Lethal Seduction (51 page)

The two of them fell upon each other with loud whoops and hugs.

Varoomba's mouth fell open. Her grandmother and Chas
knew
each other! How could this be?

“How many years has it been?” Renee said, taking a step back.

“Too goddamn many,” Chas said, beaming. “Ya look senfuckinsational!”

And she did. Renee was a tall, statuesque ex-showgirl with a strong resemblance to Raquel Welch. At fifty-two she had lost none of her in-your-face good looks, and she knew it.

“Jesus Christ!” Chas exclaimed. “What're you
doin'
here?”

“Looks like I'm meeting you, doesn't it?” Renee said, smoothing down her black, fake-leather microskirt.

“It sure does. Ya gonna join us for lunch?”

“I think that's the whole idea.”

“Huh?”

She laughed loudly. “Don't you
get
it, Chas.
I'm
Varoomba's grandma.”

P
EOPLE STARED AT
L
EON
B
LAINE
. They stared even harder when they realized that Carrie Hanlon was in his party. It was the kind of group that made people step back. Of course, they were surrounded by several not-so-discreet bodyguards as they headed for a limo to take them from the Mirage to Caesar's Palace for lunch.

Carrie was dressed for attention in a man's-style pale-blue pinstripe suit with a low-cut vest. She looked stunning.

“Marty promised to drop by,” Joel informed her.

“As in Scorsese?” she replied.

“You got it, babe.”

Although he didn't fancy Carrie Hanlon, it was definitely a kick to be seen with her. The way people gaped! It was like she was a movie star or something.

Joel had only dated one movie star, and that had been a miserable experience. He'd always thought models were the ego queens, but he was wrong—movie stars were way ahead in that field. All the girl had talked about was her next movie, her costar, her director and every producer in town. Also, he soon found out that if someone more important entered the room, she was away and running.

No, movie stars were not for him.

He'd noticed Amber Rowe lurking around the casino. Skinny piece of ass. Not his style at all. Although he had to admit that, actresswise, she was the real deal.

After breakfast with Carrie, he'd spent the morning flitting from one casino to another. The Marigiano was on his case. He owed money. Big.

So what? His credit line was good anywhere.

Eventually he'd run into Jamie Nova and played a couple of games of blackjack with her. When it came to gambling, she didn't know shit. But she was his entree to Madison, so he kept on her good side.

Leon had an entourage of friends join them for lunch. A Bolivian tin billionaire, with his decades-younger wife. A jockey and his stately black girlfriend. Two financiers and an Internet mogul.

They were settled at a prime table, whereupon dishes of food were laid out for them to sample.

Joel nibbled on a piece of duck pizza and considered returning to the strip club to while away the afternoon before the big fight.

Why not? Maybe he'd discover a stripper he fancied fucking.

•

From across the room, Rosarita spotted Joel walking in with Carrie Hanlon and was rendered totally speechless. How could this be happening? Joel—in Vegas, with the most famous supermodel of all. This was a bad joke.

She slid down in her seat, unwilling for him to see her with this group.

Chas and Varoomba's grandma were apparently old friends, and boy, were they making up for lost time. Varoomba was livid. She sat at the table, silicone tits sticking out, mouth slightly open as she listened to Chas and Renee reminisce.

“Hey, Charlie—remember that time in Atlanta when you couldn't find your pants?” Renee said loudly, trying to break his balls.

“The racetrack thing?” he said, chuckling at the memory.

“Yeah, remember that? An' I thought you were such a winner. Little did I know you were busy cheating.”

“Watch it!” Chas said, roaring with raucous laughter. “I don't cheat, get that into your pea-sized brain.”

“Pea-sized brain, huh?” Renee shrieked. “Better than havin' a pea-sized dick like
someone
I know.”

“Stop it,” Chas said, still laughing. “I got a daughter sittin' here.”

“I'm sure she's heard the word ‘dick' before,” Renee said. “Haven't you, dear?”

