Hollywood Kids

by Jackie Collins

  He regarded her seriously for a moment. 'We should talk about this, Jordanna, but now's not the time. When you come by later we can get into it all you want.'

  'I'd like that,' she said, staring at him intently. 'I'd like that a lot.'

  Their eyes locked.

  They both knew they were on a collision course and neither wished to stop the inevitable.

  * * *

  'You're really doing it a second time?' Grant asked, when Cheryl returned home.

  'You keep on asking me that and the answer is yes,' she said, opening her coat and flashing him. 'How about this for an outfit?'

  He took a long look. She had on a black half bra, sheer black stockings, a risque garterbelt, black panties and a starched white nurse's apron.

  'I didn't think you'd go through with it twice,' he muttered sourly, turning his head away.

  She continued, desperate to get his full attention. 'You like the money, don't you? I'm being paid more than any of our girls, so I must be delivering pretty damn good if he wants me back a second time.'

  'Christ, don't talk like that, you're starting to sound like a hooker.'

  'Isn't that what you want me to sound like, Grant? After all, you got me into it.'

  'I asked you to do it once for a kick. Didn't think you'd make a habit of it.'

  She allowed herself a moment of vulnerability. 'If you tell me not to, I won't go,' she said, silently begging him to stop her.

  'Not my choice,' he muttered.

  'Oh, now it's not your choice? Make up your mind.'

  'Get off my case, Cheryl.'

  'You'd better drive me to the hotel.'

  'I'm not driving you to the fucking hotel.'

  'Fine, I'll take my car.'

  'Do that.'

  They glared at each other once more. She hated him, oh how she hated him! How could he let her do this?

  Belting her coat she hurried from the house.

  * * *

  'You haven't touched your drink,' the stewardess said, hovering next to Michael's seat.

  He glanced up at her. 'No, I haven't,' he agreed.

  She licked her lips. Pink frosted lipstick and a pointed tongue. 'Too much ice?'

  'I wasn't as thirsty as I thought.'

  'We're landing soon, I have to take your glass.'

  'Go right ahead,' he said calmly, feeling an overwhelming sense of achievement. For the last forty-five minutes he'd sat with the glass of Scotch in front of him and not touched it. Victory was his. It might be temporary, but for now it was enormously satisfying. As soon as he got back to LA he'd go to a meeting.

  Fastening his seatbelt he stared out the window. According to the pilot it was snowing in New York and freezing cold. In his head he began formulating a plan of action. Grab a cab at the airport and head straight for Sal's. Confront the scumbag and see Bella for the last time.

  There was a sadness within him that he didn't know how to deal with. It was gradually sinking in that he was not a father and never had been. The loss was devastating - the truth hard to accept.

  He remembered the night of Bella's birth - a midnight dash to the hospital with Rita yelling and screaming all the way. He'd tried to be there for her in the delivery room, but she'd shoved him away, shouting language that no soon-to-be mother should ever use.

  The first day of Bella's life he'd held her in his arms and marvelled that he could have created such a delicate perfect little being. It was a memorable experience, one he'd never forgotten.

  When Rita came home from the hospital she'd fallen into a deep depression, and after three sleepless nights she'd refused to continue breast-feeding. He'd learned how to mix the formula and give the baby a bottle. After that - if he wasn't out on a case - he'd taken over the middle-of-the-night feed while Rita slept. He didn't mind, in fact, he'd looked forward to it. The moments alone with the child he'd thought was his daughter were the most special he'd ever experienced.

  Now, because of his lying brother, those moments meant nothing.

  Goddamn Sal. He was the lowest of the low. A subhuman with no fucking conscience.

  Michael knew if he was to get through this he had to stay in control. It was going to be difficult with no Quincy beside him to keep a check on his volatile temper, but fuck it, he could do it.

  The airport was crowded as usual. Since he had no baggage he made it out of there fast, hailed a cab and jumped in.

  'Where to, bud?' asked the driver, a gum-chewing Arab with an American accent.

