Confessions of a Wild Child (10 page)

What’s going to happen next? If Warris is about to become a permanent fixture, I want out. But how does that come about? Nobody knows where I am. I have hardly any money – certainly not enough for a ticket home. Not to mention the fact that Gino will be double pissed when he discovers I dumped school and took off. Seems as if I’m trapped.

Young hot waiter keeps on refilling my coffee cup. He’s definitely a babe, with dirty blond sticking-up hair and a cheeky grin. He’s also my height, which is not exactly my type, but right now I’ll settle for a friendly face.

‘Are you English?’ he asks after a while.

‘American,’ I reply, surprised that he has no accent. ‘And you?’

‘Half French half Scottish, and I’m off in an hour, so maybe I can show you around.’

Oh yeah, you can certainly show me around. Sounds like a fine plan. Besides, I’ve got nothing else to do
.

‘I’m Jon,’ he offers.

‘I’m Lucky,’ I say.

Jon winks at me. ‘No,
I’m
the lucky one,’ he says with a crooked grin.

We’ll see
. . .

*  *  *

We stroll all around Juan-les-Pins. Jon is funny and interesting and about as unlike slimy Warris as anyone could be. He tells me that he’s studying economics in Paris, and spending his summer making money to support himself.

‘The tourists tip well,’ he explains. ‘Especially when I turn on the charm.’

‘Is that what you did with me?’ I ask jokingly.

‘A little bit,’ he says with a sly grin. ‘Only
you
didn’t tip me.’

‘That’s ’cause you refused to give me a check,’ I counter. ‘How could I?’

‘You’re too beautiful for me to charge you.’

Beautiful! Nobody has ever called me that before. For once I am speechless and kind of caught off guard. Jon has way too much charm and I’m eating it up.

We end up on the beach making out. Why not?

I like the way he kisses – every boy seems to have a different technique, and Jon’s is pretty good.

Am I becoming an expert at kissing? I haven’t had any complaints.

Ah, Marco, by the time we get together I will be an experienced woman of the world. How does that grab you?

After a while I decide that if Olympia can have slimy Warris at the villa, then I can certainly invite Jon over. So I do.

‘I’m working tonight,’ he says with a rueful shrug. ‘How about tomorrow? I’m off all day.’

‘Yes,’ I say, as he walks me to my car. ‘This doesn’t belong to me,’ I add quickly as I note his reaction to the Mercedes. ‘It belongs to my friend’s dad.’

‘And he lets you drive it?’ Jon asks, sounding surprised.

‘Why wouldn’t he?’ I respond, feeling a bit defensive.

‘It’s an expensive car,’ Jon remarks, circling it.

‘That it is,’ I agree.

He leans me against the side of the car and kisses me hard. ‘Tomorrow, beautiful. What time?’

I catch my breath. ‘Anytime,’ I say vaguely. ‘We can swim, there’s a pool.’

Jon nods. ‘
Bonne nuit,
Lucky,’ he says, and before I know it I am driving confidently back to the villa.

Chapter Nineteen

‘W
here the
fuck
have you been?’ Warris explodes, red in the face. I take a quick peek at my watch and realize that it’s almost seven p.m.
Too bad, Warris, I was out having fun.

‘Ran into some friends,’ I say casually.

‘You fuckin’
what
?’ Warris screams, his face getting redder by the minute. I glance around to see what Olympia is up to and if she’s going to allow her newfound boyfriend to speak to me like this.

Olympia is draped on a couch smoking yet another joint. Olympia never does anything by halves. She is oblivious to what is going on.

‘I missed an important meeting because of you,’ Warris steams. ‘I told you I needed the fucking car.’

‘Does your mom get to kiss you on that dirty mouth?’ I say sharply.

‘What did you say, bitch?’ Warris demands.

I lose it. Nobody calls me a bitch and gets away with it. ‘You’re an asshole,’ I snap. ‘And I’d sooner be a bitch than an asshole.’

‘I knew you were trouble,’ Warris yells. ‘It’s written all over your wop face.’

‘Better to be trouble than an asshole,’ I taunt.

‘Jesus Christ!’ he says, steps close to me and raises his arm as if to strike me.

I move quickly, faster than him. Uncle Costa taught me a few key moves when I was a kid, and I’ve never forgotten them. I grab Warris’s arm, twist it back, and give him a swift kick in the balls.

