‘Thanks a lot.’
‘Did you?’
‘What?’
‘Pass out?’
‘If it makes you feel better.’
They drove in silence for a few minutes, then Alex said, ‘You ever tell Lennie?’
‘Of course not.’
‘Then why does he hate me?’
‘He doesn’t hate you.’
‘Sure he does.’
‘That’s not true. We’re all friends.’
‘We were all friends for about two months after he reappeared, then suddenly his attitude changed. You must’ve noticed.’
‘He likes you, Alex.’
‘Bullshit! I think he knows.’
‘There’s no way he could possibly know,’ she said. ‘I never told him.’
‘Anyway, what was he doing all that time he was held captive in a cave – jerking off?’
‘That’s not a very nice thing to say.’
‘What about the girl who rescued him?’
‘Nothing happened between them.’
‘How do you know?’
‘Because he told me and I trust him.’
‘Okay, if you believe it, I’ll believe it.’
‘Can we quit this conversation, Alex.’
‘Yes, Lucky, whatever you say.’
* * *
Once Lennie was out of the house and in his car, he realized he had nowhere to go. He also realized that Lucky was right, he was taking his lousy mood out on her, and any sane person knew that it wasn’t her fault.
She’d mentioned divorce. How could she mention divorce at a time like this? The very fact that she’d done so angered him. Christ – didn’t she understand what he was going through?
Yes, a little voice whispered in his head. She understands all right. You’re behaving like an asshole, and it’s gone on too long.
Cool down, that’s what he had to do. Cool down and get his head together. Go home, apologize, and resume normal life. Because whatever he did could not bring Mary Lou back.
In the meantime, he drove around aimlessly, finally deciding to check into the Sunset Marquis for the night. Being by himself for one night wasn’t such a bad idea. After all, he’d endured months of solitary confinement when he’d been kidnapped.
It had taken him a while when he’d got back from that ordeal to face life again. Now this: the setback he’d been praying wouldn’t happen.
Mary Lou’s image kept dancing before his eyes. So pretty and sweet and talented. What if he’d gone for his gun immediately? What if he’d thrown open his car door and fought with the attackers?
What if, what if, what if . . . The words kept going through his head, driving him insane.
Perhaps tomorrow he’d feel better. He wasn’t going home until he did. Lucky deserved better.
* * *
Alex allowed her to talk. They sat outside at a table for two, and Lucky let fly with all her problems.
‘Maybe I made a mistake giving up my job at the studio,’ she said, reflecting on the situation. ‘It wasn’t that I didn’t enjoy what I was doing, I simply felt my responsibility was to spend more time with Lennie and my kids.’
‘Do you miss being at Panther?’ Alex asked.
‘I think I do,’ she said uncertainly. ‘It was hard work, but that’s what I enjoy. I’ve always worked hard. When I was in my twenties I was building hotels in Vegas and Atlantic City. Gino taught me the work ethic, y’ know. Get out there and do it – and do it good.’
‘If you miss it, you can always go back. After all, you still own the studio.’
‘I’d feel kind of stupid going back so soon. I have to give the people I’ve put in charge a chance.’
‘Then what’s your plan? You’ll go nuts sitting around doing nothing.’
She nodded, picking up her wine-glass. ‘You’re right.’
‘I have an idea,’ he said.
‘What?’
‘Why don’t you produce a movie? It’s a whole different deal from sitting in an office, fighting off agents and producers. Produce your own movie, Lucky,’ he urged. ‘Something you feel passionate about.’
‘I never thought of that.’
‘You’d enjoy the challenge. Besides, you’re in the perfect position. You don’t have to go through the shit of getting a studio to put up the money. You can greenlight your own project, then produce it.’
‘I’m not experienced enough.’
‘How about taking on a project with me?’
She laughed drily. ‘That would go down well with Lennie.’
‘So now you’re going to live your life worrying about what Lennie thinks, huh? Where’s that independent spirit of yours?’
‘Lennie is my husband, Alex.’
‘I know that, but surely you don’t have to ask his permission?’
‘To tell you the truth, I think you’re right – he is a little bit jealous of you. So if we undertook a project together, that might put him over the top.’
