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Mikey’s relief, he pulled on a pair of white linen golfing trousers and sat down on a bench, warming to his theme. “A girlfriend is someone you hold hands with, maybe go to the pictures. One day, if you find you really like her, then maybe you marry her and she becomes your wife. That’s a girlfriend. Now, a mistress—a mistress is something totally different.” He paused for dramatic effect, a slow smile spreading across his predatory hawklike features. “A mistress is basically pussy that you own.”
    “Jesus Christ!” Mikey exploded into laughter, genuinely shocked. “You can’t
say
things like that! Nobody
owns
nobody else, Duke.”
    “Ah, kid.” Duke shook his head. “How little you know.”
    Standing up to admire his chosen outfit—white pants, white patent-leather shoes, and a tight chocolate-brown turtleneck that was far too warm for the California climate but that accentuated his chest and biceps—he put an affectionate, paternal arm around his trainer. How come he could never talk like this to his own son, Pete? The boy was always so fucking uptight, a stuck-up little prig like his mother. Duke used to say that Pete Jr. was a replica of Minnie, only with balls—but these days he wasn’t too sure whether his son even had that distinction.
    “Anyway, in answer to your question, yes, my mood probably does owe just a little something to Caroline.”
    “Sorry, yeah, Caroline, you told me.”
    Duke was beaming like a drunk in a liquor store. This must be quite some girl. As if reading his mind, the old man continued. “Not only is she a world-class fuck”—Duke noticed Mikey fighting to stifle a blush—“seriously, man, you should see her, she is the sluttiest little whore but she speaks like the fucking queen. If you haven’t screwed an English girl, I’m telling you, you gotta try it.”
    “I’ll bear that in mind,” said Mikey. “Thanks.”
    “But the best part is,” Duke looked at him triumphantly, “she’s agreed to move in with me. Permanently. As of today.”
    Had Mikey missed something here? “What do you mean she’s
moving in with you
?” He knew it was rude to piss on Duke’s picnic when he was so patently over the moon. But how could Caroline possibly be moving in? “What about Minnie? Did you guys, like, separate or get a divorce or something? How come I never heard about this?”
    “Nope.” Duke cracked his knuckles and smiled broadly. He was evidently lapping up the younger man’s discomfiture. “No separation, no divorce. I just told her. This is my house, and I want Caroline to live here. Minnie’ll do what she’s told if she wants to remain a part of this family.”
    Mikey winced. Duke’s brutality never ceased to shock him, especially where poor Mrs. McMahon was concerned. He couldn’t understand why on earth she tolerated it. Still, even by Duke’s standards, this was a bit extreme, moving the girlfriend into the estate right under her nose. He imagined Peter wasn’t going to be too pleased either.
    “We’re having a welcome dinner tonight at eight,” continued Duke, unfazed. “It’s just family: Caroline and me, Laurie, Pete and his wife . . . and
my
wife, of course,” he sneered sadistically. “But you’re more than welcome to join us if you’d like. I’ll have Minnie set an extra place.”
    Jesus Christ, so Minnie was expected to play hostess at this charade? Suddenly Mikey felt awkward, guilty. He didn’t want to be a party to any of this. “I can’t,” he said, blushing. “I’m really sorry, but I can’t.”
    For all his charm, Duke obviously had a huge hole right where any sense of morality or basic human compassion should be. And when you looked right into that hole, it was black. Frankly, it scared the shit out of Mikey.
    Sensing the old man’s disappointment, he shrugged apologetically, attempting to lighten the atmosphere. “Dinner with my girlfriend, you know?”
    “Sure. Of course,” said Duke with a mirthless smile that