The final message was from Quincy sounding extremely pissed. 'This you ain't gonna believe. Me and a tree got very intimate - it's called a broken arm. I won't be back tomorrow. Where are you anyway? Hell of a house-sitter you turned out to be.'
Michael called him back immediately.
'I'm a one-man business, Mike, what am I gonna do?' Quincy complained.
'You're not a one-man business any more,' Michael reminded him. 'I'm your new partner.'
'Can you handle things until I get back?'
'Yeah, I'm kind of getting used to it. I spent the night at Marjory Sanderson's. You forgot to tell me we babysat, too. Oh, an' there's a message from the guy who looks after your bad girl TV star.'
'Trouble?'
'Nothing I can't take care of.'
'And you'll go see Mac Brooks tomorrow?'
'You got it.'
We're drivin' back on Tuesday. Check my red appointment book on the desk an' you'll find everybody's numbers listed - connections at the studios, all my clients.'
'Relax, OK? And the next time you go skiing be more careful.'
'Careful? Shit! You think I did this on purpose?'
'Yeah, that's what I think.'
'Asshole.'
'Putz.'
* * *
Bobby Rush knew he'd made a mistake. After shooting late on Sunday he'd taken his soon-to-be co-star, Barbara Barr, back to his house and back to his bed, where they'd indulged in two hours of very physical sex.
Now it was 6 a.m. Monday morning and he was regretting every minute of it. She didn't start work on the movie for another two weeks and he'd already compromised himself. Not that she wasn't pretty and talented with a sexy body. But getting involved with his co-star was a negative, it always led to big trouble, and he'd promised himself he would never do it again. Barbara was also overly demanding. He couldn't quite place what it was, but there was something about her that set off warning bells in his head.
He had another problem. Should he wake her and send her home? Or should he go to the studio leaving her alone in his house? There were papers and personal things all over the place and he hardly knew her, it wasn't a comfortable situation.
He made the decision to wake her.
What time is it?' she sighed, stretching languorously.
'Late,' he lied. 'Time to get up.'
She rolled across the bed. 'You were hot last night, Bobby. A real hot fuck.'
Reviews were always interesting. 'I was?' he asked, not averse to hearing raves.
She sat up and the sheet slipped, revealing her ample breasts with extended nipples. 'I wouldn't say it if you weren't,' she murmured, throwing her arms around his neck and pulling him close. 'I have never enjoyed giving head to anyone like I do to you. Your cock really turns me on.'
His sudden hard-on suggested that rushing to the studio didn't seem quite so important. He began touching her nipples with the tips of his fingers.
'Don't do that to me unless you mean it,' she moaned. 'I can't get through the day filled with the thought of your cock. I need it, and I need it now.' Her hands began feverishly unzipping his pants.
He forgot about it not being a good idea and fell on top of her.
She spread her legs. He began pounding into her fast and rough, the way she seemed to like it.
It was raw sex, very basic.
'You're the best fuck I ever had!' she exclaimed after a noisy climax.
Not exactly the perfect way to be described - flattering on one hand, but not so flattering on the other. What did she think he was? A screwing machine with no feelings?
Now that it was over he started regretting it again. Sneaking a quick peek at his watch he decided he just had time for another shower, then he had to get out of there if he didn't want to be late for his call.
She trailed him into the shower, naked and sweaty.
'Enough!' he said sternly, when she joined him under the running water and went for his cock again.
'It's never enough for me,' she said, getting on her knees while the water cascaded over her head.
Backing out of the glass door he reached for a towel.
'What's your fucking problem,' she yelled after him.
You're my fucking problem. he wanted to answer.
When she emerged from the shower it took her forever to dress.
'I'll drop you home,' he said, when she was finally ready.
'Goody,' she replied cheerfully. 'That'll give me time to change and eat breakfast before I meet you for lunch.'
Who invited her to lunch? Certainly not him.
