Harold Robbins Thriller Collection

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Harold Robbins Thriller Collection Page 68

by Harold Robbins


  He took another bite of his sandwich. “Where do I fit in to all of this?”

  “You’re my St. Laurent, I’m your Boussac.”

  He was silent for a moment. “Why don’t you do your own designs? I’ve seen some of your sketches at the couture school. They were very good.”

  She drank some of her beer. “They were good. But they weren’t great. What I need is a touch of genius. That’s you.”

  She glanced at Marlon and he came right in on cue. “I never heard such a brilliant idea!” His acting would have done credit to his namesake. “Do you realize what this means, Philippe? You’ll have your own name, your own identity. You won’t have to suck second cock for anybody.”

  “Do you really think so?” Philippe asked.

  “You know I do,” Marlon said emphatically. “Haven’t I always told you that you have more talent in your pinky finger than all those guys have up their assholes.”

  Philippe chewed the rest of his sandwich thoughtfully. He looked at Janette. “What if you can’t get rid of Shiki?”

  “I’ll get rid of him. Don’t worry about that,” she said. “What I need to now is whether you are interested or not.”

  “Philippe thought again. “It would depend on many things. Money, position, freedom to create my own ideas.”

  “All of that can be worked out,” she said.

  “Sounds fantastic to me,” Marlon said.

  Philippe looked at him, then back to Janette. “I’m interested,” he said, then added quickly, “but, of course, we’ll have to talk some more to make sure everything is properly worked out.”

  “Of course,” she said. “But everything will be worked out—to your satisfaction, I’m sure.”

  “That’s great!” Marlon said enthusiastically. He raised his beer glass. “A toast! To Philippe Fayard, for Janette Marie de la Beauville!”

  “In beer?” Philippe’s voice was shocked. “Bring out that bottle of Cristale we have in the refrigerator.”

  She pulled the mini onto the sidewalk in front of her house, locked it and ran up the steps to the front door. As usual, the door was opened almost before she reached it.

  “Bon soir, Henri,” she said as she went in.

  “Bon soir, Madame,” he said politely.

  She went toward the staircase. She felt tired and strangely drained. A hot tub would go far to erase her tensions. It was very important that Philippe be willing to do with her. He was the cornerstone of her plan—without him she would have to go it alone and the chances of failure were too great. And someone else always had to be there to take the blame so that her own reputation would be unassailable. Once she was established, she could always find another designer if Philippe did not work out.

  “There have been many telephone calls, Madame,” Henri said.

  She paused at the foot of the staircase. “Bring them to my room,” she said. “I’ll get to them after I have a bath.”

  “Will Madame be having dinner in tonight?” he asked politely.

  She thought for a moment, then nodded. “Yes, the usual. But I’ll have only one lamb chop and a small baked potato tonight. I’ve already had beer and champagne and that’s enough. In about an hour in my room. I’m too tired to come down.”

  “Yes, Madame,” he said. “Would you like me to keep the telephone messages until then?”

  “Please, thank you,” she said and went up the staircase to her room. She began undressing the moment she went through the doorway. Her clothes felt warm and sticky even though the day had been cool. By the time she reached the bathroom and turned on the water in the tub, she was naked. Quickly she creamed her face and removed the makeup, then threw herself down on the bed while the big tub filled slowly.

  She felt the tautness and the tensions in her body and idly she began to stroke herself. It was at times like this she missed Marie-Thérése the most. But the stupid girl had gone and gotten pregnant by some idiot college boy in her final year at the Sorbonne and her family married her off to him and she was now living in Lyon with a one-year-old baby and her husband like every other bourgeoise française.

  A vision of Marlon’s bulging jeans flashed before her. She could see the line of his prick running down toward one side and she knew that he wore nothing under the jeans. She wondered if his prick was as big as Maurice’s. It had to be impossible. There couldn’t be two like that in the world. She felt the warmth spreading through her.

  Suddenly Marlon was gone and the soft sweet look of Louise’s face as she kissed her jumped before her eyes. She could taste the honeyed sweetness of her lips even now, cool yet somehow warm and vulnerable. She rolled over suddenly, reaching for the telephone. She had been a fool. She had been so busy with her own thoughts that she didn’t even recognize an invitation when she saw one. Quickly she dialed Louise at her home.

  “Have you had dinner yet?” she asked.

  “I was not eating tonight,” Louise said. “I’m at my weight limit now.”

  “That’s foolish,” Janette said. “You have to eat something. But you must be sensible about it. Look, I’m having dinner in tonight. Why don’t you come and join me? I guarantee you nothing fattening.”

  Louise laughed. “I’ll have to get dressed again.”

  “Don’t bother,” Janette said. “Just jump into a pair of slacks and a taxi. We’ll have dinner alone in my room and listen to the hi-fi.”

  She pressed down the button disconnecting the call, then pressed down another button to connect her with the kitchen. Henri answered the phone. “I’m having a girlfriend over for dinner,” she said. “Just put on some more chops and one more baked potato. We’ll still have dinner in my room.”

  “Oui, Madame,” he said.

  “And, Henri,” she added quickly, “please bring up the telephone messages now.” She was out of the bed and into the tub before he came up to the room.

