Goddess of Vengeance - Jackie Collins [57]
‘You heard it here first,’ Billy said, keeping his cool and wishing he hadn’t sent the PRs away. ‘No problems. And uh . . . shouldn’t we be talking about my movie?’
* * *
Sometimes Denver felt that she could cheerfully murder her family. They never let up on her all night with questions about Bobby.
When’s he coming?
Why is he so late?
Who is this guy?
What exactly does he do?
You like him, you really like him.
She’d received a series of texts from Bobby full of excuses about cancelled and delayed flights, but she was disappointed by the time she headed home. Couldn’t he have made more of an effort to meet her family for the first time? It pissed her off that he hadn’t done so.
Amy Winehouse greeted her as if she’d been gone a year. A rush of happy barking, followed by wet doggy licks and kisses all over her face. It was comforting to feel wanted.
She took Amy for a walk around the block, and returned to find that Sam had left another message. He was certainly persistent.
And normal.
And attractive.
Why not go for him instead of the dazzling, rich, too handsome for his own good, Bobby Santangelo Stanislopoulos?
Interesting question.
Easy answer.
I love Bobby, and that’s all there is to it.
* * *
Prowling around Kennedy airport was giving Bobby the distinct feeling that he was trapped in a maze of bars, fast-food restaurants, donut and magazine stands, plus a hundred other useless stores. The flight he was supposed to be on was cancelled at the last minute, while the current flight he was booked onto kept getting delayed.
It occurred to him that he was an idiot not to have had the Stanislopoulos plane pick him up in New York. Such a dumb move. What was he thinking?
After trying to get on an earlier flight – fully booked – he made his way back to the lounge with the latest Harlan Coben thriller, and attempted to read and chill out. But he soon found it impossible to concentrate – too much going on in his head. The new clubs he was planning to build were a real challenge. Exciting, but at the same time quite daunting. He’d conquered New York and Vegas with Mood, so bring on L.A. and Miami. After that, who knew?
His big ambition was to create an empire. His empire. And maybe, like Gino and Lucky before him, he would eventually move into the hotel business. He had in mind small boutique hotels that would cater to a very distinct clientele, people who were looking for somewhere special and private.
‘Bobby?’
He glanced up, and there stood Annabelle Maestro, Frankie’s ex-girlfriend, now a minor TV personality since the murder of her movie-star mother and the arrest of her action-star father. Annabelle was a true child of Hollywood. She had written a book about growing up in L.A. with famous parents, and then all about the year she’d spent running call girls in New York. Like most of the people who became stars of reality television, she’d made a career out of simply being seen around, appearing on talk shows, and doing nothing much at all.
‘Annabelle Maestro!’ Bobby exclaimed, putting down his book. ‘How’re you, stranger?’
Annabelle immediately sat down next to him without being invited to do so. ‘I’m doing so well it’s ridiculous,’ she gushed, pretty and powdered in a slightly plastic way, with her very long pale golden-red hair, high cheekbones, and suspiciously plump lips.
Bobby had known her way before she’d hooked up with Frankie. Along with M.J., Denver and Carolyn, they’d all attended the same Beverly Hills high school.
‘My schedule is completely insane,’ Annabelle continued. ‘Ever since the success of my book . . .’
‘What book?’ Bobby was tempted to say, but then he vaguely remembered Denver mentioning something about it.
‘My Life – A Hollywood Princess Tells All,’ Annabelle said, reminding him of the title. ‘Currently out in paperback, which is why I’m in New York doing publicity. I was on Watch What Happens Live this week with the adorable Andy Cohen. Did you see it?’
Was she kidding?
‘’Fraid not,’ he said, flipping open a courtesy packet of nuts. ‘This