Confessions of a Wild Child (12 page)

I am in shock. How did this happen? How does a fiery Latina actress on the make know who I am?

‘Where
is
Gino?’ Pippa asks. ‘I would love to see him again.’

I bet you would
.
WHO ARE YOU?

‘Gino’s not here,’ I say, my words tumbling over each other.

‘Is he coming?’ Pippa asks.

I stare at her. Shortly she’ll figure out how old I am and maybe wonder what’s going on.

‘Uh . . . yes,’ I lie. ‘He’ll be here soon.’

Pippa’s eyes light up. ‘Wonderful,’ she purrs. ‘I can’t wait to catch up on old times.’

This is a nightmare. What to do? I have to warn Olympia, who is currently naked in the swimming pool, smoking a joint and cavorting with Warris.

I get up and hurry into the kitchen.

‘So . . .’ Pippa says, following me, ‘whose house is this?’

‘It belongs to Olympia’s family,’ I reply, wishing the woman would leave me alone.

‘And they allow you two girls to live here by yourself?’

Get lost, lady
.
Who are you to interrogate me?

‘Uh . . . yeah. Everyone will be here in a few days.’

‘Not a moment too soon,’ Pippa remarks dryly, extracting a cigarette from her purse while glancing out the window and observing Warris and Olympia in the pool.

‘How old is your friend?’ she asks, tapping her manicured nails on the counter.

‘Nineteen,’ I lie, casually taking a Coca-Cola from the fridge.

‘Really,’ Pippa says. A long pause. ‘And you?’ she adds.

I decide a switch of subjects is in order. ‘You’re so pretty,’ I say. ‘How old are
you
?’

This is not a question she cares to answer. I sense that age is a sensitive subject for an actress who is obviously pushing forty.

We both go outside.

‘Warris,’ Pippa calls out. ‘It’s time for you to drive me into town. I need to change clothes, and March is meeting us for an early drink to discuss our script.’

Reluctantly Warris hauls himself out of the pool. His shorts slip, revealing far too much of his pale anatomy.
Ugh!

‘Should I come with you?’ Olympia squeaks.

‘No, doll,’ Warris says, bending over the side of the pool to give her a kiss. ‘I’ll be back before you know it.’

Ten minutes later the terrible two are gone.

Ah, this is my opportunity to discuss the situation with Olympia. However, just as I’m about to do so, the doorbell rings, and standing on the doorstep is Jon. Cute, chirpy Jon with his crooked grin and crazy sticking-up hair. He has arrived on a Vespa, which sits in the driveway.

‘Hey you,’ he says.

‘Hey
you
,’ I respond, unexpectedly feeling a tad shy.

‘This is quite a place.’

‘You found it OK,’ I say, stating the obvious.

‘You inviting me in or am I just gonna stand here?’ he asks.

‘Uh . . . of course,’ I reply, moving back for him to enter, while hoping that Olympia has put some clothes on.

No such luck. Olympia appears in all her blonde glory, plants her legs apart and puts her hands on her hips. ‘Well, hello,’ she says in what she considers her best sexy voice. ‘Who’re
you
?’

‘Didn’t realize it was clothes optional,’ Jon jokes, keeping his eyes above C-level.

I am mortified. Whatever happened to the girl I used to know?

‘Feel free to strip off,’ Olympia says, going for a major flirt. ‘You’re hot!’

‘This is my friend, Jon,’ I say stiffly. ‘And nobody’s stripping off.’

Olympia pulls a face. ‘Spoilsport,’ she says, throwing him a knowing wink.

I quickly take his arm and steer him outside. ‘Sorry about that,’ I mumble. ‘Olympia dances to her own tune.’

‘Doesn’t bother me,’ Jon says. ‘Naked blondes are not my thing.’

‘No?’

‘No. I like ’em dark-haired an’ beautiful. Know who I’m talking about?’

Jon definitely has a way with words.

*  *  *

By the time Warris and Pippa return to the house it’s dark outside, and Jon and I are locked in my room practising Almost.

Amazing the things you can do without going all the way.

I am happy, content. I am finally having fun, and I don’t give a flying anything about what the others are up to.

I may stay in the South of France longer than I thought.

Chapter Twenty-Three

G
ino tracked Dimitri Stanislopoulos down by phone in Athens and asked the question – was Olympia still in Paris? Dimitri said of course she was – however, he would double-check as a courtesy.

By the time he got back to Gino he was as concerned and angry as Gino himself.

‘We have a problem,’ Dimitri said, his voice grim.

