Goddess of Vengeance - Jackie Collins [3]
‘Well, let him take a shot elsewhere,’ Venus said grandly. ‘I can’t stand being harassed when I’m trying to relax.’
‘Oh my God, you can be such a queen bitch!’ Lucky admonished. ‘Wouldn’t want to get on your wrong side.’
‘So be it,’ Venus said with a wry smile. ‘Shall we go?’
* * *
Seventeen-year-old Max Santangelo Golden could somehow or other wrangle her way into any club she wanted. Fake I.D. No problem. Lavish tips to the doormen. No problem. Cultivating a friendship with one of the promoters. No problem.
‘When it comes to getting in anywhere, I rule,’ Max often boasted.
Her two closest friends, Cookie, the chocolate-skinned daughter of soul-icon Gerald M., and Harry, the gay son of a TV network honcho, agreed with her. Ace, her on-again off-again boyfriend, was not so pleased. The L.A. club scene failed to enthrall him. He wasn’t into drinking, drugging and spotting out-of-control celebrities. But Max, at seventeen, loved every minute. Not that she drank much or did drugs, but she did get off on people-watching and dancing on tables. Music was her special thrill – especially rap and unknown British groups with wasted-looking lead singers. Oh yes, she was totally into lean and mean. Ace was way hot and sexy, but sometimes Max considered him too nice a dude, and she often craved a more edgy relationship. Besides, Ace didn’t live in L.A. so he wasn’t always around when she wanted to do something with him.
‘Where’re we goin’ tonight?’ Cookie asked as she sat cross-legged on her messy bed picking at her green nail polish.
‘There’s a rave for some old rock group at the House of Blues,’ Harry said, speaking up. ‘’Spose we could crash if you’re up for it.’
Harry was the palest boy known to man, pallid-faced and skinny, with gelled and spiked hair dyed a ruthless black. It was only recently he’d emerged from the closet, although Max and Cookie had always known and totally accepted that he was gay. He had yet to come out to his controlling father who would probably disown him.
‘No can stand the House of Blues,’ Max opined, her brilliant green eyes flashing disapproval. ‘It’s always full of major wannabes; besides we’ll never make it into the Foundation Room.’
‘Why not?’ Cookie inquired, leaning over and reaching for a can of 7UP balanced precariously on the edge of a table.
‘Yeah, why not?’ Harry repeated. ‘Thought you could get in anywhere.’
‘Anywhere I want to,’ Max answered pointedly, tossing back clouds of wavy black hair. ‘Who needs the freaking Foundation Room? It’s always full of ancient rockers gulping down handfuls of Viagra. So not cool.’
Cookie let forth a manic giggle. ‘I bet my dad takes Viagra,’ she said, swigging 7UP from the can. ‘Bet he pops those pills by the dozen.’
‘All old guys do,’ Harry said with a knowing smirk. ‘They can’t get it up without ’em.’
‘Gross-out!’ Cookie squealed. ‘Don’t wanna think of my dad with a boner!’
Max decided that sometimes Cookie and Harry could be too much of a good thing. The three of them had grown up together, attended the same school, and shared some interesting and sometimes frightening experiences, but in a way she felt she’d outgrown them. As soon as she was eighteen, she planned on making a break for New York and freedom. Not that her parents weren’t great, but the two of them were a lot to live up to. Lucky – who’d achieved absolutely everything she’d ever wanted. And Lennie, a multi-talented writer/director who helmed all his own independent movies. Max was tired of being referred to as their daughter. Fed up with the pressure it put on her to do something spectacular with her life.
Big brother Bobby was her role model – Bobby, who had escaped and made his own way. He was definitely her inspiration, and she adored him. Although now he had a permanent girlfriend, Denver Jones, and much as she reluctantly admired Denver, a Deputy D.A., she missed having Bobby all to herself when he was in L.A.
‘Got it,’ Max said at last. ‘Whyn’t we hit the Chateau for dinner? There’s always something going on there.’
‘S’long as I don’t bump into my old man,’ Cookie