Alex shrugged. ‘Just an idea.’
‘Thanks for the thought anyway,’ she said. ‘We’d probably drive each other crazy, because I’m very opinionated. And so are you.’
‘You’re opinionated?’ Alex said, his lethal crocodile grin coming at her full force. ‘Wow! I’d never have guessed.’
Lucky couldn’t help smiling back. ‘Let’s talk about you for a while. How’s your mother?’
‘Dominique’s fine. Since she married the opera singer, she leaves me alone.’
‘That’s nice to know. You must feel good about that.’
‘Stop sounding like a shrink.’
‘I’d have made an excellent shrink.’
‘You’d have made an excellent anything.’
‘You always make me feel good, Alex.’ She took another sip of wine. ‘By the way, how’s your love life?’
‘You know about my love life, Lucky,’ he said ruefully. ‘They come, they go. I come, they go.’
‘Alex, Alex, why don’t you find a nice girl and settle down?’
‘Now you sound like my mother.’
She laughed softly. ‘First your shrink, then your mother. Which do you choose?’
‘If I had a choice,’ he said slowly, ‘you’d be a free woman.’ A long meaningful pause. ‘And you’d be with me.’
Chapter Thirty-Six
‘Don’t look now,’ Kyra said, speaking out of the corner of her mouth. ‘There’s a guy sitting at the table to our left who hasn’t taken his eyes off me.’
‘Really?’ Brigette said.
‘Yeah,’ Kyra said. ‘He keeps on staring at me. Of course, I’m used to it.’
Here we go again, Brigette thought. Kyra and Lina are exactly alike. Apart from the colour of their skin and their accents. Mega egos!
‘I should tell him I’m married, put the poor bloke out of his misery,’ Kyra said, fluffing out her hair.
‘Why don’t you do that?’ Brigette said.
‘I will when he comes over.’
‘What makes you think he’s coming over?’
‘’Cause he’s getting up now. He’s on his way. And, baby, he’s major cute!’
Brigette picked up her glass of Evian water and took a sip. Kyra was in for a surprise when she saw whom he was really coming over to see.
A moment later, tall and handsome Carlo stood in front of their table. ‘Brigette!’ he exclaimed. ‘How nice to see you. What are you doing in London?’
She glanced up as if she was utterly surprised. ‘Excuse me?’ she said politely. ‘Do I know you?’
‘Do you know me?’ he said with a laugh. ‘I am Carlo.’
‘Carlo?’ she said vaguely. ‘Oh . . . Fredo’s Carlo. How are you?’
His expression told her he couldn’t believe she didn’t recognize him.
Kyra, meanwhile, was trying to get introduced. ‘Friend of yours?’ she asked, giving Brigette a sharp nudge.
‘Oh, yes, uh . . . Carlo . . . sorry . . .’
‘Count
Carlo Vittorio Vitti,’ he said, kissing Kyra’s hand. ‘And you are?’
‘Oh, come on,’ Kyra said, bursting with laughter. ‘You don’t know who I am?’
‘No, I’m sorry – should I?’
‘The rest of the world certainly does,’ Kyra said, slightly put out. ‘I’m Kyra Kattleman.’
‘Kyra Kattleman.’ He repeated her name, rolling it over his tongue. ‘Are you an actress?’
‘Oh, Lordy, where do you live?’ Kyra said, unamused by his total lack of recognition.
Brigette was quite enjoying the exchange.
‘So, Brigette,’ Carlo said, ‘what are you doing here in London?’
‘Visiting friends,’ she answered casually.
‘And Fredo didn’t ask you to call me?’
‘No. Actually, I haven’t worked with Fredo lately. It’s nice to bump into you though.’
He stared at her, noting that she was even more lovely during the day. Skin like peaches and cream, soft honey-blonde curls, and an exquisite mouth, pouty and inviting. He remembered making love to her, he remembered it well. Only she probably didn’t recall the details. One of the disadvantages of the little white pills.
‘Where are you staying?’ he asked.
‘The Dorchester.’
