Thrill

by Jackie Collins

  “Want a drag?” she offered. “It’s free.”

  He hesitated for a moment, then said, “Why not?”

  She leaned over to the glass partition, passing him the joint. He dragged deeply. A veteran.

  “I could get canned for this,” he said, not sounding too upset at the prospect.

  “Yes, but think how amazing you’ll feel for the rest of the day,” she said with a giggle.

  “You got that right,” he responded with a smirk.

  By the time the limo reached Malibu, he’d given her his phone number and the name of a club where he hung out when he wasn’t working. “Come on by,” he said, hot for this girl with the long, blond hair and the primo grass.

  “Maybe I will,” she said, still flirting.

  “Maybe you should,” he replied, thinking that he’d finally found a live one.

  • •

  Nikki heard the limo pull up and hurried to the door, throwing it open.

  “Hi, Mom,” Summer said, emerging from the car, slightly stoned but hiding it well. “Where’s Richard?”

  “Editing,” Nikki replied, hurt that the first words out of Summer’s mouth were, “Where’s Richard?” “Don’t I get a hug and a kiss?”

  “Whatever,” Summer said casually, giving her mother a perfunctory hug.

  Nikki wasn’t sure, but for a moment she thought she smelled the strong aroma of pot.

  The young driver was busily unloading suitcases from the trunk. Nikki directed him to Summer’s room.

  “L.A.’s awesome,” Summer announced, wandering through the house. “Chicago’s like sooo hot and muggy. Ugh! Disgusto weather!”

  “It is beautiful here,” Nikki agreed, following her. “I guess I never take the time to appreciate it.”

  “ ’Course, I could’ve gone with Daddy and Rachel to the Bahamas,” Summer continued. “Thing is, I’ve already been there twice, and it’s way boring. Besides, I wanted to see Richard—and you, of course.”

  “That’s terrific,” Nikki said, checking out her daughter’s outfit—shades of early Madonna crossed with Courtney Love—a look that did not suit Summer’s fresh prettiness. “Let’s go shopping tomorrow,” she suggested. “We’ll explore Melrose, there’s plenty of new stores I’m sure you’ll love.”

  Summer groaned, as if that was the worst idea she’d ever heard. “C’mon, Mom, y’know we don’t have the same taste.”

  “I’m hardly an old fuddy-duddy,” Nikki replied, resenting Summer’s comment. “In fact, I am one of the most successful clothes designers in movies.” I’m also younger than Madonna, she thought. So don’t treat me like some decrepit old fart.

  “Yeah, Mom. Thing is—you like, so don’t get me.”

  Great! She didn’t get her own daughter.

  “I’m starving,” Summer said, racing into the kitchen. “Is there anything to eat?”

  There was plenty to eat, but Summer had this infuriating habit of flinging open the fridge and saying, “Yuck! Nothing edible!” She did it now. Then she threw open every cupboard in the kitchen, failing to close them.

  Nikki tried to stay calm, but her daughter’s messy habits drove her totally insane.

  “Bummer!” Summer exclaimed. “Richard’s not home and there’s no food.”

  “Tell me what you’d like, and I’ll send the maid to the market.”

  “Forget it, Mom. I’m gonna hit the beach. I plan on getting a way cool tan.”

  So much for mother-daughter bonding, Nikki thought ruefully.

  • •

  The moment the messenger delivered the script, Nikki grabbed it and hurried onto the deck overlooking the beach. Summer was lying down below on the sand, topless. Since she was almost flat chested it didn’t really matter, except that it was inappropriate—especially as this was a public beach where you were not supposed to do that kind of thing.

  She contemplated calling down and telling her to put on a top, but what was the good? Summer would do so for two minutes, and as soon as Nikki turned around, she’d take it off again.

  Clutching the script, she curled up in a comfortable wicker chair and began reading.

  For an hour and a half she was completely absorbed. It was a brilliant final draft—the writer she’d hired had done an excellent job incorporating all her notes. Placing the script on a table, she shivered with excitement. Lara had to see it immediately.

