Goddess of Vengeance - Jackie Collins [115]
‘Fuck that shit,’ Luscious said, boldly blowing a smoke ring in his face. ‘If I get cancer an’ die I promise not to blame you.’
Seducta guffawed as she threw herself down on the couch, one streaky fake-tanned leg casually flung over the side. Her large breasts threatened to fall out of the flimsy top she was wearing, while her red, white and blue g-string was fully on show. ‘I could go for a drink while we’re waitin’,’ she said, winking meaningfully at Carlos.
He glanced at his watch. Was he supposed to serve these two creatures drinks? Armand Jordan might be an excellent tipper, but he, Carlos, was nobody’s lackey. ‘Mr Jordan will be here shortly,’ he said. ‘It’s up to him if he wishes you to drink.’
‘For crissakes,’ Luscious whined. ‘Lighten up. You’re a workin’ stiff, just like us. Get the stick out your ass and pour us a fuckin’ drink.’
‘Yeah, I’m parched,’ Seducta agreed, sitting up. ‘One drink, an’ if you promise to behave I’ll show you my titties.’
‘I don’t—’
‘Oh yeah, you do!’ Seducta said, peeling down her top and revealing the largest fake boobs Carlos had ever seen.
The women were disgustingly vulgar, but he was a man after all, and the sudden stirring in his pants reminded him of that fact. He realized that he had to leave immediately before he did something to dishonour his lovely wife of six months. Let them steal. Whatever they took he would simply add onto Mr Jordan’s bill.
‘The drinks cupboard is behind the bar,’ he said, hurriedly backing toward the door. ‘Help yourselves.’
‘Bye, honey,’ Seducta crooned, shaking her enormous bare breasts at him. ‘See you around!’
* * *
‘What took place between you and the man you came to Vegas with?’ Armand asked, as he and Annabelle walked through the casino on their way outside to his villa. He wasn’t at all interested in anything she had to say, but faking it socially was a talent he’d cultivated over the years. Make them like you, then stick it to them – hard.
‘He was one of those hot-shot Hollywood jerks,’ Annabelle complained. ‘A lying prick who had me figured as a money machine for him to milk. Promised me my own reality show, then when we got here I discovered he’d not only pitched another celeb, but he was sleeping with her too.’
Armand made a sympathetic sound in the back of his throat. As if he cared. He didn’t. Not one bit.
‘Tell me about the party tomorrow night – you say it’s for Lucky Santangelo’s daughter?’
‘That’s right,’ Annabelle said. ‘Lucky dotes on Max. It’s all about ego – Max is like a little version of her mom.’ She paused for a breath. ‘Surely you’re invited, considering you’re buying The Keys? I can’t imagine they wouldn’t invite you.’
‘I keep business separate from social occasions,’ Armand stated. ‘And since you are one of the few people who know about my imminent purchase of such a prestigious property, I would appreciate your discretion, and trust that you will not mention it to anyone.’
‘Naturally,’ Annabelle agreed, quite flattered that she was in the know, although disappointed that Armand obviously did not have an invite to the party.
She threw him a sideways glance. He was an attractive man – not handsome like her dad, who was a well-established movie star – but not bad-looking in a buttoned-down way.
The moustache would have to go, a new haircut might help, and the way he dressed was old-fashioned and too formal. But she could get him into shape. He’d be quite a prize to return to New York with.
Yes. Tonight she would seal this deal. No doubt about it.
Chapter Forty-Three
If there was one thing that turned Gerald M. on, it was holding court with an attentive audience hanging onto his every word. He revelled in the spotlight – it shored up his escalating fear that his kind of music was becoming irrelevant. Diddy, Jay-Z and Akon ruled. Plus every week a new rap sensation hit the street.
Gerald M.’s manager had not so subtly suggested that he might like to try taking a different direction – maybe make a CD of old standards like Rod Stewart, or perhaps invite some happening rapper to join him on a track or