Poor Little Bitch Girl (24 page)

“Everything’s fine,” he assured her. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“You know why,” she replied, keeping her voice low as she spoke into her cell phone.

“Yes, of course,” he said, clearing his throat. “But surely you must realize that I have to tread slowly?”

Tread slowly? What did
that
mean?

She couldn’t resist getting in a dig. “Muriel said she thought you’d gone jewelry shopping with your wife.”

“Oh, for God’s sake!” he exclaimed. “Please don’t tell me that you actually believed her.”

“I wasn’t sure what to think.”

“You know me better than that.”

“Yes, I do, but when you didn’t come in today . . .”

“Stop speaking nonsense,” he said crossly.

“It’s not nonsense,” she said, holding her phone tightly. “I was concerned.”

There was a brief silence. “Does anybody know we’re talking?” he said at last.

“Excuse me?”

“You didn’t say my name aloud, did you?”

“No.”

“You’re alone in your office?”

“Yes,” she said, slightly puzzled. “And I don’t understand why you’re calling on my cell. How come you didn’t call the office line?”

“Because from now on, everything between us has to remain private.” He cleared his throat again. “There’s no reason for anyone to know anything. I’m cementing our future, Carolyn. Remember that.”

“Does this mean—”

“It means I’m taking care of everything my way, so start trusting me, and stop asking so many questions.”

She experienced yet another shiver of excitement. The man she loved was taking care of everything, which meant that before very long their secret would be out in the open, and everyone would know – including Muriel and her tight-assed, disapproving attitude.

“I do trust you,” she said softly. “But I couldn’t help worrying.”

“I have a surprise for you,” he said.

“You do?”

“Something you deserve.”

Her smile returned with a vengeance. “What is it?” she whispered excitedly.

“Listen to me very carefully,” he said, his voice tense. “Then I want you to follow my instructions to the letter.”

“Sounds mysterious,” she said.

“It’s not mysterious. It’s exactly as I said before, we have to be diligent and tread extremely carefully.”

“I know that, you keep on telling me.”

“Then I hope you’re listening.”

“I am.”

“Okay, Carolyn, please listen once again, for this is exactly what I want you to do . . .”

“I
s it just me or, are the two of them the weirdest fuckin’ couple in the world?” M.J. asked as he and Bobby headed for the meeting with their potential Russian investors, a meeting they were both anticipating would lead to a major expansion of their club business.

“Hey, whatever turns you on,” Bobby answered, still thinking about Zeena.

“Annabelle’s like cold as a fuckin’ ice truck,” M.J. muttered. “Doesn’t she get that her mom’s been freakin’
murdered
? How about showin’ an inch of emotion?”

“She’s always been like that,” Bobby remarked. “Remember high school?”

“Remember an’ regret,” M.J. said, grimacing.

“Regret what?”

“Y’know, that prom-night deal.”

“Nobody was scoring off anyone,” Bobby pointed out. “It was mutual, we were all so out of it.”

“Yeah, but the way I remember it – I’d sooner it never happened.”

“Too late now, ten years later,” Bobby said, reaching for his vibrating cell. He paused for a moment before answering, wondering if it might be Zeena requesting a repeat performance.

Was he even into a repeat performance?

Maybe.

Maybe not.

One thing was for sure – he was definitely confused.

Fortunately, or not so fortunately, it wasn’t Zeena, it was Lucky.

“You’re up early,” he said.

“What else is new?” Lucky replied briskly.

“What can I do for you, Mom?”

“Come back to live in L.A.”

“Huh?”

“Just messing with you,” Lucky said lightly. “But I do have a proposition I think will interest you.”

“You do?”

“Something you’ve been ragging me about.”

“What?” he asked, interest peaking.

“Last night I threw out the sonofabitch who runs the main night-spot at The Keys. He’s been getting sloppy. Yesterday I found out for sure that he’s been running drugs
and
laundering money. Can you believe it?
So
not a brilliant move to do that kind of crap on
my
property.”

“Right.”

“I told the asshole if he didn’t want his balls served up for breakfast along with two fried eggs and a rasher of bacon, he’d better get the fuck out. Instantly.”

Bobby began to laugh. Lucky had such a way with words.

“What did the asshole say?”

“You honestly think I gave him a chance to say anything, Bobby? You know me – I abide by the rules: never fuck with a Santangelo.”

“Oh yeah, Mom, I know the rules.”

“The moron should’ve taken note of my rules,” Lucky said. “He’s gone.”

“Just like that?”

“Yes,” Lucky said firmly. “Just like that.”

“An’ now . . .”

“Now I finally might require your services to take over the club. Something you’ve been begging to do ever since I opened The Keys.”

“Hey – not begging, Mom,” Bobby corrected. “I’m a Santangelo, remember? Santangelos do not beg.”

“Then how about asking?”

“That was a couple of years ago. We’ll be gettin’ off the ground in Miami soon. M.J. an’ me, we got a cool franchise thing in place for
Mood
. We’re meeting with a syndicate of Russian investors this morning, so I’m not sure . . .”

