A uniformed chauffeur got out and held the back door open for me. I climbed in. This was it--I was going to meet the Kennedys.I wondered what Papi would say if he saw me now. Look at you, cariña, all grown up. What a thing you done with your life.”I played with Papi’s ring, thought about us in that tiny flat in Little Havana, my coffee-stained uniform hanging up in the kitchen-bathroom, being Angel’s casual daytime whore to pay the medical bills. He’d always told me to watch out for Angel. “You were wrong about Reyes though,” I said to him. “What’s that, ma’am?” the driver said over his shoulder.“Nothing.”He smiled and touched his cap. I had a chauffeur; I was a princess again. A valet stepped up to open the door for me as soon as we drove through the gates. There were Secret Service guys all over the place.Lawford’s wife, Patricia, was there to greet me at the door. “You must be Madeleine,” she said and shook my hand. “Call me Pat.” She allowed herself a moment’s double take at my tight, black lace sheath dress.
