by J. P. Bowie
“Two please,” Winifred replied. “The one below the notorious Miss Olivia Winters…That where you’re headed?”
“Uh huh.” Brad looked at her sideways. “How’d you know that?”
J.P. Bowie
146
“You’re an actor,” she chirped. I’ve seen you on TV—some late night series…”
“Galaxy X,” Brad told her. “The Sci-fi channel. You like sci-fi?”
“Not really—I just thought you were cute.”
Brad laughed. “Thanks.” He held out his hand. “Brad Kingman.”
“Winifred Owen. You heard of me?”
“Can’t say I have? You on TV?”
“Movies—well, I used to be. When you were still in short pants probably.”
She gave him a winsome smile. “Well, this is my floor. When you get tired of her, you can come down and see me sometime.”
Brad was still chuckling when the elevator doors opened revealing the marble foyer outside Olivia’s penthouse. He whistled softly to himself. “Very nice…” He rapped on the door then frowned as it was thrown open by Brenda.
“What are doing here? I told you I wanted to see her alone.”
“She wouldn’t go for it,” Brenda told him. “So you’re stuck with me here too.”
“Where is she?”
“In the bedroom—she’ll be out in a minute.”
Brad walked to the balcony windows and looked out. “Quite a place she’s got here…”
“Why Brad…” Olivia’s voice made him turn away from the view. “What an unpleasant surprise.”
He looked her over with an appraising eye. “You look good Olivia…money agrees with you.”
“And just how much of that do you want?” Olivia stalked to the bar and poured herself a shot of Jack Daniels. “Let’s not waste time with crap—how much do you want?”
Brad’s handsome face creased in a tight smile. “Still the arrogant bitch you always were, I see,” he said with a low derisive laugh. “Get rid of your side-kick.” He jerked a thumb at Brenda. “Then we’ll talk.”
“No way. Brenda stays right here. I’m not going to be alone with you…”
“Don’t trust yourself, huh?” he asked with a smirk. “Maybe you’d like a taste just for old time’s sake.”
“Okay Brad,” Brenda rasped. “That’s enough. Say what you want then hit the road…”
“No, no, no ladies.” Brad walked to the couch and sat down, stretching his long legs out in front of him. “I’m not hitting any road, except Olivia Street.
I’m here for keeps this time. This time, I’m calling the shots.”
J.P. Bowie
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“You must be on crack!” Olivia yelled. “What makes you think we’d stand for you being around all the time?”
“You mean apart from my natural good looks and charm?” Brad sniggered.
“Well, for starters, how about if I inform your loving public that you and Brenda here a couple of big dykes?”
“I am not a dyke!” Olivia screamed.
“And how about if I show your adoring fans a video of you and Brenda—and a certain masked man—engaging in some very dangerous sexual acts. I fancy it would be an even bigger sensation than Tommy and Pamela’s video.”
“That? You don’t have that anymore. I paid you for that already, you bastard.”
“Yeah, I know—but not nearly enough.” Brad smiled at her. “I tried to be reasonable, Olivia. If you had simply helped me out when I asked you last year if you’d help finance my movie—you know, the one I wrote—sweated blood over for three years. If you’d just been a little more amenable to the whole project, I probably wouldn’t be here now, bugging you like this. Instead, you told me to go to hell, which really wasn’t very nice. Imagine my surprise when I discovered I had another copy of that video…” He looked at the two women with barely concealed mirth. “I just couldn’t believe I had failed to mention I had a spare copy…”
“Why you miserable son-of-a-bitch,” Brenda seethed.
“Oh, come on Brenda,” Brad giggled. “You of all people shouldn’t be mad.
You look like you’re having the time of your life on that tape. I’ve never seen you happier.”
“Stop!” Olivia yelled, her face ashen. “Brad, please don’t do this. Why drag all this up after all these years? I’ll give you the money to have your movie made, if that’s all you want…”
“Well, now…see,” Brad looked at her, his eyes glinting with mischief.