Today's a bitch,' he said quickly. 'I won't have time for lunch.'
'Then I'll sit and watch.'
'Uh... I'm not crazy about people on the set when I'm shooting an important scene. It blows my concentration.'
She regarded him coolly. 'Do I feel rejection in the air?'
Jesus, why did he get himself into dumb situations? 'Are you nuts?' he said calmly.
'I hate rejection. It pisses me off.'
Something told him this one was a clinger. The sooner he cooled it the better.
He drove straight to her apartment and pulled up outside.
'How about I cook you dinner and have it waiting when you come home?' she suggested brightly - a woman of many moods. 'Do you want to give me your key?'
No, I do not want to give you my key.
'I have a business dinner tonight,' he said, trying to sound suitably disappointed.
She threw him a penetrating stare. 'I'm beginning to think you regret what we did last night and this morning.'
His reply was smooth as silk. 'How could I possibly regret being with you?'
Even as he said it, his words rang horribly false. Maybe that's what Kennedy Chase had nailed him on. Maybe he was nothing more than a charming jerk with an excellent line in bullshit.
Oh, great, nothing like putting oneself down to start the day.
'When will I see you?' she persisted.
'I'll call you later,' he promised.
'You'd better,' she said, half joking, half not. 'Or I'll have to punish you in a really bad way.'
At last she got out of his car. He watched her enter her building. When was he going to learn? No actresses.
They were shooting in the Ambassador Hotel. He drove there fast, Sade on his stereo to soothe him on his way.
When he arrived, Mac was standing by the catering truck getting breakfast. 'Morning,' he said. 'How was your night?'
'What night?' Mac said sourly. 'We didn't finish until one.'
Bobby yawned. 'Yeah, you're right, it was a tough one. But I think we got some good stuff, don't you? Can't wait to see dailies.'
'Are you eating?'
'No, gotta go straight to make-up - see you on the set.'
He sat in the make-up trailer staring at his reflection. It was a well-known fact that Jerry Rush had nailed every one of his leading ladies. Was he turning into his father? He did not want to be known as Bobby Rush - movie star and major cocksman.
On the other hand, what was he supposed to do? There was nothing wrong with having a fast one-nighter if he felt like it.
She's an actress, his inner voice warned.
Yeah, well, I'm an tutor - so what?
Jordanna tracked him to the make-up trailer and handed him a cup of coffee. 'You look like you had a long hard night,' she said amiably. 'You've got bags under your eyes I could pack clothes in.'
He glared at her. 'When I want your personal critique I'll ask you.'
'Yes, sir, Mr Rush.'
'Where's my script?' he asked irritably.
'In your trailer.'
'Can you get it?'
'But, of course... sir.'
Jordanna had a smart mouth. She'd be a good assistant if he could only survive her attitude.
'Do me a favour,' he called after her. 'Bring my portable phone, too.'
She hurried to his trailer and picked up the script and the phone. On her way back she bumped int
o Mac. 'You feeling OK?' she asked, stopping for a moment.
Did she know something? Jordanna had always been extremely intuitive. 'Why? Don't I look well?' he said warily.
'You always look well, Mac - for an old guy.'
'Very amusing, Jordanna.'
'I'm trying to put a smile on your face. I haven't seen one there lately.'
'I've got a few personal problems.'
'Sharleen?'
'No, not Sharleen,' he said, guardedly. 'My wife and I are very happy.'
'I'm thrilled to hear it.'
'You really are a smart ass.'
'I'm really fed up with hearing that.'
'Then stop acting like one.'
'You know what the problem is, Mac? I say what's on my mind. I don't hang back. So if that makes me a smart ass - too bad.'
He shook his head and walked away. He was not in the mood for Jordanna's shit, he was too worried about Zane and what he might do next.
He wondered if he should warn Jordanna to be exceptionally careful, because if anything happened to her he'd never forgive himself...
No, nothing would happen to Jordanna. Besides, he was meeting with the private investigator later, everything would be taken care of.
