“Sure. Anything.”
“It’s obvious men screwed up our mother’s lives.”
“True.”
“Let’s do what Manhattanites do best—focus on our careers—not let a man ruin our opportunities for happiness.”
“Umm, dah.” To such an uncomplicated bestie request, she reassured, “No problem. We’ll swear off men together for future dating and relationships. But I’m still using ‘em for sex.” Taddy pushed her friend’s honey-colored bangs back one last time and positioned her to face the mirror. “Let’s try to have some fun.” She handed Lex a Baden Cosmetics lip gloss tube in the shade Double Penetration.
“Taddy—have you ever noticed as we get older we look more alike?” Jaw up, Lex leaned in and tilted her head to the side.
“We’ve always had similar bone structure, but different hair color. It’s the New York water.” Taddy smiled. “Let’s go.”
The departing monitors flashed two flights to tropical destinations.
“We have Palm Beach, Florida, or St. Barth’s, French West Indies. What’ll it be?” Taddy’s dream destination was made up, but she’d let Lex pick. She always did.
Lex made a slight sigh. “I don’t care. Anywhere warm and away from my mother. We can buy a few new outfits when we arrive.”
“I adore DILF porn, but not enough to go to Palm Beach. You?” Being mistaken as two young prostitutes strutting Worth Avenue wasn’t stacked in her good-time cards this holiday.
“What the heck is DILF porn?” Lex was so innocent, thanks to Birdie’s gilded cage.
“Dads I like to fuck—you never watch it?”
“Certainly not. What does your acronym have to do with Palm Beach?” Lex asked, searching her for an answer.
“The men in PB are gonna be older than my great-granddaddy. I don’t wanna spend the night with them in their adult diapers.” She broke into a fit of laughter, which relieved much of the stress that had piled high over the past week.
Her friend rolled her eyes. “You’re twisted, and you get that, right?”
“Not like I meant MILF.” She raised her eyebrows, egging her on.
“Stop! Ignorance of adult movies is my bliss.” Lex shook her head.
“St. Barth’s it is.” Together, they pulled their roller bags toward the French West Indies Airlines ticket counter. “We have to tell Vive we’re coming her way.”
“Totally. She’ll kill us if we don’t.” Lex always tried to include everyone.
“Anguilla isn’t far. Maybe she can take a boat over.”
“I haven’t seen that Farnworth Firewater boat in years.” Lex laughed. “Is it still yellow?”
“Beats me.” Taddy was happy how this had turned out. She’d finally get some alone time with her friends. “Something tells me this is going to be a blast.”
She’d texted Kiki who cyber chatted with DJ Dejon who’d spun for a casino owner with several properties in the Leeward Caribbean Islands. The nightclub proprietor knew one hotel in St. Barth’s where three socialites could go and relax and be left alone, but they didn’t allow any celebrities or paparazzi. Kiki booked Taddy, Lex and Vive under the code name Mademoiselle Red in a three-bedroom villa separated by a living quarters at Secrète de St. Barth, a Warner Truman five-star resort.
Taddy knew the hotel chain well. Brill, Inc. faced his midtown masterpiece, Truman Times Square. A large corporation, Truman Enterprises was synonymous with hotel excellence and first-class spa royalty.
Chapter Five
Pussy Glamour
December 30
St. Barth’s French West Indies
“Rielle, you are violating the restraining order. You can’t call here.” Warner had been pretty sure he’d hear from his ex-fiancée this week. The flowers gave warning. Christmas and New Year’s always brought out remorse.
“Being a dick is no way to start the New Year. I hoped…” She panted into the phone, sounding like a thirsty horse desperate for water. Her Texan twang grated on his nerves.
“I don’t care what you wished. We ended ‘us’ awhile ago. Move on.” He unfastened his top button and rubbed his neck. Get lost, woman.
“Please, Warner, give me another chance. We’ll be fine a second time around, as smooth as cream gravy.” Her voice grew louder. “I promise I have changed, honey pie.”
“Changed?” Warner laughed. “You’re a chameleon. One woman one minute, and another woman the next. I don’t trust you.” He looked at the ceiling fan and hit the remote to make the blade spin faster. Air, he needed air.
“I am still the same sweet girl you fell in love with.” The bar noise behind her boomed, confirming she’d never change.
“The Rielle I cared for and loved spoke honest words—or so I thought.” He thought back to her championing his causes. She exuded poise and selflessness at the time. All fake.
“I am still all those things and more…sugar.” She muffled the phone, perhaps to mute the racket.
He’d met Rielle when she volunteered for the Jacqueline Truman Foundation, a nonprofit Warner had established in his late wife’s honor. Its purpose was to provide financial relief and treatment to those diagnosed with bone cancer, primarily for patients without health insurance. Warner appreciated Rielle’s unassuming ways. However, she’d identified him ages prior.
After they’d broken up, her friends admitted she’d stalked him for months in hopes of an accidental introduction. When that didn’t happen, she applied to the foundation for a coordinator position. Warner was taken aback by her good looks and desire to commit to the cause. Rielle’s story about how she’d lost her mother, Connie Bruni, to bone cancer created a bond between them.
On the contrary, Rielle’s intentions weren’t to help those in need, only herself. And Connie was alive and well living in The Great Ranch Trailer Park in Fort Worth, Texas. Connie was cancer free because she had never been diagnosed with the disease in the first place, all part of Rielle’s scam. “You based our entire courtship on some book you’d read.”
“Landing a Billionaire was a bestseller for a reason.”
“You tricked me.”
“It worked, didn’t it?” Rielle released a nervous giggle. She spoke shyly until he heard her snigger twist an inhale into an annoying snort. In an attempt to cover her piggy tone she ticked off, “You’ve attended the rodeo before, Warner—haven’t you?”