  He considered his answer. Should he go to his mother's first and drag her along for the ride? No. He had nothing to gain by involving her. He gave the driver Sal's address and sat back. Soon it would all be taken care of.

  -=O=---=O=-

  The Man watched as Cheryl left her house. He could have taken her then and there, but the timing wasn't right. Everything in life was timing. He'd learned that as an actor.

  Steven Seagal had good timing. He'd built his career with a steady succession of films - each one more successful than the last. That's what The Man called perfect timing.

  Cheryl drove fast down the winding hillside. The Man slipped into the traffic behind her. He was in no particular hurry. He had all night. He knew the moment would come when he could pounce and take her, and she would be his. Why rush?

  She hit Sunset and made a sharp left, eventually drawing into the forecourt of the St James's Hotel. Climbing out of her car she handed the keys to a parking valet.

  The Man parked on the street. He could wait. He could wait as long as he had to.

  Sitting in his car he began thinking about his mother and her new husband. She'd gotten married again when he was in jail. He couldn't believe it. Not that he was any great supporter of his father, but she'd chosen as her new mate a man not worthy to shine her shoes. A man fifteen years younger than her. And, according to friends of the family, a worse villain than her first husband, whom she'd divorced.

  All his life she'd caused him nothing but problems and spoiled him for other women. His mother was a true bitch goddess.

  He loved her.

  He hated her.

  Sometimes he couldn't make up his mind which was the truth.

  It didn't matter, because soon, when he was finished in California, he would squeeze her white neck between his hands, and when he choked the life out of her he would celebrate.

  The Man knew one thing for sure, he was entitled to commit this act, it was justice really.

  She'd given birth to him.

  He would give death to her.

  A fair exchange.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Jordanna spent an exhilarating afternoon picking out clothes for the movie with the costume designer. Then she went back to the Sanderson house where Marjory was in a deep sulk. 'What's the matter?' she asked.

  'Michael Scorsini is the matter,' Marjory complained. 'I lent him money and now he's vanished.'

  'What do you mean, vanished?'

  'He was supposed to come back here for dinner. Have you seen him?'

  'No.'

  'That's how I've seen him.'

  'He'll be back,' Jordanna said. 'Why did you lend him money anyway?'

  'Because he needed it.'

  Jordanna decided the sooner she moved out of the Sanderson estate the better, Marjory's moods were getting boring.

  She wondered if Bobby would ask her to stay the night. Just in case, she popped a toothbrush into her bag, then immediately took it out again. Too obvious. Maybe he wouldn't want her to stay. Maybe he wasn't even attracted to her.

  Oh shit! How about treating him to a little of that seductive come-on she was usually so good at.

  No, it wouldn't work with Bobby. He was different from her Midnight Cowboys, he was special.

  On the way over to his house she thought about Cheryl. Her friend was not in good shape, she was definitely doing coke, and God knew what else. It was obvious Grant wasn't the greatest influence in the world.

  Bobby greeted her
at the door of his house clad in jeans and a denim work shirt, looking great.

  She entered the house, checking it out. 'Hmm,' she said. 'It looks like everything cleaned up nicely.'

  'So did you.'

  'Huh?'

  'The paint job Barbara did on you. Not a trace.'

  'I was thinking of suing the psycho, but why give her the publicity? Her bad karma will do her in eventually.'

  'And Miss Levitt is wise, too,' he said, taking her hand. 'Come with me, I'm fixing us dinner.'

  'You really think I'm wise?' she asked eagerly, allowing him to lead her into the kitchen.

  'As a matter of fact I do.'

  'Hmm... you should've seen me in my wild days.'

  When was that?' he asked.

  'A few weeks ago.'

  That's when you were with Charlie, right?'

  'I was never really with Charlie.'

  'But you were sleeping with him.'

  'Sleeping with someone sounds so nice and cozy.'

  Fixing her with his incredible blue eyes he said, 'Were you?'

  'Was I what?' she asked, although she knew perfectly well what he meant.

  'Sleeping with him?'

  'I guess I was - round about the time you were in bed with Barbara.'

