Jett nodded. ‘I’m clean and sober if that’s what you mean.’
‘That’s great, but I’m talking about the modelling. Saw your photo in one of my girlfriend’s Italian fashion magazines. She was way impressed when I told her you were my kid brother.’
‘Modelling?’ Max interrupted disapprovingly. ‘You’re doing modelling?’
‘S’ right,’ Jett said. ‘Magazine stuff and some TV commercials.’
‘I thought all models were gay.’
‘Now you sound like our old man,’ Chris said, laughing. ‘You gotta haul yourself into the present, Max. Haven’t you heard of Tyson?’
‘Mike Tyson?’
Chris rolled his eyes, ‘I give up!’
The maid returned with two cups of coffee and a bottle of Evian.
Chris pocketed his BlackBerry and took a gulp of coffee.
Max consulted his watch. ‘It’s nine-fifteen,’ he said irritably. ‘I was asked to be here at nine.’
‘We were all told to be here at nine,’ Chris said.
‘Christ!’ Max said, tapping his fingers on the coffee-table. ‘When does it stop?’
‘When does what stop?’ Jett asked.
‘This manipulative crap,’ Max said harshly. ‘This controlling shit. He still seems to think he can treat us like we’re twelve.’
‘You think he’s gonna change now?’ Chris asked.
‘At least he can’t beat us,’ Jett remarked. ‘Man, he was quick with his freakin’ stick. I’ve still got the marks on my ass.’
‘I’ll find out what’s going on,’ Max said, getting up and walking towards the door. ‘I have appointments, a business crisis to deal with. I can’t afford to waste anymore time.’
‘And I have to get back to L.A. There’s a phone backup of demanding clients waiting for me,’ Chris said, winking at Jett. ‘How about you, surfer kid?’
‘Hey, you’re the one who lives in California,’ Jett answered, grinning.
‘And very nice it is too. Come visit sometime. I’ve got a great house you can stay at.’
‘Thanks, but I was thinking of hanging around New York for a couple of weeks,’ Jett said, dying to tell someone about last night. ‘Y’ see, I met a girl—’
Before he could finish, the door opened and there stood Lady Jane Bentley, an elegant woman in a Chanel-suit-and-pearls kind of way. Auburn hair worn in an upswept style, minimum make-up, frosty eyes and a fixed smile.
‘Good morning, boys,’ she said, obviously going for the mother-figure posture. ‘Your father and I are so glad you could make it.’
Jett barely remembered her. His only encounters with Lady Jane were blanks on account of his having been drunk or stoned out of his mind.
Chris had met her a few times, most memorably when she’d visited L.A. with her two English step-nieces. They’d stayed at the Peninsula Hotel and she’d expected them all to be treated like visiting royalty.
Fat chance. The only people treated like royalty in Hollywood were the stars and moguls who made over thirty mill a year. Other than that it was everyone for themselves.
Since they lived in the same city, Max knew her best. He considered her a cold fish, the type of woman his father deserved.
Lady Jane surveyed Red’s three sons and wished that they didn’t exist. Even though Red rarely spoke about them, she was well aware that they represented the continuation of his bloodline, and therefore they were a threat. Eventually she expected Red to marry her, in spite of the fact that whenever she brought up the subject he laughed in her face, which did not please her: she was a determined woman used to getting her own way, exactly like him. However, she persevered, for she knew that as he got older he would weaken, and she would become the fifth Mrs Diamond. Then they could all go to hell.
‘I do hope everyone had a pleasant experience getting here,’ Lady Jane continued. ‘Travelling today is quite appalling. There’s no such thing as first class anymore. Everyone is treated as if they’re cattle. Unless you travel by private plane it’s quite hopeless.’
Not only is she an icy bitch, she’s a snob too, Chris thought. Which made it difficult for him to understand why she was with old Red, who’d belched, farted and sworn his way to the top of the heap with no apologies to anyone.
Oh, yeah, money, money, money. What else?
‘I flew in on Jonathan Goode’s plane,’ Chris offered. ‘Guess you’re right. Private is the only way to go.’
