One Dangerous Lady Read Online Free PDF Page B

and she was the mother of his only child, a daughter named Courtney. When it became clear that Carla was not a passing fancy, Lulu hired a bomber lawyer who sicced a pack of private detectives on the flagrant couple. Lulu’s hatred of Carla, already in full bloom, was fertilized by what she found out about Carla’s background. The divorce dragged on for two gruelling years. Lulu eventually settled out of court for a rumored two hundred and fifty million dollars, plus real estate, plus artwork, on the strict condition she would never speak about the case, the settlement, or the past of the future Mrs. Cole.
    The exact nature of the dirt she’d uncovered on Carla remained a topic of gossip in the social world for years, although people assumed that Carla was simply one more in that long line of courtesans and call girls who quickly launder their pasts once they marry rich men. And no one much cared whether Carla had been a call girl or not—no one except my other best friend, June Kahn, that is, who remained steadfastly loyal to Lulu and who always referred to Carla as “the hookerina.”
    Carla’s wedding to Russell famously divided New York. “To go or not to go—” that was the question. Obviously, those who went would incur Lulu’s wrath. And those who did not go had little hope of joining the charmed circle of the notorious newlyweds. June Kahn had no problem. She boycotted the wedding. June was a foul-weather friend who loved taking up lost causes. She became an even greater friend of Lulu’s after Russell left her. Betty was in a trickier situation because not only was Russell Cole the godfather of her child, he was one of her husband’s biggest clients. Betty and Gil went to the wedding. Lulu never forgave them.
    As for myself, I was invited and I very much appreciated the invitation—particularly because at that period in my life I was down on my luck and invitations to anything other than clearance sales were in short supply. I would have liked to have gone, but it was a period when I was just too depressed to attend social functions. I heard from Betty that it had been quite a shindig. She said that Russell Cole looked years younger, and his entire toast to his bride was a single whoop of joy.
    â€œHey, that’s what happens when you finally get laid,” Betty had said at the time.
    And now Lord Max Vermilion was dating the first Mrs. Cole, which supposedly was why Russell was in a bad mood. But why? I wondered. Why would he give a damn?
    T he bridal dinner took place two flights up on the sun deck, amid a little topiary forest, the theme of which was Wonderland because Alice in Wonderland was Missy’s favorite childhood book. There were boxwood bushes cut in the shapes of the characters from the Lewis Carroll classic—the White Rabbit, the Cheshire Cat, the Red Queen, the Mad Hatter, Tweedledum and Tweedledee, the Dormouse, the Caterpillar, and Alice herself. It was cozy and spectacular at the same time. A real tour de force.
    Ten round tables seating ten guests each were elegantly set with votive candles, antique silver, cut crystal glasses, and blue-and-white Chinese export vases brimming with fresh tropical flowers. At the place of each guest was a telltale red box tied prettily with white ribbon. One eager person at our table immediately opened the gift, inspiring the rest of us to do likewise. The boxes contained small gold Cartier desk clocks with diamond hands, each one individually engraved with the date of the wedding-to-be.
    Later on, Betty and I figured out the little favors had to have cost a few hundred thousand dollars, probably more, prompting Betty to remark, “I always say there’s nothing like a Cartier clock to count the minutes until the revolution.”
    I was seated across the table from Russell Cole, who was flanked by Betty and Mina Brill. He looked morose throughout the dinner, and when the time came, he gave a