'You got a key?'
'No, sir.'
This is my house,' Luca said. 'You know that, don't you?'
'You bin payin' me twenty-five years.'
He reached into his pocket and slipped her a hundred-dollar bill. 'I was never here today.'
'I din't see nobody,' she said, taking off, dragging the vacuum behind her.
Luca turned to Reno. 'Break down the fuckin' door.'
Reno inspected the door. 'I need tools,' he said, scratching his head. This is a heavy-duty lock.'
'Shit!' Luca said.
'If I have tools I can do it.'
Luca stomped down the hallway, found a side door, and walked outside.
He peered into Zane's room from the garden. There were iron bars on the window precluding entry.
The cocksucker ain't home anyway,' he said, turning around and strolling over to the swimming pool. He studied his reflection in the cracked tile. This is a nice house,' he remarked. 'It occurred to me I gotta renovate it. Put it on the market instead of it sittin' here empty.'
Reno nodded his agreement.
'Let's go,' Luca decided. We'll come back tomorrow. The prick ain't goin' nowhere.'
On their way out he stopped to talk to the gardener, slipping him a hundred bucks as well. 'I wasn't here. Ya didn't see nothin',' he said gruffly.
The old man nodded as he pocketed the money.
Luca got into his limousine. It was nice to have loyal employees.
* * *
Mac was reluctant to visit Luca. He hadn't seen him since his mother's funeral three years ago when he'd flown to New York. At that time he'd thought he'd never have to see him again.
He'd always been angry that Luca had never made an honest woman of his mother. The two of them had been together for so many years, and when Luca's wife had passed away ten years ago Mac had quite expected them to marry.
But no, they'd continued to maintain separate residences. Priscilla stayed in her Park Avenue penthouse, while Luca still resided in his Long Island mansion.
Mac had asked her about Luca once.
'Why would I marry him and spoil everything?' she'd said, as if it was the last thing she wanted.
His mother had been very beautiful, very remote, and completely loyal to Luca.
It pissed Mac off. Growing up, he'd never had her full attention.
The lobby of the St James's Hotel was art deco and rather stylish. It seemed a strange choice of hotel for Luca, but then he was always full of surprises. Mac hesitated, trying to figure out what he was doing there.
He had on his dark shades, but the woman behind the reception desk recognized him anyway. 'Good evening, Mr Brooks,' she said with a touch of deference reserved for famous film directors. 'And what can we do for you this afternoon?'
'I have a meeting with Mr Carlotti,' he mumbled, not happy she'd recognized him.
She called Luca's room and pointed him towards the elevator. 'Mr Carlotti's in the penthouse suite. I certainly enjoyed your last film, Mr Brooks.'
'Thank you.'
He took the elevator up.
Luca greeted him at the door looking as dashing as ever. 'Mac, good to see ya,' he said, patting him on the shoulder as Mac entered the luxurious suite. 'How long's it been? Two years? Three?'
'My mother's funeral,' Mac replied dourly.
'Ah, yeah. Priscilla's funeral - may she rest among the angels. She was some great lady.'
I hardly knew her, Mac wanted to say. She never had time for me. It was always you. You were the centre of her universe. You were everything to her. Even my father was pushed into second place.
'What'll you drink?' Luca asked, gesturing expansively towards the bar.
'Scotch on the rocks,' he said, feeling uncomfortable.
'Help yourself.'
He walked over and poured himself a healthy dose of Scotch, adding several ice-cubes. 'You know, Luca,' he said, settling on the couch. 'It wasn't necessary for us to meet.'
Luca did not take offence. 'What, you didn't wanna meet with me?' he said good-naturedly.
'We made a decision when I came to Hollywood that our lives would be separate. I find this awkward.'
Some of Luca's good humour slipped away. 'Oh, you find it awkward, huh?'
He was silent.
'You didn't find it so awkward when you called to tell me about Zane.'
He took a gulp of Scotch. 'I told you because I felt I owed it to you.' The ice-cubes in his glass jangled noisily.
'Don't give me that bullshit,' Luca snapped. 'You told me 'cause you don't want it gettin' out you're in any way responsible for him bein' on your fuckin' movie.'