“That’s not all I want, I’m afraid. If you’d been more reasonable when I first asked you, that might have been enough…”
“So what else do you want?” Brenda asked.
“Not you, Brenda—not you.” Brad stood up and stretched his long, lean body in an arrogant display of nonchalance. “I want you to marry me, Olivia.
Marry this poor, struggling actor with whom you have fallen madly in love. Go on your show—marvel at my talent—ask why directors haven’t been knocking my door down to hire me—and then tell them that I am about to make you the happiest woman in the world.”
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“You must be nuts,” Brenda exploded.
“Nope, not nuts,” Brad said happily. “And just to prove how much you love me, there will be no pre-nuptial agreement. You and I, Olivia, will be man and wife, till death us do part—with all the benefits that befits a loving couple.”
Olivia sank down onto a barstool and poured herself another drink. Her head was spinning. Marry him? Impossible—she hated him. She’d love him once…Shit! He was still so damned good looking…Yeah, but he had the morals of a snake. She’d never be able to trust him—but she couldn’t let that video go public. It would ruin her for sure. Even if they carried out Brenda’s idea, would they find the second video? Was there a second video? Was this all just a bluff? How could she find out? She needed to stall for time. Yeah, that was it—stall for time.
“Okay,” she said, breaking the silence that had fallen on the room. “You win, Brad. But,” she glared at him through narrowed eyes. “I get to see that other copy burned—and any others you just might have lying around.”
Brad’s smile was wary. This had been way too easy, he thought. She was up to something. Aloud, he said; “I knew you’d see it my way, darling. You have to admit Brenda…” He grinned at Olivia’s furious manager. “We’ll make a great looking couple.”
“You’d make a better looking corpse,” Brenda snarled. She glared at Olivia.
“You caved too easy. This moron will ruin you one way or the other. He’s trash, Olivia—pure, unadulterated trash. This is the worst decision you could have made.”
“Now Brenda,” Brad pouted. “I don’t think you should be talking about me like that. In fact, now that I am Olivia Winter’s fiancé, I feel it my duty to protect her from your vicious, slanderous tongue. You’re fired, Brenda—goodbye.”
“Olivia?” Brenda looked at her, outraged. “Tell him he can’t do that.”
Olivia’s eyes slid away from the other woman. For a moment she gazed into the amber liquid in her glass—then she lifted her head and said quietly; “Sorry, Brenda…You’d better go.”
“I don’t believe this,” Brenda screeched.
“Believe it,” Brad said. “And beat it.”
Brenda stood for a long moment, looking from one to the other then she turned and lurched toward the door, where she paused and turned again to face them. “Well, you sure deserve one another. Loser and bigger loser…a marriage made in hell. Go fuck yourselves!”
As the door slammed behind her, Brad winked at Olivia. “Well now. Time to celebrate, don’t you think?”
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Brenda fumed silently as the elevator stopped at a floor she hadn’t expected.
She stared at the little woman who got on alongside her. Jeez, it was that old has-been who thought she was still a star.
“Hi,” Winifred
said, punching the basement button.
“Hi, yourself,” Brenda growled.
“I swear my memory is failing me fast,” Winifred chuckled. “I don’t know how many times I have to go back to my car for something I forgot.”
“Fascinating,” Brenda drawled, rolling her eyes.
“You look like you lost a dollar and found fifty cents,” Winifred chuckled.
Brenda looked sharply at the old movie star. “Gee, that’s original,” she snarled.
“My, lady. You really need to chill…Nothin’s ever that bad, you know.”
“What would you know? Fifteen years I’ve given that bitch and now I’m axed.”
“You mean the Dragon Lady canned you?” Winifred was trying not to sound happy. Oh my, she thought. When bitches fall out…
“That’s what I mean, yes. Fired—me—after all I’ve done.” Brenda blinked back her tears.
“There, there, dear.” Winifred patted the other woman’s arm. “Lovers spat, was it?”