‘So am I,’ Kyra said, joining in. ‘Leaving tomorrow for Milan. It’s fashion week. Valentino can’t do his show without me.’
‘Ah,’ Carlo said. ‘So you are a model?’
‘Not a model,’ Kyra said, fluttering her long lashes. ‘A supermodel. You’ve heard that word, I’m sure.’
‘Ah, yes . . . Naomi Campbell.’
Kyra frowned. ‘Why does everyone say Naomi Campbell. There are other supermodels, you know. Cindy, me, Kate Moss . . .’
‘Brigette,’ he said, turning his attention back to the woman who was one day to be his wife, ‘are you free for dinner tonight?’
She smiled sweetly. ‘As a matter of fact,’ a pause, ‘I’m not.’
‘That is a shame.’
‘Yes, isn’t it?’
‘How long will you be staying in London?’
‘A few days. Depending on what my friends want to do.’
He wondered if they were male or female friends. It would not do to have a rival enter the picture; he hadn’t counted on that. According to Fredo, Brigette was a loner who did not go out a lot. Now all of a sudden she was here in London with a group of friends. This wasn’t the way he’d planned it.
‘How about dinner tomorrow night?’ he suggested.
‘Mmm . . .’ she said. ‘I think I’m busy.’
This was ridiculous. Women never turned him down. ‘Perhaps you can change your plans?’
‘I could try. Why don’t you give me a call.’
‘I will,’ he said, lifting her hand to his lips. ‘You look as beautiful as ever.’ He lowered his voice. ‘You do remember our night in New York?’
‘Of course,’ she said cheerfully. ‘You, me, Lina and Fredo. We went dancing, didn’t we? Had a great time.’
Now he was in a quandary. Was it possible that she did not remember anything at all about him making love to her? Damn! He’d only given her half a pill, she was supposed to be wondering why he hadn’t called her. And here she was sitting in London without a care in the world.
‘I will call you later, Brigette,’ he said. ‘We will talk.’ He nodded briefly in Kyra’s direction. ‘A pleasure.’
‘The pleasure was all mine,’ Kyra said, adding a succinct, ‘By the way, I’m married, so I can’t have dinner with you either.’
‘I’m glad you told me that.’
‘Well!’ Kyra said, as he walked away from the table. ‘Told you he was staring at me. Good job he knew you, so he had a legitimate excuse to come over.’
Brigette nodded. Things were working out just fine. Soon she would get her revenge on Carlo for taking advantage of her. It was a good feeling.
* * *
Lina considered Max Steele a babe, which meant that more than likely she’d fuck him later. That’s if Charlie Dollar didn’t materialize. If she had a choice between an agent and a star, she’d take the star every time. Law of the jungle.
Max was a partner in IAA, International Artists Agency, a very hot place to be. He was partners with Freddie Leon, the superagent. She was a bit miffed that Freddie himself hadn’t chosen to handle her but, from what she’d heard, Max was almost as good.
He met her at the bar in the Peninsula, and they got along straight away.
‘Is Charlie coming?’ she asked, crossing her long legs and lighting a cigarette.
Max’s eyes were popping. ‘Baby, one look at you and he’ll be coming all the way to Africa!’
‘You’re a cute one, huh?’ she said, blowing smoke in his direction.
‘There’s only one cute one here,’ Max said with a sly smile. ‘And it certainly ain’t me.’
She continued checking him out. Max Steele was not movie-star handsome, but he had an abundance of boyish charm, a full head of curly brown hair, an in-shape body, and plenty of charisma.
‘So who’s the director?’ she asked, sipping a rum and Coke through a straw.
‘A friend of mine,’ Max said, with a wink. ‘But you don’t have to worry about the director. If Charlie likes you, we’re in.’
‘Who does the studio want for the part?’ she asked, anxious to find out who she was up against.
‘They’re after a name,’ Max said. ‘They’re pushing for Angela or Lela, even Whitney.’
‘Don’t be daft,’ Lina said, snorting with laughter. ‘It’s not a big enough part for Whitney. And she certainly wouldn’t take her clothes off. Bobby would never put up with it.’
‘You’d be surprised,’ Max said. ‘Roles for black actresses are not that easy to find.’
