Page 72 of Gold Diggers

Ricardo walked to the doorway of an adjoining room. He had kicked off his shoes, undone a couple of buttons on his shirt and was holding a tumbler of amber-coloured liquid. ‘Cognac?’ he said to Summer, beckoning her into the room. He handed her a glass and walked into a large closet. Summer sipped the drink cautiously, feeling very uncomfortable standing in what was obviously Ricardo’s bedroom. What the hell am I doing? she thought.

‘Shall we go and join the girls? It’s playtime,’ purred Ricardo, returning wearing a white towelling robe.

‘Ricardo, I think … I think I …’ she said, putting a hand on a wall to steady herself. Suddenly she felt dizzy and the room was beginning to swim. She could feel his hands on her arm, leading her towards the spa room. Three girls were now in the jacuzzi. Tasha was naked and Becki was kissing her mouth and breasts, while Rachel was perched on the side of the jacuzzi, snorting a line of cocaine.

It was becoming a nightmare.

‘Ricardo, I need to go home,’ mumbled Summer, finding it difficult to get the words out.

‘Relax, Summer! You might just enjoy yourself,’ laughed Ricardo, rubbing her shoulders.

‘I want to GO!’ she said more forcefully, shrugging off his hand.

He stepped towards her, a smile still plastered on his face, but it was somehow cruel and mean.

‘Well, you know where the door is,’ he spat.

Summer jolted backwards, stumbling on a towel and slamming into the door. She scrambled sideways and made for the stairs, slipping on the marble and twisting her knee, but fear pushed her on through the pain.

‘I never had this problem with your mother,’ yelled Ricardo after her, as Summer opened the front door and gulped in the night air.

Head pounding, vision blurred, she felt a huge weariness – she just wanted to lie down and rest, but panic was driving her, telling her to get away from the house. She zigzagged down the street, bumping into railings and cars, unable to coordinate her movements. Finally she could see the Berkeley Hotel ahead of her. Surely she could wave down a taxi from there, she thought. A doorman in a grey suit and bowler hat noticed her and put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. ‘Madam, are you alright? Can I do anything to help?’

Summer was summoning the energy to speak, when the hotel’s doors opened and she heard a familiar voice.

‘Summer? What’s wrong? What’s going on?’

She could barely focus now, but she heard the voice again.

‘Okay, Robert, she’s a friend. I’ll take it from here,’ and she felt firm, reassuring hands on her back and she allowed herself to be helped into the expensive leather seat of a large car.

‘Thanks, Adam,’ she managed weakly. ‘I don’t know what’s the matter with me. But I’ve just had the evening from hell.’

When Summer woke up, it was dark and still. For a moment she thought she was dead, until she realized she was lying under a soft blanket on a black leather sofa.

‘Easy does it,’ said Adam softly, handing her a glass of water as she tried to sit up. He was dressed in sweat-pants and a T-shirt and had a bleary, pink-eyed look, as if he’d just woken up himself.

‘Where am I? Have I been asleep?’

‘Don’t worry. You’re at my apartment. I was going to take you straight home but you passed out in the car after a few minutes. You’ve been asleep for a couple of hours.’

Summer felt a rush of emotions: relief, fear, shame. ‘Urgh, I feel dreadful.’

‘I’m not surprised after spending the evening in the company of that jerk. I think he might have given you Rohypnol.’

Summer sat up suddenly, sending stars across her vision. ‘You’re kidding!’

‘No,’ said Adam gravely. ‘And it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve heard about Ricardo trying it on with that shit. People call his house “The Brothel”. He certainly seems to have one hell of a merry-go-round of women in that place.’

‘I feel such a bloody idiot,’ said Summer, nervously reaching up to smooth her hair, thinking she must look like a scarecrow.

‘We should go to the police,’ said Adam firmly. ‘If he’s drugged you they can arrest him.’

Summer felt a rush of panic. The last thing she wanted was to involve the police. After all, Ricardo was Molly’s friend and it was her who had set them up on a date.

‘I just want to forget about it,’ she replied.

‘Listen, if you’re worried, I can go with you …’