by Joanna Rees
‘Goodbye,’ she said, turning round and quickly walking away.
She didn’t look back. She didn’t want to see him staring after her. In case she changed her mind. And in case she’d just made one of the biggest mistakes of her life.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
In the exclusive salon on Rodeo Drive, Savvy stared in the mirror as Sebastian, the world-renowned hair technician, revealed Savvy’s new crop.
‘It’s pretty radical, Savvy. You look totally different,’ Sebastian said, looking at her in the mirror and gently patting the short blonde hair, before pulling an individual strand at the front.
Savvy smiled. ‘Good,’ she said.
‘It’s a real statement. It’s certainly saying something . . .’
‘What? Like “Don’t underestimate me, sweetie, or I might just cut off your balls”?’
Sebastian laughed. ‘Yeah, exactly.’
‘Then your work here is done,’ Savvy said, smiling. She stood up, shaking off the gown.
‘You can open up shop again,’ she told her old friend, placing the gown on the back of the chair.
She’d been flattered that Sebastian had not only granted Savvy a last minute appointment when she’d touched down in LAX less than two hours ago, but had offered to close the salon for the morning, so that she could have a complete overhaul with the beauticians as well as a consultation with Mimi, the stylist and another old friend from Savvy’s It-girl days, in peace and privacy.
Mimi was still the best stylist in the biz and arguably the biggest gossip in LA, and had responded straight away to Savvy’s call, eager for the lowdown on her time in rehab.
Who did she meet? Who did she have an affair with? Was she really going to give up her old partying ways?
Savvy had been happy to set the record straight. It wasn’t the story they were expecting, but dramatic nevertheless. Savvy wanted the word out there and this was the best way to do it. Savvy Hudson was back. And she’d changed for good.
As she’d riffled through all the clothes Mimi had brought, she’d thrown out every outfit. She didn’t want low-cut tops or sky-high sandals. She wanted clothes that were elegant . . . classy . . . serious. The only way she’d be taken seriously was if she looked serious, she told Mimi, who set to work, sending out her assistants along Rodeo Drive to find the outfits that would complete Savvy’s new look.
And now, as Savvy stepped confidently out of the salon, the bags containing kick-ass trouser suits and power-woman skirts swinging by her newly waxed legs, her brand new heels clipping the sidewalk, she pointed the beeper at the hired silver Lotus parked up against the kerb and finally felt as if she really was different.
She saw her reflection in the tinted glass and put her hand up to her new haircut, delighting in the way it felt.
If only Red were here to see her. He’d hardly recognize her.
But there was no time to get distracted with thoughts of Red. There was too much to do. She got into the car and, turning up the radio, did a fast U-turn in the road, the car’s brand new tyres screeching on the tarmac.
Today was a day for taking the bull by the horns.
Savvy pressed Marcus’s door buzzer for the fifteenth time, but still there was no answer. She squinted back down the drive, through the heat haze to where the date palms cast long shadows over the wide private road.
It was one of those humid, hot LA afternoons where the air doesn’t seem to move. She saw that the lawn was going brown at the edges, as if the sprinklers hadn’t been turned on for a while. An empty whisky bottle protruded from the hedge.
Marcus hadn’t returned any of her calls. Giving up on the front door, she walked over to the carport that stood alongside his once stylish but now dilapidated home.
Peering through the tinted glass doors, she saw that the carport was as empty as a squash court. His canary-yellow Lamborghini was gone.
So that must mean that Marcus had gone, too, right? But where? On holiday, perhaps? Because without Savvy, who knew who Marcus had been up to. Who he’d replaced her with.
But just as she was about to give up and turn away, she heard the bolts being moved and the heavy oak front door swung open.
Marcus was naked except for a dark-blue hand towel wrapped around his waist. His hair was greasy and mussed up and from the expression on his unshaven face, Savvy could tell that she’d woken him from a deep sleep, even though it was four in the afternoon.
‘Fuck,’ he said, when he saw her. He shook his head and rubbed at his eyes like he must be hallucinating.
‘Nice to see you, too,’ she said, taking off her shades.
