Never Too Rich by Judith Gould Read Free Book Online Page A

he
said.
    “ And she caught you in the midst of
it? In flagrante delicto?”
    “ Liz saw it too.”
    Anouk suddenly burst into peals of glissant
laughter. “Shame on you.”
    “ This isn’t funny! You know how
thick Doris Bucklin is with Rosamund Moss! They’re old school
friends or something. I’ve practically been promised that I’ll
dress the new First Lady. But after this . . . well, Roz Moss might
go to Bill Blass or Adolfo!”
    “ That’s only if Doris
talks.”
    “ She will. She’s got a mouth
like—”
    “ Darling, she’ll keep quiet. I can
almost guarantee it. Now, don’t worry your little head about it.
Get back to work and do your design magic. I’ll take care of
everything.”
    “ How?”
    “ Just leave it all to me. I’ll fix
it.”
    “ But I don’t know how I’ll be able
to face Doris . . . or even Liz . . .”
    “ Like I said, I’ll take care of it.
So don’t you worry, all right? Just tell me one thing. Was Doris
drunk? She so often is.”
    “ I . . . I don’t know.”
    “ Well, don’t worry. Now, I’d better
start making calls. I’ll see you later, at the memorial service. So
cheer up, cheri, and hold your head high. It’s not the end
of the world, you know. Ciao-meow!”

 
    Chapter
6
     
    Twelve hundred CC’s of Made-in-the-USA engine
growled malevolently. The Harley-Davidson was caught in the
slow-moving downtown traffic. Then, when a tiny opening appeared
between the cars on the left, the growl burst to a snarling
roar.
    Lazing back on the leather-fringed seat of the
customized, chrome-laden chopper, his arms extended to accommodate
the elongated front fork and his long hair flying back from his
Nazi-style coal-scuttle helmet, Snake flashed a birdie at the
motorists and, without warning, cut into the left lane.
    A businessman in a Cadillac Seville had to swerve
and hit the brakes to avoid him, and with a thunderclap bang and
the crunch of writhing metal, the Checker cab in back crashed into
the rear of the Seville.
    Curses and yells flung at Snake were lost in the
crescendo of noise and the cloud of blue exhaust as he disappeared
unperturbed down Second Avenue. He threw back his head and roared
laughter. It wasn’t the first time he had left bent fenders in his
wake, and it wouldn’t be the last.
    Snake invited fear and loathing on sight. His
good-looking twenty-eight-year-old face was obscured by greasy
black shoulder-length hair, and his grizzly mustache and foot-long
beard would have done a Hasid proud. He wore a huge gold ring
through one ear, a gold stud through one nostril, and there was a
perpetual squint to his jumpy, tawny yellow eyes. His tattoos
started below his chin and went all the way down to his toes.
People tended to avoid him as much for his fierce “outlaw-biker”
image as for fear of flea infestation.
    On Fifth Street he made a left turn and cruised
slowly along the East Village blocks, checking out the action on
both sides of the street. Most of what he saw made him scowl.
Sometimes he didn’t know what the world was coming to anymore.
Punks and art galleries were everywhere. It hadn’t used to be like
that. These had been meaner streets at one time, and more to his
liking. Still, Satan’s Warriors ruled their own block, and that was
something that hadn’t changed. Nor would it, if he and his bros
could help it.
    He pulled his lips back across his teeth and grinned
to himself. Another two minutes or so, and he’d be back at the
clubhouse. First, he’d grab a Bud and a joint, and then he’d have
another go at Shirl, his ole lady. They’d been together for almost
three years now, and she still turned him on. He’d taught her well.
There wasn’t anyplace she wouldn’t put her tongue.
    His grin widened. Just thinking about Shirl was
enough to give him a hard-on. She was a great-looking piece of ass,
all legs and curves. She had silky ass-length hair just like
Crystal Gayle’s, although he had to admit she could have been
better stacked in