Lady Jane was unimpressed. She was probably one of the few women in America who had no idea who Jonathan Goode was.
‘Where’s Red?’ Max asked, getting right to the reason they were all there.
‘I’m so sorry to disappoint you,’ Lady Jane said, coolly distant. ‘Your father is not feeling very well today, so unfortunately he cannot see you.’
‘What?’ Max said, furious.
‘However,’ she continued, ‘he expects all three of you to be here on Monday morning at the same time. I do hope that’s not an inconvenience.’
‘Are you serious?’ Chris said. ‘There’s no way I can sit around New York for the weekend. I flew in specially for this meeting.’ He favoured her with a long, hard glare, the kind of look he usually reserved for the business affairs suits at the studios. ‘This is bullshit!’
‘Is that how lawyers speak in L.A.?’ Lady Jane said, lip curling. ‘Little wonder it’s a town full of barbarians.’
Jett began to laugh–he couldn’t help himself. This was such a ridiculous situation. The only reason the three of them were there was to see if the old man was leaving them money. He needed a handout, but Max and Chris were rolling in it, so why were they jumping hoops? It didn’t make sense.
‘What’s the matter with Red?’ Max demanded. ‘How sick is he?’
‘I strongly suggest you meet here at nine a.m. on Monday and allow your father to tell you himself,’ Lady Jane said, adding succinctly ‘I can assure you it is to your advantage to do so.’
‘Jesus Christ!’ Chris muttered.
‘I’ll be here,’ Jett said, kind of pleased to have an excuse to stay in New York. Not that he’d been planning on leaving any time soon. After all, he had a girl to find.
‘Looks like you’re giving me no choice,’ Chris said, not willing to take off while Max and Jett stayed for the meeting. That would not be a smart move.
‘We’ll see you on Monday then,’ Lady Jane said, exiting the room.
‘What do you think’s the matter with him?’ Jett asked, as soon as she’d left.
‘No idea,’ Max said. ‘I saw him a few months ago when he was as objectionable and loud as usual.’
‘How did he look?’ Jett asked, swigging water.
‘Old. But strong as the proverbial horse.’
‘So…’ Chris said. ‘Looks like I’m stuck here for the weekend. Either of you want to meet up later for dinner?’
‘You can always count on me if it’s a free meal,’ Jett said quickly. ‘Now that I don’t drink, I’m the cheapest date in town.’
‘Can’t do dinner,’ Max said brusquely. ‘I’m sure you both know I’m getting married, and tonight some friends–well, business acquaintances really–are throwing me a bachelor party.’
‘A bachelor party,’ Chris said. ‘Are we invited?’
‘I didn’t know you were getting married,’ Jett said. ‘I thought you already had a wife. And a kid, who I’d love to meet sometime–considering I’m her uncle.’
Max felt threatened on both sides. As if he didn’t have enough problems, now he was about to get stuck with his brothers for the weekend. This did not factor into his plans.
On the other hand, even though they were not close, they were family and, God knew, he didn’t have anyone else except Lulu. ‘Of course you’re invited,’ he said stiffly. ‘It’s not something I’m looking forward to, but you’re more than welcome to come.’
‘Wouldn’t miss it,’ Chris said, winking at Jett.
‘Me neither,’ Jett said. ‘Haven’t had
a proper lap-dance since I left the good ole US.’
‘I’m hoping there’ll be no strippers,’ Max said. ‘It’s not that kind of party.’
‘You gotta know there will be strippers,’ Jett said, grinning. ‘If it’s a bachelor party that’s something you can bet on.’
The brothers walked outside the house and stood talking on the sidewalk for a few minutes, unaware that Red was watching them from an upstairs window.
The old man cackled gleefully as he spied on his three sons. How he enjoyed manipulating people. Here he was, almost eighty years old, and when he said ‘Jump’ everyone did. It was amusing, especially as he didn’t even have to leave his house to get a good laugh.
