The van ricocheted down the back alley. Madison stared straight ahead through the front window, eyes alert, ready to duck if she spotted anything blocking their way. A helicopter hovered above. It was probably from a TV station. There was no way the cops could control the media; they ran their own game.
“Make a left at the end of the alley onto Beverly,” the gunman said. “Anybody gets in your way—hit the mothafuckers.”
Madison turned her head to see if Natalie was okay. The woman with the gash on her temple was quietly sobbing.
This is crazy, she thought. Where the hell does he think we’re going? What’s his plan? He’d have been better off staying in the restaurant and giving himself up.
Cole swerved onto Beverly, sideswiping a Jaguar.
“You see any red lights ahead,” the ringleader shouted, “jump ’em. Don’t even think about it.”
“We could all be killed,” the woman in the back wailed.
“If he don’t do what I’m tellin’ him, you’ll all be dead anyway.”
“You’re actually taking me to a business meeting?” Jolie said, quite pleased with herself. This was a first, and she liked it.
“Hey, babe—thought you should see how the professionals do it.”
“How the professionals do what?”
“I’m taking you to a strip club I might buy into.”
“You’re taking me to a strip club?” Jolie said, raising an eloquent eyebrow.
“Got a feelin’ you’ll find it very educational,” Nando said, grinning.
“Are you intimating that I need lessons?”
“That’s the last thing you need. I want you to meet these guys I might partner with, see what you think.”
“And how is Vincent involved?”
“He’s not.”
“Why?”
“ ’Cause Vincent is livin’ in the past. He doesn’t get that Vegas is changin’.”
“Do you honestly think it is?”
“Sure it is. We’re goin’ back to the basics—girls an’ sex, that’s the coming wave.”
“Whatever happened to family?”
“That side of the business is over.”
“Tell that to the mom-and-pop brigade.”
“Now, honey,” Nando said in his most persuasive voice. “This place I’m takin’ you to is kind of sleazy, but knowing you—you’ll see the potential. With your eye for style, you’ll imagine how it can look when you redecorate, or do whatever it takes to make the place hot. If this works out, I might even give you a piece of the action.”
“You will?”
“Yeah,” he said magnanimously. “Why not?”
“I’ve never heard you speak like this before, Nando.”
“It’s amazing what a workout on the pole will do, huh, babe?” He laughed. “When you meet these two guys you’ll hate ’em on sight. Bear in mind they are sittin’ on a moneymakin’ machine.”
“Am I correct in assuming that if Vincent went in with you, you wouldn’t need partners? You’d buy them out, right?”
“And she’s smart, too.”
“Maybe I should talk to Vincent,” she mused.
“You got influence with my best friend I don’t?”
“I’m a woman, Nando. Sometimes it makes a difference.”
“Yeah, babe—you’re a woman all right.”
“Tell me about these guys we’re meeting.”
“They’re a couple of black dudes who’ve been around awhile. You’ll charm the pants off both of ’em.”
“I do hope you don’t mean that literally.”
“Baby, you ever look at another man, an’ he’ll be wearing his balls in the back of his throat.”
“It’s nice to know you care, Nando.”
“Yeah, isn’t it?”
“You’ve never done coke?” Andy Dale said, sounding as surprised as if she’d told him she’d never drunk a glass of milk.
Jenna shook her head, blond hair swirling around her shoulders. “No, my husband doesn’t approve of drugs.”
“Drugs, my ass,” Andy said. “Coke is not a drug—it’s recreational, like smoking and booze. If doctors could, they’d give out prescriptions for it. It’s that simple.”
“I thought it turned people into drug addicts.”
“Who told you that? Your old man?”
“Vincent says that drugs destroy anyone who takes them.”
“That’s hard drugs, cookie. Heroin and all that shit. I’ll tell you what happens when you take coke. You relax, lay back, have a good time. And you also have wild sex. Look at Anais.”
She glanced across the luxurious room at Anais, who’d decided to remove all her clothes, except for a minute thong and many gold crosses hanging on chains around her neck.
“Does she look like she’s an addict?”
“No, Andy, she doesn’t.”
“Then take a snort. You’re too uptight. C’mon, I’ll show you how.”
“I only came here to apologize for Vincent’s behavior. Sometimes he doesn’t understand that people in the movie business are different.”
“You understand, don’t you?” Andy said, grabbing her hand.