  'Twice,' he admitted. 'Casual sex at its most casual.'

  She shrugged off her leather jacket, underneath she wore a white T-shirt and faded jeans. Nicely laid-back. Nothing obvious.

  'Was she any good?' she asked, trying to sound as if she couldn't care less.

  He removed tomatoes, lettuce and a cucumber from the fridge, placing everything on a chopping board. 'Was Charlie?' he countered, picking up a sharp knife.

  She couldn't help laughing. 'What is this - a pissing contest?'

  He sliced the lettuce in half. 'Is that what you want?'

  'No, it's not what I want,' she said, taking a piece of tomato and popping it in her mouth. 'Can I help?'

  'Nope, everything's under control, so why don't you go in my office, grab a script and start reading through it.'

  Why don't I grab you, she was tempted to say. Or better still, why don't you grab me. She was deeply in lust with this man, and yet for some unknown reason she couldn't bring herself to make a move. Ha! This was a major first.

  'I didn't know you cooked,' she said, wishing he'd pay more attention to her.

  'Tofu hamburgers and salad,' he said wryly. 'It ain't Julia Child, but it'll taste good.'

  She wandered into his office inspecting everything. It wasn't that she was nosy, she just had a strong desire to know as much as possible about him.

  All the torn photographs had been piled neatly in the centre of his desk. She picked up a still of Bobby and Jerry when Bobby was just a little boy. A cute little boy at that - long blond hair and big blue eyes. Taking a roll of Scotch tape from the desk she carefully stuck the photo back together, then, on impulse, stuffed it into her purse. Stolen goods. He'd never know.

  'Dinner,' Bobby called out. We'll eat on the patio. OK with you?'

  They sat outside at a table next to the small black-bottomed swimming-pool. 'Umm, delicious,' she lied, digging into the strange-tasting hamburger, fervently wishing it was a juicy ground steak.

  'Did you look at the script?' he asked, pouring her a glass of white wine.

  'I don't need to. I know it by heart.'

  He was surprised. 'You do?'

  'When I tested I learned the whole thing.'

  'So when Barbara got the part you must have been disappointed.'

  She took a sip of wine. 'Try devastated.'

  'Devastated, huh?'

  'Destroyed.'

  'This part's gonna put you out there. Think you can handle it?'

  'Why wouldn't I?

  'Cause becoming famous changes a lot of things,' he said reflectively.

  She tilted her head to one side. 'Like what?'

  The way people relate to you for one. Stardom's a big responsibility. Everyone has their expectations and you're supposed to live up to every one of them.'

  'Do you?'

  'Do I what?'

  'Live up to expectations.'

  'I try.'

  I bet you do, she wanted to say, forcing herself to eat. I bet you live up to expectations in every way.

  'It's given me a sense of my own self-worth,' he continued seriously. 'Before I made it, everywhere I went I was known as Jerry Rush's son. Believe me, that is not good for the ego.'

  Tell me about it,' she sighed. 'In school we never got into who had the best grades, it was always whose father had the biggest grossing movie and whose mother was on the cover of People.'

  He nodded. 'I know what you mean. I remember one year in high school when Jerry had a dog of a movie. It was the first one of his that didn't do well at the box-office. Boy, was he pissed! I had to beat the crap out of another kid whose father was a major league baseball star, 'cause this kid was king of the school, and I was in the shitter due to Jerry's failure.'

  'But there must have been some good times?' she said softly.

  'Yeah... the parties. Instead of ordinary birthday parties, it was always elephants and tigers - in fact, it was the whole fucking Los Angeles Zoo on our back lawn. That was kind of a kick.'

  'Must have been the fashionable thing. For my sweet sixteen Jordan hired the UCLA marching band! And every Friday I was allowed to have all my friends over for a screening of a new movie. Before it even hit the theatres! Beat that!'

  'Hey, talk about pissing contests!'

  'So now you're happy?' she asked.

  He studied her face across the table. 'What's happy, Jordanna?'