‘Oh, it’s a racist thing in Hollywood, is it?’ she said, cocking her head to one side.
‘It’s always been a racist thing in Hollywood,’ Max replied, thinking that this girl was a total knock-out.
‘Really?’
‘You’re far more stunning than your photographs.’
She giggled. ‘Yeah, like I haven’t heard that line before.’
‘It’s not a line,’ he said indignantly. ‘I’m an agent, I have to be truthful with my clients. If you looked like shit I’d tell you.’
‘Sure you would,’ she said sanguinely. ‘An’ the Pope goes rollerskatin’ up my arse.’
‘Oh,’ Max said. ‘Charlie’s going to love you.’
* * *
Brigette accompanied Kyra on her shopping trip to Harvey Nichols. She even bought a few things herself – some cool Police shades, a soft pink cashmere sweater and a long silk scarf.
‘Told you this was a great store,’ Kyra boasted, as if she was personally responsible for the array of tempting goods.
Brigette nodded.
‘Y’ know,’ Kyra announced, completely oblivious to the fact that Carlo had only had eyes for Brigette, ‘if I wasn’t married, I would’ve gone out with that bloke at lunch.’
‘Why?’ Brigette questioned.
‘Why?’ Kyra answered, surprised that Brigette would even ask. ‘’Cause he’s a babe. And he’s got that count thingy going for him.’
He’s a bastard, Brigette wanted to say. He drugged and raped me, and he’s going to pay for it.
But she didn’t say a word.
This was her game now, and she would play it her way.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Two things struck Lennie when he awoke. One, he wasn’t in his own bed; and two, several numbers were jumping around in his head.
Was it possible that he was finally remembering the licence plate?
He groped for a notepad and quickly jotted down the numbers – three of them. Not enough, but better than nothing. Then he called his wife.
Lucky answered, sounding sleepy.
‘It’s me,’ he said, very upbeat as if nothing was going on. ‘We should talk.’
; ‘That’s what I’ve been trying to do for the last six weeks,’ she said, waking up with a start.
‘Okay, okay,’ he said. ‘I admit it’s my fault. No need to get belligerent, I’m trying to be nice here.’
‘You’re trying to be nice?’ she responded hotly, struggling to sit up. ‘Wasn’t it you who walked out last night?’
‘I know, honey,’ he said soothingly, ‘and I got a feeling it was a good thing ’cause it gave us space. And guess what?’
‘What?’ She sighed, thrown by his sudden change of mood.
‘I came up with a couple of numbers that I’m sure were part of the licence plate.’
‘Have you called Detective Johnson?’
‘Not yet.’
‘What’re you waiting for?’
‘To speak to you first. Can we meet for breakfast, or shall I come home right now?’
‘No, Lennie,’ she said sternly, not about to forgive him so fast. ‘You walked out last night. You’re right, we both need space.’
‘But I miss you, baby.’
She felt herself beginning to weaken, Lennie had that effect on her. ‘I miss you, too,’ she said quietly.
‘I’ll be there in twenty minutes.’
‘No,’ she said quickly. ‘I’ll meet you for breakfast.’
‘If that’s what you want.’
‘Yes. Where are you?’
‘At the Sunset Marquis. Hurry.’
‘As soon as I’m dressed. In the meantime call Detective Johnson.’
Thoughtfully she put down the phone. Maybe Lennie was right, one night apart and he realized how wrong he was. Thank God! Because she couldn’t stand fighting with him, it drove her crazy.
Before she could get out of bed the phone rang again. She grabbed it. ‘Okay, okay – I’m on my way,’ she said.
‘You are?’ Alex said.
‘Oh – it’s you.’
‘Oh, it’s me. Does that indicate that you’ve heard from your husband.’
‘What’re you? A psychic?’
‘Kind of.’
‘Okay, you’re right. He called, wants to meet. And I must say he sounds a whole lot better.’
‘I couldn’t be happier,’ Alex drawled sarcastically.
‘Don’t be a prick. Be happy for me.’
‘I prefer it when you’re separated.’
‘It didn’t even last twenty-four hours.’
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