Confessions of a Wild Child Read online

  He is shocked but game.

  Brandon is livid.

  “This is my boyfriend,” I say to Brandon.

  “Hey,” Brandon says, simmering.

  Jack gets what’s going on and plays along.

  “Hello, mate,” he says. “Thanks for keepin’ an eye on my girl.” And with that he grips my arm and whisks me away.

  As soon as we are out of earshot Jack starts to laugh. “You’re a cheeky little minx,” he guffaws. “What’re you up to?”

  “The dude deserved it,” I reply. “He played me, so I played him back.”

  “And you used me.”

  “I know,” I say, stopping for a moment and giving him a long lingering look. “And for that I owe you. So … how would you like me to repay you?”

  We spent the rest of the day on the beach making out under a large sun umbrella. I soon realize I have picked well; Jack is an amazing kisser, even better than Brandon—who was not lacking in the kissing department.

  I am becoming a woman of experience and I like it!

  It occurs to me that the male species is easy to manipulate as long as you know how to play it. And, believe me, I am learning fast!

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  After an amazing summer in Greece, it’s back to the same old—and by that I mean L’Evier and unbelievably tedious lessons on subjects I have absolutely no interest in. Latin, anyone? Geometry? And of course there are even more boring rules—which Olympia and I have no problem breaking. Since we both get off on taking risks, our nighttime outings are becoming more and more frequent. All I can say is thank God for Olympia, she’s my partner in everything—and although at the beginning of our friendship she taught me a thing or two, I have now caught up big-time. Oh yes. I might only be fifteen, but I’ve certainly learned how to deal with boys. No more stupid schoolgirl crushes—I have developed a “don’t call me, I’ll call you” mentality. I give ’em “almost”—which drives them insane—and I stay in control. It’s the only way.

  Shortly after getting back to school I see on TV that Marabelle Blue has gotten engaged to a businessman by the name of Gino Santangelo. Businessman indeed! What a crock! Thank God I’m not connected to him. Nobody knows who I really am.

  Ms. Blue’s engagement takes place six weeks after her very public suicide attempt. Great. Am I about to welcome a psycho suicide freak as my stepmom?

  Ugh!

  Daddy Dearest phones to tell me of his engagement.

  Too late, Gino, I saw it on the news. Thanks for your concern.

  I can’t help wondering how Dario feels. I do miss him, although he’s still a little kid, and I’m all grown up. We probably don’t have much in common anymore.

  Tonight Olympia and I take a major risk. We sneak out, get totally wasted, and smuggle two boys back to our school and into our room. Talk about daring!

  My date for the night’s activities, Chad, has brown curly hair and a very nice bod. He is English and attends the boys’ school located near us. I am quite taken with his accent, and his kissing skills aren’t bad either.

  I’ve never actually practiced “almost” in a bed before. But soon I am totally naked with a boy for the first time. Naturally this horny English boy is hot to take it all the way.

  “Everything but,” I tell him firmly, wriggling out of his reach.

  “C’mon,” he begs. “Let me just put it there, between your legs—I promise I won’t do anything.”

  Ah yes, and I have a fine piece of real estate in Central Park I can sell you …

  Boys! They must think all girls are total idiots.

  I dissuade him from his task by doing something to him that all boys crave. Then just when he is about to return the favor, the lights go on, and standing in the doorway to our room—arms crossed, looking like a stern-faced ghost—is the gym teacher, and Miss Miriam herself.

  Holy batshit!

  Crapola major!

  Man!

  “Out!” Miss Miriam thunders at the two boys, who leap from our beds as if they have raging frogs up their asses. “Go now. And never return.”

  The boys frantically grab their clothes and run, leaving me and Olympia hiding under the sheets in our individual beds.

  “Tomorrow morning. My office,” Miss Miriam says, laser eyes decimating us. Then she snaps off the lights with an ominous flourish and the two women make a stern exit.

  Olympia dissolves into fits of nervous giggles.

  I don’t know what to do. So I laugh, too.

  Screw it. We’re invincible!

