The Golden Girl (12 page)

“Too late.”

CeCe was charging straight at them, her perfectly coiffed brown hair not even moving a strand. Sixty, she was dressed in a dignified Oscar de la Renta red gown—befitting the start of the holiday season—and plenty of diamonds.

“Think she has enough bling-bling?” John whispered just as she reached them and stuck out her hand.

“Madison Taylor-Pruitt…congratulations on the CEO announcement. You’re a mover and a shaker, that’s for sure.”

“Thank you, CeCe.”

“So tell me, how is your father holding up?”

“Holding up?”

“I hear a grand jury may be convened as early as next week.”

“My father isn’t the sort to worry about maybes and innuendo, CeCe. He’s far too busy for that. And you can quote me on that.”

Madison smiled, but made sure her eyes were cold and unfriendly. She took John’s hand and moved along without saying goodbye.

“Man…”

“What?”

“Now I know why you run that company of yours—you’re not somebody to mess with. I sure hope you never look at
me
the way you looked at CeCe Goldberg.”

“That old battle-ax? CeCe thrives on scandal, and on making people cry on camera. You learn really fast not to give people like that an opening.”

“And I thought the mean streets were tough.”

Madison stood on tiptoe and pecked him on the cheek. “We are from two different worlds of toughness. I’m glad I have you to be…myself with. We don’t have to be tough with each other.”

The two of them continued to “work the room,” as Madison called it. They even greeted Jane Kimball, the second-in-command at the CIA. Madison knew her from a Democratic Party fund-raiser she’d attended over the summer. Jane was utterly brilliant, and one of a new wave of CIA who was fluent in Arabic—and Swahili. She was an army brat who’d lived all over the world. Madison felt a special kinship with the woman now that she herself was an agent working for the United States government. Of course, Kimball didn’t know that…or did she? Madison mused.

Madison also saw several acquaintances from the Gotham Roses. They were all assigned to Renee’s table. Before John and Madison could make their way there for the first course, though, Madison saw, with dread, that Fluffy Peters was making her way toward them.

“Oh, no…”

“What?”

“See this woman heading straight toward us?”

“The older woman in the tiara?”

“Yeah.”

“Isn’t a tiara a bit much?”

“Not for Fluffy.”

“That’s a cat’s name.”

“It’s also the name of the most vicious Palm Beach socialite of them all. She winters down there, but unfortunately doesn’t leave until December 10 every year, just so she can make the first round of Christmas balls in NewYork. Brace yourself.”

Fluffy, her skin so stretched from plastic surgery that no emotion registered on her face, thrust out her hand.

“Madison,
dah
ling,” she said, accentuating her syllables in an affected form of speech.

“Fluffy.” Madison smiled.

“You look smashing, dear. Simply smashing.”

“Thank you, Fluffy.”

“And who is your gentleman friend?”

“May I introduce John Hernandez.” Madison patted his arm in a gesture of affection.

“
Ohhhhh,
how lovely. Of the Palm Beach Hernandezes? I know them quite well.”

“No, ma’am.”

“Well, then where? Where would I know you from? The Puerto Rican sugar family? I met some of them last winter at the Breakers in West Palm. We were both there for a wedding.”

“No. I’m actually from New York.”

“New York? There are no Hernandezes in the social registry from New York that I know of.”

“He’s not in the social registry, Fluffy dear…Do tell, who designed your dress?”

Fluffy looked down, as if she couldn’t remember what gown she had worn. “Oh…this? Carolina Herrera…I’m always loyal to Carolina. Now, go back. Where do you know each other from?”

“He’s a schoolteacher, Fluffy. I met him through my work with the Gotham Roses.”

“Oh…” She managed a wan smile, though not a single crease appeared on her Botoxed brow. “I see…I misunderstood that he was associated with your charity. I thought he was your date.”

Madison decided she had had quite enough of Fluffy Peters.

“He
is,
darling. Why, we’re
ever
so serious. In fact, my father can’t wait to meet him. And if I could tell you the way this man drives me wild in bed…but, really, we must be getting to our table.”

Madison linked her elbow through John’s arm and giggled as they walked through the crowded ballroom.

