In the Club Read online

  He nodded. “I know. So let’s get you started. Come over here and sit down.”

  Concetta did as she was told, all the while imagining what Damien Kittle would say to her tonight. She pictured him walking up to her from his side of the bar with that devilish grin on his face, his eyes undressing her, his hands reaching out to stroke her shoulder. Maybe he’d ask her to dance. Maybe he’d usher her into the very middle of the floor while the shocked crowd looked on. Concetta would handle herself with grace but emote sensuality. Despite her robust frame, she was an excellent dancer. She knew how to rumba. Hell, she knew how to shake like Shakira and Beyoncé. And what better way to get Damien Kittle’s attention? Before the night was through, Concetta wanted to make him hers.

  And she wouldn’t settle for anything less than a kiss.

  She closed her eyes as Emmett went to work. She felt herself becoming more and more beautiful with each passing minute. Chiseled brushes glided over her eyelids. Cool cream caressed her cheeks and chin. She tasted lipstick and smelled blush. Then a hair dryer flicked on, the whoosh of noise startling her. Some sort of rich-smelling product was being worked into her thick locks.

  When Emmett was done, he pulled her out of the chair and said, “Don’t you dare look in the mirror yet. Go get dressed first, and then I’ll finish up.”

  Concetta followed his orders. She raced into the bathroom and carefully slipped into her rose-colored silk Missoni gown. Flown in from Milan three days ago, the gown was an extraordinary work of art. Angela Missoni had designed it especially for Concetta, with long sleeves and ruffles that circled her wrists and hands.

  Taking a deep, calming breath, she padded out of the bathroom and stared directly at Emmett.

  “Beautiful,” he whispered. “My heart is a-poundin’. Now come on over here and looky-looky yourself. And don’t you dare tell me that you ain’t gorgeous.”

  Concetta stepped in front of the mirror—and gasped. Her face was perfect and contoured, as if ready to grace the cover of Vogue. Her lips were full and heart-shaped. Her brown eyes looked bigger and brighter than ever. Best of all, her curly hair was now straight and silky as it swept over her shoulders. “I can’t believe it!” she cried. “I look amazing! Oh, Emmett, thank you!” She walked into the center of the room. She did a little turn, modeling not only her gown, but also the poise she would be sure to exude tonight. Emmett had schooled her in the ways of projecting full confidence; it meant holding your head high, throwing your shoulders back…and drawing attention to the jewelry sparkling around your neck. Every celebutante knew that.

  “Will you be wearing emeralds or diamonds tonight?” Emmett asked.

  “Emeralds,” Concetta said.

  “That leaves only one more question.” Emmett stared down at Concetta’s bare feet—wide, white, big-as-a-pizza-pie feet that no pair of shoes could properly conceal. He tried to smile.

  “I know exactly which shoes to wear,” Concetta said firmly, marching into her closet. “I don’t need any advice in that department.”

  Emmett waited on the threshold, a fearful look on his face.

  Shoes were Concetta’s fashion passion. Dresses and gowns and designer jeans were certainly a good thing, but every piece of clothing ultimately looked the same on her round body. The sizes only seemed to get larger with each new event. Her shoe size, however, didn’t change. In the past five years she had amassed a fabulous collection of footwear. Her personal taste wasn’t always of the subtle variety, but she loved spending money on heels, pumps, stilettos, and even comfortable flats to wear around the house.

  She walked to the very back of the closet. An entire wall housed her vast shoe collection, much like a museum exhibit. An array of bright colors and shapes came alive under the overhead track lighting, and she swept her eyes across the rows and columns with practiced ease. There. Right there. She cleared her throat nervously as she reached for the chosen pair, fully aware that Emmett would disapprove.

  She slipped them on and walked back out to the bedroom.

  Emmett gasped and slapped a hand to his forehead. “Those?” he whispered faintly.

  Concetta scowled. “Yes—these. And wipe that stupid look off your face, okay?” She made a full turn in front of the mirror, liking what she saw, feeling more confident than she ever had. “I swear,” she said sharply, “if Damien Kittle doesn’t totally fall in love with me tonight, I might do something crazy.”

