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Dante revved the engine of his car. “So, I’m taking Kennedy to Crow & Wicket tonight. Want to join us?” he said to Gia through his Porsche’s communication management system. “I thought I’d see if Zander and the others want to join us.”
“What are you trying to do to that poor girl? Make her run for the hills when she lands on Page Six again?”
“No. That’s not what I’m trying to do.” Gia had a way of making him squirm. “I want to show her off.”
“Right. I’m sure Joan had a sit down with you, telling you to lay low.”
“So what? I’m not going to hide until the Garden show.”
Gia sighed. “Care to tell me what’s really going on?”
“Not really.”
“Do it anyway, dipshit.”
“No. You might tell someone.”
“Right. Who am I going to tell? Beavis and Butthead? My mother? The only people I hang around with in New York are you clowns. I’m a California girl, remember?”
“Yeah, well.” He thought about what a dick he’d been to Kennedy earlier. Let’s go dance. You know how to live. You know how to have fun. He said it trying to bait her into confessing her crimes. “I, uh...I found out some dirt about Kennedy. It made me suspicious. Like, maybe she’s devious. What if she’s secretly after my money?”
Gia scoffed. “Paranoid much?”
“I know. Kennedy’s had a hard time of it the last couple years. She lost her boyfriend in Africa, and um...well, she’s in AA or NA, not sure which.”
“Good for her. So what’s the problem? And don’t for a second tell me if she can do it, I can do it. Not interested.”
“Don’t make this about you, Gia.”
“I’m happy to not make it about me as long as you do the same, got it? My situation is different. Nothing I can’t control.”
Dante started to argue but shut his trap. “Got it. You can be such a pain in the ass, you know that?”
“Keep going with your story. Who did you ask to dig up dirt on Kennedy? More importantly, what did you find out?”
“Kent did it. He’s got crazy skills when it comes to background checks.”
“Why in the hell did you think to do a background check on her, anyway, you moron? Is that going to make her feel all safe and trusting?”
Dante tugged his free hand through his hair. “I did it because I want to help her. She’s in some kind of trouble. But it makes me wonder what kind of hell I’m getting ready to launch into.”
“You’ve had, what? One date?”
“We’ve had a couple.”
“You can walk away, anytime.”
Dante felt punched in the gut. Several seconds dragged by until he said, “No, Gia. I can’t.”
“Did you just say what I think you just said? Damn, D., you’re in deep already.”
“I know. Kennedy...look, as outlandish as it sounds, she was in love with a prince in Africa. He got attacked by a tiger and bled out.”
“Shit. That sounds Hollywood horrid.”
“Yeah,” he said, thinking of the slash tattoo running down her beautiful body. “And she told me there are some bad guys after her. But she won’t tell me what or who. That’s why I dug.”
“I see. Still kind of sleazy, D. You barely know who she is today. Why not ask her? Why go snooping around in her past without her permission? If you ever did that to me, I’d knee you in the balls.”
Dante’s hand fell into his lap in a protective gesture. “I started out with good intentions,” he said, his voice sharper than intended. “I want to help her tiger sanctuary from going under if I can. I didn’t expect to find out about a sordid backstory. She was, uh...” He blew out his breath. “Kent found an article from a year ago accusing her of theft. ‘The missing Swift is a prime suspect in the theft of millions of dollars’ worth of diamonds from an African King.’” He’d read it over and over, so many times, he’d memorized it.
Gia whistled. “Damn.”
“Right.”
“On what kind of publication? TMZ?”
“I don’t know. I think it was something like that. I didn’t really clock it.”
“Dude! You know the kind of lies those publications promote. If I were to believe what I read about you, you definitely wouldn’t be someone I’d hang around with.” She grew quiet before saying, “Don’t you think if she really did something that despicable she’d have been arrested at this point? I mean, she hasn’t changed her name or anything. She’s working, living, not closeted away somewhere.”
“Yeah, I guess. But then there were all these pictures of Kennedy dancing at nightclubs, looking pretty strung out.”
“And so you, brilliant sleuth that you are, said, ‘She used to get high. She used to drink. I must be dating Madeline again.’ Did you forget the first part you told me about her being in a recovery program? She’s strong enough to face her shit.”
“She looked pretty wasted in those images.”
“Did you see a date on the photos?”
“Yeah,” Dante said, feeling sheepish. “They were from two years ago.”
“Right. And as I recall, you were about to be canonized a couple years ago, true?”
“Fuck off, Gia. I was a mess, and you know it.”
“So you can bond over your past as a couple of fucked up individuals, or you can give her a chance to come clean all by herself and move forward from here, not there.”
“Why do you have to be so smart?”