He yells like a stuck pig and crumples to the ground. Talk about a wimp!

‘Sorry,’ I say innocently. ‘Did I hurt you?’

Oh wow, I’m getting good at this – I recall Pierre and
his
demise. Maybe I should run a self-defence class. Go for the balls, it works every time!

Warris staggers to his feet and glares at me. ‘Your little friend is a raging psycho,’ he informs Olympia, who doesn’t stir. She is in a world of her own – stoned and happy. ‘Fuckin’ bitch!’ Warris mutters, and I’m not sure if he’s referring to me or Olympia. I guess he means me, ’cause he wouldn’t risk alienating Olympia.

I make it to what I now consider my room, since Olympia has taken up residence with Warris in the main bedroom. I lie down on the bed and stare at the old-fashioned ceiling fan. I think about Jon, he is kind of cute. I think about Marco and wonder what he’s up to back in LA. Does he ever think about me? Does my image even cross his mind?

I wish I was older. If I was older I could make money and start doing what
I
want to do. I wouldn’t be trapped with Olympia in a house in the South of France with no clue about what happens next. Eventually Gino will get word that I’m on the run. He will not be pleased. One way or the other he will hunt me down.

I must’ve fallen asleep, ’cause it’s dark when Olympia awakens me by shaking my shoulder.

‘Wassup?’ I mumble, rubbing my eyes.

‘Get up an’ get dressed,’ Olympia insists. ‘Warris is taking us for a night on the town.’

‘You’re kidding, right?’ I say, still not thinking straight.

‘Not kidding,’ Olympia assures me. ‘He’s taking us to the casino.’

I digest this news. Aren’t we too young to gain entry to a casino?

I don’t voice my opinion, because I’m quite into the idea of getting out of the house, even if it is with Warris.

*  *  *

An hour later we’re sitting on the terrace of the Blue Bar, sipping Campari while all dressed up in Olympia’s aunt’s clothes. I have chosen a black sequinned tank top and palazzo pants. Olympia is wearing something extremely low-cut – of course. She’s never happy unless her boobs are on display.

Warris has decided to deposit us there while he runs over to his hotel and changes clothes. Olympia suggests we go with him, but he demurs.

‘Well,’ she threatens, sticking out her boobs, ‘if I see a better-looking dude, do not expect me to be here when you get back.’

Warris shoots her a confident smirk. He knows she likes him.

‘Watch her,’ he says briskly. ‘I’ll be no more than ten minutes.’

It’s obvious that he has decided I’m more use to him as a friend than as an enemy. Smarter than I thought.

It’s kind of interesting sitting at a table observing a ton of old men with way younger girlfriends passing by. According to Warris, this is the height of the Cannes Film Festival, so there are lots of important movie people in town.

Who cares? I certainly don’t.

After a good half hour Warris returns all dressed up in a white dinner jacket. He kisses Olympia on the mouth, and announces that he’s checked out of his hotel and stashed his suitcase in the back of the Mercedes.

Olympia is unfazed.

I am pissed. The asshole is taking up permanent residence. No slouch when it comes to nailing the deal.

We finish our drinks and set off for the casino, whereupon we get stopped at the entrance by two burly French dudes in suits.

‘Excuse me, monsieur,’ burly French dude one says to Warris, ‘I shall be needing identification for the two young ladies.’

Warris bristles. ‘They’re both over twenty-one,’ he says sharply.

‘I am sure they are,’ burly French dude replies with an implacable expression. ‘However, there are rules, and unless the young ladies can provide their passports I cannot allow them into the casino.’

‘Do you know who I am?’ Warris snarls, his face reddening.

‘I am sorry, monsieur, these are the rules we must follow. There are no exceptions.’

Warris suddenly loses it. ‘Fucking frogs!’ he screams. ‘What the fuck do you know about
anything
?’

‘Oh God!’ Olympia sighs. ‘It’s not important. Let’s go.’

Warris is on a roll, screaming insults as two security guards materialize, and, arms under his elbows, escort him off the premises.

‘Wonderful!’ I mutter as we reach the sidewalk, and as we do, a white Rolls Royce pulls up, and out steps a fiery dark-haired Latina woman in an even tighter and more revealing dress than Olympia’s. She is older, but quite a beauty.

‘Warris!’ the woman says accusingly, jabbing him with her be-ringed finger. ‘Where the hell have you been? I’ve been searching for you everywhere.’