'I wasn't responsible,' Mac said sharply. 'You were.'
'You got a shitty attitude,' Luca said. 'An' I ain't too fond of it.'
Mac held on to his glass so tightly it almost shattered. He got up, walked over to the window and shrugged. 'If you don't like my attitude, I can always leave.'
'No, you can't fuckin' leave,' Luca said, his hooded eyes angry. 'Cause there's somethin' I gotta tell you. Somethin' I shoulda told you a long time ago - only your mother wouldn't let me.'
'What?'
'You ain't gonna like it. Or maybe you will.'
The room was full of the smell of Luca's potent aftershave, he hadn't changed it in twenty-five years. Mac found it brought back every bad memory of the day his father was gunned down. He remembered that fateful day so vividly. Luca had given him the bad news. Embracing him tightly he'd said, 'Kid, your old man's gone, but he's probably in a better place.'
And that had been that.
Ever since then, the smell of Luca's aftershave had made him queasy.
I am a grown man, he thought to himself. I am a world-renowned film director. I have won an Oscar. I don't need to sit in this room and be intimidated by the likes of Luca Carlotti.
'So,' Luca said. 'This is the deal, son.'
'Do me a favour,' he interrupted sharply. 'Don't call me son.' It was the first time he'd said it out loud and it felt good.
Luca adopted a pained expression. 'I always looked after you, didn't I?' he said. 'I always made sure you had the best.'
Mac nodded. He couldn't deny that Luca had done everything he could. Only sometimes everything wasn't enough.
'Whatever you asked for you got,' Luca continued, throwing his arms wide. Was there anythin' I didn't do for you?'
Including fuck my mother, Mac wanted to say, but he refrained from doing so.
'No, Luca, you were always good to me,' he said levelly. 'It's not that you weren't. But we moved on to different lives, and as the years have passed I've realized I can never forget that my father got shot with a bullet meant for you.'
Luca began pacing up and down. 'I understand,' he said. 'An' that's why it's about time you listened to the truth.'
'What truth?'
There ain't no easy way t'say this,' Luca said, suddenly standing very still and staring at him. 'So I'll try an' give it t'you straight.' A long silent beat. 'Your old man was never your old man.' Another beat. 'I'm your real father.'
The glass shattered in Mac's hand, slicing into the soft skin between his thumb and forefinger. Ice-cubes and Scotch spilled on to his pants, along with a stream of blood.
Luca said nothing. He walked into the bathroom, returning with a towel.
Mac wrapped the towel around his wounded hand. He was stunned. 'I... I... don't believe you,' he finally stammered.
'I don't care whether you believe me or not,' Luca said, his smoothly suntanned face impassive. 'I hadda keep it to myself all these years outta respect for your mother, yknow, Priscilla an' me, we was always in love, ever since we was kids.'
'Then why didn't you marry her?'
'Cause we had a dumb fight - an' didn't talk for a coupla years. During that time I married a rich broad whose father helped finance me, put me into business so to speak. By the time Priscilla and I got back together, she was married, too. We made the best of a bad situation, I h
ired her husband - the man you thought was your father - an' the three of us started hangin' out. My wife was sickly, she stayed at home most of the time.' He took another long beat before continuing. 'When your mother got pregnant she hadn't slept with her husband in over a year. He wasn't into sex - not with her, anyway.'
'What does that mean?'
'You want I should spell it out? It means he was a fag. A pansy. A pretty boy.'
Mac was so shocked he could barely speak. 'Why are you telling me now?' he managed at last.
'Cause I'm a rich man, a powerful man. I got a sister dumber than shit. She's got a kid who's a murdering cocksucker. An' the only real relative I got is you.' He sighed. 'I'm sixty-four years old, Mac. If anything happens to me, it's all yours.'
'I don't want it,' Mac said forcefully.
Luca's chuckle was totally humourless. Whether you want it or not, you got it, son. Oh yes, siree, you got every single red cent.'
* * *
By the time she left her father and Kim, Jordanna felt really good about things. She finally understood him, and by understanding him she could accept him. It was all so easy.
