Never Too Rich (44 page)

“
Then Dad doesn’t stand a chance?”
he asked fretfully.

“
Who knows? This could be just some
phase she’s goin’ through.” She took another bite out of the hot
dog, unaware that she squirted weenie juice all over his
black-framed thick glasses. “Y’know? Like a hormone imbalance or
somethin’? Then again . . .” She shrugged expressively.

Leslie took off his glasses and wiped them clean
with a handkerchief. “If you think your ma’s driving you crazy, you
should try my dad. He won’t even leave the house.” He put the
glasses back on and thumbed them further up his nose. “I’ve never
seen him like this. It’s as if someone’s died.”

The hot dog finished, Hallelujah delicately licked
mustard off her black-nailed fingers. “She’s up there right this
very minute working away in the study.” She eyed the San Remo with
disgust. Then she turned to him. “An’ you wanna hear the biggest
joke of all? Yesterday, after months and months of unemployment,
she not only got a job, but get this, Les, she got five million in
backing to start her own company—five million!”

“
Five?”

“
Five. Plus, get a load of this. As
if goin’ on an’ on about this Leo Flood, her backer, isn’t bad
enough? Now she’s rhapsodizin’ about how gorgeously handsome he is!
I mean, does that sound ominous, or what?”

“
Yes,” Leslie agreed with a sad nod
of his head, “it does. Maybe I should just have a man-to-man talk
with my dad and tell him to forget about her.”

“
Unh-
unh!
” Hallelujah shook
her head violently. “Not yet you don’t! We’re gonna get ‘em back
together if it kills us. The only thing is, I don’t know how.”
Scowling, she sat back and hugged her tiger-striped knees. “At
least, not yet, I don’t.” She looked at him pointedly over her
kneecaps. “But I will!”

“
I guess that leaves me out,” he
sighed. “School resumes Monday, and we’re leaving for Boston in
three days.”

“
Yeah, I know.” She echoed his sigh
with one of hers. “Maybe . . .” Suddenly she sat up straight.
“Les!” she said excitedly. “Maybe since she’s so hepped up about
this Leo Flood, we could . . . you know? Make her see how great
your dad is in comparison!” Her eyes gleamed.

“
Yes, but how?”

The excitement drained out of her as quickly as it
had come. “Aw, rats! I don’t know. I mean, with you going back to
Boston, an’ me startin’ school Monday . . .” She shook her head and
sighed morosely. “Life sure ain’t easy. ‘Specially not since
there’re now three of ‘em, an’ all it takes is
two
to tango.
So one’s gotta go, and it’s gotta be Leo Flood. I mean, you should
see the stars in Ma’s eyes!”

Leslie cleared his throat. “ Maybe . . .”he said
slowly, his voice gaining authority, “maybe I
can
be of some
help.”

“
Yeah?” She glanced at him
dubiously. “Like how?”

“
Well . . . Dad and I are in town a
lot, right?”

She nodded.

“
And you and I . . . we’re both
underage. So if
we
want to go out . . . you know . . .” He
paused, embarrassed. “We’d need chaperons.”

“
Les!” she squeaked, looking at him
with unusually shiny eyes. “You’re a genius! Oh, Les! Why didn’t we
think of it sooner?” She threw her arms around him.

Startled, he adjusted his slipping glasses. “It’ll
mean going out together every so often . . . us two, I mean.”

Hallelujah, feeling particularly expansive, was
seeing Leslie in an entirely new light. “Y’know what, Les?” she
said warmly. “That outfit of yours sorta grows on me. Like it’s got
a style all its own. Exotic. Know what I mean?” She thought about
it for a minute. “So here’s what we do. Every time you and your dad
come down from Boston, you just let me know, and we’ll set up our
dates!” She grinned hugely and held out a hand. “That a deal?”

Leslie grinned. “Sure!”

They shook on it solemnly, making the pact as
binding as a religious vow.

“
Y’know? You’re not bad people,
Leslie Shacklebury,” Hallelujah told him warmly.

“
You’re not bad either, Hallelujah
Cooper,” Leslie told her shyly in return.

“
An’ I like your dad.”

“
I like your ma too.”

“
An’ most important, they love each
other, even if they
are
all screwed up. So it’s up to us to
see that things between them work out. Right?”

“
Right!”

