A fizzy debut follows an impoverished Caribbean charter-captain and building-super, his delectable tenant, and a whole lot of money not lawfully theirs around the globe.
Stranded in Park Slope after his father’s death leaves him destitute of everything but the patronage of the mysterious F.J. Starace, Daniel O’Sullivan Jr. is making ends meet by managing a Starace building and amusing himself by ogling comely Celeste Tranor, 22, in 2B. He gets a second chance at glamour, riches, and sensual fulfillment when a bleeding Celeste staggers into his apartment fresh from an auto accident that killed a Cali druglord and laid up the Treasure Secretary and a former Attorney General—but not $4.4 million the dying druglord pressed on her. Since his surviving associates aren’t likely to be so generous, Dan knows it’s time for him and Celeste to get out of town, and they do—to Dan’s former home in the Virgin Islands, and thence to Rome, Tuscany, the Riviera, and Martha’s Vineyard. Each move is ostensibly dictated by footsteps behind them, but in fact there’s precious little danger or suspense here—just unbroken high times and memories of even higher, like the romance Lydia Sands, Dan Sr.’s last mistress, enjoyed with JFK and the dazzling investment finesse of her current lover, a disgraced cardinal.
Great food, great scenery, great sex, but more dropped stitches than spent dollars, and not much of a story to boot.