‘You look . . .’ he said. He didn’t finish the sentence, but waved his arm for her to follow him inside.
‘Where’s your car?’ Savvy asked, walking behind him into his house, scrunching her nose up at the hideous smell of stale smoke and alcohol.
‘The repo men came,’ Marcus said.
The grand piano was gone from the hall, she saw. As was the Hockney that had once dominated the wall at the bottom of the stairs. All that remained was two wires sticking out of the wall, and a slightly grubby outline of where the picture had been.
The painting had been left to him by his grandmother. ‘My “Get Out of Jail Free” card’, Marcus had always called it. Which meant that he’d only sell it when the shit had truly hit the fan.
And now it was gone. No doubt he’d flogged it, or put it up as collateral. Or worse – Savvy noticed the playing cards strewn across the baize card table in the other room – lost it in a bet.
‘I had a party,’ Marcus said, picking up a bottle of vodka from a table crowded with empty bottles and squinting down its neck. He shook it and, realizing that it still had a dribble of liquid in it, took a swig. ‘You should have come. I didn’t realize you were in town.’
Marcus had had this place built for parties five years ago. After his mother had died of toxic shock on a now discredited Beverly Hills plastic surgeon’s table, he’d flown in his favourite Tribeca designer to do the job.
The louche interior with its bar and low sofas was perfect for looking out at the wide terrace, pool and the view of the Hollywood hills beyond.
Marcus’s notorious circular bed had been wheeled through to the sitting room some time during the long night and Savvy noticed that a pair of feet were sticking out of the end of it. From what she could ascertain from the feet, and the contours of the body beneath the red satin sheet, Marcus’s latest conquest was a slim and very tall black girl.
‘I didn’t realize you had company,’ she said. ‘Sorry.’
‘Come on,’ Marcus said, grabbing the unknown woman’s ankle and shaking it. There was an annoyed groan from beneath the pillow. ‘Come on, get up. Time to get going.’
‘New girlfriend?’ Savvy whispered.
‘Trixie,’ Marcus said, as the woman sat up in bed, blinking into the light, her fingers on her forehead, the diamanté studs on her long acrylic nails glittering. ‘Meet my . . . um . . . friend, Savvy.’
‘Tracy,’ the girl said, correcting him.
Tracy slowly unfolded her extraordinary body out of bed. She was wearing a black lace teddy – the crotch poppers still undone. If it weren’t for the folded dollar bills wedged in her ample cleavage, Savvy would have pinned her for a fashion model. She eyeballed Savvy as she strolled casually towards the bathroom as if she owned the place.
‘Charming,’ Savvy said, as the door clicked shut. ‘And quite a conversationalist. Known her long, have you?’
‘She’s from an agency,’ Marcus confessed.
‘You’re getting prostitutes now?’
‘She’s a call girl.’
‘There’s a difference?’
‘In price. Yes.’
‘You’d be better off spending your money on a cleaner. It stinks in here,’ she said, her tone making it perfectly clear that she wasn’t only referring to the physical smell. ‘I’ll be on the terrace.’
The evidence of Marcus’
s continued downward spiral during Savvy’s absence was even more marked outside. His vintage Harley Davidson motorbike was at the bottom of the murky pool. Someone had graffitied the back wall. Profanities and crude sexual drawings. Nothing smart.
Savvy had wondered what she’d feel like seeing Marcus. She’d feared that she’d see him and crave her old lifestyle back. But standing here, feeling so shiny and new in the midst of all the stale party debris, brought her nothing but a sense of relief.
Her own reflection stared back up at her as she leaned over the pool. She looked so different. Older and more confident. And, she had to admit, hot as hell with her new haircut. But not anything like she used to be. Sure, she’d been hot sexually before, but now she was a different kind of hot. As in the kind of hot where you might just get burned if you didn’t treat it with respect.
She guessed that Marcus probably thought so too, considering the speed with which he’d kicked Tracy out of his bed just now.
It was hard to believe that she’d once been part of all this. Almost as hard as it was to believe that she and Marcus had once been intimate.