  * * *

  “You have brought disgrace upon the entire establishment of L’Evier. This hallowed school has never experienced behavior like this before. Never!” Miss Miriam removes her pebblelike spectacles and glares at us.

  For a moment I think she might burst into tears at the effrontery of it all. But she doesn’t—she curls her lip and continues glaring.

  It’s the next morning and we are standing in her office in front of her desk like a couple of criminals caught in the act. I guess in her eyes that’s exactly what we are.

  Miss Miriam is on a rant. “To bring boys into my school is bad enough. But to take them to your room, and to be found in bed with them. Well…”

  Olympia stifles a giggle.

  Miss Miriam turns on her. “You may well laugh, young lady—however, I do not imagine your laughter will continue when your father arrives to remove you from this school that you have besmirched with your disgusting vulgar behavior.”

  Olympia gulps. So do I.

  “The pair of you are expelled,” Miss Miriam continues. “Both your fathers will be here tomorrow morning to collect you. In the meantime you are to go to your room and stay there. Is that clear?”

  We nod, only now I’m panicking. Has the old biddy contacted Gino? Will he be coming for me? Jeez, I am in major trouble.

  “Can we go now?” Olympia asks, apparently unfazed at the reality of being expelled.

  Miss Miriam looks down her nose at us. “Please do,” she says, acid-tongued. “I cannot stand to look at either of you for one more minute.”

  Olympia flounces from the office. I follow.

  We make it up to our room, whereupon Olympia collapses onto her bed and starts complaining.

  “What an old witch!” she moans. “My poppa’s going to be major pissed; he hates it when I get thrown out of school and he has to come get me and make nice and apologize for his naughty little girlikins. He made me swear I wouldn’t get thrown out of this one. Shit!”

  I can sympathize. Gino is not going to be exactly thrilled. But then he won’t come to fetch me, he’ll send someone—hopefully Marco.

  Yes, the sad truth is that I still have a dumb girl crush on handsome Marco. It’s pathetic, I know, only I can’t help it.

  “Well,” Olympia says with a weary sigh. “I guess it’ll be fathers’ day tomorrow. What a trip!”

  “My dad won’t come,” I say dourly. “He’ll send someone.”

  “Why won’t he come?” Olympia demands.

  “’Cause he’s a busy man,” I explain.

  “They’re all busy.”

  “My old man’s busier than most.”

  “Doing what?”

  “Stuff,” I answer vaguely. “Gino has a ton of interests. Hotels … companies … business things. You name it, he has a piece of it.”

  Olympia sits up. “Does he have a piece of Marabelle Blue?” she asks slyly.

  I am completely startled. “How long have you known?” I ask, wide-eyed.

  Olympia yawns and stretches as if it’s no big deal. “A while,” she murmurs. “I was waiting for you to tell me.”

  “Gino made me swear I wouldn’t tell anyone,” I mumble, slightly panicked. “He thinks if anyone finds out who I really am, they’ll steer clear of me.”

  “As if,” Olympia snorts. “I wish my father was a notorious gangster instead of a boring old billionaire.”

  “No you don’t,” I say firmly.

&n
bsp; “Yes, I do,” Olympia insists, wrinkling her nose. “And while we’re on the subject … when do I get to meet the infamous Gino?” She pauses, gives me a secretive look, then lowers her voice. “I’ve read all about him. Tell me the truth—has he really arranged to have people killed?”

  “That’s so much crap,” I snap. “Everything written about Gino is exaggerated.”

  “Okay,” Olympia says, backing off because she can see I’m getting agitated.

  And I am, because what do I know? Not much. I’m hardly naive when it comes to my father—I’m well aware he’s not exactly citizen number one—but has he arranged to have people killed? No freaking way.

  Olympia jumps off her bed and envelops me in a warm hug. I immediately feel comforted.

  “I don’t really care who your father is,” she whispers in my ear. “You’re my best friend, Lucky, and you always will be.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “Here comes trouble,” Olympia exclaims as she almost falls leaning out of our window. “I think I spy your old man arriving.”

  “You do?” I gasp.

  “Yes. And, hey, wait a minute—he’s not so old, in fact he’s hot!”