  She didn’t stay long in the tub, less than ten minutes, and when she came out the telephone was ringing. She picked it up, noticing the messages lying on a silver salver beside it. “Hello.”

  “Congratulations.” It was Jacques. “I saw the Winston ad. I think we can do something to promote on it. We ought to have a talk.”

  “I want to talk to you too,” she said.

  “Why don’t you come over for dinner?” I’ll fix something easy and we have all night to talk.”

  “Not tonight, Jacques,” she said. “I’m just too tired. We were busy as hell at the salon today.”

  “I called before,” he said. “Did you get my message?”

  “Just now.”

  “Is there one from Johann?”

  She flipped through the messages. “Yes.”

  “He wants to talk to you too,” he said. “But I think it’s important for us to talk before you see him.”

  “Okay,” she said, deliberately noncommittal. But he would be an important ally. Johann valued his opinion and with his conservative approach could prove difficult. “We could have lunch tomorrow.”

  “Fine,” he said. “My table at the Relais. Twelve fifteen.”

  “Right,” she said.

  “Come naked,” he said, laughing. “You looked wonderful!”

  She heard the doorbell ring faintly downstairs as she put down the telephone. Quickly she glanced through the messages. The telephone buzzed.

  “Mademoiselle Louise is here.”

  “Show her upstairs.” She put down the telephone and went back to the bathroom to brush her hair. There was nothing important in the telephone messages. Time enough to answer them tomorrow. Suddenly she wasn’t tired anymore. She felt good. Everything was working out just the way she planned it.

  By the time she appeared at the Relais everyone there had seen the advance copy of Vogue. A sudden hush fell over the restaurant as she stood in the doorway for a moment before turning to Jacques’ table. She was wearing a loose-fitting man’s shirt tied at the waist over a baggy pair of jeans that revealed absolutely nothing of her figure
except what was sensed beneath the clothing as she moved through the room, her hair falling to her shoulders framing her high cheekbones and her face completely devoid of makeup.

  Jacques rose and kissed her cheeks. The hum of conversation began in the restaurant again as they sat down.

  “I’m sorry I’m late,” she apologized. “But Boussac had me in his office. He was ranting and raving.” She paused and laughed. “He fired me.”

  “He’s an idiot,” Jacques said. “But why are you laughing?”

  “He didn’t know it but I had already sent in my letter of resignation last Monday and no one had bothered to tell him.” Louise appeared in the restaurant entrance. Janette turned to him. “I brought a girlfriend along. Is it okay?”

  “Of course,” he nodded, rising again as Louise made her way to their table. Janette introduced them and he kissed Louise’s hand as the waiter hurried up to place a chair for her. “What would you like to drink?”

  “I’ll have a bottle of Evian,” Louise said.

  “Since I don’t have to go back to work,” Janette said, “to hell with it all. I’ll have a kir royale.”

  “Make mine kir royale too,” Jacques said. Cassis and champagne was not a bad idea. He turned back to Janette. “What are you planning to do now?”

  “I thought maybe Louise and I would take a trip to the States. Neither of us have ever been.”

  The waiter put down the drinks. “Cheers,” Jacques said. He sipped at his drink. “I think you’re making a big mistake if you go now.”

  Janette’s voice was politely curious. “Why?”

  “Now is the time to strike. While the iron is hot,” he said. “Look around this room. Everybody is staring at you and talking about you. You’ve made yourself an instant celebrity. You can have anything and everything you want.”

  Janette laughed. “I don’t want anything. Especially another mannequin’s job.”

  “There are other things you can do,” Jacques said. “You can come back into the business as you planned several years ago.”

  “And do what?” Janette was pushing. She wanted him to make the point for her. It was important that he feel it was partly his own idea.

  “Move right into fashion,” he said. “You could be the focal point about which everything would revolve. Something we never had since your mother died. Something Shiki never could give us.”

  “Shiki could never give anything to me either,” she said.

  The waiter came for their order. Janette and Louise ordered steak tartare, and Jacques entrecôte au bleu with frites. When the waiter had gone, Janette turned back to Jacques. “Last night you said that Johann wanted to talk to me.”

  “Yes,” he said. “He was surprised on seeing the photo and curious as to your reason for doing it.”

  “I thought it would be fun,” she said quickly. “Besides, I always wanted to know what it would feel like to wear a million-dollar diamond.”

  “Really?” His voice was skeptical.

  She ignored this. “You had something in mind when you asked me to talk to you before I talked to Johann.

  “Yes,” he said. “I told Johann yesterday that we could promote a whole house based on you. A new image. But we’d have to get rid of Shiki. I agree with you when you say he’s a drag.”

  “What did Johann say?”

  “You know Johann. The first thing he thought of was that we would have to write off fifty million francs if we let Shiki go; then it would take another fifty million to get the new line started. And if it doesn’t work, everything is lost.”

  She nodded seriously. “That’s Johann all right. Always counting the numbers.”

  “Still, he didn’t say he wasn’t interested,” Jacques said. “I told him to talk to you before he closed his mind to the idea.”

