CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE.

Dave Riggio was tired. He was tired of his nagging wife, his stripper girlfriend who had her own line of nagging, and his two teenage brats-both into drugs and partying. He worked like a fucking dog while they all played. On his money. The money he made driving a fucking big rig back and forth across the country-sometimes working a twenty-hour shift with no sleep.

Tonight was one of those nights, and all he wanted was a decent night's rest. However, that was not about to happen, because he was on the road from Vegas to L.A. carrying a full load of fruit that had to be in L.A. early in the morning in time for market, and it was already three A.M.

Sitting next to him in the rig was a young girl-a runaway, no doubt. She wore ripped jeans and a T-shirt featuring the slogan Freaks rule! She had frizzy brown hair framing a thin face, and buckteeth. He'd picked her up at a well-known truck stop, and in exchange for a blow job, he'd offered her a ride to L.A., thinking-mistakenly-that she'd entertain him with some kind of inane chatter.

This was not to be. The girl was silent and sulky, huddled in the passenger seat, and the blow job she'd given him was not worth the ride.

"Fuck it," he muttered under his breath.

"What?" the girl said, suddenly coming to life.

"You ever given a blow job before?"

"Course I have," she said, rubbing her eyes.

"Didn't seem like it," he said gruffly.

"I could do it again," she said, sensing that he might be planning on dropping her off, even though they had a deal.

Dave took one hand off the steering wheel and patted his crotch. He might be tired, but he was still horny.

"It'll be better the second time," the girl promised.

"Gonna pull over at the next exit," Dave said, although he realized that he was pressed for time and every minute counted.

"You don't have to," the girl said. "I can do you while you're driving."

Dave salivated. He liked a girl with fresh ideas.

"Why not?" he said, patting his crotch again. "An' this time try t' pretend you're enjoying it."

CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO.

While Alejandro settled behind the wheel of his latest acquisition, testing how fast his car could go as they hurtled through the desert, Willow found her mind wandering. She'd been reluctant to leave her mom alone in her house, but Pammy hadn't given her much choice. Right now Mother Dearest was no doubt nosing through her possessions. She'd never given Willow one inch of privacy when Willow was growing up, and now she must be in heaven checking out her house.

Willow could just imagine the scene. Pammy laid out on her bed snorting cocaine from her secret supply, downing vodka from her bottle, and probably watching porn on her TV.

"Motherfucker!" Willow muttered, cringing at the thought. Her house was all she had, and she didn't want it tainted with her mom's presence. She bet Pammy would still be in residence when she returned from Vegas, which meant she'd be forced to throw her out.

Pammy was an embarrassment she did not need in her life, especially with all that would soon happen.

Willow Price was about to regain her place at the top of the tree, and before she did, Pammy had to go.

Her thoughts moved on to Ralph Maestro. Ralph had left her several voice mails demanding to know where she was. It delighted her that a big movie star was hot to keep playing, although getting her hands on the money came first, because once she gave Eddie his million bucks, all she had to do was sit back and watch everything fall into place.

That was her plan. She'd worry about Pammy and Ralph when it was done.

Back at Club Luna, Sonia-who'd been busy working on the bartender-had noticed Rafael, Alejandro's business partner, shooting her sly looks.

She knew who he was; his photo was on the pin-board at the office right up there next to Alejandro's. Usually Rafael did not hang out at the club, but tonight, with Alejandro gone, he was settled in a booth chugging champagne.

Sonia was not one to miss an opportunity. Her job was to gain access and take photos of Alejandro's private office, and she had a far better chance of doing that with Rafael than with the bartender.

The music playing was loud and sexy-strident beats that allowed her to shake her assets in front of Rafael's booth.

He was staring, his watchful eyes taking in every inch of her.

She'd heard he was a tight-ass, not a player like Alejandro. Tonight he seemed like a player.

She undulated toward him. He continued to stare.

Flopping down next to him, she began fanning herself with her hand. "Too hot!" she exclaimed. "This girl needs a drink."

Rafael said nothing.

"Gonna buy me one?" she asked, touching his arm. "Gonna make a girl happy?"

Rafael thought about Elizabetta with anger in his heart. Which one of Pablo's guards was she fucking? Then his thoughts turned to Willow and how she'd ignored him earlier.

Puta!

They were all putas.

Perhaps this one was different?

It didn't matter. He would fuck her and send her on her way.