  4

  Cleopatra

  It was the greatest nightclub ever built.

  Rising like a mirage from the gray concrete, Cleopatra stood four stories tall and occupied an entire city block. Impressive stone columns beckoned guests to double doors made of solid gold. The arched plate-glass windows, backlit by spinning strobes, were emblazoned with hieroglyphs and three-dimensional sketches of serpents. A thin red carpet cut down the center of the intricate cobblestone walkway. And high above it all, perched on the rooftop terrace, was a two-hundred-foot-tall replica of the Sphinx. Designed to look like a museum in daylight hours, the club was more Manhattan modern than Vegas tacky. Cleopatra herself would have been impressed.

  It was ten o’clock. The streets of the Lower East Side had never been so packed. Blue police barricades blocked oncoming traffic, and groups of private security guards huddled on the sidewalks. Then there were the onlookers—everyone from teenagers and college students to middle-aged couples—pushing as close to the club’s entrance as possible to catch glimpses of their favorite celebrities. Up in the sky, two news choppers circled the scene. One limousine stopped to deposit its guests and another pulled right on up. The crowds were so thick, dozens of extra police officers had to be dispatched from their posts all over Manhattan.

  It was the marvelous sort of mayhem Lex lived for. As she sat in the back of the Hamilton family limousine, she surveyed the chaos happily. Flashes cut through the shadowy interior like lightning. She had been waiting too long for this night, and now there was only one mission at hand: to party. “Look at how great the club looks!” she said excitedly as the limo drew close to the curb. “I mean—it’s incredible! It looks like something from another world! Are you seeing what I’m seeing?”

  Park, sitting directly across from her, nodded. “It really is beautiful.”

  “Is that all you can say?” Lex snapped, turning to face her sister. “It’s spectacular! Dad did an incredible job with this one!”

  “You’re right,” Park replied evenly. “It’s spectacular. And we look downright spectacular too, by the way.”

  Lex glanced down at her violet dress with its intricate serpentine weavings and pale fringe. It was a showstopper. It hugged her waist, accentuated her curves, and was perfect for dancing. And it was, of course, one of her own designs, a Triple Threat original.

  Park’s black silk suit, with its oblong belt and matching leather gloves, was also Triple Threat. In fact, for the next several months, the Hamilton triplets wouldn’t be wearing anything but Triple Threat designs in public. That was part of the marketing campaign. Whenever they were photographed, the label would be photographed. It didn’t matter if they were attending a movie premiere, a stockholders’ meeting, or just going out to a simple dinner—the Triple Threat fashion line ruled their closets, with the exception of a few pairs of jeans and shoes.

  So far, the plan was working. In just over a month the line had made international fashion news, and Lex was currently in the middle of designing her second collection. Come fall, Barneys and Saks would be among the elite retailers stocking the label.

  “Do you think Madison is here already?” Lex asked, reaching for her purse.

  “Madison is always on time,” Park replied. “She and Theo are probably already on the dance floor.”

  Lex made a sour face. Mentioning Theodore Aaron West was like hearing a rude burp pierce the air. Despite the fact that the West and Hamilton families were social and corporate rivals, Theo and Madison were totally—and sickeningly—in love. After a year of secret rende
zvous, they had finally taken their relationship public. In truth, their relationship had been exposed via a gossip column, but that hadn’t mattered to either one of them. They were more than happy to stop sneaking around. And the press was having a day in the park photographing them all over town.

  Lex didn’t understand it. She knew Theo West was a hottie. She knew he had brains and exuded sexiness, but she didn’t agree one bit with Madison’s decision to rock the media boat. There were so many guys who adored Madison. Why couldn’t she just pucker up to a less threatening affair?

  “Stop making faces,” Park said suddenly.

  “What?”

  “You’re scowling because I mentioned Theo West. You have to get over it, Lex. They’re together, and that’s that.”

  Lex pursed her lips in a disapproving frown. “Fine. But I don’t have to like it. And you can’t make me.”

  “Is that any way to talk to your older sister?”

  “You’re only older than me by three minutes!”

  Park shrugged. “That still gives me certain rights, and telling you to chill is one of them, okay? I mean, if Dad can handle Madison and Theo being together, so can you.”