“You are really naughty, Madison. Why would you do that to that poor old woman?”

“That pompous old snob? She deserved it. You can’t ever use the word
poor
associated with Fluffy. Trust me.”

Madison expertly steered them to their table—set for twelve—all Gotham Roses and their dates—including Ashley, accompanied by a male-model friend of hers she knew from
Chic.

Madison sat next to Ashley and introduced her to John. Ashley introduced her date, who went by the one-name moniker Tryce.

“Nice to meet you, John.” Ashley smiled as handshakes were exchanged. She was wearing a Richard Tyler gown in a rich chocolate brown, and her hair was set in pin curls, like an old-fashioned flapper.

“Your hair looks great, Ash,” Madison offered.

“You like it?”

Madison nodded. “It’s so different. Bet you anything you’re copied, and at the next function a half-dozen women do their hair like yours.” It wouldn’t be the first time Ashley set off a chain reaction with her sense of style.

Their waiter came over and Madison placed her drink order—champagne. While John was ordering his drink—a cold Heineken—Ashley whispered in Madison’s ear, “Forget what I said about slumming it. He’s delicious. Positively edible.”

Soon, their table was full, and Renee had joined them. Madison was amazed at how she greeted those at her table, not revealing in the slightest that she was anything more than the woman behind a charitable organization—certainly not a woman with a veritable mini-Quantico beneath her town home. She smiled at Madison warmly, not a single look or even a blink letting on that they were up to their necks in a dangerous case, or that Madison and Troy had nearly met their end in the Caymans.

Renee’s “date” was her daughter, Haley. A pretty, blond high-schooler, she often accompanied her mother since Preston was sent to prison. Renee had once expressed to Madison that she worried for her daughter and wanted to be there for her in her father’s absence. That included never scheduling more than two evenings out in the same week. During the busy social season, that was difficult, but Renee’s savvy solution was to take Haley along and introduce her to the cream of society, letting Haley meet dignitaries and politicians. Consequently, Haley was as poised as any adult in the room.

The evening progressed happily. At one point, though, when Madison went to the ladies room, Princess Chloe St. John—another Rose, and an agent—accompanied her. When they were out in the hallway, Chloe, her thick blond hair in an updo, and wearing a stunning Richard Tyler off-the-shoulder amber silk chiffon gown, took her by the elbow.

“Madison? Just wondering…any sign that the Duke may be involved in your case?”

Madison shook her head. “I don’t think so. This seems personal in some way.”

“Trust me, though, it wouldn’t be unlike him to make things personal if he thinks you’re close to Renee. Promise you’ll be careful.”

Madison nodded and the two of them went to powder their noses, appearing to all others like two former debs all grown up. They made their way back to the table, Madison still marveling at how seamlessly agents pretended as if they were nothing more than heiresses.

After dinner, Senator Richardson gave a speech outlining her plans for social security legislation, the environment, and highway initiatives, as well as a sweeping pronouncement about free speech and patriotism that sounded remarkably like a presidential stump speech. Ashley noted that the senator’s voice was firm and passionate, and she was wearing a black vintage Valentino gown as fashionable as anything on any of the twenty-somethings. She was completely telegenic. Dessert—a beautiful white cake with an apricot and custard filling and edible flowers on the top—was served, and dancing began.

John asked Madison to dance to a slow song. On the dance floor, he whispered in her ear, “I’ve been a very good boy, but I really want to tear that dress off you. Can we go soon?”

“Mmm,” Madison murmured. “You have been a good boy. I can’t believe I was worried about how you would deal with all this nonsense. You’re an old pro. You sure you’re not one of the Palm Beach Hernandezes?”

He laughed out loud and twirled her around.

“I’m the envy of every guy here.”

“No…I think the ladies at our table are quite taken with
you.
They’ll be asking you to fix them up with your friends if you don’t watch it.”

“Sure…and you know, I could just see Fluffy Peters on the back of a Harley.”

At that thought, Madison laughed. Then Ryan Greene came up to the two of them as the song ended.

“Hi, Madison…you going to introduce me to your mystery date?”

“Ryan, this is John Hernandez.
Not
of the Palm Beach Hernandezes.”