She decided to drop by the production office and see what was going on before going home and preparing for her date with Tyrone.
At the office Florrie was running around looking frantic, carrying stacks of photographs under her arm.
'What's going on?' Jordanna asked. 'I thought we were off today.'
'Emergency meeting,' Florrie said, full of her own importance. 'Didn't you get a call?'
'No, I haven't been home. What happened?'
'Cedric Farrell died. He had a heart attack.'
That's awful.'
'We have to find a replacement immediately.'
'Is everybody upstairs?'
'No, the meeting just finished. We're bringing in a couple of actors tomorrow morning, but the word is we might hire Bobby's father, Jerry.'
'Would Bobby go for that?'
'Dunno, but it'll be great PR for the movie.'
Jordanna ran upstairs and burst into Bobby's office. He was sitting behind his desk looking tired and drained.
She stifled a strong desire to put her arms around him and hold him close. 'I'm sorry, Bobby,' she said softly. 'I only just heard.'
'Hey, it's one of those things.'
'Cedric was a sweetheart. Everyone liked him.'
'Yeah, we'll all miss him.'
'You look exhausted. Can I get you anything?'
He laughed drily. 'How about a new life?'
Smiling ruefully she said, 'I'm good at a lot of things, but a new life might present a problem.'
Drumming his fingers on the desk top, he said, 'You heard the news, I suppose. They want me to hire Jerry Rush.'
'Florrie mentioned it. Are you going to?'
'Don't want to, but I can see where it would work for the movie.'
She brushed back her long dark hair. 'What comes first, Bobby? Your feelings or the movie?'
He shook his head. 'You got me there.'
'Guess where I was?' she said.
'I'm not in the mood for guessing games.'
'I visited my dad. Made a peace pact.'
'You did, huh?'
'I read he was in the hospital - nothing serious, but it freaked me out, so I went to see him.' She paused for a moment. 'Y'know, Bobby, we've never discussed it, but we both grew up in Hollywood with famous powerful fathers, so I guess we shared a few problems. I decided to resolve mine.'
'And did you?'
'Today was the first time I've seen Jordan without wanting anything from him. God, it felt good!'
'Why are you telling me?'
'Because you should do the same.'
'I haven't wanted anything from my old man in a long time.'
'Are you sure? Think about it. Love. Acceptance. Respect. It doesn't all revolve around money.'
'You've been spending too much time at your therapist's.'
'I don't go to a shrink any more,' she said earnestly. 'I worked this out by myself. For years I was sitting in my father's guest house, not paying rent, collecting an allowance I thought I was entitled to. The result was I resented him. I thought everything he did reflected on me personally. Every time he got married I took it as a direct hit. But today I woke up and let go. He's him, I'm me. It's pretty damn simple. Now why are you so hung up about your dad?'
He looked at her quizzically. 'You got several weeks to discuss it?'
'Bobby,' she said fervently. 'I wish I could explain it. Your father is probably a pain in the ass, but he's nothing to do with you. You're a grown-up, you don't have to answer to him any more, you've proved yourself. And if it works for the movie -why not hire him?'
She was making sense, but he wasn't prepared to admit it. 'Ever thought about appearing on TV doing one of those inspirational programmes? You'd be a smash,' he said lightly.
She grinned. 'Thanks. I always wanted to be a life enhancer.'
'OK, so you've convinced me. I'll go see Jerry.'
Want me to come with you?'
'You think I need the support?'
'Maybe.'
'It's a deal. If I find myself weakening I'll look to you for inspiration.'
'Whenever you're ready.'
He stood up. 'First I've got to reach Mac. I can't make this decision without him. There's also no guarantee Jerry will want to do it.'
'C'mon, Bobby, when was the last time he worked?'
'Jerry was a huge star.'
'Every star makes its descent. 'You're the huge star in the family now. Believe me, he'll be thrilled.'
He walked around the desk and stood near her. 'You've got a lot to say, haven't you?'
'Right now, yes, 'cause I'd really like to get through to you.'
'You would, huh?'