Suddenly it was we.

‘What’s happening?’ Gino demanded. ‘Have you found ’em? Are they together?’

‘I’m afraid I don’t know,’ Dimitri replied. ‘Olympia has apparently left Paris, taken her mother’s Mercedes and nobody knows where she’s gone.’

‘Ahh . . .’ Gino said, feeling somewhat relieved that at least Lucky was probably with her friend.

‘Olympia is a very strong-minded girl,’ Dimitri said. ‘Uncontrollable, some would say. And easily influenced. I expect that together with your daughter, Lucky . . .’

‘Are you sayin’ that Lucky influenced her?’ Gino growled, knowing it was quite possible.

‘Who knows
what
they’re getting up to,’ Dimitri replied.

‘You any clue where they could’ve gone?’ Gino demanded.

‘No. However, I have a search out on the car. My people will soon find them.’

‘If your wife hadn’t been so insistent about Olympia being in Paris—’ Gino grumbled.

‘
Ex
-wife,’ Dimitri said. ‘I am sure you understand how that is.’

‘Yes,’ Gino said. ‘I understand perfectly.’

‘We should meet in Paris,’ Dimitri said. ‘They can’t have gone too far.’

‘I’ll be on the next plane,’ Gino said.

And indeed he was.

*  *  *

Dimitri Stanislopoulos was not the kind of man Gino usually spent time with. He was more of an equal, and Gino was used to an entourage – men who looked up to him and hung onto his every word. After all, he was Gino Santangelo, king of the heap.

Dimitri was king of another kind of heap. A billionaire ship owner, he lived a life of pure luxury surrounded by beautiful women and anxious yes men.

They were not so different really. Two men powerful in their own particular way. Two men who were catnip to women. Gino built magnificent hotels and gambling casinos in Vegas – among other things. And Dimitri controlled his massive empire. Apparently neither of them could control their teenage daughters.

They met up in Paris, shook hands, and went straight to Dimitri’s apartment to speak with his housekeeper, Magda, a rat-faced surly woman, nervous about losing her job.

Dimitri conversed with her in rapid French, his arms flailing around like windmills.

Magda replied in a resentful mumble, pushing wisps of dyed orange hair out of her eyes.

‘What did she say?’ Gino wanted to know.

‘She tells me that Olympia took the car last Monday – said she was going to visit her mother,’ Dimitri answered gruffly.

‘Was Lucky with her?’

‘I expect it was Lucky – apparently she was meeting a friend at the airport. Magda heard her on the phone checking arrival times.’

Gino nodded. ‘Now how the hell do we find ’em?’ he demanded impatiently.

Dimitri shrugged. ‘Two pretty young girls in a white convertible Mercedes. Not so hard to trace. My team is on it. They’ll track the car, and Olympia’s credit card charges, then we’ll know where they are, or at least where they’re headed.’

‘That easy, huh?’ Gino said, chewing on his lower lip.

‘Everything’s easy when you set your mind to it,’ Dimitri said calmly.

Gino decided there was a distinct possibility that under different circumstances he and Dimitri might be friends.

After all, Gino had a great admiration for a man who could get things done.

Chapter Twenty-Four

‘T
here’s a mistral coming,’ Jon informs me when he wakes up. I lean over and touch his face. He has soulful eyes and a stubbly chin. He’s made me very happy. And, even better – he’s not forced me to do anything I don’t want to do. I think he’s kind of perfect.

‘What’s a mistral?’ I ask, stretching lazily.

‘It’s a vicious wind that’ll knock you sideways,’ Jon explains, sitting up. ‘You should stay inside today.’

‘Are you kidding?’ I say brightly. ‘It’s a gorgeous day.’

‘Trust me,’ Jon warns. ‘It’s not gonna last, and there’s a storm coming through too.’

‘What’re you?’ I joke. ‘A weather expert?’

‘Kinda,’ Jon says, getting out of bed and pulling on his pants.

I am feeling euphoric. Last night spooning close to Jon, I think I might’ve experienced the big O everyone’s always talking about. As I squeezed myself against him I suddenly felt this powerful surge of adrenalin and delight. A shudder of deliciousness took over my entire body, accompanied by a moment of pure ecstasy.

So much for not going all the way – apparently you can get all the way there without actually doing
it
.

I grin to myself and decide that Jon is a keeper.

‘Will I see you later?’ I ask. To my annoyance I’m beginning to sound a touch needy.