  She shrugged. 'Dunno. But I've felt happier these last few weeks than I ever have.' Now why had she blurted that out. Revealing her feelings was just not cool.

  That's nice to hear,' he said evenly.

  Their eyes met and there was no pulling away. It was like an irresistible force drawing them together. She pushed her knife and fork to one side of the plate, finding it impossible to eat.

  'You're leaving everything over,' he pointed out. 'Doesn't my cooking cut it?'

  'I'm not into tofu,' she murmured.

  He leaned across the table, placing his hand over hers. 'I don't want to screw anything up here, Jordanna.'

  'What are you talking about?' she asked innocently, although she knew perfectly well what he meant.

  'You're going to be starring in my movie, we'll be working together every day. I made a bad mistake with Barbara. Let's just be friends, huh?'

  The last thing she wanted was to stay just friends, but she nodded as if it was the best idea she'd ever heard. 'Sounds good to me.'

  'Then if Charlie - my favourite icon - visits the set, I won't be a jealous wreck,' he joked.

  'What is this Charlie crap?' she asked. 'Why do you keep on bringing him up? Do you want to know what he was like in bed - is that it?'

  'No.'

  'Yes, you do,' she teased.

  'Wrong.'

  'He was a passable lover, very selfish.'

  'He's old enough to be your grandfather.'

  'No, my father, not my grandfather.'

  'He looks old enough.'

  'Hey, one minute he's a fucking icon, the next he's old enough to be my grandfather. Make your choice.'

  He got up from the table and entered the house. 'Ice cream?' he called over his shoulder.

  'Is that all you have to offer?' she said, picking up the plates and following him inside.

  'Are you coming on to me?' he asked, looking at her quizzically.

  Her heart was pounding, he was actually making her nervous. 'Yes,' she said boldly.

  'Didn't we just agree it wouldn't be a good idea?'

  She pushed back her long dark hair. 'You said it wouldn't be a good idea. I didn't agree to anything.'

  'Hey, Jordanna,' he said, opening the freezer. 'I was right.'

  'Hey, Bobby,' she responded, finally summoning a vestige of her old self. 'You were wro
ng.'

  * * *

  'Good evening, Mr Nanni.'

  'How ya doin', Bambi?' he replied, thinking it was about time he revealed his real name.

  'Pretty good, Mr Nanni.'

  'Whyn't you call me Luca?' he suggested.

  'I prefer to keep things on a more formal basis.'

  'You do, huh?'

  'Tonight I'd like the cash up-front,' Cheryl said, getting straight to the point.

  Luca patted his slicked-back patent-leather hair. 'You don't trust me?'

  'Of course I do. It's just that I like the thought of the cash in my pocket before you see what I'm wearing for you tonight.'

  'How can I figure what kinda big tip I might wanna hand you?' he asked slyly.

  'That's entirely up to you.'

  He nodded, deciding he'd give her whatever she wanted, plus a generous tip. Vanishing into the bedroom he returned with an envelope of cash and placed it in her pocket. 'You can take your coat off now,' he said, licking his lips in anticipation.

  'When it gets a little warmer,' she said.

  He chuckled, enjoying the game. 'What're you drinking tonight?'

  'Pernod.'

  'I ain't got no Pernod.'

  'Order it,' she said imperiously. 'And while you're ordering, I'll have some caviar.'

  'You're demanding tonight.'

  'You don't mind, do you?'

  'Nope. In fact, I got a proposition to discuss with you.'

  'Really?'

  'Take that goddamn coat off an' we'll talk.'

  'If you want it off,' she said audaciously, toying with him, 'take it off for me.'

  He walked over and tugged at her belt, loosening the coat until it fell from her shoulders. He whistled through his teeth when he eyeballed the provocative outfit she had on underneath. 'Jeez! You're some hot broad.'

  'I dressed especially for you,' she said, feeling the power again, that surge of incredible power that put her totally in control and made her knees go weak.

  'Take a walk around the room for me, baby,' he said, settling back on the couch. 'Show me what you got.'

  'Yes, Mr Nanni,' she said coolly. 'Anything to oblige.'