  “I don’t think anyone will be able to convince him,” she said. “The idea could be fun as far as I’m concerned but he’s too set in his ways.”

  “Maybe if he thought someone else wanted to do it with you, he might be convinced.”

  “But there isn’t anyone.”

  “I could arrange something,” Jacques said.

  She was curious. “You have someone in mind?”

  He nodded.

  She looked at him without speaking.

  “Your stepfather for one,” he said. “I spoke to him yesterday. He’s very interested.”

  “I’m not speaking to him,” she said coldly.

  “I know,” he said. “But that’s personal. Business is something else.”

  “There’s no way he can come up with fifty million francs,” she said.

  “Maybe not all of it. But I have others who would come in. An American, Charlie Carolo. He owns one of the biggest women’s wear chain stores in America. He’s looking to upgrade his image. And there are others, but I haven’t spoken to them yet. Only Maurice and Charlie.”

  She sat there thinking for a minute, then shook her head. “No. If I want to do it, I would only consider it with my own company. I don’t want any partners.”

  “Then we’re back to Johann,” he said.

  “That’s right.”

  The waiter came with the food. They ate almost silently, each busy with private thoughts. When Louise had finished, she glanced at her watch. “My God!” she exclaimed. “I’m going to be late getting back to work.”

  “Take my car,” Janette said. “I’ll come and pick it up later.”

  She thanked Jacques for the lunch and hurriedly left the table. Jacques looked after her. “Pretty girl, your friend.”

  “Yes.”

  “Been friends for long?”

  “We’ve worked together ever since I joined Dior but we didn’t become friends until this week.”

  Jacques nodded sagely. “That happens very often. You see someone all the time but you never realize how important they are to you until the time comes to leave.”

  She nodded. “I never really thought about it but that’s true.”

  He was silent while the waiter took the dishes and he ordered coffee. Then he turned to her. “Now, let’s cut all the crap. Do you want the house of Tanya or don’t you?”

  “What makes you think I want it?” She was defensive.

  “You spoke to Philippe Fayard yesterday,” he said.

  “How do you know that?”

  “There are no secrets in the homosexual world,” he said. “Your stepfather heard about it and called me.”

  “Merde!” she said. “That means Shiki already knows about it.”

  “That’s right,” Jacques agreed. “And I’ll bet that right now he’s in Johann’s office shrieking his head off.”

  Janette was silent.

  “Whether you like it or not,” he said, “you’re already committed. So now, it’s up to you which way you want to go.”

  She looked at him. “Which way do you want to go, Jacques?”

  “With you,” he said. “Maybe that way the dream I shared with your mother will finally come true.”

  The waiter put the coffee down and she picked up her cup and looked into it. The demitasse was thick and black. Before she lifted it to her lips, she raised her eyes to him, nodding her head slowly. “Then let’s go and talk to Johann right away.”

  Much to her surprise, Johann was calm and reasonable. He thought her ideas and plans were excellent and had a good chance for success. Only on one point was he adamant. “I have already discussed this matter with my attorney this morning,” he said. “And, as trustee for your sister’s share of the estate, I would be completely liable under French laws if anything should go wrong.”

  “What could go wrong?” she asked. “You even said you thought it was a good idea.”

  “We could still lose all the money,” he said. “And I have no right to take that chance on Lauren’s behalf.”

  “But what if we made a fortune?”

  “That would be good. But there are no guarantees that we will.” He looked across his desk at her. “I�
��m sorry, Janette. If it could be done with an investment of a million or so francs, that would be well within my normal jurisdiction. But this could turn out to be fifty or a hundred million. A loss like that could bankrupt the whole company and we would lose it all, not only the couture house, but the perfume company and the vineyards. You see, they’re all part of one overall package and each one is pledged to secure the other.”

  She was silent, thinking. After a moment she spoke. “Is there a way I can buy Lauren’s share for myself?”

  “I suppose there is,” he said. “But it would take a lot of money and I would still have to go before the French court for approval in order to establish that Lauren’s share was properly evaluated and that she received her fair financial remuneration.” He took a deep breath. “But why would you want to do a thing like that? The wine company alone guarantees you a good income for life.”

  “I’m not interested in the wine company,” she said. “Only the fashion house. Wines bore me. They’re bourgeois.”

  “Even so, we would still have to follow the same procedure.”

  “What if I relinquished my share in the wine company to her in exchange?”

  “In that case, you’d only be screwing yourself,” he said. “The vineyards throw off twice the income of the fashion house, including the parfumerie.”

  “Could I sell my share of the vineyards and use the money to buy the couture?”

  “I suppose you could. I know of nothing in the bylaws of the company to keep you from doing that. But I still think it would be stupid.”

  “Stupid or not,” she said, “I would like to do it.”

  “Who you sell it to is also important,” he said. “I have the right to reject any partner of whom I do not approve on your sister’s behalf.”

  Her voice grew cold. “In other words, you’re not going to let me do it.”

  “I didn’t say that,” he said quickly. “I’m only making you aware of my responsibilities. The same that I exercised on your behalf to protect your share. And neither you nor your sister has been hurt by it. As a matter of fact, both of you are twice as well off now as when I took charge.”

 

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