Red Diamond was a mogul in the true sense of the word. He was a self-made man who had come from an impoverished Polish immigrant family. Born in America and named Jana Polanska in 1926, he’d been a school drop-out by the time he was fifteen. His father, a butcher, who was prone to beating him to a pulp at the slightest provocation, kicked him out of the house in the middle of the night. His mother, a pale, frightened woman, allowed it to happen without a word of protest.
Bitter and filled with anger–his psyche forever damaged by the emotional and physical abuse he’d endured, young Jana was a survivor. He lived on the streets for a few months, then moved in with a sex-crazed older woman who expected him to service her twice a day. Eventually he got tired of her, lied about his age and landed a job selling advertising at an established, but not particularly successful, magazine.
By the time he was twenty, he’d legally changed his name to Red Diamond, and married his boss’s spinster daughter, Miriam, a plain woman ten years older than him. After his early experiences he was an expert at pleasing older women. He knew exactly what they required–hard dick and plenty of it.
Soon he was virtually running the magazine, which, after a few years, he had turned into quite a profitable venture. With the magazine doing so well, it spawned several others, all of which Red was in charge of. He was making good money and quickly learned everything he could about investing. Before long he had found his forte as an investment whiz, who somehow made all the right moves.
By the time he was thirty, he’d amassed a small fortune with which he bought a chain of TV and radio stations. He kept them for a few months, then sold them for a huge profit.
When Miriam’s father died, Red was in line to take over. He was already running things, so it was no surprise to anyone. Red Diamond changed the way the magazines were run. He brought in advertisers ready to spend more than ever before. He touched on subjects that were once considered taboo. He hired the best photographers, writers and models.
As time went on he got bored with the magazine business, and began buying and then selling for a large profit a series of small companies. If anyone got in his way, too bad.
Soon he had built himself a media empire, and by the time he was thirty-five, he was well on his way to becoming a billionaire.
Red was a notorious womanizer. Miriam put up with his indiscretions for many years, but two weeks after her second miscarriage she took her own life.
This did not affect Red’s rise to the top. A year after Miriam’s demise, he met and married Max’s mother, Rachel, a beautiful woman from a good family.
The day Rachel married Red, her family disowned her. Red immediately made it his business to bankrupt Rachel’s father, and when she begged him not to, he took much pleasure in laughing in her face.
Nobody fucked with Red Diamond and got away with it. Nobody.
The New York brownstone was Red Diamond’s favourite residence. He’d long ago given up the elegant apartment in Monte Carlo overlooking the bay, the magnificent villa in Marbella, with two swimming-pools and a sunken tennis court, the luxurious London penthouse located near Buckingham Palace and the rambling farmhouse in Tuscany Edie had persuaded him to buy.
Red no longer travelled, since 9/11 he’d rarely left New York. It wasn’t necessary–there was nowhere he wanted to go, no one he wanted to see. He’d done and seen it all. There was nothing left for him to discover.
Lady Jane often tried to talk him into going places. A ball in Venice. A political dinner in Washington. ‘You go,’ he instructed her. ‘I’m not moving.’
And he didn’t have to. He oversaw his various businesses by e-mail, video conferences and phone. He had hand-picked people in place who took care of everything, and if anyone screwed up, he knew about it immediately. Red Diamond had highly paid spies everywhere.
He imagined what his three boys were thinking. They were probably under the impression that he was at death’s door, ready to embrace them and leave them a shitload of money.
No such luck. They were damn fortunate he’d been such a hard task-master during their formative years. It had made them the men they were today, and that wasn’t such a bad thing.
Red believed in challenges, roadblocks and, as successful as his two eldest sons were, he was interested in seeing how they handled themselves when faced with adversity.
He thought about Max first. Very successful in real estate, Max had needed a jolt to take it to another level. So Red, for his own amusement, had arranged that jolt. The two banks pulling out of Max’s billion-dollar building complex was no random act.
Next there was Chris who’d got into trouble in Vegas. Pure stupidity. Gambling was for morons. Red had far-reaching connections, and he was determined to make sure his middle son learned a good lesson.