  A dramatic, heavy sigh escaped Lex’s lips. She swung the strap of her purse over her left shoulder and winced. It was her all-purpose Louis—the magic purse; beautiful but painfully heavy, it contained everything a girl needed to conquer a difficult moment—or, in her case, the world. “I’ll try to be on my best behavior,” she said. “And while we’re talking about attitudes, you should totally curb yours.”

  “I don’t have an attitude,” Park replied calmly. “I just have a lot on my mind.”

  “You’re going to star in a blockbuster movie!” Lex screamed excitedly. “You should be thrilled. It’ll be the start of a whole new career!”

  “I’m not starring in that movie. I just have to figure a way out of it.” Park reached for her own purse. “Anyway, let’s assume the position. I want to avoid as many reporters as possible.”

  The limo came to a stop. Lex popped open the door and put one foot on the pavement. Then, counting off five seconds, she emerged into the barrage of camera flashes and screams and took three steps forward. She plastered a broad smile on her lips. A few precise seconds later, she felt Park brush up against her.

  “Lexington!”

  “Park!”

  They stood side by side on the red carpet leading up to the gold front doors of the club. Two beefy security guards rushed toward them, flanking them on either side.

  “You’re blocking me too much,” Lex called out to one of them. Stepping past him, she grabbed Park’s hand and made the brisk stride up the carpet. The chorus of voices calling out to them was like a clap of thunder.

  “Hurry,” Park said loudly into Lex’s ear. “I’m not stopping to answer any questions.”

  On cue, Lex took a few more steps, then turned around to face the crowds again. She counted off five more seconds, giving every photographer a chance to snap flattering pics of her dress.

  The chaos of the press and hundreds of screaming fans was instantly replaced by the blare of deafening music as they walked into the club’s massive vaulted entrance. Lex spotted Justin, Paris and Nicky, Lindsay, Kanye, and Orlando. She waved warmly. No sign yet of Donatella or Zac yet.

  “It’s absolutely phenomenal,” Park said, looking up at the four stories that had been constructed in a perfect circle over the wide main dance floor.

  “Even better than I expected,” Lex agreed. “This will pull in at least twenty mil a year.”

  “Oh, it’ll pull in more than that.” Park calculated all of the elaborate space. “Especially when you consider how many special events it’ll book, and how many movie studios will want to rent it out for location shoots.”

  The interior of Cleopatra was customarily dark, but rows of spotlights and crystal chandeliers brightened the long bar areas and little nooks where guests could recline. Dozens of crystal sconces blazed with tapered candles. At the very back of the first floor was a stunning fifty-foot waterfall that spewed sparkling streams of water. But the most astounding corner of the club was the full-service on-site salon that invited guests to freshen up between sets of music and dancing. There were three stylists on hand, as well as two massage therapists and a makeup artist.

  It made perfect sense. Lex couldn’t remember how many times she had stepped off a dance floor drenched in sweat, her muscles aching. She wouldn’t have that problem anymore, and neither would anyone else. Now, when quick primping was in order, or when makeup smudged from too much exertion, the most seasoned Manhattan nightlife-goers would have a place in which to take refuge and freshen up.

  Every floor of Cleopatra was teeming. On the main level, guests were enjoying a somewhat relaxed mingling scene, complete with gorgeous waiters and waitresses—probably out-of-work actors and models—passing out champagne and caviar. The second floor was reserved for those who wished to socialize off the dance floor: the décor was decidedly ornate, yet the clean lines suggested a magical translation into modern design. Recalling the magic of the ancient Egyptian era, the space boasted statues of pharaohs, a gilded bar, and rare works of art purchased directly from Sotheby’s. The third and fourth floors were strict dancing zones. Madison had hired the MisShapes kids to DJ, and the huge speakers pumped out their mix of old and new while strobe lights flashed over suspended cages.

  It was this last sight that worried Park. She had never liked those big iron cages that lifted dancers almost to the ceiling and allowed them to boogie in the air. Looking at them now, she was reminded of Jeremy’s stunt earlier today. Too dangerous. What kind of birdbrain would risk her life just to dance in a suspended cage?