They locked stares until Bobby broke it by walking back behind his desk. 'Uh... Beth's been trying to reach Mac for the last couple of hours. It might be a good idea for you to take over.'
She nodded. 'Sure, I'll get right on it.'
'So I'll see you later.'
'Yes, Bobby.'
She ran downstairs and tried Mac's home number. 'How many times must I tell you people,' Sharleen said irritably. 'Mac is not home. When he gets here I'll have him call back.'
'It's urgent.'
'I gathered.'
Jordanna hung up just as Tyrone put his head around the door. He tapped his watch. 'I'm supposed to be picking you up in half an hour. What are you doing here?'
Oh, God, she'd forgotten all about their dinner date. 'I'm sorry, Tyrone,' she said sheepishly. 'I can't make it tonight.'
'You can't make it tonight,' he repeated blankly.
'Nope,' she said, hoping he wasn't too mad.
'That's too bad.'
'Sorry.'
'I'm very disappointed. I had everything planned.'
'What did you have planned?'
That's for me to know and you to find out next time.'
'I'll look forward to it.'
He shook his head. 'You're a difficult one.'
She smiled winningly. 'Makes life interesting, doesn't it?'
Chapter Thirty-Four
Mac drove home in a fog, almost rear-ending a Volvo at a stop light. There were so many questions he needed to ask, and nobody to supply him with the answers.
Why had his mother lied to him all these years?
When his father was shot, why hadn't she and Luca told him the truth and brought him up as their own son?
He reached his house feeling angry and confused.
It was not peaceful. His two sons and several of their friends were gathered in the games room playing a noisy game of pool. Guns 'N' Roses blared through the stereo speakers deafening everyone within earshot. Sharleen's daughter, Suzy, was sitting in the kitchen with a bunch of girlfriends watching a tape of Melrose Place. They were painting their nails while stuffing their faces with peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, cookies, and Haagen Dazs ice cream bars. Th
e kitchen was a mess.
'Where's your mother?' he asked abruptly.
Suzy waved at him. 'Oh, hi, Mac.'
'Oh, hi, Mac,' chorused her girlfriends.
They all looked like escapees from a teenage porno movie in their ass-clinging tight little shorts with cut-off tank tops exposing far too much bare flesh.
'Hello, girls,' he said, feeling ancient. 'Where did you say your mother was, Suzy?'
'In the gym with her trainer,' Suzy said, licking ice cream with a suggestive tongue. 'You'd better knock before you go in. Have you seen Mom's trainer? He's a hunk. Awesome body! Big pecs!'
The girls all thought this was hilarious. They collapsed in fits of giggles.
Mac walked to the back of the house where they'd converted a spare bedroom into a fully equipped gym. The door was closed. He considered Suzy's warning, but entered without knocking because he trusted Sharleen implicitly.
She was lying on the floor in a revealing white leotard, one leg in the air. Her leg was held aloft by Chip or Chuck or whatever her trainer's name was. As far as Mac was concerned he was nothing more than a twenty-five-year-old muscle-bound jerk. Certainly no threat.
'Hi, honey,' she greeted, blowing him a little kiss. 'Care to join us?'
'No, thank you, Sharleen. I play squash and I jog. It's enough already.'
'OK, sweetie.'
'When will you be finished?'
'I don't know.' She gazed up at Chip appealingly. 'How much more torture are you planning for me today?'
Chip grinned, displaying a dazzling row of extremely white teeth and a perfectly dimpled chin. 'Now, now, Mrs Brooks,' he said with an annoying wink, 'No shirking.'
'How long?' Mac asked brusquely, hating the bronzed and muscled trainer who probably had a two-inch dick.
'About fifteen minutes, Mr Brooks, sir,' Chip said, helping Sharleen stretch her leg high in the air.
What kind of an asshole called him sir? 'See if you can hurry it up,' he snapped. 'I need to talk to my wife.'
'Everything OK, honey?' Sharleen enquired solicitously.
'Why wouldn't it be?'
'You look kind of pale. What did the studio want?'
'What do you mean?'
They've called a dozen times.'
Hollywood Kids Page 31