Read Online Sidney Sheldon's Mistress of the Game by Sidney Sheldon, Tilly Bagshawe - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Sidney Sheldon, Tilly Bagshawe
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few valuable seconds in which to make his move.
He pulled on the pants. They were huge. Yanking the belt onto its tightest notch, he could just about keep them up. Slowly, he began to walk. The pain in his leg was getting worse. Shutting out everything else, he focused his mind on Lexi and his mother. He couldn’t go toprison. He had to get away. Humming softly to the sound track playing in his head—Grieg’s Piano Concerto in A Minor—he limped on into the darkness.
By the time Robbie got home, it was six in the morning.
Dawn had already broken over the West Village. In doorways, the homeless were starting to stir, bags of rattling bones trying to shake off the combined effects of sleep and booze and move on before the first police patrols arrived. Robbie watched them. Not for the first time he thought how ironic it was that only a few feet of brick separated these hopeless hulks of human refuse from people like him: the richest of the rich. Those bums must think he had it all. What would they say if they knew how often he lay awake at night, in feather-bedded comfort, dreaming of blowing his brains out?
He had no key. That had been in his pants, along with the ecstasy. Limping down to the basement, he punched a six-digit number into the keypad by the service door, which clicked open obligingly. Welcome home.
He wondered what was going on back in Yonkers. Had the cops caught up with his three black buddies? Unlikely. But that didn’t mean he was out of the woods. Maureen Swanson might have spilled the beans, told the police who he was and where to find him.
Whatever. If she had, there was nothing he could do about it now.
Creeping up the kitchen stairs to the entryway, he was relieved to find the house silent and in darkness. He’d almost reached the top of the main staircase when a voice rang out behind him.
“I’m in the study, Robert.”
Shit .
Robbie’s heart sank, dread pooling in the pit of his stomach.
Please, please let him not have been drinking.
Peter sat on the red brocade couch. He was talking to his wife.
You know how difficult they are at this age, darling. I haven’t been firm enough with him in the past, that’s the problem. But it’s never too late to change.
Alex was agreeing with him. Standing by the window, in the green Halston dress he’d bought her for their tenth anniversary, she nodded encouragement. Where would he be without her? Her love andsupport meant everything to him. They gave him the strength he needed.
If it were just the trouble at school, I could forgive him. Even the drugs. But there’s Lexi to think about. He’s a terrible influence on her, Alex. He’s trying to take her away from me. I mean, I can’t allow that, can I?
Alex shook her head: Of course you can’t, darling. But let’s not waste all night talking about Robert. Do you like my dress?
I love it. You know I do. You look so beautiful.
For you, Peter. I look beautiful for you.
“Dad?”
Peter looked up. Alex had gone. The room swayed gently, like a ship. Everything was tinted with a sepia haze. It was like being inside an old photograph of the Titanic. Disaster had not yet struck, but it was imminent.
Peter Templeton waited for his son’s twin faces to merge into one before he spoke.
“Where have you been all night?”
Robbie shifted mutely from foot to foot.
“I asked you a question.”
“With a girl.”
It wasn’t a lie. Not technically.
“Which girl? Where?”
There was so much anger in Peter’s voice, Robbie found himself shivering.
“In Yonkers. We took a train,” said Robbie, deftly answering the second question but not the first. It wouldn’t help anyone to drag Maureen Swanson’s name into this. “Listen, Dad, I’m sorry about what happened at school today. Really. I don’t know why I do these things. Sometimes I…”
“Sometimes you what?”
Peter’s rage was growing. He didn’t want to hear apologies or explanations. He wanted Robert to admit his
He pulled on the pants. They were huge. Yanking the belt onto its tightest notch, he could just about keep them up. Slowly, he began to walk. The pain in his leg was getting worse. Shutting out everything else, he focused his mind on Lexi and his mother. He couldn’t go toprison. He had to get away. Humming softly to the sound track playing in his head—Grieg’s Piano Concerto in A Minor—he limped on into the darkness.
By the time Robbie got home, it was six in the morning.
Dawn had already broken over the West Village. In doorways, the homeless were starting to stir, bags of rattling bones trying to shake off the combined effects of sleep and booze and move on before the first police patrols arrived. Robbie watched them. Not for the first time he thought how ironic it was that only a few feet of brick separated these hopeless hulks of human refuse from people like him: the richest of the rich. Those bums must think he had it all. What would they say if they knew how often he lay awake at night, in feather-bedded comfort, dreaming of blowing his brains out?
He had no key. That had been in his pants, along with the ecstasy. Limping down to the basement, he punched a six-digit number into the keypad by the service door, which clicked open obligingly. Welcome home.
He wondered what was going on back in Yonkers. Had the cops caught up with his three black buddies? Unlikely. But that didn’t mean he was out of the woods. Maureen Swanson might have spilled the beans, told the police who he was and where to find him.
Whatever. If she had, there was nothing he could do about it now.
Creeping up the kitchen stairs to the entryway, he was relieved to find the house silent and in darkness. He’d almost reached the top of the main staircase when a voice rang out behind him.
“I’m in the study, Robert.”
Shit .
Robbie’s heart sank, dread pooling in the pit of his stomach.
Please, please let him not have been drinking.
Peter sat on the red brocade couch. He was talking to his wife.
You know how difficult they are at this age, darling. I haven’t been firm enough with him in the past, that’s the problem. But it’s never too late to change.
Alex was agreeing with him. Standing by the window, in the green Halston dress he’d bought her for their tenth anniversary, she nodded encouragement. Where would he be without her? Her love andsupport meant everything to him. They gave him the strength he needed.
If it were just the trouble at school, I could forgive him. Even the drugs. But there’s Lexi to think about. He’s a terrible influence on her, Alex. He’s trying to take her away from me. I mean, I can’t allow that, can I?
Alex shook her head: Of course you can’t, darling. But let’s not waste all night talking about Robert. Do you like my dress?
I love it. You know I do. You look so beautiful.
For you, Peter. I look beautiful for you.
“Dad?”
Peter looked up. Alex had gone. The room swayed gently, like a ship. Everything was tinted with a sepia haze. It was like being inside an old photograph of the Titanic. Disaster had not yet struck, but it was imminent.
Peter Templeton waited for his son’s twin faces to merge into one before he spoke.
“Where have you been all night?”
Robbie shifted mutely from foot to foot.
“I asked you a question.”
“With a girl.”
It wasn’t a lie. Not technically.
“Which girl? Where?”
There was so much anger in Peter’s voice, Robbie found himself shivering.
“In Yonkers. We took a train,” said Robbie, deftly answering the second question but not the first. It wouldn’t help anyone to drag Maureen Swanson’s name into this. “Listen, Dad, I’m sorry about what happened at school today. Really. I don’t know why I do these things. Sometimes I…”
“Sometimes you what?”
Peter’s rage was growing. He didn’t want to hear apologies or explanations. He wanted Robert to admit his
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