“Yes or no, Bobby?” Lucky said impatiently. “You want in or not? Do not play games with me because we both know who’s gonna end up winning.”

“I gotta talk to M.J.”

“Do it. And if your answer is yes, I’ll expect you here tomorrow to cut a deal.”

“Tomorrow? In Vegas? Isn’t that kinda soon?”

“This is business, Bobby. And this is a one-time offer. Call me back within the hour.”

Then she was gone. Lucky Santangelo. Businesswoman. World-class beauty. Ball-breaker. Unstoppable force of nature. Mom.

“Wassup?” M.J. wanted to know.

“You’re never gonna believe this,” Bobby said, slowly shaking his head.

“Try me.”

“The Keys. If we want to take over the club concession, could be that it’s ours.”

* * *

The Russians were a cagey group of billionaires. Three men, and one of the men’s wives – an older woman with sinister slit eyes, a Botoxed face, bright red lips and a sneering attitude.

The men were all bald with protruding guts, yellow teeth and disagreeable personalities. Bobby hated every one of them on sight. He’d inherited Lucky’s immediate judgment, and Dimitri’s acute business sense.

The Russians proposed a deal so ridiculously one-sided that Bobby and M.J. couldn’t wait to walk out of their over-decorated offices.

“Y’know,” Bobby said as they hit the elevators after the disappointing meeting, “Lucky always told me – when one door closes, another is bound to open. An’ I think we’re lookin’ at an open door all the way to Vegas. What’s your take on it?”

“I think if you can get together on a deal with Lucky, then we’re sure as shit gettin’ on a plane,” M.J. said, full of enthusiasm. “You know me, I love L.A., an’ as for Vegas – yeah, we can definitely make it work.”

Bobby nodded. He’d always wanted Vegas – after all, it was his heritage. Grandfather Gino, along with Bugsy Siegel, was one of the pioneers, way back in the late forties. Gino had built one of the first big Vegas hotels, he’d started his empire in Vegas, and Lucky had followed suit, building two magnificent hotels of her own.

For once Bobby thought about using the Stanislopoulos plane. He didn’t usually take advantage of such a luxurious perk, but it was Vegas, and if using the plane made it easier to get there fast – so be it.

M.J. loved the idea. “Never been on the Stanislopoulos plane,” he remarked.

“That’s ’cause I never use it,” Bobby replied.

“Man, if I had a plane at my disposal . . .”

“It’s a company plane. It’s for the Board of Directors.”

“And you,” M.J. pointed out.

“And Brigette,” Bobby said quickly. “She can use it whenever she wants.”

“How is Brigette?” M.J. asked. “She never comes by the club any more. I miss seein’ her.”

Bobby experienced a twinge of guilt. He’d promised Lucky he’d watch out for Brigette, and yet he hadn’t called her in weeks. Last time he’d spoken to her she’d mentioned something about getting together with someone new. Bobby knew he should’ve followed up the way Lucky would’ve, but what the heck – he had other things on his mind. And Brigette was a big girl – she could look after herself. Or could she?

No. Everyone knew that Brigette attracted losers – they flocked in her direction like ants racing toward a bowl of honey.

“I’m calling Brigette,” Bobby decided. “See if she’s into makin’ the trip with us. Business plus fun. May as well make the most of it.”

“Cool,” M.J. responded. “An’ since we’re takin’ your plane, how about I bring my girlfriend?”

“
What
girlfriend?” Bobby asked with a note of surprise.

“A girl I’ve bin seein’,” M.J. answered casually.

“For real?”

“What?” M.J. quipped. “You think I’m makin’ her up?”

“You’ve never mentioned you’re seein’ someone.”

“You’ve never asked. An’ if you’d turned up at dinner last night you would’ve met her.”

“Who is she?” Bobby asked curiously.

“Someone kinda special,” M.J. replied with a self-satisfied smile. “I think I might’ve finally found The One.”

Bobby raised a cynical eyebrow. “
Now
you’re telling me.”

“Wanted to be sure, man. Nothin’ wrong with that.”

“Bring her,” Bobby said. “I’ll let you know what I think.”

“All due respect, bro, but when it comes to this one – I don’t give a shit
what
you think.”

* * *

“Yes,” Brigette said.

“Yes?” Bobby repeated.

“Why not? It sounds like a fun trip,” Brigette said. “And we haven’t used the plane in ages. I’ll bring Kris.”

“Who’s Kris?”

“My new friend.”

“You’re sure you want to—”

“Yes, Bobby, you’ll get along. I faithfully promise you that Kris is not one of my losers.”

Sure. He’d heard that before. But at least he’d get a chance to judge for himself, and no doubt Lucky would want to meet the new man in Brigette’s life.

So . . . the trip was a go. The plane would be ready to take off at eight a.m. M.J. was bringing his new girlfriend. Brigette was bringing her latest love. And Bobby? Well, Bobby was flying solo.