[Veritas]

"Hello, Tina," Springs said grimly. "Too bad I can't say the same thing about you."

"Now is that the way to greet an old friend?" Tina admonished. "Especially the widow of one?"

"Who said you were an old friend?" Springs retorted. "And who the hell said you were his widow? You divorced him years ago, remember?"

"So? I'm still the mother of his child."

"That don't mean nothin'. You dumped his ass, and now you got the gall to come in and say you're his widow? You're full of it, Tina."

"I still have legal claim to his estate, regardless," Tina pointed out. "I'm the mother of his biological daughter, you know."

"Yeah?" Springs countered. "Well, Junior's the eldest legal heir by his first wife, sweetheart. You and your 'biological daughter' are second bananas as far as he's concerned. In fact, I know that Mick made a new will, just yesterday before he kicked the bucket."

"So?"

"So, if I were you, I'd turn my ass around and walk on out of here, because you ain't gettin' nothin', sweetheart! Neither you nor your 'biological daughter' are getting jack squat! Junior's the only legitimate heir, and you ain't nothin' but a gold-digging (bleep)! Always have been, always will be. Put that in your pipe and smoke it!"

"The will hasn't been read yet, Springs," Tina reminded him. "And I can contest if I have to. No one is going to shortchange me, not even Mick, may he rot in Hell! Just you wait and see! I'm gonna get my share of the estate if it's the last thing I do!"

"Blah, blah, blah, big words, sweetheart!" Springs sneered. "You ain't got a leg to stand on in court. You wanna waste what's left of your alimony fighting it out in court, you go right ahead! You're only gonna make some lawyer rich, that's all. And, remember, you're too old to go back to strippin'."

"(Bleep) you, Springs," Tina retorted. "(Bleep) you and the horse you rode in on!" She spun on her Manolo heels and stormed out of the house. "See you at the funeral," she said curtly.

"See you in Hell," Springs said in a low tone as she slammed the heavy door behind her.




Michael, Jr., felt no overwhelming grief when he heard the news of his father's death. He felt no anger, no sadness, not even shock. Instead, it was like the storm clouds breaking and rays of sunshine beaming down their warmth and light upon him, and a tremendous feeling of buoyancy, of dancing on air. At last, the old man was dead! The estate was his at last! No more money troubles, no more collection calls--he was finally set for life!

His first instinct was to call Pamela to tell her the good news. He could picture her screaming with joy when she heard about his father's death and their new wealth. He reached for the phone to call her on her cell, but then hesitated. Why should he? Why should she share in what was rightfully, legally his and his alone? Well, she was his wife, granted, but their marriage had been going stale lately, and though they never had any real knock-down, drag-out fights, they never discussed divorce.

Yet Michael wanted his freedom as well as his father's wealth. He yearned for the carefree bachelor days when he had girls at his beck and call and could party all night and sleep all day if he wanted. It was his mother who insisted he get married, settle down and start a family to carry on the Piccucci name. He had met Pamela in a bar somewhere in Cabo and she had really turned him on like no other girl he had met before. It was only after a traditional Italian wedding and Mexican honeymoon did it occur to Michael that his free and easy days were over, and he was just another henpecked husband with a wife and, later, kids to support.

Michael set down the phone. No, best to hold off for right now. He had to think things through first if he wanted to start living again the way he used to. Sure, there'd be alimony payments and child support, but with the help of a good lawyer he'd still have enough to live the good life with Jessie. No marriage--no way was he getting into that trap again! Just shack up, kick back and relax, take it easy and soak in the sun. Michael Piccucci was made for la vida buena, not family life.




One person who was oblivious to the goings on in the Piccucci family was Alicia Rose, who was sitting in the computer lab at school, linking onto the Criss Angel fanboards. The top thread in particular caught her eye: LOYALAPALOOZA! Three days of magic and mayhem in Las Vegas, with Criss Angel presiding, three weeks hence.

Alicia longed to go to Loyalapalooza, more than anywhere else in the world. It would be the fulfillment of a dream, to go to Vegas and meet Criss, touch him, embrace him, even kiss him right on the lips--oh, that would be Heaven! Maybe he'd fall in love with her, take her up to his suite in the Luxor, and then who knew what would happen? Maybe in time he would marry her! To be married to Criss Angel would be the summit of all happiness to Alicia. No more bratty Kyle tormenting her! No more patronizing mother! No more St. Benedict's Acadamy telling her what to do and not to do! She'd be free, and she'd be happy!

But it was hopeless, and she knew it. No way would her mother let her go to Las Vegas, even if St. Bennie's sponsored the trip. Mrs. Rose was not about to let her baby go on a several hundred mile trip just to see Criss Angel, nosireebob! Alicia had school, she had responsibilities, and she needed to remain in the safety and security of home and family. Who knew what evils lurked in that place they rightfully called Sin City? It was no place for a little girl to go running around unsupervised. Besides, she didn't have any money to make reservations.

But, oh, how she wanted to go! How she yearned to go! Loyalapalooza was to Alicia Rose what Prince Charming's ball was to Cinderella. She wished she had a fairy godmother who would appear and send her to Vegas with a wave of her magic wand. A limo, maybe, or even a private jet, along with designer clothes that made her look more mature instead of the dreary school uniform she wore practically every day. She'd have a bottle of champaigne to share with Criss (even though she was only thirteen), and they'd jet all over the world, even go to Greece, the land of his ancestors. Of course they'd have to bring Hammie, Criss' cat, along for the trip so he wouldn't get lonely.

The school bell clanged, signalling the change for class and bringing Alicia back to reality. Sadly she logged off the fansite and dragged herself back to the grey, mundane world of school. If only she could go to Loyalapalooza, if only, if only....