“Because I am. So give Kennedy a chance. She seems nice. She seems to have her head on straight. And I’ve gotta go. I’m turning my hair fire-engine red, and the stylist is standing here wondering why I’m not in her chair. I’ll see you tonight, okay?”
“Okay. Thanks for the chat.”
“Anytime. Someone’s got to shake some sense into you.”
After he hung up with Gia, he texted Zander and told him his plans for the evening, then as his guilt grew, contemplated texting Zander and the others back and saying, Never mind. Finally, rationalizing his actions as well-meaning, to begin with, he shoved his thoughts away, determined to keep his intentions to himself. You don’t want your past discovered, do you? We all have the right to carry secrets. And I excel at secrecy, he reminded himself sarcastically.
A couple hours later, he pulled up outside her apartment building, double parked and leaped from the car.
She exited the front door before he had a chance to ring the buzzer and greet her the way he wanted to - by ripping off her clothes, getting naked, and falling into bed.
“Hello, beautiful,” he said, recovering his manners. He eyed Kennedy’s attire, his eyes practically popping free from his face. She wore one of those dresses he’d heard some girls calling “bandage dresses.” Strips of pink spandex wound around her body, revealing everything true and righteous about the female form. Dante was so stunned by her beauty, he wondered if he’d been hit by a car as he strode around his Porsche.
“Dante,” she said, smiling sweetly.
With great effort, he picked his jaw off the sidewalk, put his tongue back in his mouth, swallowed, and said, “As usual, you look stunning as ever.”
“Thank you. You do, too. I, uh...I splurged on myself after work. There go a week’s wages,” she said with a self-deprecating laugh.
“Nice splurge.” She looked so sweet when she confessed to her purchase, he thought he might lose his shit. Trying to pull it together, he proffered his elbow. “Ready to go?” He walked her the few short steps to his car, eyeing her darkening expression. “Anything wrong?”
She shook her head and stroked the top of his vehicle with her fingertips. “Nice ride. I’m used to the subway or a taxi. I don’t even have a car. In Africa, I lived in a beat-up Land Rover, dented from big cats sitting on the hood.”
He cringed, his shiny agate-gray pride and joy Carrera suddenly seeming like a foolish toy. So much for seeing her as a gold digger. But then having a prince for a lover must have held some perks. Suspicion brewed, wondering if she put on the poor mouth. “Who doesn’t love a nice car? Your African boyfriend didn’t simply pick you up on an elephant, did he?” He smiled, trying to appear cool and joking but thought he probably sounded like an asshole.
She frowned, said swiftly, “No, he didn’t pick me up on his elephant,” and slid into the car, giving him an eyeful of her creamy thighs.
He could practically feel Gia pounding him over the head with a sledgehammer. He fired up the keyless ignition and eased into the street. “Let me ask you something,” he said.
“Okay.” She turned to look at him with a heart melting expression.
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but...”
Her face furrowed into a frown. “But...”
“You seem to have a lot of attitude about wealth.”
“Yeah,” she said, her lip-glossed mouth forming a slit.
Dante wanted to kiss that mouth back to juicy, succulent pleasure but felt the need to forge on. “You had to have some money to get into high school in your senior year. That pricey, privileged school was part of a carefully constructed plan laid out by my parents when I was...I don’t know, probably two.”
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, my brother Simon sketched out the Manhattan playbook of social climbing and how you fight for your child’s school plan at an early age. The only reason I got in was he had already been enrolled. Otherwise, there was no way in hell I’d have been let in. He tried his best to get me acclimated to life as a Manhattan up and comer. I turned into an ‘up and left the building.’”
She gave a small self-deprecating laugh. “Simon explained the only reason he got into the college he attended was because of the pre-school his mother landed him in. That’s fucked up. I come from free-spirited stock. My dad lost his free spirit when he met my bitch of a stepmom.” She turned to face him. “Do you have any idea what it felt like to be a complete outsider in high school? My God. Those of you who grew up with wealth, you knew the rules. You looked askance on outsiders. It’s like I was forced to be at a place where there was an exclusive club, but I didn’t know how to play. So I always stood outside the window with my nose pressed on the glass. And you...” She closed her eyes for a second, walling him out.
When she opened them, he felt like he was being pulled in like a wave on the shore, sucking him into deep water.
“You seemed different. You seemed to care about things and people. I thought you might have cared about me.”
Her face turned dark and broody, allowing him to see the pain under the surface. His protective instincts surged, and the need to take care of her pumped through his veins with a steady surge. “I did. I do.”
She shook her head.
“Stop it. I was young. Just as confused as you. Struggling to get free of the restraints forced upon me by my parents’ wealth. Just because there’s a system in place in the godforsaken country of Manhattan, doesn’t mean you have to play by the rules. Take my Porsche. It took an extreme act of rebellion to buy this baby. That’s part of my pride in owning her.”