Rosarita jumped. She wasn't really listening, she was too busy watching Joel. “Excuse me?” she said.

“Nothing, honey—forget it.” Renee turned her attention back to Chas. “What a blast!” she exclaimed. “Who would've thought?”

“Ya got that right,” Chas agreed.

Varoomba was confused. It seemed, from what she was gleaning from their conversation, that Chas and her grams had once had a serious affair. And now it appeared that they were all set to light the fire again, because Varoomba hadn't seen Chas this turned on in the entire time she'd known him. Renee had always had a way with men. She might be fifty-two, but she was a looker. Unfortunately, she was also a drinker, and Varoomba noticed she was knocking back the wine with a complete disregard for the fact that it was only one o'clock in the afternoon.

Just my luck,
Varoomba thought.
I get a guy who I think might marry me, and what happens? It turns out he's got a hot nut for my grandma. Too damn much!

She turned to Matt, who'd been ogling her tits all through lunch. “Life's a bitch, isn't it?” she said with a sour expression.

“Sure is,” Matt replied.

“Sometimes I don't understand anything,” she said mournfully.

“I know what you mean,” Matt agreed, happy she was paying him some attention.

Martha gave him a swift kick under the table. “Stop encouraging her,” she whispered.

“What are you talking about?” he whispered back.

“You don't want to upset Chas. Can't you see what's going on? His old flame turns out to be his girlfriend's
grandma.
Now
you're
talking to the girl, and
she's
trying to make him jealous. So stop it. Right now!”

“For crissakes,” Matt muttered, scowling.

Dexter, meanwhile, was oblivious to everything. He'd jogged in the morning, then he'd taken a swim in the hotel pool. After that he'd called Gem.

Bad news! A man had answered the phone. Dexter was so thrown that he hadn't uttered a word.

“Hello?” the male voice had said. “Hello? Who's there?”

Dexter had quickly replaced the receiver. Was Gem living with someone? Did she have a boyfriend? A husband? Jesus! He hadn't bothered to ask, and now that he came to think of it—why would a girl like Gem be on her own?

He had to find out. He decided to get away from the table on the pretext of going to the men's room, then he could try phoning her again. It was imperative that he find out the truth.

•

“I'm glad I caught you,” Jamie said, as she sat with Natalie on the patio at Spago.

“Me too,” Natalie said. “If I don't eat lunch, I am one
bad
interviewer. Food is on my mind most of the time.”

“Not when you're talking to someone like Brad Pitt,” Jamie said.

“Whoever. I gotta have that meal before I deal with them.”

Jamie laughed and waved at Joel across the room.

“He's a jerk,” Natalie remarked.

“No, he's not, he's sweet,” Jamie responded. “He taught me how to play blackjack.”

“So,” Natalie said, “what else did you do this morning? Anything I
shouldn't
know about?”

“Not what I threatened to do,” Jamie said glumly.

“You mean you didn't run over to see Kris?”

“Well . . .
he
called me, and I
did
run over. Only the moment we were about to get into it, in walked Amber.”

“No way!” Natalie said, bursting out laughing. “You mean you and Kris were busy gettin' it on, and the
girlfriend
walks in on you?”

Jamie nodded. “How embarrassing is
that?”

“Hmm . . . I guess it means you are
not
destined to fuck Kris Phoenix.”

“I have to do
something
before I see Peter and tell him it's over,” Jamie said, frowning. “I can't sit there and say, ‘Oh Peter, I found out you're screwing another guy, and that's fine—let's get a divorce.' I have to make him feel like shit. Can you understand that?”

“Sure, honey,” Natalie said soothingly. “I'm into revenge big time.”

“It's not revenge. It's more like getting even.”

“Revenge,” Natalie said, rolling the word across her tongue. “Call it what it is.”

•

Varoomba left the table to visit the upstairs ladies' room. As she undulated through the restaurant, every male eye was upon her, including Joel's.

Holy shit!
he thought.
There goes my favorite stripper—the one who never came to my office. What the hell is she doing in Vegas?