  “I love the cages!” Lex suddenly exclaimed, staring upward. “I can’t wait to get in one.” She fell in synch with the beat of the music and began gyrating her hips.

  Park rolled her eyes. “Figures you’d say something like that.”

  Just then, Madison came powering toward them, pushing her way through the pockets of guests with both her arms. She was wearing a stunning red silk dress that stopped just above her knees; it was shorter and more daring than anything she’d worn in the recent past, but her trim body filled the dress out perfectly. She looked beautiful. But she didn’t look happy.

  “You’re not going to believe this!” she snapped, stepping in between Park and Lex.

  “What’s wrong?” Park asked.

  Madison bit down on her lower lip and pointed toward the upper floors. “I just found out that the floral arrangements on the fourth floor are…” Her voice trailed away, and she clamped her eyes shut. “Oh, God. I can’t even say it.”

  “What?” Lex grabbed ahold of Madison’s arm.

  Madison shook her head.

  “For God’s sake, just spill it,” Park urged.

  “The floral arrangements are…completely out of date.”

  “What?” Lex screeched. “Are you kidding me? Have you lost your mind? Like the eighties’ 1-800-FLOWERS? Or more like seventies-Scarface—that could be kind of cool.”

  “No—it’s worse. They aren’t even like River Nile or baby Moses—and I don’t know how it happened!” Madison said. “I saw them out of the corner of my eye—this weird reddish-purplish color and big prehistoric leaves—and then I went up to them and looked closely and that’s when I nearly died!”

  “Prehistoric leaves!” Lex shrieked. “As in Paleolithic? Did you pull them off the tables? Did you get rid of them?”

  “No. I couldn’t. I can’t even stand to touch them!” Madison brought a hand to her forehead and started breathing heavily.

  “It serves you right!” Lex said coldly. “You were responsible for most of the décor in here! Do you have any idea what will happen if word gets out that we have ugly florals, instead of the arrangements that were supposed to be flown in from Morocco? They were supposed to be era-appropriate!”

  “Both of you, calm down.” Park grabbed her sis
ters by their hands.

  “I can’t calm down!” Lex answered back sharply. She pointed at Madison. “This dimwit screwed up the flowers!”

  “I’m sorry,” Madison choked out. “Oh, if I even see those things again, I’ll vomit.”

  “Both of you, listen to me.” Park threw her head back and did a quick sweep of their immediate surroundings to make sure no one important was in earshot. “We’re going to casually make our way upstairs and collect the ugly contraband, and that will be the end of it. Okay? Now just follow me.”

  And with that, Park led the cool, easy march up the glass-and-metal staircase. When people reached out to greet them, she made certain to nod and smile, but she kept moving. Madison and Lex did the same. They made it to the fourth level, where the ghastly arrangements sat in vases on three glass tables.

  “Horrendous,” Lex seethed. “Those aren’t even flowers. They’re plants!”

  Park coolly approached the first table and wrapped her hands around the green stems. She made a pretense of holding them to her nose and inhaling a sweet scent. If a curious passerby took notice, he or she would see nothing odd about the little gesture. She walked over to Lex and said, “Open the magic purse.”

  In one fast, fluid movement, Lex unzipped the purse and held it open. The first clump of stems and leaves barely fit, but she shoved them down with her fist. “Ugh,” she said, flexing her fingers. “They feel like dirty wax.” She held the purse out to Madison. “Go ahead, feel them. I want you to know how dangerous mismatched floral arrangements can be at an exclusive event.”

  Madison wrinkled her nose. She extended her hand and lowered it into the magic purse as if she were about to make contact with a poisonous, exotic viper. When her fingers finally grazed one of the green leaves, she gasped. Then she scanned a nearby table and found what she was looking for: a champagne flute filled to the rim with Dom Perignon. She took three long gulps.

  There were two more vases to empty. Park collected them swiftly and easily. But with no more room in the magic purse, Lex had to resign herself to holding the ugly bunch of fernlike leaves and stems. Her mouth fell open in a silent scream. She stared at Park, who had already turned around and begun waving at a number of their St. Cecilia’s Prep friends. Madison was still swaying from the floral infraction.