She turned to see him emerge wincing into the daylight. He looked painfully thin. Much more of his lifestyle and she was certain he’d end up as broken and forgotten as the bike at the bottom of the pool.
Which was why she was here. She wasn’t just going to reach closure with Marcus on their old life together, she was determined to kick him into shape to join her in her new one too.
He was wearing large aviator shades, with an unlit cigarette between his teeth.
‘So out of ten,’ he said, ‘how pissed were you that I tricked you on to that plane?’
‘Eleven,’ she said, sitting down in one of the pool chairs. ‘I can’t believe you managed to keep the act up long enough to pull it off.’
‘Valium helped with the sincerity,’ he said. He lit his cigarette and sat down, crossing his legs and sucking on his cigarette, his knee shaking up and down. Savvy wondered whether he’d done a line before or after she’d arrived. She recognized his familiar, weaselly smile and the way he squinted through the smoke.
‘So how much did she pay you?’ Savvy asked.
‘Who?’
‘Paige, of course. To get me on that plane. Come on, you can tell me.’
Marcus looked bemused. ‘Paige? She never paid me a cent. Just arranged it. The whole thing was your father’s idea.’
‘Hud?’ Savvy thought she’d misheard.
‘Sure.’
Marcus scrunched up his nose as if astonished that she didn’t know this already. ‘He was pretty upset when he came here. He said I’d been leading you astray. I did point out that it was the other way around, but—’
‘Hud . . . was here?’ Savvy said.
Marcus picked a bit of tobacco from the end of his tongue. ‘Sat more or less where you are. Had a man-to-man. He and I have never seen eye to eye. But it was quite gratifying seeing him ask me for help.’
‘I bet it was,’ Savvy said, trying to imagine it all. She shook her head, struggling to digest the information. ‘I had no idea. I thought . . .’ She trailed off.
‘You may have had your rows with him, but you’re still his little princess – no matter what he calls you to your face.’
‘He doesn’t call me anything. He won’t even speak to me. Didn’t you read the papers? I’m dead to him.’
‘Bullshit. You’re all he’s got left, Savvy.’
Savvy suddenly thought of Red. He’d told her the same thing. And now, coming from Marcus, it felt obvious. True.
But why hadn’t Paige mentioned any of this in Miami? She’d given Savvy the impression that it was she and she alone who’d organized and paid for the Peace River retreat. And that Hud was still furious with her.
But perhaps she was just managing her expectations, Savvy guessed. Diplomatically smoothing the waters. Knowing that just because Hud had paid for her treatment, it didn’t necessarily mean he wanted her back. Typical of Paige to want to give Savvy as soft a landing as possible.
‘You know, given all that, I don’t think Hud would be that delighted to see you back here . . . with me,’ Marcus said. ‘But it’s great to see that they didn’t brainwash you after all. I always knew you were way too wicked for that.’ He grinned at her broadly. ‘So once Sleeping Beauty’s finished showering off in there, what say you we go out and score? Just like the old times.’
Savvy winced and shook her head. ‘One of the pledges I made when I left Peace River was to deal with my past . . . to face up to the destructive relationships I’ve been in.’
Marcus’s eyes darkened. ‘Oh. I see. And there I was thinking we were friends.’
‘We were,’ she said quickly. ‘Are.’ Oh God, this was coming out all wrong. ‘Which is why I came to see you. Because I don’t want you to carry on with all this . . .’
He was going to hate her, she knew. But someone had to tell him. Just like she’d been told by Red at Peace River. Someone had to tell him before it was too late.
Marcus laughed. ‘So you’ve come here to preach? Are you some kind of evangelical convert now? Jesus, Savvy.’
‘A stint in rehab would do you good. And as far as I’m aware, you don’t have anybody else who’d have the nerve to tell you that. Certainly not someone who can pay for you to get straight.’
He half stood to leave and Savvy thought she’d lost him. But he didn’t go. He sat back down and stared at the ground, cradling his head in his hands as Savvy began to speak.