  I feel a shiver of apprehension as I rush to join her at the window. Yes. It is Gino. Big surprise.

  I can’t make up my mind whether I am disappointed or elated.

  Disappointed because I’d expected Marco. Elated because Daddy Dearest has actually made the trip. Which means he must care, a true shocker.

  “Hmm…” says Olympia, leaving the window and running to admire herself in the mirror. “How do I look?”

  “Who gives a crap how you look,” I say brusquely. “Gino is actually here.”

  “That means I get to meet him,” Olympia says, still primping.

  “This isn’t a social occasion,” I point out. “We’re about to get thrown out of school, remember?”

  “In that case I should definitely look my best,” Olympia giggles, thrusting out her boobs.

  “Stop it!” I admonish.

  “Spoilsport,” Olympia retaliates.

  A knock on our door and I am informed that I should go downstairs to the principal’s office immediately.

  No Marco to save me. Only Gino the Ram. Daddy Dearest.

  What’ll he have to say?

  Am I scared?

  Not really. I am a Santangelo just like him. I am strong in my own way. I am powerful. I am woman!

  Of course I crumble like a weakling when I come face to face with Gino. He is angry and handsome. Olympia is right—my father is hot with his thick black hair and intense dark eyes, impeccably dressed in an Italian hand-tailored suit and crisp white shirt.

  Gino the Ram. Women lust after him. Women love him. I wish they wouldn’t.

  He gives me a look. The look that says—“So you screwed up again, huh? Can’t you do anything right?”

  “Hey … Daddy,” I venture, playing little girl lost.

  Maybe he’ll call me princess and tell me all is forgiven.

  “You packed?” he snarls, with about as much fatherly love as a snake.

  “Yes, I’m packed,” I say, throwing him a defiant glare. I haven’t seen him in ages—don’t I even get a hug?

  No way. It’s Gino the Ram. He’s mad at me.

  I can’t even figure out why he’s come to collect me. Surely he’d find it more convenient to send one of his lackeys? Marco, for instance.

  Ah yes, Marco. I wouldn’t mind seeing his face when Miss Miriam informs him I was caught naked in bed with a boy. Ha! Perhaps he’d finally see me as a real woman, experienced and very sexy.

  No such luck—Gino is here and I have to deal with him.

  “We should take off,” Gino says to Miss Miriam.

  I can tell by his tone of voice that he’s way pissed off. Trouble lies ahead.

  “Yes, perhaps you should,” replies Miss Miriam, thin lips clamped tightly together.

  “I appreciate your understanding,” Gino says. “I’ll be sendin’ you that contribution for the school.”

  What contribution? Is he paying for her silence so she doesn’t spill about his naughty little daughter? Me? Typical.

  Ten minutes later we’re sitting in a chauffeur-driven car on our way to the airport.

  Gino is silent. So am I.

  We board the plane in silence. Make the trip in silence. What was the point of him coming to get me if he has nothing to say?

  The plane flies us to New York, not L.A. I am surprised. Why New York? L.A. is home.

  I soon find out.

  My father has an apartment in New York that I’ve never seen before. It’s like something out of one of those men’s magazines—all sleek and glam with an incredible sound system and mind-blowing views over Central Park. I guess I can get used to it.

  I am thinking about how I’m going to enjoy New York, when Aunt Jen appears, all quivering lips and sympathetic hugs. “Hello, dear,” she says, plump and motherly in a salmon-pink outfit with pearls galore. She smells of a musky scent, and has an expression on her face as if she’s about to burst into tears. At least she’s speaking to me, which is a relief.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask.

  “Gino requested that I come.”

  “He did?” I say, still trying to figure everything out.

  “Indeed he did,” she replies.

  “Is Daddy still engaged?” I ask.

  “Not anymore,” Aunt Jen says crisply. “Miss Blue is history.”

  I digest this little piece of information. No more Marabelle Blue. Thank goodness. At least I don’t have to deal with a movie-star psycho stepmom.

  “Come, dear,” Aunt Jen says. “Let us go in the bedroom and talk. There is nothing better than a thorough chat about things to clear the air.”

