where’s teenage wifey?’ asked Olympia, her bosom straining the silk of a red Givenchy creation.
‘Leave it out, babe,’ said Flash easily. ‘I don’t like to be reminded.’
‘You
have
got one, haven’t you?’ she questioned insistently.
‘Yeah. An’ now you’ve got an’ old man, so we’re even. Right?’
‘Let’s dance, Flash,’ begged the blonde, tripping dainty scarlet fingernails up his leather-clad thigh.
‘Not ’ere, luv,’ he replied in a
don’t you know Rock Stars do not put on shows in public places unless they are getting paid
voice.
‘Where then?’ she replied logically.
‘Wanna score, Flash?’ asked the Cockney dress manufacturer, overcome with joy at being close to his hero. ‘It’s on the house.’ He tried to elbow Olympia out of the way, but she stood her ground.
Flash got up. ‘If it’s free, it’s for me. ’Scuse us chicks, we’re gonna see a man about a dog.’ He put his arm expansively around his new friend who almost hyperventilated with excitement, and the two of them repaired to the men’s room.
‘Shit!’ said Olympia.
Across the room Lennie watched it all. And he didn’t care. Why should he? Soon he and Miss Stanislopoulos would be just a memory. The sooner the better.
The first thing Lucky did when she arrived back in New York was call Gino. ‘I’ve got a surprise for you, kid,’ he told her. ‘Be at The Pierre by five-thirty.’
The second thing she did was call her lawyers about the land deal in Atlantic City. It was a go situation, a few signatures and the piece of real estate she had been after was hers.
She was excited. Now the fun would start. Creating a hotel from the ground up was a challenging, exhausting but ultimately rewarding job. She should know, she had done it once with the Magiriano.
Ah . . . but the work!
She was ready. She had been idle too long. To immerse herself fully in the project was just what she needed. It would take her mind off Dimitri and his hardly subtle affair. And stop her thinking about Lennie – who was
definitely
off limits. Now she was away from the yacht and could look at things clearly, becoming involved with Lennie was sheer madness. He was married to Olympia – reason enough to stay away from him. But he was also more than a one-night stand – she had a feeling he was the man who could make her forget Marco . . .
And what if he could?
No thank you.
She did not want that kind of involvement ever again. It was just too painful. The best thing she could do was forget Lennie Golden. Which is exactly what she intended.
Three hours later she arrived at The Pierre. The last time she had visited Gino in his favourite suite at the New York hotel was the night her brother, Dario, was brutally grinned down in the street.
In the elevator a man in a dark grey suit asked her if she was a model. She gave him a long cool look. Raked him from head to toe. ‘No,’ she said slowly. ‘Are you?’
This confused him. He was fifty-two years old with teenage children. Where did
she
get off asking him if he was a model? Goddamn nerve. He got out of the elevator on the fourth floor without another word.
Gino greeted her with a hug and a wink. ‘Just like old times, huh?’ he grinned. ‘Look who I got for you.’
‘Uncle Costa!’ she exclaimed in delight. ‘What are
you
doing here?’
While they embraced, Costa explained how persuasive Gino could be. ‘A visit to the big city is not such a bad idea,’ he allowed. ‘And how could I resist seeing you?’
She laughed happily. ‘Uncle Costa, you’re a
wonderful surprise.
’
There was more to come. Gino had arranged dinner with old friends in an Italian family restaurant in Queens. Present were Aldo and Barbara Dinunzio – she, a frail little woman, and he, as fat and contented as a lazy cat. Then there were their grown children, and the children’s various spouses; plus a smattering of grandchildren. Altogether sixteen people sat around the table drinking cheap red wine, enjoying delicious pasta which Barbara had personally supervised in the restaurant kitchen (the place was owned by her cousin) and finishing off with Gino’s favourite ice cream.
Lucky hadn’t seen these people in years, nor had Gino, but the warmth and joy at the table was contagious.
‘I can’t wait until you meet my son, Roberto,’ Lucky told Barbara proudly. ‘He’s gorgeous, eighteen months old and totally gorgeous! Just
wait
until you see him!’
The old woman, who had known and loved Lucky’s mother many years before, clutched Lucky by the hand and squeezed tightly. ‘Maria should be here today’, she said regretfully. ‘She was a beauty. A gentle sweetheart. We all miss her still.’
‘Hey,’ interrupted GinO, as he noticed Lucky’s expression. ‘We’ll talk about the present, not the past. When you get a peek at Roberto, you’ll see a true Santangelo. He looks just like me.’
Lucky swept away the sad memories and grinned. She liked to hear her father boast about Roberto.
‘He’s got my eyes, my hair,’ Gino continued. ‘Right, Lucky? Right, kid?’