She started telling him about her experience at Peace River Lodge and tried to describe what she’d learned. How much happier – better – she felt. But she didn’t bullshit him either. As well as the pros – his new future – she told him the cons. The pain. The sickness. The fury. But she told him she believed he could do it.
By the time Savvy had finished, Marcus’s eyes were red-rimmed and full of tears. He tried to make a joke. ‘Are there hot chicks in rehab?’ he asked.
Savvy smiled. ‘I went, didn’t I?’
She stayed with him for another hour. He fixed coffee and they drank it by the pool. He told her he’d think about her offer. And when she stood up to go, she believed he meant it too.
It had been a gamble coming to see Marcus. He was from the past, from her old life. But just because she’d thrown away all her old habits, it didn’t mean that she had to throw out everything. And she was going to drag Marcus into her new life whether he liked it or not. Because Marcus had stuck by her side, through thick and thin. And she had the feeling that she might just need an ally now.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Roberto Enzo had always described himself as ‘the doorman who took over the Ritz’ and Lois had to admit that, for all his wealth, the description was pretty accurate. Especially now, as he drew out Lois’s chair in the café of the Mandarin Oriental hotel in Hong Kong and walked round to sit opposite her.
‘I don’t like those chairs,’ he muttered, shaking his head and jutting out his jaw from his collar. ‘Backs are too low. All wrong.’
Lois laughed, delighted as always to be in Enzo’s company. He was a stickler for detail and competitive to his core. He might be paying several hundred dollars a day to be here in these beautiful surroundings, but all it represented to him was an alternative business model. To be scrutinized and analysed, before being criticized or admired.
‘Ah, I love this stuff,’ he said, rubbing his hands together, as the waitress placed bamboo steamers of dim sum on their table.
Lois smiled, unsurprised that Roberto had ordered already. He wasn’t one to waste a moment. He’d already told her on the phone this morning that today was going to be a big day, and in Roberto’s book that meant having a full stomach to deal with it.
‘I’m their best return customer and they know it,’ he told her. ‘Hong Kong’s one of my favourite places in the world. And “the old Mandy” is still one of the best pieces of real-estate ass the island’s got to offer.’ He sm
iled at the waitress, the comment for her benefit as much as for Lois’s.
Lois looked around her. The room, unlike many places she’d seen in Hong Kong, was flooded with natural light and had amazing views over Statue Square below and the green double-decker trams and the new-age glass skyscrapers beyond. She thought immediately of Aidan’s barge and the incredible view of the buildings from there.
Aidan . . . knowing that she wasn’t going to see him again was affecting her more than she’d like. Was he still here in the city? she wondered. Somewhere in all those buildings? Or had he already left Hong Kong?
It’s over. We’re wrong for each other, period. Get over it.
Roberto took the lid off the top steamer and breathed in the aroma of chicken and water chestnuts. ‘Come on, Lois, tuck in,’ he said, picking up his chopsticks.
Lois helped herself, but unlike Roberto she felt too nervous to eat.
‘You know when I first came here?’ he said. ‘In ’sixty-one. I was eighteen years old. A radio operator on the USS Constellation. We were based here in the Pan Shan Shock Anchorage for two years. I grew up round these streets. Became a man.’
Lois tried picturing Roberto as a fresh-faced kid in crisp navy whites, but the image wouldn’t stick. The man before her was too removed from that boy. He was her boss and she couldn’t see him any other way. ‘I bet you’ve got some stories to tell,’ she said.
‘You got to have the place to have the stories in,’ he said, waving his chopsticks around. ‘That’s why it’s so important to take notes. You know, up here.’ He tapped his temple.
‘It’s all in the detail,’ she said, his familiar mantra clearer to her now than ever before. Even here in the café with its dark timber panelling, its pewter-grey table mats and the pale-yellow silk wall coverings, there were gorgeous silver bowls of fuchsia and green dragon fruit.
‘So come on then, Lois. Tell me. Who’s the guy?’ Roberto asked, raising his eyebrows at her.
‘What?’ Lois felt her cheeks burn.
‘There. I knew it. Look at you now . . . looking like you swallowed all the glow worms in China.’