“How could an expensive car be an act of rebellion?”
“Sort of a long story shaped from years of experience. Let’s just say my father’s a controlling prick. This was my first huge purchase on my own. Daddy dearest was less than supportive. He wanted me to purchase stocks and bonds, from his company, of course. He did me a favor, though, by insisting I get a solid money manager. That’s the only reason he got off my back. But then, the person I chose pissed him off, too.” Dante laughed.
“Ryan plays hard, but the rules are his own, not the Wall Street code of slime-ball ethics my father employs. I won.” He glanced at her face, relieved to see a smile. “I love to win.” He flashed her a hard, intense look, making his intentions clear. When she cast her eyes toward her lap, he knew he’d made his point. And you’ll be mine, sweet Kennedy. I’m going to win you. You will be mine. “Here’s another story for you. I grew up in a Park Avenue apartment full of Have-More’s and Have-Mosts. The Have-Mores...well, they lived up to their namesake, having far more wealth than they knew what to do with. The Have Mosts are at the top of the food chain. They tend to have huge, teeming families they manage like a commodity or a mega-corporation. They live for their children.”
“Where did your family fall in the hierarchy?”
“They were on the fast track to becoming Have-Mosts...and financially, they’re top one-percenters. But the family thing? Didn’t happen the way they intended. My dad was so pissed off after Damien was born—his non-perfect child—that he got snipped...well, that part came later. The snipping, I mean. He threatened my mom with it for years, and then a couple years ago...” Dante shrugged. “I think that’s when he decided to go full-tilt man whore. Or else he saw the error of his ways.” Dante swallowed back the memories of the night he found out his dad was... Stop it. You’ll ruin the moment.
“Jesus,” Kennedy exclaimed. “It wasn’t his fault he was born that way.”
“Right,” Dante said. “It reduces Pop’s value, of course. Some socialite someday might want his seed. But it helps him in the long run, though, because now he can freely fuck without the threat of unwanted pregnancies.”
“I don’t think I like your dad.”
“Take a number. I don’t either.” His and his father’s shared secret rumbled in his gut. “Anyway, back to my story. So we lived in opulence, and there were also some retirees who lived there. Old dowagers and the like. They wanted us to...the kids, I mean. They wanted us and our parents to ride in the service elevator like apartment staff. Even as a child, I knew we were looked down on. So guess who always acted out in elevators?” Dante laughed.
“I’m sure that went over well.”
“Not one bit. It got to the point if any elder tried to get in with us, Mom’d tell them I was deathly ill and might threaten their health. My mother couldn’t control me, and she always whined to Dad to help out. But he was too busy building his empire. And then there was my education.
“Dear old dad had me set to embark on a Harvard career to become a lawyer. I pitched a royal fit, landing myself at M.I.T., where I slacked off for a semester, away from my dad’s scrutiny, then quit. I ran as far as Brooklyn with a handful of money and my guitar. I wanted to see if I could make it without the status of being the great Richard Vega’s son.”
“How’d that work out?”
“It was interesting. I was a busker for a time, and I played at small, sometimes empty clubs. I slept anywhere. I managed, but I missed things like hot showers.” He grinned. “So I ran back to New York City and became a real musician who showered. Made a name for me. That went over well at home.” He let out a hearty laugh.
“You are a handful, aren’t you?”
“Indeed I am, but I can be a delicious handful,” he said, winking. He dropped his hand to Kennedy’s silken thigh and let his fingers tease the skin of her inner thigh. “Mercy. You are beyond delicious. You make any thought or reason to fly from my head, sweet Kennedy.” His eyes flicked back to the road in the nick of time to slam on the brakes to avoid a collision with the car in front of him. “Shit. Sorry. See what I mean? And do you catch my point about breaking the rules? The way I see it, there are all these stuffy systems in place. I fight the ones that make no sense. And I fight for the things and people I care about.”
“I guess I never thought about it that way. Makes sense...sort of.” Kennedy scrutinized him for a few seconds.
“What?” he said, wanting to know what thoughts rumbled through her mind.
“I seem to go for wealthy rebels and bad boys.”
Don’t let her know you know anything about her past, he cautioned himself. “How’s that? Wait. Before you tell me, how would you like to pick something up at a deli and sit in the car near the water? I want to have you all to myself before we go out dancing.”
“Sounds perfect. I’m enjoying you sharing parts of your life with me.”
Dante smiled, at ease, realizing he, too, truly enjoyed her company. She actually listened. He could tell she wasn’t after his money. And when all was said and done, this is what he’d been looking for, and hadn’t been aware. He wanted someone real to love...the real man, and not the rock star, wanted to be loved for who he was, not simply what he could do onstage with a guitar in his hands.