  It crossed her mind she could deliver it personally. Then she remembered that Summer was staying, and it wouldn’t be fair to leave her alone with Richard. Maybe she’d Fed Ex Lara the script, give her a chance to read it, then get on a plane. Yes, she decided, that was the way to handle it.

  She called Richard in the editing rooms. “The script’s here,” she said. “I just finished reading, and it’s exactly on target.”

  “Don’t get too excited,” he warned. “The money people have to take a look, and they always have comments.”

  “Who cares?” she said recklessly. “I think it’s good enough to send to the directors I have in mind, get their reactions.”

  “Well . . . they’re all waiting to see it,” he mused. “Only remember I’m tied up for the next few weeks, I won’t be much help.”

  “I can handle it,” she said confidently. “This is my project, and although I appreciate your input, I’m okay on my own.”

  . “You’re sure you want to do this?”

  “Absolutely.”

  She was about to call Federal Express and package the script off to Lara when she remembered Summer, who’d definitely been out on the beach too long. She went over to the edge of the deck and peered down. Summer was sprawled on the sand—still topless. A well-muscled boy was crouched down next to her, talking nonstop. Hmm, Nikki thought, it hasn’t taken her long to find some local action.

  She realized she shouldn’t be so critical, but she didn’t want the same fate for her daughter that had befallen her. Pregnant and married at sixteen, divorced at twenty-five. A little voice murmured in her head, It’s not your problem, it’s Sheldon’s. He’s in charge.

  She called out Summer’s name.

  Her nearly naked daughter swung her head around, looking up at her as if she were a total stranger. “Yeah?”

  “Shouldn’t you come in now? You don’t want to get too much sun on your first day.”

  Summer whispered something to the boy. They both shrieked with laughter.

  Somehow, Nikki knew she was the butt of their joke, but she pretended not to mind and hurried back into the house. She called Federal Express and dashed off a short note to Lara. After that she sat down at her desk and began calling the directors she planned on sending the script to, alerting them that it was on its way.

  • •

  Summer knew there was one thing she could do without any effort: attract boys—or men—it didn’t matter as long as they were male. Five minutes on the beach and this big, burly surfer came along and started chatting to her. She told him everyone in Europe sunbathed topless, and while his eyes bugged out of his head, she asked him where she could score some grass. He informed her he could get her anything she wanted, invited her to a party and fell in love.

  Men! Summer thought disdainfully. They’re all so easy!

  Later, she wandered into the house, barefoot and sandy, a thin shirt barely covering her bikini. “Gotta go out,” she told her mother. “Can I borrow a car?”

  “You’re too young to drive,” Nikki pointed out. “You have to be sixteen, remember?”

  “I drive Daddy’s car all the time,” she said, pouting.

  “Maybe Daddy’s prepared to take the risk,” Nikki answered crisply. “We can’t do that.”

  “I’m a way cool driver, Mom.”

  “I’m sure you are, but you’re not allowed to drive here. It’s the law.”

  “I won’t get caught.”

  “I said no”

  “You’re such a downer,” Summer mumbled, thinking that her mother was not going to be as easy to manipulate as
Daddy Dearest.

  “Where are you off to anyway?” Nikki asked. “I thought we’d all have dinner tonight.”

  “Can’t,” Summer said. “Going to a party.”

  “Already?”

  “You wouldn’t want me sitting home, would you?”

  “Does your father give you a curfew?”

  “A curfew? Me? Huh!”

  “Don’t get smart, Summer. What time do you have to be home in Chicago?”

  “Any time I like,” she replied boldly. Or, she thought, any time he says. Because Sheldon always liked to know she was there when he wanted her to be. -

  “The rules are different here,” Nikki said, tapping her watch. “Back by midnight.”

  “Midnight!” Summer squealed. “Parties don’t even get started until then!”

  “How do you know?”

  “I’ve got friends here.”

  “You have? Who?”

  “Nobody you know.”

  Oh God! Summer had reached the difficult age. Nikki gritted her teeth. She was going to need Richard’s help, and at the moment he was totally unavailable. “I’ll give you cab money,” she said at last, not wanting to come down too hard. “And be home by twelve. Deal?”

