Goddess of Vengeance - Jackie Collins [80]
Bobby decided it was prudent not to mention that Annabelle had referred to Denver as ‘some kind of mutt’.
‘Not much,’ he said, sliding into traffic. ‘Carrying on about that book she got published.’
‘Oh yes, My Life – A Hollywood Princess Tells All. What a crock of shit!’
‘I’m taking it you’re not a fan?’ Bobby said, amused.
‘Hell, no,’ Denver said, shaking her head. ‘Annabelle was always a piece of work. Surely you remember her in high school?’
Oh yes, he remembered Annabelle all right, and it was a memory he’d sooner forget. He and M.J. had double-teamed her – with her consent – on a drunken prom night. Something to never mention, especially to Denver, who he was sure would not appreciate hearing about it.
‘I guess Frankie had a welcome escape,’ Bobby ventured, zipping in front of a Cadillac.
‘I think they both did,’ Denver said, briskly closing the subject. The last person she wished to talk about was Annabelle Maestro. And as for Frankie Romano – a total loser.
‘When we get to the hotel,’ Bobby said, ‘unpack, an’ put on something casual.’
‘Why’s that?’
He grinned. ‘You’ll see,’ he said, barely missing a jaywalking pedestrian.
‘Mystery Man,’ she murmured, loving that he had such a strong romantic streak.
‘Yeah,’ he said, still grinning. ‘An’ don’cha love it!’
Yes, Bobby, I do.
* * *
‘We’re here, an’ I’m like so into it!’ Cookie sing-songed, sliding her long brown legs out of Frankie’s car, flashing the valet parker with her mini-skirt, under which she wore no panties.
Frankie had not bothered to book a room, because Cookie had informed him they would be well taken care of. He hadn’t realized they would be staying on what Max referred to as the Santangelo floor. When they got off the elevator he was already feeling horny again, in spite of Cookie servicing him in the car. A little sex, a little gambling, Vegas had that effect on him.
A stern-looking older black woman armed with a lengthy guest list sat at the reception desk facing the elevator.
‘Hiya, Betty,’ Cookie said, swooping in for a friendly hug. ‘Are we in my usual room?’
Betty gave Frankie a disapproving once-over.
‘S’okay,’ Cookie said gaily. ‘He’s my boyfriend.’
Betty reached for her glasses and consulted her list. ‘And his name is?’
Frankie bristled. ‘Frankie Romano,’ he said shortly. ‘An’ you can forget about a room – we need a suite. An’ make sure any calls get put directly through to me. Romano. R O M—’
‘I know how to spell, Mr Romano,’ Betty said caustically. ‘And I do believe all the suites are reserved.’
‘Well, unreserve one,’ Frankie said, giving her a sharp look. ‘Lucky would want me to be comfortable.’
Frankie and Betty locked eyes. It was not a friendly interaction.
‘I’ll see what I can do,’ Betty said at last, shuffling papers.
Frankie reached into his pocket and flipped a hundred-dollar bill onto her desk. ‘You do that, hon.’
Betty picked up the bill and gave it back to him. ‘Not necessary,’ she said.
‘Take it,’ Frankie insisted, thrusting it toward her.
‘No, thank you,’ Betty said, ignoring him as she calmly handed Cookie her door card.
Cookie grabbed it, and pulled Frankie away from the desk. ‘Let’s go,’ she sing-songed. ‘Don’t mess with Betty, she can be a dragon lady.’
He threw Betty another look. ‘Suite,’ he said shortly. ‘Deal with it.’
Betty continued to ignore him.
‘Max and me – we come here all the time,’ Cookie announced, flouncing into a large blue bedroom with a balcony overlooking the main swimming pool. ‘This is usually my room.’
‘I hope you heard me,’ Frankie said, not pleased. ‘We need a suite. When Max gets here, you deal with it.’
‘Take no notice of Betty,’ Cookie said. ‘She’s only doing her job. I’ll score us a suite, don’t go gettin’ your balls in a spasm.’
‘You’d better,’ Frankie said, grabbing her ass and squeezing hard. ‘I do not appreciate slummin’ it.’
‘Here’s the good news,’ Cookie said. ‘Everything’s comped. Spa, restaurants, pool, shows.