"Who is she?"
"Lou's wife."
"I didn't know he even had a wife. Nobody's ever mentioned her to me.
"Nobody ever does, least of all Lou. They've had an arm's-length marriage for twenty years. Word has it they occupy different wings of this house. They're only seen together when he entertains here, or at industry events, like the Oscars."
"And why does she hate you?"
"You don't want to know."
"You're probably right." They reached the bar; Charlene had a San Pellegrino, and Stone had his usual bourbon.
"Did you see the look on the doctor's face when he met you?" Charlene asked.
"Yes; I thought he was going to break and run for a minute."
"This is going to be a very weird evening," Charlene said.
Stone looked toward the front door and nearly choked on his drink. "You don't know how weird," he said.
Charlene followed his gaze. "That, I suppose, is the fabled Dolce."
"It is," Stone replied, "and the man with her is her father, Eduardo."
Charlene linked her arm in Stone's. "Well, come on, then," she said. "I want to be introduced."
There was nothing else for it, Stone thought; may as well brazen it out. He walked toward the two, wishing to God he were on another continent. "Good evening, Eduardo," he said. "Hello, Dolce."
Eduardo took his hand, but not before a shocked glance at Char-lene's highly visible breasts. "Stone," he managed to say.
Dolce said nothing, but shot a look at Charlene that would have set a lesser woman on fire.
"Eduardo, this is Charlene Joiner. Charlene, this is Eduardo Bianchi and his daughter, Dolce."
"I'm so pleased to meet you both," Charlene said, offering them a broad smile, in addition to everything else.
"Enchanted," Eduardo said stiffly.
"Oh, yes," Dolce said dryly, looking Charlene up and down. "Enchanted."
"Charlene is one of Lou's biggest stars," Stone said, because he could not think of anything else to say.
"I never go to the pictures," Eduardo said, "but I can certainly believe you are a star."
"Oh, Eduardo, you're sweet," Charlene giggled. She turned and snaked an arm through his. "Come on, and I'll get you a drink." She led him away, leaving Stone suddenly with Dolce, the very last place he wanted to be.
"Alone at last," Dolce said archly.
"Dolce, I…"
"Are you fucking her?"
"Now, listen. I…"
"Of course you are. That's what you do best, isn't it?"
"Will you listen…"
"I'm sure she's very good in the rack."
"Dolce…"
"Is she, Stone? Does she give good head?"
"For Christ's sake, keep your voice…"
"I'll bet she's spent more time on her knees than Esther Williams spent in the pool."
"Dolce, if you don't…"
"Oh, good, a martini," Dolce said, as a waiter approached with a tray. She took one, tossed it into Stone's face, returned the glass to the tray, and walked away.
The room was suddenly silent. Then Charlene's laugh cut through the quiet. "I don't believe you," she was saying to Eduardo, who, uncharacteristically, seemed to be laughing, too.
"Dinner is served!" the butler called out, and the guests began filtering toward the dining room.
Charlene came, took Stone by the arm, and turned him toward dinner.
"Let's get out of here," Stone said, dabbing at his face with a handkerchief.
"Are you kidding?" Charlene laughed, dragging him toward the dining room. "I wouldn't miss this dinner for anything!"
Chapter 48
There were SIXTEEN at dinner. Stone found himself near the center of the long, narrow table, on his hostess's left. Directly across from him was Dr. Lansing Drake, who had landed with Dolce on his right and Charlene on his left. Most men, Stone reflected, would have been delighted to find themselves bracketed by two such beautiful women, but Dr. Drake looked decidedly uncomfortable, and when Stone nodded to him, he looked at his plate, then up and down the table, as if seeking an escape route.
The woman to Stone's left seemed to be in her eighties and deaf, while the handsome and chilly Livia, to Stone's right, seemed disinclined to acknowledge his presence. Dolce, across the table, shot him long, hostile looks whenever his eyes wandered her way. Only Charlene seemed happy. She had drawn Eduardo, to her left, and between her large eyes and her beautiful breasts, she seemed to have him mesmerized.
"How long have you known that woman?" a deep, whiskey-scarred voice asked.
Stone jerked to attention. Livia had spoken to him. "Oh, we met only recently. This is the first time we've been out." That was, strictly speaking, the truth. They had done all sorts of things at home, but they had not been out.
"I would be careful, if I were you," Livia said. "She probably has a social disease."
"I beg your pardon?" Stone said, astonished that a hostess would say such a thing to her guest about his companion.
"More than likely, a fatal social disease," Livia said, ignoring his reaction.
"Mrs. Regenstein…"
"I detest that name; call me Livia."
"You detest your husbands name?"
"And my husband, as well."
"Then why are you married to him?"
"I find it convenient; I have for more than twenty years. But enough about me; let's talk about you. What did you do to little Miss Bianchi that would invite a drink in the face?"
"My private life," Stone said, "unlike yours, is private."
"You're going to be a bore, aren't you?" she asked.
"You will probably think so."
"Who are you, anyway?"
"My name is Stone Barrington."
"Ah, yes, Louis has mentioned you. You're that disreputable lawyer from New York who was screwing Arrington Calder just before she married Vance, aren't you?"
Stone looked across the table, caught Charlene's eye and jerked his head toward the door. Then he turned to Livia Regenstein. "Goodbye, you miserable bitch," he said quietly, then he got up and walked out of the dining room. He waited a moment for Charlene to catch up, then led her toward the front door.
While Charlene was waiting for her wrap, and the valet was bringing Stone's car, Lou Regenstein caught up with them. "What's wrong, Stone? Why are you leaving?"
"Lou, I must apologize; I'm afraid I don't have a scorecard for the games that are played in this town. I'm sorry if I made your wife and your guests uncomfortable."
"It's I who should apologize," Lou said. "Livia can be hard to take."
"I'll see you soon," Stone said. They shook hands, and he and Charlene left the house.
Stone put the top down. "I need some air," he said, turning down the street. "I hope it won't disturb your hair."
"Don't worry about it," Charlene replied. "Well, that was quite an evening. What were you and Livia talking about, dare I ask?"
"You, mostly," Stone said.
"Oh. I may as well tell you. For a short time Livia and I shared a lover."
"Not Lou, I hope."
"No, someone much younger. Shortly after I came into the picture, the man stopped seeing Livia. Livia has been livid ever since."
"This is my fault; I should have told you where we were having dinner."
"Listen, Sugar, don't worry about it; I didn't have half as bad a time as you."
"What were you and Eduardo talking about?"
"The movie business, mostly."
"He seemed fascinated."
"I'm sure he was. He spoke well of you, too."
"Did he?"
"He said you were a gentleman."
"And that was just before I caused a scene by walking out of an elegant dinner party."
"I'm sure his opinion of you hasn't changed."
"You know, until this week, I had never in my life walked out of any dinner party, and now, in the space of three days, I've walked out of two."
"Are you upset?"
"Not really; I must be getting used to it."
"I guess folks out here aren't working with quite the same social graces as their counterparts in New York."