Putting on his glasses, he rubbed the stubble around his chin. Jade Johnson. A famous lady in her own field. She must think he was a grade A schmuck going for a quick pick-up. No wonder she hadn’t responded.
Jade Johnson. He had heard her name a hundred times. Shaking his head he smiled to himself. She presented a challenge. It had been far too long between challenges.
Susanna Brent’s girlfriends could not believe their good fortune. They were three Beverly Hills princesses with tight asses and hungry eyes. Susanna had invited them to Vegas for a reunion of sorts – they had graduated from high school together over twelve years before. ‘Maybe you’ll find some hot guys in Vegas,’ Susanna had promised temptingly. Hot guys were one thing – but Mannon Cable and Jack Python, both, within reaching distance! They were in heat!
Naturally, it was Howard who did the chasing. Howard, sweating in his turtleneck sweater, dropping names, and his pants if they would let him. On this weekend away from home ground he had gone pussy crazy!
Susanna’s trio of girlfriends were not interested. None of them wanted to be actresses. The term studio head did not impress them. And Howard, with his insane mugging and overpowering approach, scored a zero.
Mannon began telling jokes, and soon drew an attentive audience. Carlos Brent strolled over and started to top each one of Mannon’s stories with a better one of his own. The two men enjoyed each other’s celebrity.
Jack edged over to Jade, who was leaning over the rail studying the cool green water.
‘Searching for sharks?’ he asked casually.
She straightened up and faced him. Up close, in the strong daylight, she was staggeringly good-looking. Her very lightly tanned skin was soft and luminous, her gold-flecked eyes fascinatingly direct. The best thing about her, though, was her strong square jawline – which took the edge off perfection and made her vulnerable, strong, and just a touch aggressive, all at the same time.
He curbed a wild impulse to reach out and touch.
She pushed a hand through a tumble of shaggy copper hair and looked around at Dino and Susanna’s guests. ‘If I was searching for sharks, I’m sure there are better places to look than in the water. Yes?’
He liked the way she said ‘yes’ at the end of a sentence.
‘You see that man over there.’ She indicated Howard, who had now moved on to Carlos Brent’s girlfriend and was promising her stardom.
‘What about him?’ Jack asked curiously.
‘When I first came out to Hollywood – I guess it must be ten years ago. Anyway, he was an agent then, chic in his gold chains and perfect suntan. God, he gave me a real hard time. Chased me around the couch in my hotel suite, and badgered me day and night to go out with him. Antonio tells me he’s the head of a studio now. I’m in shock. The man is a moron! Do you know him?’
Jack considered his reply carefully. It was not going to do him much good if he admitted he was spending the weekend with Howard the moron. And he had to agree that if you didn’t know Howard, he could come across as an asshole. Choosing to shift focus he said, ‘What were you doing in Hollywood then?’
‘A screen test. The usual bullshit. Ten minutes in town was enough to convince me that I didn’t want it. I like to be in control of my life.’
A woman who thought along the same lines as he did. He liked her style. ‘Hey – I’m sorry for not knowing who you were last night,’ he said apologetically.
‘It’s not required knowledge,’ she joked. ‘A good model sells a product, not herself.’
‘And you’re the best, I hear.’
‘Who told you that?’ She paused. ‘Ah… let me see, could it be the great Antonio by any chance?’
‘God, you’re quick!’
‘Only when I’m running away from Howard whatshisname! Or maybe we should just call him Moron Numero Uno.’ She tilted her head. ‘Do you think I’m being too cruel?’
‘He’s not such a bad guy once you get to know him.’
‘Ah ha! So you do know him.’
‘Guilty, I’m afraid.’
She thought he had the sexiest eyes she had ever seen. They were an incredible green, with a deep intensity she could easily get lost in. ‘I hardly ever watch your show,’ she blurted foolishly, just so he wouldn’t think she was impressed.
He regarded her with cool amusement. ‘I didn’t ask you, but go on, make me feel bad.’
‘I didn’t mean to do that—’
‘Oh yes you did.’
She laughed. ‘I didn’t. Really.’
Their eyes met and stayed locked together just that moment too long.