Beaming, she brushed crumbs off her tiger-striped
leotards and adjusted the lacy pink garter she wore blatantly
around her right thigh. “I’m bored. C’mon, let’s go.” She got up
from atop the high boulder and pulled on her killer jacket—black
motorcycle leather looped and swagged with miles of chains and
rhinestones. She turned to him. “Last one down’s a rotten egg!” she
blurted, getting a good head start.

Slipping and sliding, they raced down the boulder,
scattering a startled family of six who held tightly to their
youngest. Tourists from the hinterlands, obviously.

“
Do you see what she’s
wearing?”
one of the family’s girls exclaimed.
“Ug-
ly!
”

Ugly.
Ugly?
Hallelujah, always finely attuned
to the reactions she provoked, slowed to a dignified walk. She
grabbed Leslie by the arm and pulled him close. Then, her arm
hooked through his, she turned her head slowly and eyed the family
pitiably.
So talk about us and stare!”
she seemed to say
with a toss of her head.

Then, Leslie’s beanie-topped propeller spinning
madly and her chains and rhinestones clanging and flashing, they
let go of each other and raced on ahead, shrieking with
delight.

City kids.

The weather was killing Snake. It was real fine
riding-around, hell-raising, true-blue-biker kind of weather. Not a
cloud in the sky and warm as summer.

His bros had been coming and going on their snarling
and snapping scoots all morning long, and each time he heard one of
the Harleys firing up outside, something inside his heart just
stopped cold. He didn’t have a scoot anymore—and took little
comfort from the fact that even if it hadn’t been trashed, it would
still be weeks before his ass healed enough for him to be able to
sit on a saddle and absorb the shocks of the road.

He was grounded.
Shit!

Snake didn’t like being cooped up or locked up—they
were the same to him. It wouldn’t have mattered if there’d been an
army of young sweet-pussied beauties with tight asses and perky
boobs ministering to his every need. The thing was, he rode to live
and lived to ride—that was his credo. Usually, neither ice nor
sleet nor gloom of night had kept him from cruisin’ the
streets—just two six-month terms of doin’ time—and now some rich
fuckface in a fuckin’ Ferrari.

Shit.

Now he’d have to go out and start over from scratch.
Steal another stock Harley. Painstakingly file off all the serial
numbers. Spend another two years—and a small fortune,
man—customizing it to his particular specifications.

Not only that, but being laid up was costing him
bread. Till he healed, his lucrative dope-courier service was on
hold. Some of the other bros had to make the rounds for him—and
were takin’ his cut.

Fuckin’ Shirl and that rich pig were costing him—in
more ways than one!

Just thinking about her made him turn purple with
rage. Living the high life, fuckin’ some millionaire dude. Ruining
his
life. An’
who’d
saved her from that pimp outside
Port Authority three years ago? Why, ole man Snake—that’s who! An’
what does
he
get? A trashed bike and a raw ass, that’s what!
Stuck in the clubhouse. Watching TV, for Chrissakes!

Shit.

That’s what life was—shit.

He glowered at the flickering tube.

“
Snake, baby?” It was Conchita, his
foxy new ole lady. Back from the walk he’d given her permission to
take. Wearin’ jeans that coulda been sprayed on and a pink stretch
tube top that made her perky nipples stick out to
there
—for
all the world to slobber over, no doubt. He had a good mind to pop
her one in the jaw—but who wanted to have to look at a piece o’ ass
with a swollen face?

He sighed. Fuckin’ chicks. Can’t live with ‘em,
can’t live without ‘em.

“
What d’you the fuck want?” he
growled.

Conchita looked worried. She was scared of Snake.
Especially when he was in a rotten mood.

“
Just you, Snake honey.”

He squinted at her.

“
You miss me, Daddy?” she cooed,
suddenly all sparkly dark eyes and wiggly teasing ass. She dropped
to her knees in front of him, bent down, and jiggled her tits in
his face.

He softened.

“
Yeah, Daddy missed you all right,
honey,” he replied hoarsely, feeling the beginnings of a boner
coming on.

She thrust her little knockers right in his face.
“Mommy’s horny.”

He shoved her away. “Not now, honey. Daddy’s ass is
hurtin’. Maybe later, huh?”

She sat back on her haunches, flipping her long hair
out of her eyes. “Okay,” she said, as though it didn’t make any
difference, and watched TV.

