‘Like what?’ Charley asked, biting down on her bottom lip, her voice dripping with nerves. ‘Do you think something is going to happen?’
‘Charley, what the hell are you talking about? What do you think is going to happen?’ India laughed, smiling her thanks at the barman as he handed her a fresh drink.
‘In case you hadn’t realised, India, Jimmy Cash is still out there, somewhere. And I have no idea what his next move is going to be, so, excuse me if I’m slightly on edge right now.’
‘He’s not going to do anything here, tonight though, is he?’ India replied, shuffling about in her chair because anything to do with Jimmy Cash made her more than a touch uncomfortable, considering what he’d done to her brother. ‘I mean, come on. Even Jimmy Cash can’t be stupid enough to try anything here, not with the amount of security Vince has got in place.’ India wasn’t actually sure who she was trying to convince now – Charley, or herself. Jesus! She really didn’t want to talk about Jimmy Cash tonight, and she didn’t think Charley should be dwelling on it either. This wasn’t the time.
‘Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.’ Charley breathed a heavy sigh of relief, running her fingers through her hair and shaking it out, almost as if that would rid her of any remaining tension. ‘Vince said not to think about all of that tonight.’
‘Maybe you should listen to him then,’ India said, taking a sip of her Jack Daniels. ‘Vince knows what he’s talking about.’
Charley smiled, crossing her legs and hugging her knees. ‘I can’t believe I could have lost him, India.’
‘But you didn’t, did you? I’m not denying what you and Kenny did wasn’t stupid but, Jesus, come on. Who the hell am I to lecture anyone on stupid decisions? I’m the bloody expert on all things stupid.’ India looked at her friend, reaching out to take her hand, squeezing it gently. ‘Look, it’s over, Charley. Vince is a good, good man. The best. And he loves you, so much, so just forget about you and Kenny and concentrate on you and Vince. He’ll make sure this Jimmy business goes away…’
‘How though, India? How is he going to do that? How can he possibly deal with a man like Jimmy Cash?’
‘He just will, Charley. Vince won’t let you down. He won’t do that, I know he won’t. And I also know he’ll move heaven and earth to sort this out so just listen to him, okay? And trust him. You do that, and before you know it everything will be back to normal.’
‘Do you think so?’ Charley asked hopefully.
‘Yeah,’ India smiled. ‘I think so.’
‘I really hope you’re right,’ Charley sighed. ‘Because every morning I wake up hoping this has just been one long, unwelcome nightmare. But when I see the way Vince looks at me sometimes, I know it isn’t. And I just want it to be over. I want it to be over soon.’
And it would be. Sooner than anyone expected.
***
Jimmy pushed his Stetson down further over his eyes, walking at a brisk pace towards the sounds of the party. The lights and lasers still lit up the night sky and the pounding music grew closer as he slowed down slightly to light up a cigar, stopping briefly to take a deep draw, blowing smoke into the star-filled sky.
He looked up at the blackness for a few seconds, feeling not one ounce of regret for what he was about to do. Charley had to know that she would never be free of him, she had to know that. Oh, he’d given her a bit of respite, some time to see what a normal life could be like but that was over now. He’d been way too generous as it was. She needed to know now. She needed to know that this world she lived in, she didn’t deserve it. She’d ruined his life and now it was his turn to ruin hers. Charley Miles – porn star. That’s all she ever deserved to be. That’s all she ever would be.
Taking one last deep draw of his cigar he exhaled the smoke and threw the rest of it down on the ground, stubbing it into the concrete path with his boot, probably with a touch more venom than was really necessary, but Jimmy was fired up now. He was ready.
Shoving his hands into his jacket pockets he took a quick look around, but the few people who were walking through the gardens were too engrossed in their own worlds to take any notice of him. They didn’t know or care who he was; nobody did, really – except Charley.
Smiling to himself he picked up the pace again and strode towards the main body of the hotel. They wanted a wrap party to remember? Jimmy Cash was about to give them exactly that. And blow the consequences.