‘Not today,’ Jon says, reaching for his shirt. ‘Gotta work at the café all day. Vieux Columbier all night. Tomorrow – definitely.’

‘What time tomorrow?’
Oh my God! Stop sounding like a clinging wimp, Santangelo
.
Snap out of it
.

‘I’ll probably make it over in the afternoon,’ Jon says.

‘Great,’ I respond.

I’m feeling a bit light-headed
.
Does this mean I’m falling in like?

No. Too soon
.

Or is it?

After declining my offer of making him breakfast, Jon heads outside, jumps on his Vespa and zooms off.

I wander into the kitchen. Surprise, surprise, Warris and Pippa are both up.

What kind of people are they, sponging off a couple of teenage girls? I bet if Warris knew Olympia was only sixteen he’d crap himself. And surely Pippa must’ve figured out how old I am? But I guess math isn’t her strong suit.

‘Boyfriend’s taken off, I see,’ Warris remarks, sitting at the kitchen table chugging a mug of coffee. ‘Not very social, is he?’

‘Jon has to work,’ I say, adding a pointed – ‘unlike
some
people.’

‘We’re thinking of throwin’ a party tonight,’ Warris informs me.

‘Does Olympia know?’ I ask.

Warris can see I’m not thrilled at the prospect of a party, but he doesn’t much care what I think. Why should he? I’m only the friend.

‘She knows,’ he says. ‘It’s a smart business move. We’ll get some big-ass money men up here, mix ’em up with a movie star or two – that’s a plan that always works.’

‘Marabelle Blue?’ I say with a hint of sarcasm.

‘Is she in town?’ Warris asks, suddenly looking all interested.

‘No she’s not,’ Pippa says, joining in. ‘She’s filming in Rio. My family is thrilled – my brother even got her autograph.’

‘How nice,’ I say, and I’m dying to add –
Ha! My father got more than her autograph
. Only why give them the pleasure of knowing anything about me and my family?

By the time Olympia gets up, plans have been made. Pippa has put herself in charge. She informs us that she will take the Mercedes, drive down to Cannes and organize everything. The right mix of guests, incredible flowers, fantastic music, delicious food. ‘Nobody plans a party better than Pippa,’ she boasts, licking her lips. ‘March will pay. March will do anything for me. You guys can just relax, I’ll see you later.’

And so she takes off in the Mercedes, and I go outside, dive into the pool and begin swimming lengths. It seems like the only way to pass the day.

Idly I make up my mind that when Pippa returns I will ditch the party and drive into Juan-les-Pins. It doesn’t matter that Jon will be working behind the bar – at least I can hang with him, and that sure beats sitting around with a houseful of rich, famous old people at some dumb party.

I wonder where Jon lives. I don’t care if it’s just one room somewhere, I think I want to move in with him if he’ll have me, and why wouldn’t he?

Hmm . . . I’m excited at the thought.

Olympia is hovering poolside. ‘Get out of the pool,’ she squeals. ‘We need to talk.’

‘Not if you’re stoned,’ I respond.

‘What?’ Olympia says, as if she doesn’t know what I’m talking about.

‘Lately you’re always stoned,’ I point out. ‘Warris has got you on a diet of weed, and let me tell you – it’s made you major boring.’

‘Thanks a lot,’ Olympia huffs. ‘Maybe you’re jealous ’cause
I’ve
got a boyfriend.’

‘So’ve I,’ I shoot back.

‘Ha!’ Olympia says. ‘That kid who was over here yesterday?’

‘That
kid
is way older than both of us,’ I say, getting out of the pool and grabbing a towel.

‘I prefer me a real man,’ Olympia sniffs. ‘Someone who can teach
me
something.’

‘You’re so full of it,’ I fume. She’s really annoying, and it infuriates me that she’s only decided to speak to me because Warris isn’t around, he’s busy taking an afternoon nap. ‘Y’know,’ I say, thinking it’s about time I tell her how I feel. ‘Lately you’ve been acting like a real bitch.’

Olympia tosses back her blonde hair and glares at me, her blue eyes full of spite. ‘You’re still such a baby,’ she sneers. ‘You simply don’t get it.’

‘Oh, I get it alright,’ I retaliate. ‘Some random dude comes along, and that’s it for our friendship. Why have a best friend when a guy’ll do so much better?’

‘That’s not true.’

‘Take a look at yourself, it’s totally true. This was supposed to be
our
adventure. Not joined at the hip with sleazy Warris and his would-be movie star girlfriend.’

‘Pippa is so
not
his girlfriend.’