Beside her, Snake popped the tab of another beer can
and lifted it to his lips.

And nearly shit bricks.

Shirl!

Shirl was on the tube!

Fuckin’ Shirl was on the fuckin’ TV! Holdin’ a
fuckin’ press conference! Talkin’ about fuckin’ fur!

The roar he let out was an animal keen of pain and
frustration.

Conchita jumped back, suddenly frightened by the
change that had come over him. “Whassa matter?” she whined. “I
didn’t do nothin’ wrong.”

Snake was breathing raggedly, his blood boiling and
racing from one end of his body to the other.

Fragmented pictures raced through his mind.

“
Fuckin’ bitch!” he screamed,
flinging the twelve-ounce can at the TV screen, which shattered and
imploded with a shower of sizzling sparks. “I’m gonna
kill
her!”

Chapter 46

Nina was wearing a ruched silk dress with a
Byzantine pattern and slip-on shoes with grosgrain bows and golden
buckles. She had a large red leather shoulder bag slung over one
shoulder.

“
Is this Obi Kuti?” she said into
the pay phone.

“
Who is this?” Obi demanded edgily
from somewhere up in the high-rise across the street. Her voice was
a heavily accented contralto with a soft Nigerian lilt. “Who’s
calling?”

“
We’ve never met. My name is Nina.
Nina Zatopekova?” Nina’s voice was a contralto too, but with
neither accent nor lilt. “Joy . . . she was my sister.”

“
Oh, I’m sorry.” Obi’s guarded
voice immediately became gentle. “I’m not usually so rude, but with
what’s happened to Joy . . .” She sighed. “Well, every stranger who
calls gives me the shivers.”

“
I understand. Listen, I’m in town
for a few days, and I wonder if we might meet?” Nina’s voice
suddenly cracked and there was a sniffle and a pause. Then: “Joy
spoke of you so often, I almost feel like I know you.”

“
Sure,” Obi said. “I’d love to meet
you too. Maybe we could have lunch?”

“
Could we . . . you know . . . meet
someplace more private? You see, every time I think of Joy or talk
about her, I burst into tears. Silly, isn’t it?”

“
No, it’s not silly,” Obi said. “I
tell you what. Why don’t you come up here?”

“
You’re certain I won’t be
imposing?”

“
Gosh, no! It just so happens I’ve
got the day off. Besides, I’m all alone. My roommate’s at work all
day and I’m just puttering around the house. I can’t think of a
better time to talk.”

“
Is the next half-hour okay?” Nina
asked.

“
That’s fine!” Obi assured her.
“I’m looking forward to it. See you soon.”

“
Yes, I . . . I’ll be there,” Nina
said, and quickly hung up. For a moment she stood there and looked
over at the towering luxury high-rise. It was set back from the
street, with a tiny curved drive that went under the canopied
entrance, where a doorman was on duty.

She decided to kill the half-hour by walking around
the block.

Off the avenue, the side street was quiet, lined
with big leafy trees and town houses and garages. Shingles for
doctors and caterers hung discreetly by front doors, and birds
chirped gleefully from wherever it was city birds sang their songs.
You could almost forget you were in the middle of Manhattan.

Then it was back to another noisy, congested avenue,
and around the corner to the next quiet street, which looked and
sounded exactly like the previous block.

Fifteen minutes later, she walked up the circular
drive and into the big apartment tower.

The doorman announced her, and she entered the
lobby. It was light gray marble with rust-colored varicose
veins.

The elevator ride was a swift and smooth
ascent—there was something to be said for these new buildings, she
thought.

Once on Obi’s floor, she went down the narrow
blue-carpeted corridor, looking at the apartment numbers. Rang the
doorbell of 32J. Smiled reassuringly as she felt an appraising eye
looking out at her through the magnifying peephole. Then the locks
clicked and the door swung open.

“
Hi!” Obi said breathlessly,
backlit by the glare of sunshine streaming into the hall from the
living room beyond. “Don’t mind me, I was just doing my aerobics.”
She had on a green spandex exercise outfit that gave the impression
it was sprayed on. With the sheen of perspiration, she looked like
nothing so much as a dark panther, all black slanting eyes,
prominent cheekbones, and Chiclet-perfect teeth.