grandfather. What a tangled web of relationships! The Stanislopoulos clan made the Onassis family tree seem simple.
âIâd love that,â she said eagerly.
âGreat. Iâll have Lucky persuade Charlotte to let you go for a few weeks.â
âGod! The last thing Charlotte needs is persuading. Just tell her â sheâll be thrilled to get rid of me.â
âNow, now, donât be nasty, little girl,â he teased.
âItâs true, Lennie!â
âAnd then, when I finish the movie, maybe weâll all take off for Europe.â
âBrilliant!â
âTough. No enthusiasm, huh?â
âCâmon! Iâd kill for this trip.â
âYou donât have to. Itâs almost settled.â
âI canât wait!â
âGood.â
âHow come youâre not working? Isnât it the middle of the day in L.A.?â
âWhat about you?â he countered.
âItâs five-thirty. Iâm a free person.â
âSo get out anâ run riot.â
She giggled. âI canât. Itâs a weekday. Weâre not allowed out on weekdays.â
âBreak a rule or two, live dangerously.â
â
Youâre
not supposed to tell me to do things like that,â she said, remembering the one time she had broken the rules and suffered the consequences.
âNo shit? If I were you, Iâd go for it.â
Go for what? She had no friends, no one to cut school with. Besides, she was not like her mother, she had no desire to break loose. The price, sheâd discovered, was far too high.
âHowâs the movie going?â she asked, hurriedly changing the subject.
He groaned. âDonât ruin my day.â
âIs Lucky in L.A. with you?â
He feigned exasperation. âWhat is it with the questions? Are you needlinâ me because youâve nothing better to do, or what?â
She smiled. âDonât you know â I live to piss you off.â
Laughing, he said, âWell, keep on livinâ, and Iâll call you next week with more plans. OK, bait?â
âOK, dirty old man.â
Lennie always made her feel terrific, especially when he called her âbaitâ, an abbreviation of âjail baitâ â his pet name for her. She always retaliated with âdirty old manâ. It was their private game, their way of saying the past meant nothing. âYou gotta laugh about something anâ itâll go away,â Lennie had often told her.
Maybe he was right, but it didnât mean she had to let her guard down. She was Brigette Stanislopoulos. Person. Heiress. Always an heiress. No getting away from
that
.
With a deep sigh she returned to the dormitory â a prison shared with three other girls. There was a stack of homework piled on the table next to her bed, and on her side of the wall hung a single poster of Boy George smiling shyly in full makeup and ringlets. She liked his music, and she liked the fact that he didnât seem to give a damn. Her kind of person.
The other girls had posters and pictures of everyone from Rob Lowe to an almost naked Richard Gere. So what? Romantic involvements were something Brigette never wanted to experience again.
For a moment she allowed her mind to drift back in time. First there was Santino Bonnattiâs face â always there â that evil, sneering face. And then there was Tim Wealth. Handsome and young. A would-be famous actor whoâd had the bad luck to try and pull a scam with Bobby and herself as the central characters. The newspapers had never connected the murder of the young actor with the Bonnatti events.
Thank goodness
, Brigette thought with a shudder. Sheâd loved Tim, and heâd tricked her. Unfortunately he had paid with his life. No fault of hers. Bonnattiâs men had done what they were told, and they were told Tim Wealth was in the way.
Donât think about it,
she scolded herself
Lawrence Anthony, Graham Spence