“What? Where the hell would you get that idea from?” Brenda glared at her and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “That’s the kind of crap that ruins people’s careers. Lovers spat? What crap!”
“You’re repeating yourself dearie,” Winifred said.
“And you’re enjoying this aren’t you?” Brenda yelled. “You old has-been.”
“Better a has-been, than a never-was—like you, dear. At least I never stood in someone else’s shadow.” The elevator doors opened and Winifred skipped out. “Have a nice day, dearie.”
Winifred shook her head as she retrieved the forgotten bags of groceries from the trunk of her car. “You really are a nasty old lady,” she told herself.
“Takin’ a delight in that poor woman’s misfortune—and her such a nice person.” She chuckled as she closed the trunk. She turned, then gasped as she saw Brenda standing behind her, a murderous glint in her eye.
“Listen to me, you old bitch,” she rasped, her voice thick with venom. “You better watch that mouth of yours if you know what’s good for you…”
“Oh, please,” Winifred shot back, “You don’t scare me, missy…”
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“Shut up!” Brenda shoved her up against the trunk of her car. “Old broads like you think no one’s gonna beat up on them, right? Well, guess again. You sass me like you did back there again—and I’ll beat the crap out of you.”
“My, such a lady,” Winifred said, rubbing her elbow and trying not to look scared, though indeed, now she was.
“I’m warning you. Keep that mouth of yours zipped—got it?” Brenda turned to go, then looked back at her. “Maybe I should just give you a little taste of what I mean…”
“Everything all right there, ladies?”
They both looked at the security guard who stood, hands on his belt, peer-ing at them curiously.
Winifred breathed a sigh of relief as Brenda drew back and walked quickly away.
“You OK, Miss Owens?”
“Yes thanks, Armstrong.” Much to her annoyance, Winifred found she was trembling. “Could you give me a hand with these bags?”
“Sure thing.” Armstrong grabbed the shopping bags out of the trunk and walked with her to the elevator. “Wasn’t that Miss Winter’s manager?” he asked. “She seemed angry or something…”
“Yeah, she was asking if I enjoyed the shows and I guess my answer kinda pissed her off.”
“You don’t enjoy them?” Armstrong sounded surprised.
“They’re OK, I guess—just not my kind of entertainment. People blabbing about their hang-ups and problems…I’d rather watch a good movie.”
Armstrong smiled down at her. “Want me to come up with these?”
“No thanks. I’ll manage from here. Thanks again.” Winifred returned the guard’s smile as she pressed the button for her floor. Jeez, she thought, as the elevator hummed smoothly upwards, that woman is nuts. Well, with any luck she won’t be back here, now she’s been given the old heave-ho.
Her phone was ringing as she opened her apartment door. Dropping her bags, she picked up just before her answering machine cut in. “Hello?”
“Hi, Winifred—it’s Peter Brandon.”
“Well hi, you cute thing. What’s new?”
“I just wanted to thank you for the drinks and the good company the other night.”
“You are so welcome. Having two hunks in my apartment at the same time, just made my night.”
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Peter laughed, then said; “Well, we enjoyed that part of the evening very much.”
“How was dinner with DG?”
“DG?”
“The Dragon Lady!”
“Oh…” Peter laughed again. “Well, as a matter of fact, that didn’t go too well. We didn’t go to dinner with her as it turned out. She laid some news on us we didn’t like and it ended up with Jeff and her having a few words, so we decided to leave.”
“Wow…” Winifred exclaimed, enjoying this bit of gossip. “That must have really made her mad.”
“Oh, she was mad all right. But she’s getting mixed up in our friends’
lives—people we really care about—and making the whole situation worse just so she can boost her show’s ratings. Jeff and I think it’s pretty despicable.”
“Well, I have some news for you,” Winifred said with relish. “Hot off the press, I may add.”
“What’s that?”
“I just rode in the elevator with that bimbo manager of hers…”
“Brenda?”
“Mm-hmm…And she’s been given the boot. Fired, axed, eighty-sixed—and boy, was she mad.”