  “Whatever,” Summer muttered, stomping off to her room, thinking what an uncool drag her mother was.

  • •

  Richard didn’t arrive home until past ten. He was elated. “The movie’s looking incredible,” he said, fixing himself a hefty drink. “The south of France locations are exquisite, and Lara’s -performance is luminous. The way she’s grown as an actress is quite remarkable.”

  “How long before it’s all together?” Nikki asked.

  “I should have a rough cut in about six weeks.”

  “That’s exciting. Do the clothes look good?”

  “Come over tomorrow and see for yourself. You’ll be pleased.”

  “I will?” she said, putting her arms around him.

  “Yes, my dear, you will.”

  “I love you, Richard,” she said, nuzzling her face against his chest.

  “Love you too, sweetheart,” he responded, not really concentrating. “Where’s Summer? Wasn’t she supposed to be here today?”

  “She arrived, caused her usual chaos and went out.”

  “Left you here by yourself?”

  “She’s not exactly my companion, Richard. I said it was okay for her to go out. Told her she had to be home by twelve. We don’t have to wait up. I’ve decided to trust her.”

  “Good for you.”

  “You’ve been neglecting me,” Nikki said, wishing he would pay her more attention. “What comes first—the film or me?”

  “You know you don’t have to ask me that—it’s always the movie,” he said, teasing her.

  “You’re such a bastard,” she said, standing on tiptoe and kissing him. “I don’t know why I love you.”

  He wrapped her in his arms, almost sweeping her off her feet.

  “Carry me to the bedroom and ravish me!” she joked. “Take advantage while I’m in the mood.”

  “I’m hungry,” he said. “All I’ve had is coffee and donuts.”

  She put on her best sexy voice. “I’ll give you something to eat you’ll really like.”

  “Yes?”

  Now she had his full attention. “Oh, yes, Mr. Barry. You’ll like it plenty.”

  Laughing, they retired to the bedroom.

  So there I was, sixteen years old and out on my own again. I wasn’t about to stay with Lulu, the cheating little whore.

  I had a couple of options. One of them was Avis Delamore, the old bag who ran the acting class I’d been attending. Avis claimed she was a famous stage actress from England. I wasn’t so sure, because every time she got excited, I noticed a touch of the Bronx in her accent.

  When I got to know her better I discovered I was right. She’d lived in England for a couple of years, with some loser bit player she’d picked up in a bar. That was the extent of her English heritage.

  Avis had a big crush on me, so when I rang her bell and told her I had no place to stay, she immediately said, “You’d better sleep on my couch.”

  Yeah—sure. That night the couch turned into her bed, and I was in with a vengeance. Like I said before, if I really concentrate I can get any woman I want.

  Unfortunately, Avis wasn’t Lulu, with her tight stripper’s body and perky tits. Avis was a big woman with floppy breasts and heavy thighs.

  I soon learned what it was like to fuck a woman who hadn’t been getting it in a while. My old man was right. Grateful was good. Grateful meant they’d give you anything you wanted. And she did. All I had to do was ask.

  I never thought about my dad or what he was doing. As far as I was concerned, he was yesterday’s news. I’d moved on and didn’t give a shit.

  Of course, like Lulu, Avis had no idea I was only sixteen. Told her I was twenty, an’ she bought it.

  She got me to do jobs around her crumbling old house—informing everyone I was her assistant. For this I got to screw her and pocket fifty bucks a week. Trouble was she wanted it every night, and I wasn’t inclined to give it up on such a regular basis.

  I compromised by making sure she gave me plenty of head. I like getting head. It means I can lie back and not get involved. Avis on her knees, and me fantasizing about movies and all that Hollywood shit.

  The one good thing about being with Avis was that I got to study acting every day. And the class was hot—there were always different girls coming and going, so naturally I took full advantage of the situation.

  Avis was my bread and butter. The girls were my delectable desserts.

