Chapter One
Late afternoon Chloe and Kelly were having cocktails at the
Rattlesnake Club, the two seated on the far side of the dining room by
themselves: Chloe talking, Kelly listening, Chloe trying to get Kelly to help
her entertain Anthony Paradiso, an eighty-four-year-old guy who was paying her
five thousand a week to be his girlfriend.
Now Chloe was offering Kelly a cigarette from a pack of Virginia Slims, the
long ones, the 120's.
They'd made their entrance, the early after-work crowd still looking,
speculating, something they did each time the two came in. Not showgirls. More
like fashion models: designer casual wool coats, oddball pins, scarves, big
leather belts, definitely not bimbos. They could be sisters, tall, the same
type, the same nose jobs, both remembered as blonds, their hair cropped short.
Today they wore hats, each a knit cloche down on her eyes, and sunglasses. It
was April in Detroit, snow predicted.
Now they were lighting the cigarettes.
* * *
The waitress, a young blond named Emily, came through the room of white
tablecloths and place settings with their drinks, alexanders straight up, with
gin. She said as she always did, "I'm sorry, but you're not supposed to smoke in
here. It's okay in the bar."
Kelly looked at Emily in her black pants and starched white shirt. "Has your
boss said anything?"
"He hasn't yet."
"So forget about it," Chloe said. "He likes us." She brought a Ritz-Carlton
ashtray from her coat pocket and placed it on the table, Emily watching.
She said, "They're always from a different hotel. I like the one, I think
it's from the Sunset Marquis?"
"It's one of my favorites," Chloe said. "Next time I'm in L.A. I'll pick up a
few more."
Emily said, "Cool hats," and left.
Kelly watched her moving through the empty tables.
"Emily's a little weird."
"She's a fan," Chloe said. "Fans are weird."
"I'll bet anything she comes back with a catalog."
"What're you in this month?"
"Saks, Neiman Marcus - she'll have Victoria's Secret."
"Remember she asked if I modeled," Chloe said, "and I told her now and then
but mostly I did hands? She said, Oh."
"You called it hand jobs. Show her your Playboy spread, she'll freak,"
Kelly said, and saw Emily coming back through the tables with a catalog, holding
it to her breast with two hands, Victoria's Secret, a look of pain on Emily the
waitress's face, hesitant now as she stood before Kelly.
"I hope you guys don't think I'm a pest."
"I don't mind," Kelly said. "What page?"
Emily gave her the catalog and a Sharpie. "Sixteen, the Second Skin
Collection. Could you sign it like right above your navel?"
"I'm in the Seamless Collection," Kelly said, "Second Skin's the next page,"
and wrote Kelly in black over bare flesh. "I'm in another one somewhere."
"Page forty-two," Emily said, "the new low-rise bikini. And on the next page,
the low-rise v-string and low-rise thong?"
Kelly turned pages until she was looking at herself in white panties. "You
want each one signed?"
"If you wouldn't mind. I really appreciate it."
Chloe said to her, "Which one do you have on?"
Emily made a face, clenching her teeth. "I'm trying the v-string."
"Feels good?"
Emily squirmed a little. "It's okay."
"I can't wait to get them off," Kelly said. She handed Emily the catalog.
"I kinda like the way a thong grabs you," Chloe said, "but haven't worn one
lately, and if you want to know why, ask the old man."
Emily left.
And Chloe said, "Aren't you glad you're not a waitress?"
"Yeah, but I think I'd be good at it," Kelly said. "I'd take orders for a
table without writing anything down. The woman with blue hair, the whitefish,
the scotch drinker, pickerel. And I wouldn't call them 'you guys.'"
"Your style," Chloe said, "make it look easy. But you fly to New York to work
instead of living there."
"The traffic," Kelly said. "You spend most of your time waiting for it to
move."
"So what? You're sitting in a limo."
"I like to drive."
"You could work for Vicki's full-time, make a lot more money."
"I do okay."
"Go to parties with movie stars -"
"Who want to jump you."
"What's wrong with that?"
"I have to be in love. Or think I am."
They sipped their alexanders and smoked their cigarettes and Chloe said, "Hon
... I desperately need you."
"I can't, I have to take my dad to the airport."
"He's still here?"
"Playing the slots all day and giving me advice at dinner. He thinks I should
get a new agent."
"Isn't he a barber?"
"He has time to think about things."
"Get him a taxi."
"I want to be sure he makes the flight. My dad drinks."
"Can't we work around it? I'm talking about three hours, max. By midnight the
old guy's asleep in his chair. He even nods off while we're talking, drops his
cigar. I have to watch he doesn't set himself on fire."
"Not tonight," Kelly said, but then began to let herself give in a little
because they were good friends and had been sharing a loft the past couple of
years, Kelly saying, "If I did go with you sometime, would I have to do
anything?"
She wouldn't mind getting a look at Mr. Paradiso.
The way Kelly understood the arrangement, the old man was laying out five
thousand a week to have Chloe available, all to himself. It was a lot for not
having to do much, almost twice what Kelly made in her underwear ...
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Mr. Paradise by Elmore Leonard
Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may
be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the
publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the
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Mr. Paradise