When Jordanna and Cheryl were called to testify at Zane's trial, Jordan Levitt and Ethan Landers had tried to fix it so they didn't have to appear in court. But both girls had been adamant, they'd absolutely insisted on testifying. Foolish decision.
At the time Mac had been in constant touch with Luca Carlotti. 'I can't afford to be connected to Zane in any way,' he'd warned his godfather. 'I must be kept out of this. I gave an actor a job - that's all I know.'
Fortunately Luca had agreed with him. 'Zane has no idea who you are,' he'd said. 'I never even mentioned we knew each other.'
'Good. It's imperative we keep it that way.'
'Personally,' Luca had ruminated, his words quite chilling, 'I'd like to kill the dumb motherfucker. What kinda crazy bastard does a thing like that? In front of witnesses too.'
'He's your nephew, not mine.'
Mac had always harboured the thought that Zane should have been sent to the electric chair. Too bad he wasn't.
Now he had to find out if Zane was on the loose. He could have called Luca, but he didn't care to do so. The less he had to do with Luca Carlotti, the better.
* * *
A production assistant stopped Jordanna on her way back to the make-up trailer, handing her several new script pages. She took them to Bobby, who flicked through them before asking her to attach them to his script. She sat in the corner doing so, while he activated his portable phone. She pretended not to listen, but of course she did.
He called Barbara, knowing he had to ease out of the situation he'd gotten himself into as quickly and cleanly as possible. He decided the best thing to do was be truthful and tell her their one night of sex was a mistake.
'I'm sorry if you thought I rushed off this morning,' he said, speaking close to the receiver. Pause. 'Yeah, I had a good time, too. Lunch tomorrow?' Another pause. 'Sure. I happen to have the day off.'
Lunch was good. It would give him an opportunity to convince her that getting involved was a bad move for both of them.
As soon as he hung up, Jordanna was by his side. 'Shall I book you a table at Le Dome or Cicada?' she asked, little Miss Efficient.
'Beth will take care of it,' he said shortly.
Hmm... Jordanna thought, that means he doesn't want me to know. That means he's having lunch with Barbara Barr. That means he took Barbara home last night and probably fucked her senseless.
Was he nuts? Barbara Barr had a reputation for being a maniac, any idiot knew that.
For some unknown reason Jordanna was filled with an unfamiliar feeling of dismay.
She couldn't be jealous, could she?
No way. Why would I be jealous of Barbara Barr?
Because you like Bobby.
I do not!
Oh yes you do!
She hurried from the make-up trailer, dashed straight over to Kraft Service and wolfed down three sugar doughnuts and two cans of 7-Up. Then she felt sick.
Satisfied, dear?
Screw you.
* * *
He tried not to look impressed, but Michael had never visited a film set before. Oh, sure, he'd seen plenty of movies being shot on the streets of New York, but now he was in Hollywood and this was the real thing. It was kind of exciting.
Unfortunately they were not shooting at a studio - the location was the Ambassador Hotel on Wilshire Boulevard. He drew into the parking lot and left his car alongside a line of trailers. Then he walked towards the building, stopping to ask a guard where the filming was taking place.
'You'll find them inside the grand ballroom,' the guard said, waving his newspaper in the general direction of the hotel.
Strolling through the spacious grounds, Michael marvelled at the old hotel - it was quite something. Way back he'd read it was the hang-out of all the big stars of the thirties and forties - Clark Gable, Joan Crawford, Lana Turner - what a time that must have been!
When he reached the set they were in the middle of shooting a scene. He hovered on the periphery, fascinated by the activity.
Looking around, he recognized Mac Brooks from pictures he'd seen of him with his wife, Sharleen Wynn Brooks, the very sexy movie star. Lucky guy.
As soon as Mac called 'Cut,' Michael started over to him.
His path was blocked by a young black production assistant with dreadlocks and a sharp attitude. 'Can I help you?' she asked officiously.