***
‘What’s the matter?’ India asked, reaching out to gently stroke Dominic’s face, cocking her head on one side as she looked at him.
‘Nothing.’
She pulled her hand away, still looking at him. ‘Y’know, I really hate it when people say “nothing”, especially when it’s quite obvious something’s up.’
‘Where are we going, India?’
She frowned, her head still cocked on one side. ‘What do you mean?’
‘You won’t marry me…’
‘No, because you asked that question without even stopping to think about this whole situation in a realistic way, Dominic. Come on. I can’t marry you. With my track record? I think you’re crazy for even contemplating it. We’ve only known each other five minutes; you should run a mile, in my opinion.’
He narrowed his eyes as he looked at her. ‘Why would I want to do that?’
She sighed, leaning back against the wall. ‘I’m bad news, Dominic. Every man who comes near me gets hurt in some way or another. Why would you want to put yourself through that?’
‘Because I love you.’
‘Because you think you can be the man to change the pattern, huh?’
‘Why not?’
She took a sip of Jack Daniels, looking around the still-crowded terrace area, the music still thumping, the lights still flashing. ‘You can’t, alright? That man will never exist.’
‘You never struck me as a quitter, India.’
She looked at him over the top of her tumbler as she downed the last of her drink. ‘Who said I was quitting anything? I just need you to know how things stand, Dominic. I’m a mess – I always have been, always will be. And you need to be certain that you can deal with that.’
‘We could get married here, in Vegas. Before we go back to L.A.’
‘Oh no,’ India laughed, putting her empty glass down on a table behind her. ‘No. No way. Just leave it, Dominic. Okay? Nobody is marrying anybody, least of all here in Vegas. You got that? It’s a bloody ridiculous idea.’
He smiled that killer smile and India couldn’t help but smile back, letting him pull her against him, closing her eyes as he kissed her deep and slow, her resolve weakening with every movement of his mouth on hers. She shouldn’t be doing this. And she shouldn’t be doing this because she now knew she was doing it for all the wrong reasons, but he was giving her no choice here. Would it be such a bad thing to just kick back and have fun tonight? Maybe things would look different in the morning.
‘Yeah. I got it.’
She pulled away slightly, running her fingertips over his mouth, staring deep into those almost cobalt-blue eyes of his. ‘I mean it, Dominic. I can’t marry you, and that’s for your own good rather than mine. I’ll only hurt you, just like I’ve hurt every other man who’s got involved with me.’
‘Self-pity doesn’t suit you, India. And credit me with some sense, okay? I’m a big boy now. I think I’m quite capable of making my own mistakes.’
‘Oh, so I’m a mistake now, am I?’ she asked, a smile still playing at the corners of her mouth.
‘You said so yourself, baby. And, like I said, I’m a big boy now.’
‘Yeah,’ she whispered, her mouth resting on his as she spoke, ‘I know you are.’
‘Wanna go start a private party of our own?’
‘You’re such a bad influence on me, Dominic MacDonald.’
‘Takes two to tango, beautiful. Come on. Let’s get out of here.’
***
‘What do you want to do when we get back to L.A.?’ Layla as
ked Michael as they sat outside on the terrace, glad of the slight breeze that had just appeared, taking the edge off the stuffy Vegas night air.
‘What do you mean?’ Michael asked, sitting back in his chair, glancing briefly over at India and Dominic who seemed engrossed in some kind of intimate conversation. He ignored the tiny stab of jealousy. Nobody had said that forgetting her was going to be immediate. It was still a work-in-progress, but at least he’d stopped fighting for the impossible now.
‘I think you should make an honest woman of me, Michael Walsh,’ Layla smiled, taking his hand.
He looked at her, smiling too. She made him smile. She’d always made him smile; he’d just never really allowed himself to enjoy her. Something he was starting to regret a little now. ‘An honest woman, huh? Layla… you do know how old I am, don’t you?’