She felt a jolt of electricity and so did he. Neither of them could ignore it.
‘What are you doing tonight?’ he asked.
She didn’t hesitate – sometimes she liked to take risks. ‘We’re having dinner, aren’t we?’
He liked a direct woman.
He liked everything about her.
Chapter Forty
Immediate problem: make a score. He had to pay Reba, and support his half-share in a dog, and eventually he was going to have to take Silver out, although in suited him just fine, and he wasn’t pushing.
Another night of unadulterated lust. And very nice too. Somewhere along the way she had asked him what business he was in. Casually he had replied, ‘Liquor.’ She hadn’t pushed it. Probably thought he owned Seagrams!
Now he was driving back to Venice in her 350 SL, early a.m., and feeling no pain.
She likes me! She likes me! he thought, feeling like Sally Field when she gave her Oscar acceptance speech.
If he played it right he could be moving in any day now. He strongly suspected that Silver quite fancied the idea of having a man about the house. She had dropped a few not so subtle hints about the way everyone took advantage of her, and how nice it would be to have someone she could trust to look after her affairs. This, after two nights of passion. Things were looking good.
However, it did not solve the pressing problem of scoring bucks.
Usually, when he needed money, he went to work. Tending bar on a good week – with a touch of petty larceny on the side – he could pull in eight or nine hundred. Just the kind of money he needed now. Only he couldn’t take time off right at the beginning, she wasn’t that hooked. His only alternative was Rocky, who could probably point him in the direction of something seriously illegal. He didn’t have much choice.
Taped to his front door was an envelope. Not Reba again!
He ripped it open and read the childish scrawl, bad spelling and all.
MUTT AND I THAWT YOU CAN COME TO
EAT WITH US TONITE. I WILL
COOKE. 7 OCLOCK. LOVE FROM
UNITY.
What brought that on? He couldn’t go. Silver had already booked him.
Happiness was being in demand.
* * *
‘Poppy Soloman called,’ Nora said, in between bouts of coughing. ‘She wants to have a dinner for you. She said you’d discussed it.’
‘You sound terrible,’ Silver scolded. ‘Aren’t you planning to do something about that cough?’
‘’Twasn’t the cough that carried me off, ’twas the coffin they carried me off in!’ joked Nora, with a macabre grimace.
‘Most amusing,’ said an unamused Silver.
They were in her dressing room at the studio. It was the lunch break, and Silver rested on a couch, her legs up, her head supported by two large pillows. ‘I’m exhausted!’ she announced. ‘Pass me my vitamins, for God’s sake.’
Nora duly obliged. Silver gulped the mixed vitamins down by the handful. Then she yawned, a long-drawn-out self-satisfied yawn.
‘I presume last night was another winner,’ Nora said acidly.
Silver closed her eyes. ‘Mmmmmm…’
‘When do I get to meet Mister Wonderful?’
‘Soon.’
‘When?’
‘How about Poppy Soloman’s dinner?’
‘I don’t think she’s planning
on inviting me.’
‘Tell her you’re part of the deal. You know I like to have you around.’
‘I get overtime for attending dinners,’ Nora rasped.
‘Good. Charge it to the studio.’
‘Don’t think I won’t.’
A knock on the door announced lunch. A tray for Silver. Grated carrots, sliced peppers, raw broccoli, and thinly sliced cucumbers on a plate.
She looked at it with distaste. ‘What I wouldn’t give for a big fat juicy hamburger!’ she sighed with longing.
‘Shall I order you one?’ Nora asked.
‘Are you mad?’
* * *
Rocky knew just the trouble Wes could get into. He had heard there was a very special collection to be made which would pay big. ‘I don’t wanna have anythin’ t’do with it,’ Rocky said. ‘There’s warring factions out in the hills of Laurel Canyon. It’s not serenity city, but if you wanna score fast, I’ll give you the man to call.’
If Rocky didn’t care to be involved it had to be heavy, and usually Wes liked to steer clear of any whiff of trouble. He went for it, though – there didn’t seem to be much choice if he wanted fast bucks.
