"What time are we leaving?" she muttered to Dante, who'd been trying to give Alejandro the impression that they were a couple. How gross was that?

"Soon," Dante said. "Alejandro's driver says with no traffic it'll take us less than three hours."

Three hours of sleep, that's what she craved. Three hours of sleep and then she'd finally be with her family.

CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN.

After spending time with Venus, Lucky continued to circulate from table to table. There were so many people present who'd loved Gino, so many faces from both their past lives. It was crazy trying to talk to everyone when all she really wanted was to be with close family only.

She was happy to see talk-show host Jack Python, and after chatting with him for a few minutes she turned away to find Craven Richmond looming in front of her. Craven, the son of Senator Peter Richmond, the idiot Gino had married her off to when she was sixteen. Ah yes, fond memories-a baby married off to an awkward jerk. What a pair of losers!

Poor Craven; he hadn't changed. He stood before her older and no wiser, with a sad-sack expression and a plump wife by his side.

"Y-You look ... uh ... beautiful," he stuttered.

Totally inappropriate, Lucky thought. Still an idiot. How about saying, "I'm sorry for your loss"? Or maybe introducing me to your wife?

She noted that he was losing his hair and immediately felt sorry for him. It wasn't his fault he'd been born into such a messed-up family. Peter Richmond, the philanderer, and his frozen-faced hard-ass wife, Betty, who had about as much compassion as an ant. No parenting skills between those two.

Remembering her time in Washington, Lucky shuddered. Nonstop games of golf and tennis, endless fund-raising parties, dinners, and plenty of mindless bullshit. A life in limbo while she waited desperately for an opportunity to escape. And when that opportunity had come around, she'd taken it and never looked back.

"Nice to see you, Craven," she said, trying to sound as if she meant it. "And this must be your lovely wife."

The plump woman smiled, a gummy, ingratiating smile. "We're pregnant," the woman said with a proud smirk.

"Congratulations," Lucky said, swiftly moving on to the movie-star table, where Nick Angel was busy holding court.

"Where the fuck are you?" Alejandro yelled to Willow on his cell. "My friends are already here and we're waiting to leave. You're embarrassing me. Get your ass to the club."

"I'm on my way, had a slight setback," Willow said, staring crossly at her mom, who'd turned up on her doorstep bitching and moaning that Willow had not sent her the check she'd promised, and that perhaps she should speak to the nice men with cameras gathered outside Willow's house and tell them what a cheap little monkey her darling daughter was.

Oh shit, Willow thought. This is exactly what I don't need.

Furiously, she realized that it was her own fault because what with all the excitement of trying to put a movie together, she'd forgotten about sending her mom a check. Now Pammy-verging on drunk-was in her living room, while she was supposed to be going to Vegas with Alejandro. He'd assured her they would be picking up the start-up cash they needed, so finally their movie could get on track. What was a girl to do?

A disgruntled Pammy placed both hands on her hips and glared at her daughter. "I saw you in the magazines with that man who's old enough to be your grandfather," she said accusingly. "What were you thinking?"

"Ralph Maestro is not a man," Willow answered grandly. "Ralph Maestro is a big movie star."

"He's a murderer too," Pammy muttered ominously. "Everyone knows he killed that lovely wife of his. Shot her in the head. The Enquirer is still investigating, an' you can bet that's a paper who knows a thing or two, you'll read nothing except the truth there."

"I'm writing you a check," Willow said, running out of time and patience. "If I give it to you, will you leave and please not talk to the photographers outside?"

"Leave?" Pammy exclaimed as if it was the most ridiculous thing she'd ever heard. "It's eleven at night an' I might've had a drink or two. Can't get home until tomorrow. No, little lady, I'm staying with you."

"That's impossible," Willow blurted.

"Why's that impossible?" Pammy wished to know, her faded blue eyes darting around the living room, taking in her daughter's chaos, seeing if she could spot a bottle of vodka or scotch.

"'Cause I told you-I have to go," Willow said, swooping up her purse. "I've got an important date. I'm already late."

"With the old man?" Pammy said knowingly.

"No," Willow snapped back. "It's none of your business who it's with."

"None of my business indeed," Pammy sniffed belligerently. "After all I've done for you, it's none of my business. When're you gonna realize that if it wasn't for me, you'd be nothing. I paid for everything so you could have a career. Singing, dancing, acting lessons. And-"

"Okay, Mom," Willow interrupted, rolling her eyes. "I know, I know, you're a saint. Saint Pammy."

Once again Pammy glared at her daughter. Willow glared back.

"I have to go," Willow repeated, adding a reluctant, "You can sleep on the couch. Don't touch anything and don't answer the door or talk to the paps-sometimes they sit out there all night."

"While you're out whoring your body."

Willow bit down hard on her lower lip to stop herself from getting involved in a battle of words. Pammy was an expert at never letting anything go, and she could out-argue anyone.

Opening her purse, Willow took out her checkbook and was about to scribble a check when Pammy cleared her throat and said a crafty, "Make it double what I asked for."

"Excuse me?" Willow said, shocked.

"You heard," Pammy said, spotting a bottle of vodka and heading unsteadily toward it. "Double, or I give an interview to those nice men outside."

"First of all, they are not nice men," Willow said, exasperated. "And secondly, I don't think there's enough in my checking account to cover that amount of money."

"Then whyn't you ask one of your rich boyfriends?" Pammy said, pouring herself a shot. "They got plenty of money to spare."