“Of course, I do. I mean, you’re artistic, you’re an actor, an artiste.”
“Yeah, that’s what I am,” Andy said, pleased with her description. “An artiste. Now,” he added, leading her over to the bar, where he’d set out several lines of coke, “I’m gonna roll this bill, and you’ll hold it to your cute little nose and, like, breathe in. Y’ know, snort it. Can you do that?”
“Are you sure it won’t have a bad effect on me?” she asked, feeling the tiniest bit insecure.
“Positive.”
She took the bill from him, gingerly snorted the cocaine, and immediately sneezed, scattering some of the white powder onto the floor.
“Jesus Christ!” Andy shouted. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“Sorry,” she said, quite humiliated that she could have done such a thing.
“It’s good I got plenty,” he grumbled.
Anais wandered over. “Put some on my tits,” she commanded, thrusting her bare bosom at him.
“Later,” he said, waving her away.
“Now,” she said imperiously—a woman used to getting her own way. “And some on my pussy, too.”
“I’ll be with you in a minute,” Andy said, frowning. “I’m trying to teach Jenna how to snort without blowing everything all over the floor.”
“Order more champagne,” Anais said, not giving up with her demands. “I want to wash my hair.”
“You’re washing your hair now?” he said, finally paying attention.
“Yes.”
“Okay.”
Anais smiled dreamily. “If my boyfriend knew I was here, he wouldn’t be happy.”
“Who is your boyfriend?” Andy asked, unaware that she had one.
“He’s mega rich,” she said. “Mega, mega, mega rich.”
“So am I,” Andy said, which wasn’t strictly true, because by the time he’d paid his agent, publicist, stylist, manager, driver, and business manager, there was not that much left.
“Order ten bottles of champagne,” Anais said, distractedly touching her nipples. “And I’ll bathe in it.”
“Maybe you should just go wash your hair,” he said, turning back to Jenna, who by this time was feeling light-headed and adventurous. “You ready to try again?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said eagerly. “I’m ready.”
Michael tried calling Madison twice. He didn’t leave a message on her answering machine because he did not consider it safe to alert anyone where he was.
“At least you know where Madison is,” Dani said. “How do we go about finding Sofia?”
“Good question,” Michael replied. “When did you last hear from her?”
“A couple of weeks ago. She was in Marbella, in Spain.”
“I don’t know why you allow her to travel around the world by herself,” Vincent grumbled. “You should insist that she comes home.”
“Have you ever tried telling Sofia anything?” Dani replied. “Even when she was very young she wouldn’t listen to reason.”
“The kid probably takes after me,” Michael said. “Does things her way.”
“And look where it’s gotten you,” Dani said.
“Did she give you an address or phone number in Marbella?” Michael asked, ignoring her remark. “Somewhere we can reach her?”
“She said she was working as a photographer at a nightclub.”
“A photographer!” Vincent exclaimed. “What kind of job is that?”
“Did she mention what club?” Michael said.
“She didn’t say,” Dani replied. “You know Sofia—every time she calls, she refuses to leave a number.”
“I’ll get someone on it,” Vincent said. “We’ll find her.”
“Hey,” Michael said. “The good thing is, if we don’t find her, nobody else can.”
“You think it’s that serious?” Vincent said.
“Yeah, it’s serious.”
“What’s your next move?”
“I’m flying to L.A. in the morning. There’s someone I have to see.”
“Who?”
“Nobody you know,” Michael said abruptly. “Take care of the things I asked you to. I’ll be in touch. Anybody comes asking questions, I wasn’t here, an’ that includes your wife.”
“I know that,” Vincent said.
“Good.”
“How is Jenna?” Dani asked.
“She’s fine, Mom,” Vincent said quickly. He knew how his mother felt about his wife, and he refused to give her the satisfaction of telling her she was right. He’d work it out with Jenna in his own way. And if that meant a divorce—so be it.
In the middle of the night, Sofia awoke again. She was close to a man, a stranger, and he felt so good in his silk pajamas. She snuggled closer, rubbing her hands over the smooth material, loving the feel of it.
Nobody wore pajamas anymore. Why wasn’t he naked? She spooned even closer. He stirred in his sleep.
She moved her hands downward and felt that he was pleased to see her. By the time he awoke fully, she was making love to him, riding him in a wild fashion.