She fingered the panther pin he had given her – she had worn it ever since her birthday, while Dimitri’s diamonds languished in a safe. ‘Yes, Daddy,’ she replied softly. ‘Just like you.’
* * *
Later, on the drive back to the hotel, Gino said, ‘You wanna come up for a nightcap, kid?’
She couldn’t think of anything she’d like better.
After Costa had retired to his room, they ordered Brandy Alexanders and sat together on the comfortable couch in the living room of Gino’s suite.
‘This is nice,’ he said. ‘We gotta get around to doin’ it more often.’
She nodded her agreement, and tentatively touched his arm. ‘You know earlier, when Barbara was talking about Maria . . . my mother . . .’ She trailed off, her voice filled with emotion.
Gino picked up the message. ‘We never talked about it, huh, kid?’
She shook her head and whispered. ‘Never.’
He got up and walked to the window. Then he turned and stared at her. ‘Your mother was the kindest and most beautiful woman in the world,’ he said gruffly. ‘She loved you an’ me an’ your brother. She loved us all too much. When they laid a hit on Maria they cut out my heart. Y’know what I’m sayin’, kid?’
This was Gino’s explanation for all the years of running away from his children. Putting them in charge of nannies, and guardians and boarding schools. He had always figured if he didn’t love them too much, he would never lose them.
Wrong.
But it was over now.
She arose from the couch, went to her father and hugged him tightly. ‘Tell me about Mommy. I want to know everything. Please. Make her a part of my life again.’
Gino needed no further urging. He had bottled up his feelings for years, and the joy of finally talking about Maria and the happy times, was wonderful.
The hours sped by and it was almost dawn when Lucky left the hotel. She felt light-headed and very very happy. Since she was five years old her mother had been missing from her life. Now she felt she really knew her. Gino had handed over priceless memories. Maria might be gone, but she was certainly not forgotten.
* * *
‘Welcome home to the City of Angels,’ Jess said formally. She met Lennie at LAX with a limousine and a travel representative who whisked him through customs as if they didn’t exist.
‘Nice being a star, huh?’ she asked, as they settled into the back of the limo. ‘Was your trip okay?’
‘I think I’m in love,’ he said, reaching for a sweet roll and a glass of orange juice. It was a well-stocked limo.
‘Hmmm,’ replied Jess briskly. ‘A usual reaction when returning from one’s honeymoon.’
‘Not with Olympia, schmuck.’
‘Oh, I see. You’re
not
in love with your wife, and that makes
me
a schmuck. So what else is new, Mr Charm?’
He fumbled for a cigarette and grinned disarmingly. ‘Don’t get mad at me. I need comfort and advice.’
‘Not that you’ll take it.’
‘How well you know me.’ He reached forward and switched on the built-in TV. ‘You’re never gonna believe me, but I met the one and only lady I think I can spend the rest of my life with.’
‘Don’t tell me,’ Jess said dramatically. ‘Eden snuck onto the yacht and whisked you right out from under the Greek Princess’s cute little nose.’
‘Eden!’ he laughed derisively. ‘Who’s
she?’
Jess sighed. ‘The love of your life. Remember?’
‘Didn’t I tell you? I’m just about to start a new life.’
‘With or without the Greek Princess?’ She paused meaningfully. ‘Remember her?
She’s the
one you just got married to.’
‘Can I get it annulled?’ he asked hopefully.
‘Did you sleep with her?’
‘Of course I did.’
‘Then unless she wants to say you didn’t, I don’t think you have a chance in hell.’
He changed channels on the TV and reached for another sweet roll.
‘True love does not seem to have diminished your appetite,’ Jess remarked dryly.
‘I’m nervous.’
‘Of
The Tonight Show?
I can’t wait to hear your new material. Isaac’s coming over to the apartment later – I thought you might want to run it by us.’
‘No new material.’
‘Whaaat?’
He wolfed the roll, oblivious to her consternation. ‘You don’t seem to understand,’ he explained gravely. ‘I want
out
of my marriage – it’s over – finito – kaput. How you ever let me do it I’ll never know. You must have—’
‘Hang
on
a moment,’ she spluttered indignantly. ‘How
I
ever let you do it? I went to bed – you were getting laid. I woke up – you were married. I was not exactly around to stop you.’
He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. ‘I love you, Jess. How’s everything with you? Did you and Matt ever get together? What’s been happenin’ in L.A.?’
She glared at him. ‘You’re strange, you know that?’
‘Secret of my success.’
They fell into silence. Sometimes Jess thought she knew Lennie better than anyone in the world. At others, she felt she didn’t know him at all. He had asked about Matt. But did he really care? Not at all. It didn’t matter. There was nothing to tell anyway. Matt treated her like a sister – she no longer cast a spell on him. Her last night in Vegas she had spent with an old boyfriend. Boring. Boring.