“Excuse me,” he said, getting up from the table, determined to get an explanation.

As he began following her, he recognized Dexter Falcon, also on his way upstairs. They'd never actually met, but Joel knew who he was—Rosarita's husband, the dumb schmuck soap actor.

Wasn't
this
something. Maybe Dexter was with the stripper. Now he'd have something to tell Rosarita when he returned to New York.

He glanced back in the direction Dexter had come from, and to his shock, sitting there at a large table filled with people, was Rosarita.

He quickly looked away, wondering if she'd spotted him.

So what if she had? Rosarita made him happier than any of these other bitches. As a matter of fact, he wouldn't mind a session with her right now. She was sexier than all his models put together.

He continued following Dexter up the stairs, noticing that the soap star was a tall motherfucker, and handsome in a bland way.

Once upstairs, Dexter didn't go into the men's room, he headed straight for the pay phone. Joel hovered. Interesting, he thought.

Dexter dialed a number and waited. Joel lit up a cigarette and continued to hover.

“Hey,” Dexter said into the receiver. “Gem? It's me. Where were you last night? I phoned, and there was no answer.”

A pause as whoever was on the other end of the line gave him some kind of explanation. Then Dexter said, “I called this morning and a guy answered. Who was he?” Another pause—then a relieved, “Oh, your
brother.”

Joel knew he was onto something.

“You know what?” Dexter continued. “As soon as I get back I want us to get together. There're things I have to tell you.”

Joel smiled to himself. So old Dexter had a girlfriend. Wouldn't Rosarita find
that
an interesting piece of news.

“I
THINK WE
'
LL SKIP THE
party,” Madison said on the drive back to their hotel.

“What party is that?” Jake asked.

“Some kind of VIP party Natalie wants us to go to. I'd sooner catch the action in Antonio's dressing room. And I'm sure you wouldn't mind getting more photos before the fight, huh?”

“Good idea,” Jake said. “I'm not into parties.”

“Nor am I.”

“Although your friend
did
mention that we're all having dinner after the fight.”

“What friend, and who's
we?”

“Natalie. She called while you were in the shower and invited us to dinner after the fight.”

“Why didn't you tell me before?”

“I forgot.”

“Thanks, Jake. You take great messages.”

“So
that's
what you want me for—to be a message-taker?”

“No,” she said teasingly. “I want you for your great big sexy . . .”

“Yeah?”

“Body.”

“I wondered what you were about to say.”

“I
bet
you did.”

“Anyway, sweetheart, is dinner okay with you?”

“I'd sooner have room service,” she said wistfully. “Last night was memorable. The things you can do with caviar that I never even thought about!”

“Not to mention champagne.”

“I heard no complaints.”

“So, dinner is on then?”

“Okay, but let me warn you, Natalie
loves
celebrations, and
I
happen to hate them. So
no
birthday cake. I repeat—no cake. Make sure, okay?”

“I hardly know Natalie, so how am I supposed to persuade her not to do something?”

“Tell her
I don't want it.
You can do that, can't you?”

“It's your birthday, sweetheart; I can do anything you want.”

•

Rosarita dressed for the party in the best Escada had to offer. She'd thought long and hard about what to wear for the big fight, and the very expensive Escada black-and-white dress purchased on Rodeo Drive was the perfect choice.

She'd thought about Joel all afternoon, reasoning to herself that he was probably in Vegas for the fight. But why hadn't he told her? If she'd known in advance, they could've set up a meeting. And she was horny, because ever since Dex had learned she was pregnant, he had not approached her sexually. Rosarita did not like going without sex. It didn't suit her.

Anyway, what did she care? Dexter Falcon was a stiff, and tonight he'd be a stiff in more ways than one.

•

To Carrie's annoyance, after Leon's original come-on he had not mentioned contracts, heirs, marriage, billions—
nothing.
She was most put out. Did he think he could
play
with her? Did he think she could be tempted and then discarded. Not Carrie Hanlon. Oh no. Men did not mess with Carrie Hanlon.