Warris stops shouting, shakes off the two security guards, adjusts his jacket and gives the woman a sheepish look. ‘Pippa,’ he mumbles. ‘I was going to call you.’

‘Sure,’ she replies sarcastically. ‘And the president took a shit in Washington Square.’

Ha! I like this woman’s style – she has a mouth on her. And I so enjoy seeing Warris crumble.

Olympia doesn’t. She clings onto Warris’s arm in a proprietary fashion and demands to know who the dark-haired woman is.

‘Pippa Sanchez,’ the woman says, looking Olympia up and down before turning back to Warris and drawling – ‘I didn’t know juvenile pussy was your style. I guess all the
big
girls must’ve found out what a crap artist you are.’

I am loving this. Totally loving it!

‘Pippa,’ Warris says stiffly, ‘I’d like you to meet Olympia Stanislopoulos of
the
Stanislopoulos family.’

‘Oh!’ Pippa says. I realize she gets it. Like Warris, she is no slouch.

‘And Olympia,’ Warris continues, ‘I’d like
you
to meet Pippa Sanchez, a business associate of mine.’

Business associate my left foot
, I think, stifling a giggle.

Naturally Olympia falls for it, just as Pippa’s escort steps forward. He is the driver of the Rolls, a grey-haired older man.

‘Ah,’ the man says. ‘If these people are your friends, Pippa, we should all go have a drink together.’

Pippa nods, flashes Warris a scathing look, and once again we are off.

Chapter Twenty

T
he grey-haired man, whose name I soon discover is March Holtz, insists that we all pile into his Rolls, and since Warris obviously thinks the man might be someone important, he doesn’t hesitate before hustling me and Olympia into the car. Warris crams in the back between me and Olympia. Pippa sits in the front passenger seat next to March. We leave the Mercedes parked in Cannes while March roars off down the narrow coastal road, announcing we are meeting up with more people at a club in Juan-les-Pins.

Juan-les-Pins again? Really? I wonder if I’ll bump into Jon
.

‘I’ve been to Juan-les-Pins,’ I remark.

‘When?’ Olympia demands, bountiful boobs almost popping out of her aunt’s low-cut purple dress.

‘This afternoon,’ I say casually, and I want to add –
While you were lying around stoned with your new boyfriend when you should’ve been with me, having fun and enjoying our new-found freedom
. But I don’t, ’cause there’s no endgame to getting in a fight with Olympia.

Warris is sitting too close to me. I can feel his bony thigh rubbing against my leg, and the smell of his cheap aftershave is making me want to throw up. What the hell does Olympia see in him? He’s not exactly sex on a stick.

Pippa announces to everyone that she is a famous actress.

Seriously? Who announces that kind of thing?

She follows this up with a speech about how she and Warris are teaming up for a very important movie project – a project that will blow everyone’s mind. A project so huge that it will catapult her to the top of all the Latina actresses.

Is she kidding?

I think not
.

March, it turns out, is a man with money who could be an investor. He’s a jeweller, originally from Bolivia, who now resides in Cannes. Pippa has her eyes set firmly on his pocketbook.

‘Warris is like my brother,’ Pippa purrs, making sure that March doesn’t think she’s sleeping with Warris. ‘We are pure soul mates,’ she adds, just in case he doesn’t get it.

Idly I wonder what kind of name March is, and where he and Pippa met. Are they old friends? Or did she latch onto him the moment she spotted the Rolls?

I kind of figure the Rolls did it.

Soon we are crowding into a cavern-like club – The Vieux Colombier – where musicians are up on a small stage playing live jazz, and a ton of people are gyrating on the spacious dance floor.

March’s friends turn out to be three under-dressed blondes and another older man with a beard, a bald head and probably plenty of money.

Lovely!
If Gino could only see me now!

Pippa and Warris slip into a double-act of trying to charm the crap out of everyone, or should I say con, ’cause I’ve already figured out that’s what they are – a couple of con artists on the prowl.

Ah, Gino would be so proud of me. I have his eye, I can spot a phoney a mile away.

I wish that my father could see the potential in me. School has taught me absolutely nothing – I need to be out in the real world working next to him. Gino should be grooming me to take over his business one day, not trying to force me to stay in school. I can do it. And one day I
will
do it. Surely he must realize that there is no stopping me?