"I thought you didn't approve of my rich boyfriends," Willow countered.

"Gimme the check," Pammy snapped. "You owe me big-time, young lady."

I don't owe you anything, Willow thought. She wrote the check anyway, handed it to her mom, and made a quick exit, for once ignoring the gathered paps who yelled out her name.

Her future was waiting. And if the check bounced, it was Pammy's fault for being so damn greedy.

"Where's Max?" Lennie wanted to know, coming up to Lucky between tables.

"On her way," Lucky assured him. "Cookie got a text that she's landed in L.A. and will be here soon by helicopter."

"How're you doing?" Lennie asked, catching her by the arm.

Tossing back her mane of jet-black hair, she shrugged. "I'm fine," she said. "The turnout is impressive, don't you think? And thanks for working as a team, Lennie. It's not easy trying to say hello to everyone while making them all feel as if they're special. Couldn't do it without you."

"Sure you could," he said with a smile.

"Yes, sure I could," she said, smiling back. "But I'd sooner do it with you anytime."

"So..." Lennie inquired with a caustic tilt of an eyebrow. "Have you made your boyfriend feel special yet?"

"My boyfriend?"

"Alex Woods. He hasn't stopped watching you all night."

"Oh, c'mon," she said, laughing softly. "Let it go."

"Hey, don't spoil my fun-I get off on spying on other men who lust after you, especially when they haven't got a chance in hell."

"Alex is an old friend," she admonished, thinking about Alex for a moment. He was an Oscar-winning filmmaker who'd always had a thing for her. "You do know that? Right?"

"Yeah, old is the operative word," Lennie said with a cynical laugh. "Way too old for the twenty-something Asian girl he's hanging on to."

"Jealous?" Lucky teased.

"Huh?"

"How would you like to be with a cute little twenty-something?"

"Are you crazy?"

"Well?"

"Stop f-ing with me Lucky, and go put your boyfriend out of his misery."

"Come with."

"And ruin his night?" Lennie said, laughing. "No way. You're on your own, sweetheart."

"Thanks for your loyal support."

"Anytime."

Shaking her head, Lucky made her way toward Alex and his young date. Somehow or other, she had a feeling that it was going to be a long night.

The one thing Willow did not appreciate was competition, and the moment she met Max she was aware of competition staring her straight in the face. Max was younger, prettier, and about to be a very well-known face-as her yellow-toothed, shady, foreign boyfriend couldn't wait to inform her.

Alejandro was all hyped up, and Willow could tell that he fancied the dark-haired brat, although she was hardly his type. Too young. Too wild. Dante had shown him some of the photos from the Capri shoot on his iPad, and now Alejandro was acting as if Max were the next coming of Gisele.

Settling into Alejandro's usual booth, Willow picked up a glass of champagne. She noticed Rafael lurking near the bar, which was unusual because he rarely spent time in the club-he was always upstairs in the office. She chose to ignore him, although she couldn't help remembering how talented he was in bed. Hmm ... maybe sometime in the future, she'd revisit that stellar action. Why not? When she was a big star again, she could do anything she wanted.

"I'm investing in Dante's company," a stoned Alejandro informed her, leaning in. "Dante and I have discussed how Dolcezza can work with us on the movie. Max has to be in it. We will have a part specially written for her."

Willow remained cool and in control, even though she was ready to rant and rave about how dumb Alejandro was. The truth was that she'd always known he was dumb, only this crap took his dumbness to new heights. "We could do that," she said, trying not to grit her teeth. "Can she act?"

"Who cares?" Alejandro chortled. "Look at her."

She looks like a sulky little teenager to me, Willow thought. Selena Gomez with a splash of Mila Kunis.

Willow managed a smile and bobbed her head as if she agreed with him. If Alejandro was about to develop a crush on this little nobody, then maybe she should pay some attention to his shady foreign friend.

"So," she purred, flinging back her pale red hair and turning to Dante. "Tell me all about what you and Alejandro got up to in college. I bet you were a couple of real super-studs, ready to do anything."

Dante zeroed in on Alejandro's girlfriend. He was getting nowhere with Max, and it seemed to him that this one had potential.

"There is nothing Alejandro and I didn't do," he said, removing her clothes with his small evil eyes. "In Vegas you and I should experience everything. Do you agree?"

Willow smiled politely. There was something about this dude that was a total turnoff, and she had no intention of experiencing anything with him.

"When are we leaving?" she whispered, grabbing Alejandro's arm.

"One more drink," he promised. "Then we will be on our way."

One more drink. In Alejandro's world it was always one more drink.

CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT.

Denver was in the mood to let it all out, and Sam was the perfect listener. On the day he'd dropped off Lady Gaga, she hadn't invited him in. Now it was a couple of days later-the night before Gino's funeral-and she was feeling vulnerable and alone, so she called him and invited him over.

Before she made the call, a thought came to her that maybe she should attend Gino's funeral to pay her respects. She'd texted Bobby to ask him if she should-it was the first time they'd been in contact since the split. His answer was short and to the point. "Not a good idea," he'd texted back. And that was it.

Yes, they were definitely over.

The day before, she'd received a call from his business manager, who'd informed her that Bobby would like her to keep the house as a gift. "No thank you," she'd said. "I'll be moving out next week."

Ah, Bobby ... generous as usual.

She didn't need his house as some kind of payoff. She didn't need anything from him.

Sam arrived carrying two bottles of wine and a pizza.

Lady Gaga jumped to attention, frantically attempting to hump his leg.