* * *
‘I’m going back to the office,’ Nora said. ‘Are you cozying with Stud of the Year tonight?’
‘I see no reason to quit while I’m on a winning streak, do you?’
The older woman shook her head. ‘Where do you get the energy? Sex every night. Work every day. And interviews in your spare time. Which reminds me, I want to go over next week’s schedule with you. Bazaar wants you for the cover, and—’
Silver waved her away. ‘Not now, Nora. I’m hardly in the mood.’
If Silver didn’t want to talk covers, she must be really hooked. ‘Later?’
‘I shall be busy later. Very busy.’
* * *
The deal was this. A certain bad-boy rock star and his fifteen-year-old girlfriend were holed up in a remote house high in the hills of Laurel Canyon. They owed. And they owed big.
‘These people don’ wanna pay,’ explained the black dude to whom Wes had refused entry to Silver’s party. He was a short man, with a toothy grin and huge white-framed sunglasses. ‘You wanna go get the green stuff. We grateful. We pay big.’
The meet was taking place in the back of the man’s limo at the bottom of the multi-storey parking lot in the Santa Monica shopping mall. They were separated from the driver by a thick tinted glass window.
When Wes had called, the man had suggested they get together at once, and arranged the rendezvous, which Wes just managed to arrive at by noon.
‘What’s the big fuss?’ he asked; there didn’t seem to be anything complicated about picking up some money.
‘You wan’ the truth, I give it to you,’ the black man said. ‘This boy a bad one. He beat up on my las’ delivery man. He steal my coke. He keep my money.’
‘Yeah?’
‘This not good scene fo’ me. No trouble is my motto. I don’ wan’ no connection to this bad boy. None at all.’
‘You’re tellin’ me he’s not going to greet me with a kiss and a fistful of dollars. Right?’
‘Maybe. Maybe not. I don’ pay no thousan’ for nothin’ easy.’
‘I figured that.’
‘This famous bad boy – he collect guns. His sweetie-box – she only fifteen. We don’ want no duckin’ an’ divin’ with this couple. So we sen’ you in for pick-up. You fuck up – no connection.’
‘And what makes you think he’ll hand over the money to me?’ Wes asked cynically.
‘He say he will now. He ready.’ Taking a silk handkerchief out of his top pocket, he wiped his face. ‘You carry a piece?’
‘Whoa!’ Wes said quickly. ‘I’m not gettin’ into any of that.’
The man made a face. ‘I don’ care personally. Jus’ for your own protection. You want the job? You carry a piece. Insurance, thas all.’
Staying silent, Wes thought it out. On the one hand it seemed fairly straightforward. On the other it stank stronger than a dead catfish.
‘I don’t get it,’ he said at last. ‘Why would you pay a thousand for this pick-up?’
‘Don’ give me no D.A. questions. You do it or no?’
So it wasn’t the smartest move in the world; even Rocky had turned this one down. But he had luck on his side. Wes Money always made out – somehow.
‘I’ll do it,’ he decided.
‘Tonight.’
‘Not tonight.’
‘Nine o’clock on the stroke, or no deal.’
Shit! He could call Silver and tell her he’d be late. Better still, he could turn this offer down and ask her for money. Just a loan. Nothing serious.
Sure. And it would be goodbye Wesley without a second thought.
‘Money up front,’ he said.
‘No problem.’
Now he was more suspicious than ever. What kind of a schmuck parted with money before the deed was done?
The man handed him a small snub-nosed revolver, and a crisp packet of new hundred-dollar bills.
‘Aren’t you worried I’ll tango out of town with this?’ Wes joked.
‘You’d be motherfuckin’ crazy to do that to me,’ the man said, removing his shades and staring.
‘Wouldn’t think of it,’ Wes said quickly.
The man passed him a slip of paper with an address written on it. ‘Nine o’clock. They be expectin’ you. Then you bring package to me here. I be waitin’.’
Wes nodded. And with gut instinct he knew he was making a wrong move.
Chapter Forty-One
A strong blast of the white powder into each nostril made Howard Soloman feel like a real man. He was on a roll. Vegas was the best time he’d had in a while.