  I sigh. Do I really have to hash things out with Aunt Jen? How embarrassing.

  “You do know that your father is very concerned about you,” Aunt Jen says.

  I glance over at Gino. He’s at the bar, fixing himself what I presume is a strong drink. He still hasn’t spoken to me.

  I guess a conversation with Aunt Jen is inevitable. She’s a sweet woman, but she’s sure as hell not my mother.

  Reluctantly I follow her, and we go into what I presume is Gino’s bedroom. The room has my father’s taste; it’s all leather and dark wood—totally macho. Very suitable for Gino the Ram.

  Aunt Jen perches herself daintily on the edge of the bed, whereupon she launches into an awkward speech about how girls have to save themselves for the boy they’re eventually going to marry, and how above all else they must hang on to their self-respect and must never do anything untoward.

  I get what she’s after. She’s desperate to find out—at Gino’s request—exactly how far I have gone.

  I give her what she needs to hear: “It was a one-time thing, Auntie Jen,” I explain, all wide-eyed and innocent. “It’s not as if we did anything. I’m still a good girl; the boy in my bed was a crazy lapse of judgment. I promise it’ll never happen again.”

  Aunt Jen sighs with relief. She can now report back to Daddy Dearest that his precious little Italian princess is still a virgin.

  After she imparts this piece of news to Gino, he summons me into the living room and begins to talk to me.

  “Hey, kid,” he says, “got somethin’ planned for you.”

  “What?” I ask suspiciously.

  “Somethin’ you’re gonna like,” he replies, all cheerful and upbeat.

  “Really?” I say, brightening up, because if he’s happy I suppose I should be, too.

  “Yeah, really.”

  “What?” I repeat, anxious to hear my fate.

  Gino settles himself in an armchair, ready to tell me what I hope is going to be exciting news, although I have a lurking hunch it won’t be.

  “I’m sendin’ you to a private boardin’ school in Connecticut,” he announces, like he’s expecting me to jump up and down with joy.

  My stomach take
s a dive. So does my face.

  “Now don’t go givin’ me one of your shitty looks,” Gino grumbles, narrowing his eyes. “It’s a great place. Oh yeah, an’ it’s closer to L.A., which means you get to fly home once a month, that’s if ya feel like it. They got tennis, swimmin’, an’ ridin’—you like horses, doncha?”

  “Horses!” I exclaim in horror. “I hate horses.”

  “C’mon, kiddo,” Gino says, and I can hear it in his voice that he’s getting fed up with the conversation. “Hate is kinda a strong way t’feel about horses—ya know, man’s best friend an’ all that crap.”

  “Dogs are man’s best friend,” I point out.

  “No, money is man’s best friend,” Gino says, as usual determined to get the last word. “An’ doncha forget it.”

  And there you have it. Not family. Not love. Money.

  Gino the Ram. My father.

  I hate him. He’s brash, short, speaks poorly, and is coarse and full of his own importance.

  I love him. He’s handsome, macho, beautifully dressed, sexy—and when he’s nice, he’s very very nice.

  Dinner is served. Now it’s just me and Gino—Aunt Jen has conveniently vanished, her job well done.

  I pick up an asparagus tip and lick the dripping butter with my tongue. “I was thinking…” I venture.

  “Yeah?” says Gino, one eye firmly fixed on a ball game playing on TV.

  “Umm … well … I mean … in a couple of months I’m going to be sixteen,” I say. “So why do I have to go back to school at all?”

  “Huh?”

  I haven’t quite got his full attention, but almost.

  “Here’s the thing,” I continue quickly. “You know that I hate school, and school obviously hates me. And it’s not as if I ever learn anything, so basically it’s a total waste of time. And a waste of your money,” I add, thinking this might encourage him to back off the private school idea. Hey—I’ve been thrown out of one, isn’t that enough?

  Gino gives me a long steady look.

  Yippee! I finally have his full attention.

  “No school, huh?” he growls. “An’ what exactly would you be plannin’ t’do all day?”

  Wow! Is he actually taking me seriously? I can’t believe it.