‘When did we start talking about age? I don’t care how old you are, Michael. All I care about is that I finally get to be with the man I love – without having to share him. Because that’s all over now, isn’t it?’
He nodded, squeezing her hand, still smiling at this incredibly beautiful young woman in front of him. He was lucky to have her. He was very, very lucky to still have her. ‘It’s all over, Layla. I promise.’
She leant over to kiss him, his heart skipping that proverbial beat, making him feel about sixteen again. And it felt good. It felt good to be having those feelings for someone other than a woman he’d thought he could never be without. But he’d been wrong. He could live without her. Of course he could.
‘Then let’s start as we mean to go on, Michael. Make an honest woman of me and let’s give this new baby the family he or she deserves. What do you say?’
He was still smiling, a smile that came from the heart, because he was genuinely happy. No more pretending, no more settling for second best. He was happy. With Layla. With the prospect of a whole new start. With life.
‘I’d say, Layla Boyd, will you marry me?’
***
Kenny finished yet another bottle of beer and watched as Yasmin, the stunning model-turned-actress he’d met at the bar earlier, sashayed sexily onto the dance floor, joining her friends in some moves so provocative they wouldn’t look out of place in a strip joint. He wondered if that skill was listed on any of their CV’s. Certainly looked as though they’d had some practice.
Grabbing another bottle of beer from the barman he slid down off his stool and left Yasmin and her gang of sexy but empty-headed model friends to their writhing. She wouldn’t miss him. She seemed to be quite happy entertaining herself – and anybody else who was watching. He was sure she’d still be around if he felt like taking her back to his suite later. The night was still young, and he’d already surprised himself by hanging out at this party longer than he’d originally intended.
Wandering out onto the terrace area he looked around, trying to spot India amongst the crowds of people all grabbing themselves some fresh air, the noise of chatter and laughter resonating above the thumping bass of a Lady Gaga track. He finally spotted her hanging around the sidelines, almost hidden behind a clutch of palm trees, up close and personal with Dominic MacDonald.
He took a long swig of beer and turned away, beginning to make his way back inside before thinking better of it. He wasn’t really in the mood for Yasmin anymore. Maybe it would be better if he hung around out here for a bit. Grabbed a bit of time to himself. On his own. Something Kenny Ross was fast getting used to.
***
Charley watched as Vince walked back over to her, a smile on his face that made her stomach do a double-flip, because it looked genuine. Things were getting easier; she couldn’t say they were perfect – he’d forgiven her for what had happened with Kenny, but she couldn’t expect him to forget quite so quickly. She didn’t expect miracles. But it was good to see flashes of her wonderful husband’s incredible smile light up his face.
‘Hey. I’ve missed you. Where’ve you been?’ Vince asked, circling Charley’s waist with his arm, pulling her against him.
‘I’ve been talking to India,’ Charley replied, playing with the collar of Vince’s shirt, glad of the cool breeze she could feel against her back because the heat of the night had started to become quite stifling.
‘She actually left Dominic’s side for a few minutes then, did she?’
‘Well, if you ask me, I’m not entirely sure everything’s quite as perfect in that relationship as we may have been led to believe.’
‘Oh yeah?’ Vince enquired, raising an eyebrow. ‘What’s she been saying?’
Charley shrugged. ‘She hasn’t actually said anything. Not to me, anyway. I just know her, that’s all.’
‘She just needs to let herself be happy, Charley. Because that’s a lesson I’ve learnt myself over the past couple of weeks.’
Charley looked up at him, into his eyes. She loved this man so much. So, so much. He’d saved her, made her forget that world that had almost destroyed her and given her a new life that she still sometimes thought was too good to be true. She should never have risked that. Never. Not for anything. And she’d never, ever do it again.
‘We can be happy, Vince. Can’t we?’ she said quietly, still fiddling with the collar of his shirt until his hand closed around hers, stopping her.
‘We are happy, Charley.’
She was still looking into his eyes, searching his face for the tiniest hint of something that might make her think he was only telling her what she wanted to hear. But she couldn’t find anything. He was telling her the truth.