As for Jett…well, he wasn’t surprised the boy was a fuckup. With a drunken whore like Edie for a mother, he’d never had any expectations that his youngest son would achieve anything. Still…the boy appeared to have given up his bad habits, but that didn’t mean he shouldn’t be tested.
One thing Red knew for sure, he couldn’t wait to see the look on all three of their faces when he told them the real reason he’d summoned them to his house. They’d shit themselves, and he would have one big smile on his face.
Too bad for them. Red Diamond always got the last word.
Chapter Fourteen
On Friday morning, Liberty was still asleep when Diahann quietly left the apartment to fix Mr Diamond’s breakfast. Recently he’d announced that he didn’t want anyone preparing his food except her. This had not gone down well with Mae, his full-time cook. Mae, a large, elderly black woman, had been in his employ longer than anyone. ‘What that shit be about?’ Mae had demanded, stamping her foot. ‘My food ain’t good ’nuff for the old fool? That be the way things goin’ down here?’
Diahann had managed to calm her, although it hadn’t been easy. They both knew what a difficult and tyrannical man Red Diamond was: he treated everyone with the same rudeness and lack of respect.
Diahann often felt that she understood him better than most people. She certainly understood him more than the skinny-assed white woman who’d planted herself in his life several years ago. Lady Jane Bentley, indeed. The only reason the witch had a title was because she’d married some doddering old Englishman who happened to be a lord. None of the staff liked her, she treated them as if they were only there to do her bidding, and her Madonna-style British accent fooled no one. The woman was not their boss, yet she acted as if they all worked exclusively for her.
The staff in the kitchen loved nothing better than a good gossip, and usually Diahann ignored the incessant bitching and back-stabbing, but today the talk was about Red Diamond’s three sons, sequestered in the library, and she couldn’t help listening. Red Diamond’s business was common knowledge among his staff, so they all knew it was unusual for him to have any contact with his sons, and everyone was curious as to why they were at the house.
‘They’re surely handsome,’ sighed Letty, the young Irish maid who’d taken them refreshments. ‘They look nothing like the Master.’
‘That’s ’cause Mr D. always hitched himself to fine-lookin’ wimmin,’ Mae said knowingly, busily chopping fruit with a sharp knife. ‘I bin through every one of his poor w
ives. Seen ’em come, seen ’em go an’, believe me, he always picked ’em pretty.’
‘How long have you worked here, Mae?’ asked Letty, stealing a slice of apple.
‘Mosta me damn life,’ Mae replied, slapping the young girl’s hand away. ‘Cooked for all them boys since they was little. They sure was cute then. Mebbe I should take a stroll into the library, see how they turned out.’
‘Lady Bentley’s with them,’ Letty said.
‘An’ what’s she talkin’ to them about?’ Mae demanded, as if it was her right to know.
‘I wasn’t in there long enough to hear.’
Listening to their conversation, Diahann couldn’t help wondering about Red Diamond’s three sons. She was well aware that none of them had had it easy. Red was hard on everyone, especially his boys.
After she’d fixed the eggs exactly the way the old man liked them, she put them onto a tray and asked Letty to take them up to his bedroom, explaining that she had to get back downstairs.
‘Why’s that?’ Mae asked, always eager to know everybody’s business. ‘You feelin’ poorly?’
‘No, Mae,’ Diahann replied patiently. ‘My daughter’s staying with me over the weekend.’
‘Little Liberty!’ exclaimed Mae, expertly slicing a pineapple. ‘How’s that pretty missy doin’?’
‘She hurt her ankle at work,’ Diahann said. ‘Other than that, she’s well.’
‘’Bout time you two spent more time together,’ Mae said. ‘Wasn’t right when you bundled her outta here.’
‘I didn’t bundle her out of here,’ Diahann replied, immediately on the defensive. ‘You know I didn’t have a choice.’
‘I wanna see that girl,’ Mae continued, wiping her hands on her apron. ‘Liberty was always sumpin’ special, singin’ an’ dancin’ round the place. I miss havin’ that little beauty around.’
Diahann remained silent. Keeping things private was her way. She certainly didn’t need to hear what Mae had to say, especially about her daughter.
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