Rafael was a changed man.

Sometimes the sex is so hot that neither party wishes it to end.

Bobby felt it, and so did Venus. She was caught up in the way he made love to her. So strong and sure of himself. Her Venezuelan boyfriend had been a boorish lover, thinking only of his own climax. Before him there had been many, but none like Bobby. Their chemistry sizzled. He touched her in ways she felt she'd never been touched before. His cock was a thing of beauty, and she couldn't get enough.

Bobby felt the chemistry too. Sex with Denver had been great at first, but then their passion had kind of fizzled, and maybe he had been thinking of making out with Nadia. Yes, he was finally admitting it to himself.

Making love to Venus was pure animal lust. He inhaled her skin, her hair, everything about her.

"I want us to come together," she whispered. "Make me come, Bobby, because I'm ready."

And so she got her wish.

Stretching luxuriously, Venus was beginning to realize that Bobby was everything she'd imagined he'd be in bed and more. Usually very handsome men were selfish lovers, but not Bobby. He knew how to please a woman and then some.

How unfortunate that he happened to be Lucky's son, because she knew full well that a steamy affair between her and Bobby would enrage Lucky. Liberal as Lucky was about most things, her best friend screwing her son would definitely not fly.

Bobby jumped off the bed.

"Planning on leaving?" Venus inquired, licking her lips as she admired his ripped body.

Flexing his muscles, he grinned, feeling as if he'd just conquered Everest. "Is that what you want me to do?" he asked.

"What do you think?" she murmured.

"I think you want me to stay," he said confidently.

"Well," she said, her voice a husky drawl. "We may as well take advantage of tonight due to the fact that this might never happen again."

"Does that mean you're shutting me out?"

"Yes, 'cause in case you forgot, your mom happens to be my best friend."

"You really think she'd be pissed?"

"C'mon, Bobby, do you know Lucky?"

"Yeah," he was forced to admit. "I guess she wouldn't exactly be thrilled."

"Of course, there is another way," Venus offered, her voice full of seductive promise. "We could always get together on the down-low."

Bobby burst out laughing. "Sure, me and one of the most famous women on the planet screwing on the down-low, that'd work. Nobody would ever suspect."

"I have a variety of disguises."

"You do?"

"Oh, yes, I certainly do," Venus purred, licking her full lips.

"In that case-"

"Come back to bed, Bobby. Once is never enough."

He did not need to be asked twice.

Max wished that Dante and his greasy friend Alejandro would turn the music down-if you could call hard-core gangsta rap music. She was into the beat, but sometimes the blatantly sexist and downright hostile lyrics toward women got to her. And what was with the big-butt syndrome? Half-naked singing divas thrusting their enhanced bottoms at everyone was totally gross. In every video, there they were-diva singers shoving their big fat asses right in your face. So how come all the male stars managed to stay fully clothed? It was a mystery.

She yawned and shot a glance at Willow, who seemed happy to ignore her. The redhead would no doubt change her attitude when they got to Vegas and she realized that Max's mom was Lucky Santangelo and her dad was Lennie Golden.

Too late, mean girl. It'll be my turn to ignore you.

Checking her phone, she noticed there was a text message she hadn't looked at. It was probably Cookie bitching because she wasn't there yet. Clicking on it, she read the message.

Hey. Where are you? Can't find you. Want to. Need to talk. Hear me out even though you gotta think I'm a major prick. Call me. Billy.

She attempted to stay cool.

Billy! Was he kidding?

What did he want with her?

Why was he screwing with her?

What was his deal?

She didn't know and she didn't care.

Or did she?

Maybe.

Maybe not.

Billy Melina. Unfortunately, he was the love of her young life.

When it came to sex, Venus was not adverse to adventure. She traveled with her toys, and if a man failed to satisfy her, she put them to good use.

No sex toys needed with Bobby. He had every move down.

"What did you do, go to training camp for lovers?" she gasped as he spread her legs and went down on her for the third time.

Bobby didn't reply; he was too busy living the fantasy, thrusting his tongue deep inside her until she could take it no more.

Shuddering from head to toe, she reached an earth-shattering climax.

The Puerto Rican whore was all over him and Rafael did not object. Since Willow had ignored him, made him feel like he was less than nothing, he decided it was time to boost his confidence.

"I'm Rita," Sonia confided, pretending to guzzle champagne. "Who're you?"