Leaning back against the cool marble of the bathroom wall he allowed the full drug-induced sensation to take over his body. By the time he was ready to rejoin the party he was fucking invincible!
He determined to tell Mannon Cable where his loyalties lay. How dare he refuse to do a film for Orpheus. Shithead actor. Stars or not, they were all shitheads. Mannon was his friend. You made certain moves for friends. And goddammit, signing a deal with Orpheus should be one of them.
Conveniently he forgot he was hellbent on getting Mannon’s ex-wife into the old sackerooney. Exquisite Whitney. He got hard just thinking about her. Which made him think of Poppy, for whom he had a permanent soft-on!
Howard laughed aloud, leaned over the basin, and splashed cold water on his face.
He was at another party, a Saturday night after-the-show bash for Carlos Brent.
Carlos hadn’t done a movie in ten years, and Howard planned to nail him. Okay, so Carlos Brent had made a few flops in his time – singing was his forte, not straight drama.
Howard’s brilliant idea was to offer him a musical! Shit! What an idea! The kind of musical they used to make way back in the forties with John Payne and Betty Grable. Nostalgia time. Everyone would love it!
Howard was at a loss to figure out why nobody had thought of it before. The idea screamed BOX OFFICE! He would get a young hot-shot director/writer. One of those boy geniuses just waiting for a big budget. And an experienced producer to keep a steady eye on things. Orville Gooseberger would be ideal. And Whitney Valentine for the female lead!
Howard was so excited he had to take a quick pee before rejoining the party.
He had just come up with the project of the year!
* * *
‘I hate some of your movies, they’re so masculine. And you play a real macho sexist pig!’ So spoke one of Susanna Fonicetti’s girlfriends, hoping this negative approach would impress Mannon Cable so much that he would whisk her off to his hotel suite for further discussion.
He blinked his impossibly blue eyes and winked. ‘Let me tell you something, darlin’. You’re absolutely right.’
‘On the other hand,’ she added quickly, ‘in some of your films you really are quite wonderful. The quintessential g
olden-haired hero riding in from the west.’
‘You gotta make up your mind, sweetheart,’ Mannon drawled. ‘What am I? The macho sexist pig? Or the golden fuckin’ hero?’
‘You’re both,’ she stated dramatically, convinced that he thought she was the most intelligent woman who ever drew breath. ‘And you’re magnificent!’
‘And you’re full of it, sweetheart. Excuse me.’ He ambled off in search of Carlos. Swapping dirty stories was a lot more fun than swapping conversation with the dingbats floating around Vegas.
For once in his life Mannon did not feel horny. He felt homesick. Away from home he was on show. Come see the movie star. Watch him walk, talk, eat. Try and get him to fuck.
Damn it, he was fed-up with the attention. He felt like he was in a sideshow – only he was the main attraction.
‘Are you all right, Mannon?’ Susanna Fonicetti, née Brent, appeared at his side. She was the typical Beverly Hills daughter of a great superstar. Hollywood kids turned out one of two ways. They either dropped out completely or went with the lifestyle all the way. Susanna had gone all the way. She was the seed of Hollywood royalty and she knew it. Oh, how she knew it!
‘I’m fine, darlin’,’ he said, with a big grin. ‘Where’s your daddy?’
Susanna giggled. ‘The way you say that makes me feel about fourteen!’
‘You don’t look much older.’
‘Flatterer!’
She took him by the hand and led him to a corner table where Carlos held court. The entourage scattered, giving Mannon room to sit down.
‘Did you hear the one about the Porsche and the rabbit?’ he asked Carlos.
Carlos roared. ‘Did I hear it? I made it up, for crissake!’
* * *
The candlelight in the small Italian restaurant cast a warm glow. The conversation too, for Jack found Jade to be an informed talker and attentive listener. They covered everything from Reagan’s politics to idle gossip. And also ate a hearty meal which consisted of thinly sliced mozzarella cheese and tomatoes to start with. And delicious medallions of veal, accompanied by a side order of pasta in a delicate cream sauce.
‘Dessert?’ Jack asked, when the trolley came around.
Jade grinned. ‘Why not?’
Hollywood Husbands Page 21