“She told you this?” Peter asked, surprised.
“Yep. She looked kinda upset, and me being the sweet old lady that I am…”
she paused to chuckle over that. “I asked her what was wrong. She came out with it real fast and furious. I guess I was a bit flippant and that made her even madder. She actually threatened me with bodily harm, no less.”
“You’re kidding…”
“Nope. I was real glad to see one of our security guys show up, I can tell you.
I think he saved me from a really nasty scene.”
“Winifred, that’s terrible. Are you all right?”
“Oh yeah, I’m fine. Takes more than some jumped up nobody to scare me…But I’ll you something—that woman is nuts and is capable of getting rid of whatever’s in her way.”
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Brad rolled over in bed and stared at the clock on the nightstand beside him. Shit, ten o’clock, he thought—I must have dozed off. He flipped on the bedside lamp and looked around him. He was alone.
“Olivia? Where are you, baby?” He swung his legs out of the bed and padded, naked, across the room. “Olivia?”
“Out here.”
He walked over to where she sat by the window in the living room, nursing a drink. She looked him up and down, her lips lifted in a sardonic smile.
“Well, well,” she said. “Think you’re still quite the stud, dontcha?”
“You seemed to think so, earlier,” Brad replied with a smirk. “Or was all that heavy moaning just an act?”
“That’s for me to know and you to find out.” She rose and walked toward him. “I’ll have to admit though, you’re in good shape for an old guy.”
Brad chuckled. “I’m younger than you, don’t forget.”
Olivia frowned. “Well, we won’t make that public, now will we?”
“It’s pretty fashionable these days.” He drew her into his arms and kissed her, hard. “Tell me you didn’t enjoy what we did,” he said, his voice husky. “You and I—we were always right for one another.”
“Maybe…” Olivia kissed him back then stepped out of his embrace. “We have to get a few things straightened out before we go any further with this.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. Go put some shorts on.
That thing waving at me is sorta distracting.”
She watched him as he swaggered toward the bedroom.
He turned and grinned at her. “Enjoying the view?”
“Hurry it up,” she growled. Damn him, she thought, she always had found him irresistible. Back then, when they’d first met, she’d craved him night and day. When it all fell apart and she and Brenda had left him behind, she had missed him and the great sex they’d had. If only she hadn’t listened to that crazy scheme to make a sex video—‘Just for laughs’. Yeah, but who was laughing now?
He came back into the room wearing his jeans and a tee shirt that showed off his sculpted torso and muscular arms. “Not too over-dressed, am I?” he asked her with a grin.
“You’ll do. Okay, first—Brenda…”
“What about her?”
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“She can’t stay fired. She knows too much.”
“I can take care of that…”
“How can you take care of that?” She swallowed the last of her drink and walked over to the bar to fix another.
“You drink too much,” Brad said, following her and taking the glass from her hand.
“No kidding! Is it any wonder with all that’s coming down around me?”
Olivia glared at him. “Crazy broads threatening my life, some nutcase stalking me, faggots telling me what I can do on my own show, you showing up after all these years I’ve paid you off, telling me you want a bigger piece of the pie. Now, Brenda’s out there, no doubt planning some kind of a hit—that’s what she wanted to do with you, you know. Get someone to scare you, or failing that, bump you off.”
“Stupid bitch!” Brad yelled. “And you want her back here?”
“It’s the only way to keep her quiet, Brad. Out there, she’ll be some kind of loose cannon, ready to blow our names and reputations all over the tabloids. I know her…she won’t take this lying down.”
“Okay, okay,” Brad muttered. “Unfire her then—but keep her away from me. I don’t trust her.”
“Oh, that’s droll…” Olivia’s voice was heavy with sarcasm. “The blackmailer doesn’t trust the blackmailer.”
Brad looked contrite. “I’m not blackmailing you, baby. All I ever wanted was you and me to be reunited. Telling Brenda I’d go public was the only sure way I knew you’d see me.”