John laughed at their inside joke, and he shook hands with Ryan. Madison asked, “Where’s your date?”

“Knowing Charlotte West, I’d guess she’s in the bathroom checking her lipstick for the five-hundredth time this evening.”

“Sounds like Charlotte.”

The band started playing a song by Anita Baker, and a woman whose voice uncannily resembled Baker’s was singing.

“Mind if I dance with your date?” Ryan asked John.

“It’s up to her,” John teased.

Madison nodded and kissed John on the cheek as Ryan took her hand and led her into the middle of the dance floor.

“Seems like a nice guy.”

“He is.”

“Doesn’t look like one of us.”

“Why do you say that?”

“The small diamond stud in his left ear. Hair a little too long. Cut of the tuxedo…too buff for Wall Street.”

“God, you’re observant.”

“Just where you’re concerned.”

“Why?”

“Come on…you can have your fling with stud boy over there, but after a while, what are you going to talk about? With me, God, we can talk deals and mergers and acquisitions and all the things that make the hearts of people like us really race.”

He dipped her ever so slightly and looked her in the eye. Then they resumed their dance.

Madison smiled ruefully. “You know, Ryan, there was a time I would have thought you were right. And I don’t think I’ll ever lose my killer instinct in the boardroom. But I realize there’s more to me than mergers and acquisitions and land deals. And for some reason, he’s the guy who makes my heart race.”

“You and I, we’re destiny, Maddie. Trust me.” He winked at her. They continued dancing. Madison knew he saw
her
as an acquisition and merger he couldn’t have. But that was better than
really
hurting him. He was a friend.

When their song ended, she went and sought out John, who was being “chatted up” by CeCe. He was tight-lipped and looked relieved when Maddie came to get him.

“Come on, John, let’s call it a night. Excuse us, CeCe.”

The two of them left the ballroom, and he said, “Man…she was determined to make me crack.”

“Good thing you’re such a tough guy.”

“I don’t know. I felt like I was being grilled by a police interrogator.”

They emerged from the Waldorf, and Madison shivered slightly. She had on a light silk wrap, but the temperature had dipped to nearly freezing. John instantly took off his tuxedo jacket and wrapped it around her. Then they saw Charlie up the street and waved. He was leaning against the car reading the paper. He nodded at them, climbed back in and drove to the curb right in front of them. He hopped out to get the door for Madison as John reached for the handle at the same time.

“Sorry,” John said. “Still not used to that.”

“No problem,” Charlie said, and gave him a clap on the back.

Madison was relieved when the heat came on in the limo right away. She shivered and shook off the cold.

“How was your night?” Charlie asked.

“Wonderful.” Madison beamed. She snuggled up against John and they drove toward Central Park. “Of course, the usual social nonsense. CeCe Goldberg was after scoop, and Ryan Greene was determined yet again to create the ultimate real-estate merger, but all in all, I had a wonderful time.”

“What’d you think, John?”

“I got to dance with my angel, here, so it was all good.”

Madison laid her head against his arm.

“Oh, damn,” she said suddenly.

“What?” John asked.

“Nothing…Charlie?”

“Hmm?” He looked back in the rearview mirror.

“Can you stop at the grocery store over on Eightieth? I just realized I forgot to ask Estelle to pick some coffee up when she came to clean today. And I cannot start my day without it.”

“No problem.”

A few lights later, Charlie make a left and drove to the grocery store, parking the limo across the street from it to avoid a no-loading zone.

“Why don’t you let me run in?” he asked. “Coffee…need anything else?”

“No, Charlie, it’s okay…John and I will go. Maybe we’ll get some fruit for the morning, too.”

John opened the door for her and she slid out, still wearing his tuxedo jacket. The two of them held hands as they crossed the street and entered the supermarket.

“I took tomorrow off,” John said. “I have some papers to grade, but other than that, I’m all yours.”

“Great.” She smiled. They took a little red plastic basket and wandered the brightly lit aisles of the gourmet grocer, filling the basket with French-roast coffee, some pastries, oranges, grapes, and some cheese and crackers.

At the register, John took out two twenties and paid for their purchases, then the two of them left the supermarket.