“My God!” Gianni gasped. “What are you doing?”
“I’m not playing tennis,” she giggled. “Shut up and enjoy it.”
He put his hands on her shoulders, vigorously pushing her off.
“Are you nuts?” she said. “I’m making love to you. Isn’t that what you want?”
“No, Sofia, it’s not,” he said, angrily sitting up in bed.
“Of course it is,” she said accusingly. “You were hard, you were ready.”
“I was asleep,” he said, reaching for the light switch.
“Oh my God, you are gay, aren’t you?” she gasped.
“No, Sofia,” he said crossly. “I am not gay.”
He got out of bed, marched into the bathroom, and slammed the door.
This was a first. A man who didn’t want to get laid.
When he emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later, he had put on a bathrobe over his silk pajamas and was still angry.
“Do you always make love with complete strangers?” he asked.
“You weren’t exactly reluctant.”
“I told you before, Sofia—I was asleep. I thought I was dreaming.”
“Some cool dream, huh?” she said, beginning to feel a bit foolish.
“I do not indulge in casual sex. Especially with a girl I’m supposed to be in charge of.”
“In charge of?” she exclaimed. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“If I was going to have sex with a woman, I would certainly want to know a lot more about her than I do about you.”
“Oh,” she said, insulted. “You’re perfectly safe. I don’t have any sexual diseases or anything.”
“Is this always the way you behave with people you don’t know?”
“Not always,” she said, deciding that she hated him and was glad they hadn’t made love.
“You’re lucky I didn’t take advantage of you.”
“Are you saying I’m lucky you didn’t come inside me?”
“You have an extremely vulgar way of putting things.”
“And I suppose your girlfriend, Anais, is the perfect lady.”
“Anais has nothing to do with you.”
“Look, I’m sorry,” she said, suddenly contrite. “I thought it would be a nice kind of payment for you letting me stay here.”
“So now you’re a whore?”
“Fuck you!” she yelled, leaping off the bed. How dare he say such a thing to her? Who the hell did he think he was?
He was silent.
“Look,” she said at last, “I like you. I like being here. I was happy to get into bed with you. Why’re you so uptight?”
“You need to realize that things are not always as easy as you think. A thank-you is not sleeping with someone. I do not require sexual favors.”
“What are you,” she said rudely, “faithful to your girlfriend?”
He sighed. “You don’t understand, do you?”
“Most men would be very happy to sleep with me.”
“I’m sure they would.”
“Don’t you find me sexy?”
“You’re very sexy.”
“Well then, what?”
“I’m too tired to argue, Sofia,” he said, yawning. “You take the bed, I’ll take the couch. We’ll talk about this in the morning.”
“Whatever,” she said, glaring at him. “We’ll play it your way. I suppose everyone always does.”
“Call those mothafuckers an’ tell ’em to get that helicopter outta here, or I’m throwin’ one of you from the van.”
“I don’t have a phone,” Madison said. “You took it—remember?”
“Fuck! Ace—” he said, turning around. “Get me a fuckin’ phone.”
At last a name. Ace. Probably a nickname.
Was Ace the one with the snake tattoo on his neck? No, Ace was the third one—the shorter guy with the sack full of loot and a pierced nose.
Ace fished in the black plastic garbage bag jammed on his knee. He soon located a cell phone, which he handed to the front.
The gunman took it and thrust it at Madison. “Call ’em. Do it now!”
“Please don’t hurt us,” the girl in the back of the van moaned. “Please, please, why can’t you let us go?”
“Shut the fuck up!” he said, turning back to Madison. “Come on, bitch! Make the call.”
“Who am I supposed to call?” she asked. “Did they leave you a number?”
“Don’t diss me, lady. Call nine-one-one. Tell ’em if the copter’s not outta here in two minutes, one of you is gettin’ thrown out.”
She took the cell phone and dialed 911. A dispatcher answered.
“This is Madison Castelli,” she said as calmly as she could manage. “I’m one of the hostages from the restaurant on Beverly Boulevard. We’re in the van. Please listen carefully—you have to tell the cops that they’ve got to get the helicopter above us away. If they don’t, they’re throwing a hostage from the van.”
The gunman grabbed the phone from her and hurled it in the back. “You’d better hope they do what you told ’em,” he said. “ ’Cause if they don’t, one a you mothafuckers is gonna hit the sidewalk.”