  Of course, I made damn sure Avis didn’t know, didn’t even have a suspicion. I was smart enough to realize she wouldn’t take kindly to my putting it about.

  Everything went smoothly, until one day Avis’ daughter, Betty, returned from California, where she’d been visiting her dad, Avis’ estranged husband. By this time I was seventeen and quite settled into my new life, so when Betty appeared I wasn’t expecting problems.

  Betty was the same age as me, and not at all pleased to find me in residence. I heard her arguing with her mom the first night she was there. “What the hell is he doing here? It’s disgusting—he’s young enough to be your son.”

  Avis didn’t like confrontations, which was one of the reasons her husband had run off in the first place. “It’s my life,” she said, defending her position. “We’re very happy.”

  “Well, I’m not happy,” Betty yelled back. “And I’m not living here with him.”

  Betty and I hated each other for three weeks. The fourth week we had unbelievable sex on her mother’s bed, then things got really complicated.

  Betty was a bad girl, the kind I’d always been attracted to. She loathed her mother and couldn’t believe I was sleeping with her. “How can you do it with such an old bag?” she sneered. “You’re really a lowlife.”

  I didn’t appreciate her calling me names.

  One night she came to me with a plan. “I know where my mom keeps her jewelry—let’s take it an’ run. We can stay with my dad and his girlfriend in L.A.”

  “You mean steal her stuff?” I said, sounding like jerk of the year.

  “No, we’ll ask her for it,” Betty said with her best sneer. “What d’you think I mean, dummy?”

  Avis had been good to me, but then I’d been good to her, too.

  On the other hand, Betty offered excitement and adventure. She was young, pretty and totally wild. I had nothing to lose and a shitload of adventure to gain.

  So we grabbed all of Avis’ jewelry from the safe-deposit box she kept under her bed, and took off for California.

  I was finally on my way to Hollywood.

  CHAPTER

  9

  JOEY PROWLED RESTLESSLY AROUND THE hotel. He’d explored the town, checked out the beach and now he was bored. Two weeks on location and only three days’ work spread out over fourteen days. He
’d go crazy if he didn’t think of something to keep him occupied.

  He considered visiting the set—they were shooting at a beachfront restaurant—but hanging around sets when not working was hardly smart. Besides, it was boring. Yesterday he had finally gone to the wardrobe trailer, which was manned by Eric, a gay guy with a muscular body and white crew cut, and Trinee, a young Hispanic girl with glossy, jet hair hanging below her waist. They’d fitted him in a black silk T-shirt and a white Armani suit. He got off on the look; it was straight out of GQ.

  Now—since he had nothing else to do—he decided to return to the trailer. He left the hotel and slowly strolled over.

  Trinee was the only one there. She was busy organizing racks of clothes, while quietly humming a Gloria Estefan song under her breath.

  Joey leaned against the door watching her for a few seconds. “Where’s Eric?” he asked, like he cared.

  She barely glanced up. “On the set with Kyle Carson.”

  “How come you’re not there?”

  “I’m in charge of the trailer today,” she replied, a touch pleased with herself.

  Joey took a closer look. She was very pretty, with bold eyes, a crushed-rosebud mouth and small inviting breasts. Unfortunately she was short, and diminutive girls failed to turn him on.

  “Can I try on my stuff again?” he asked.

  “Everything fit, didn’t it?”

  “Putting on the clothes helps me get in character.”

  “Okay,” she said, reaching along the rack for a hanger with a cardboard tag bearing his name. He noticed she had a small pearl ring on her engagement finger—which probably accounted for the fact she wasn’t falling all over him.

  “I see you’re engaged,” he remarked.

  A pleased smile spread across her pretty face. “Two weeks,” she said proudly, holding up her hand and waving her ring in his face.

  “I’m engaged, too,” he lied, deciding that it wasn’t a bad idea to pretend he was. Trinee would spread the word, and it would give him more substance—plus it would keep the women on the movie at bay. He had a rule he tried to keep; never fuck where you work.

  “Really?” Trinee said, cheering up considerably. “My fiancé is a boxer. What does yours do?”