'I got a meeting with Mac Brooks.'
'Is he expecting you?'
'Yes.'
'Your name?'
'Michael Scorsini, uh... from the Robbins Agency.'
'Wait here, I'll see if I can get his attention.'
She went and conferred with Mac, who glanced over and waved. When she came back she was slightly more friendly. 'He'll be finished with this shot shortly. Grab a seat and hang out - there's a few empty ones over there.'
He sat in a high canvas director's chair and wondered what it must be like to be an actor. All that attention. All that money. All that power.
Not that he'd ever had any ambitions in that direction, although in high school the acting coach had always been after him to join the drama group.
Bobby Rush hit the set movie-star style, surrounded by an entourage. Michael immediately recognized the dark-haired girl he had met at Marjory's. He waited until they started blocking the scene, then got up, made his way over and tapped her on the shoulder. 'Remember me?'
She turned and looked at him with surprise. 'Hey, Brooklyn!' she exclaimed.
'Hey, Bel Air!' he responded.
'What are you doing here?'
'I've got a meeting with Mac Brooks.'
She grinned. 'I see you survived your night at the mausoleum.'
'You feel the same way about that house as I do.'
'I'm only staying there on a temporary basis until I get my own place. Marjory's been a friend for a long time. We were at school together.'
'Really? She seems kinda... neurotic.'
'I wasn't going to be the one to say it, but, uh... yeah, I've always thought she was slightly crazy.'
'What do you make of these letters she's been getting?'
'I don't know - what do you think?'
'I haven't formed an opinion.'
'Look, if her father's paying, you may as well stick with the gig. She likes having you around, make the most of it.'
'What's that supposed to mean?'
'Hey, c'mon, Brooklyn, get real. You're a good-looking guy, Marjory will inherit everything when big Daddy slides off. You could be on easy street here.'
He did not appreciate her thinking he was only around to take advantage of Marjory. 'I'm working for her,' he said tightly. 'That's all I'm doing.'
'Sorry,' she said blithely. 'Forget I said anything.'
'I will.'
&nbs
p; They stood in silence for a moment watching the rehearsal.
'OK, Brooklyn,' Jordanna said, genuinely curious. 'Give me the juice. What are you seeing Mac about?'
'Private business.'
'I bet I know. He's discovered Sharleen's having an affair and wants her followed.'
'You've got some imagination.'
'Are you like the private detectives in those cool Raymond Chandler novels? Do you leap out at people brandishing a Polaroid when they're in the bedroom making out?'
'You're behind the times. If I was going to do that I'd have an electronic camera embedded in the ceiling.'
'Ooh, very hi-tech.'
'Quiet please!' the first assistant yelled. 'We're going for a take. Everyone settle down.'
Michael watched them shoot a scene between Bobby and Cedric Farrell, the actor playing his father. They did the scene five times until Mac was satisfied, then he conferred with his cinematographer, walked over to Michael, shook his hand and said, 'Glad you could make it, Michael. Quincy comes highly recommended. Where is he today?'
'A skiing accident.'
'So, you guys are partners?'
'Yeah, we were detectives on the force back in New York, now we're together again.'
'What I have to say today is confidential,' Mac said. 'Very confidential. I don't want to read about myself in The Enquirer.'
'We got a reputation to protect. You can trust us.'
'Let's go to my trailer.'
They left the set, walking through the empty hotel all the way outside until they reached Mac's luxurious trailer.
'Take a seat,' Mac said.
Michael sat down on the built-in couch. 'So,' he said, 'Why don't you tell me what's on your mind?'
'I've been in this business a long time,' Mac said, pacing around. 'Made a lot of movies.'
'I know. I've seen most of them. You do great work.'
Mac liked the fact that this detective was smart enough to have seen all his movies - or at least most of them. 'Did you see The Contract?'
'Yeah - powerful movie.'
'It was, wasn't it?'
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