Goddess of Vengeance - Jackie Collins [52]
Ah, Lennie . . . They’d been apart for six weeks, way too long, although making up for lost time was always the most exciting.
Friday night was reserved strictly for Lennie. There would be no distractions. No family. Just the two of them.
She couldn’t wait.
* * *
Billy was totally into taking a ride in Lucky’s Ferrari, especially as it was one of the latest models, a Ferrari California – sleek and smooth and definitely kick-ass. He’d recently read up on it, and he couldn’t wait to drive a car that had a top speed of 193 miles per hour. In fact, he’d been thinking of buying one, so this would be an excellent test run.
‘Sweet!’ he said, easing himself behind the wheel.
Max hovered beside the car, nervously biting her lower lip. ‘Uh . . . when should I pick it up?’ she asked.
Billy’s attention was on the Ferrari, not her. ‘C’mon by my house around seven,’ he said, smoothing his hands lovingly over the steering wheel. ‘Maybe we’ll go grab a bite.’
Was that a dinner invitation? Cool!
Billy gave her his address, blew her a distracted kiss and took off at full speed.
Please God, Max thought as she watched her mom’s car vanish into the distance. Let Lucky’s precious Ferrari survive the ride. Otherwise I am one dead person.
* * *
‘Where’s this Bobby character we’ve heard so much about?’ Denver’s father, Derek, asked in his loud – some would say – booming voice. He was a maverick lawyer and quite used to intimidating people.
‘I told you, Dad,’ Denver explained patiently. ‘His plane from New York is delayed. He’ll be here later.’
‘Will he now,’ Derek said in a tone that expressed deep disbelief.
‘Yes,’ Denver said confidently. ‘He will.’
‘You’re sure about that?’
‘Oh for God’s sake, Dad, it’s no big deal.’
‘Someone’s gettin’ edgy,’ Scott, her favourite brother, singsonged. ‘What’s so special about this dude, anyway?’
‘I never said he was special,’ Denver retaliated, glaring at him.
‘You’re sure as shit acting as if he is,’ Scott said, irritating her even more.
‘Language!’ intoned Autumn, Denver’s mother, a tall imposing woman with grey hair worn in a low ponytail, no make-up, and a penchant for the hippie clothes she’d favoured as a teenager. ‘If you cannot speak properly, then do not speak at all.’
As if on cue, Hanna, Scott’s five-year-old daughter, raced into the room screaming, ‘Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!’
Scott scooped the little girl up and shook her into silence.
‘Disgusting,’ Autumn shrieked, as Hanna’s seven-year-old cousin ran in with a fully loaded water pistol which he proceeded to shoot at Hanna, who immediately began screaming again.
Pandemonium reigned.
Just another normal Thursday-night gathering in the Jones household, Denver thought. They’re all crazy, including the kids.
And suddenly she wasn’t so upset about Bobby not making it.
* * *
‘What the fuck?’ Max yelled over the phone to Cookie. ‘You are such a douche.’
‘Wassup?’ Cookie mumbled in her best innocent voice – the voice she used when she knew she was in trouble.
‘C’mon,’ Max complained, having finally reached Cookie after sending four texts – all ignored. And now – miraculously – Cookie had answered her cell. ‘You ran out on me, left me to clear up a huge freaking mess. You know they trashed my house big time, how could you not?’
‘They did?’ Cookie said, maintaining her innocent approach. ‘I didn’t know that, I was busy with Frankie.’
‘Of course you were,’ Max said heatedly, ‘in my bedroom. Thanks a lot, you left residue of coke all over my bathroom sink. And you used my freaking bed. You’re gross!’
‘What makes you think it was me?’
‘Oh, I dunno, maybe ’cause you an’ Harry are like the only two who knew where I hid the keys.’
‘Forgive me!’ Cookie said, going all pseudo dramatic. ‘Can I help it if I wanted to get laid by my boyfriend?’
‘Frankie Romano is so not your boyfriend,’ Max scoffed.
‘Yes, he is,’ Cookie