‘Yeah,’ she whispered, closing her eyes as his mouth lowered down onto hers. ‘We are. We are happy…’
***
Nobody took any notice of the man in the Stetson, except the tall, blond-haired security guard who stood aside to let him in, both of them exchanging a brief nod of recognition.
Nobody noticed him walk across the crowded dance floor; it was almost as if he didn’t exist, as if he was just some apparition that nobody could really see. Nobody paid him any attention.
Nobody cared about this face in the crowd as he strode through the club on his way to the outdoor terrace area, because that’s where they all were. All of them. All in one place. Just how he’d wanted it to be. And they’d made it so easy – so unbelievably easy.
Nobody noticed him. Nobody tried to stop him. Even as he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the small but powerful hand pistol, nobody seemed to notice him, nobody seemed to be aware that this party was about to be brought to an abrupt and terrifying end. Nobody had any idea. Until it was too late…
EPILOGUE
The paparazzi swung into action as the car drew up at the foot of the red carpet. Everyone was waiting for the doors to open, waiting to see if the rumours were true. Waiting to see if Hollywood had the happy ending it had wanted after that night in Vegas. A night which had changed lives, and ended one.
The flashbulbs popped, filling the air with a barrage of light and noise as she emerged from the black limo, her long legs covered by dark skinny jeans and knee-high boots with sky-scraper heels, her hair loose and tousled round her tanned shoulders. Was she alone? There was an almost audible sigh of disappointment from the crowd of paparazzi and press; from the mass of people who’d turned up outside the theatre to see if what the papers were saying was true, because nobody really knew. There was no photographic evidence to back up the rumours, no statement from anyone to say that it was true. Someone had just put two and two together and assumed that was the outcome. But surely, tonight, everyone would know.
She stood by the door of the limo, smiling at the photographers, waving to the crowd, but giving no reply to the endless questions being thrown in her direction from anxious reporters, all of them wanting to be the first to get the scoop, the first to get that story, that photograph. But, so far, it seemed as though she had, indeed, arrived alone.
And then she turned briefly to that still-open door of the imposing black car, her smile now directed at some
one else, someone who slowly started to emerge from the interior of the spacious limo, and the flashbulbs and clicks of the hundreds of cameras, the questions from the waiting press, they all picked up pace as another figure exited the car. Was it who everybody expected it to be?
The once audible sigh of disappointment gave way to a gasp of expectation as her smile grew wider; her hand sliding into the hand of the person who’d emerged from the limo. It was a Hollywood love story twenty years in the making. That’s how Hollywood itself had been describing it anyway, even though there’d been no concrete proof that it had happened. Until now. Because now it was obvious that all those rumours that had been flying around ever since that night in Las Vegas all those months ago, they were true. The rumours were true. And, as she leaned in towards the man who’d stepped out of the limo, closing her eyes as he kissed her long and slow, it seemed as though Hollywood finally had the kind of happy ending it craved.
***
That night in Vegas – the night of the wrap party at The Amber Palace – was still very fresh in the mind of everyone involved. A chaotic, terrifying night when both India and Charley had feared that Jimmy Cash was, once more, going to take from them people they loved. Because he’d tried. Of course he had. He’d tried.
One shot was all he’d managed to fire at first – one shot that had been forced to veer off-course by Dominic MacDonald, who’d acted with the quickest of reactions to knock the gun from Jimmy’s hand, causing the bullet to skim Vince’s shoulder rather than hit him where it had originally been aimed.
And whilst Dominic’s reflexes had been quick enough to enable him to pick up the gun, allowing him to face up to a manic Jimmy Cash, he’d been no match for a man on some kind of deranged revenge mission. And from then on, things had played out so fast that still nobody was entirely sure how everything had happened. Parts of it were very much blurred, or maybe just deliberately resigned to the backs of people’s minds because they didn’t particularly want to remember. But some things were hard to forget.
Illusions of Love Page 45