‘I don’t know. You’re the social queen. You’ll come up with a good group.’
Just the answer she had been hoping for. She put down her hairbrush and dipped her fingers into a pot of expensive cream, which she then proceeded to massage gently around her eyes. ‘Well,’ she said, ‘with us, and Silver and her escort – I do hope it’s Dennis, he’s so charming – that makes two couples. And then I thought the Whites, and the Goosebergers. Maybe Oliver Easterne, and Mannon and Melanie, and—’
‘I’d sooner you invited Whitney,’ Howard interrupted. ‘I’m still thinking of using her for that script you suggested.’
Poppy finished patting in the cream. ‘Whitney is still seeing Chuck Nielson,’ she informed him. ‘You know you don’t like him. And I’ve already mentioned the dinner to Melanie. I can’t very well dis-invite her. I suppose having Mannon and Whitney is out of the question, isn’t it?’ She turned around and looked questioningly at him.
He pulled the collar of his pyjama top up. Cleverly he had concealed his Las Vegas love bites with a stick of makeup he had found on Poppy’s dressing table. He could hardly wear a turtleneck to bed. ‘No way,’ he said shortly.
‘Oh, dear…’ Her little-girl voice wavered. ‘I hope I haven’t made a boo-boo.’
He hated it when she came out with baby talk. ‘So we’ll give another dinner,’ he said magnanimously. ‘Big deal. You can plan a special night for Mannon and whatever her name is.’
Poppy thought about it, and decided it wasn’t such a bad idea at all. She could gain a reputation for throwing chic little dinners – maybe once a week – and everyone would fight to be included.
‘Delicious!’ she exclaimed, jumping up and hurrying to his side. She knelt on the bed, completely messing up his profusion of papers. ‘Who’s a clever boy, then?’
He peered down the décolletage of her rose pink peignoir. Perkily waiting were a perfect pair of 36B tits. His tits. He had paid for them. They were nothing like the Vegas redhead’s monstrosities. They were lively and upright. Not too big and not too small. Just right, in fact. Before having them done, Poppy had consulted him on his preferences. ‘A perfect handful,’ he had said, and she had obliged.
‘I’m in the mood, Howie,’ she whispered coyly.
I’m not, he wanted to reply. Only he didn’t. He bundled his papers to the side, switched off the light, and reached for one of his possessions. A perky 36B possession.
* * *
‘I had lunch with Poppy Soloman yesterday,’ Melanie-Shanna informed Mannon.
He paused, mid press-up, and said, ‘What did you do that for?’
‘She invited me.’
‘Oh yeah, and what did she want?’
‘Just to be friendly.’
‘Sure!’
‘No, really.’
‘Everything Poppy Soloman does has a purpose.’
‘If there was a particular reason for inviting me, it never came up.’
‘It will.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You’ll see.’
He resumed a punishing set of press-ups, and then moved over to his Nautilus machine, where he proceeded to work on his arms.
Melanie-Shanna watched him pensively. He was so handsome, and she loved him so much. And yet every day – in spite of her pregnancy – he drew further and further away from her. Nothing she could say for sure, just a feeling.
‘Was Vegas fun?’ she asked brightly.
‘Hell, no. I hated it.’
Then why did you go?
She couldn’t ask him. Mannon did what he pleased, and she never questioned.
‘I went shopping with Poppy after lunch,’ she volunteered.
He had lost interest. ‘Good,’ he said vaguely.
‘She took me to Giorgio, and I opened a charge.’
‘Glad to hear it.’
She wondered how glad he would be when he found out she had spent several thousand dollars. Poppy had encouraged her. ‘Spend his money, for God’s sake!’ she had urged. ‘What do you think he makes it for?’
So, for the first time in her marriage, Melanie-Shanna had spent without asking.
Mannon heaved and grunted as he worked up a sweat. His muscles rippled.
‘Poppy’s invited us to a dinner she’s having for Silver Anderson,’ Melanie-Shanna said.
‘Poppy this and Poppy that. I thought you hated lunch and shopping and all that phoney crapola.’
‘It wasn’t phoney. I enjoyed it. I met some very interesting women.’
‘Who?’ he demanded disbelievingly.
‘Ida White… Carmel Gooseberger.’
Mannon burst out laughing. ‘Those two old mares! Jesus, kid, you’re really mixing with racy company. Those broads are so jaded they wouldn’t blink an eyelid if Reagan streaked across Rodeo and lit a fart!’
Melanie-Shanna pursed her lips. Sometimes Mannon treated her like an idiot, and it was beginning to gall. Everything she did he sneered at and criticized, and she’d had enough. At lunch the women had been discussing a recent scandalous divorce. The wife was demanding and getting half of everything the billionaire husband possessed. Poppy had winked gaily. ‘California law. So fair. I love it!’ And then she had leaned conspiratorially towards Melanie-Shanna. ‘You didn’t sign a pre-nup, did you?’
‘What’s that?’
Poppy had laughed loudly, and explained it to her.
Now Melanie-Shanna realized her strength, and if Mannon didn’t change his attitude, she was certainly going to change hers, and stop him treating her like a doormat.
Chapter Forty-Six
‘Madame Anderson is out,’ Vladimir said firmly, on the speaker to the front gate.
‘I know that,’ Wes replied evenly. ‘But I have her car, and she asked me to return it.’
‘Ah…’ sighed Vladimir.
‘Ah…’ copied Wes.
A pause, while Vladimir considered what to do. Madame hadn’t mentioned her car. She would obviously want it back. Vladimir was also curious to see the man who had ousted the awful Dennis Denby from her bed. Pressing the buzzer to open the gate, he marched to the front door. When Wes drew up in the zippy red Mercedes, Vladimir was ready.
Wes pulled the car to a stop and jumped out. ‘Evenin’, mate,’ he said to the houseman, attempting to push past him and enter the house.
Vladimir pulled himself up to his full height of five feet nine inches, and blocked the way. He was shocked at the man’s unruly appearance.
‘Excuse me, sir,’ he said grandly. ‘Madame Anderson left instructions that you are to telephone her tomorrow. Tonight she is out.’
‘Is she now?’ Wes sized up the situation. An unthreatening gay butler. No problem. ‘I guess I’ll just have to wait for her. She won’t mind.’
With no further ceremony he shoved past Vladimir, who was outraged, and headed for the library, and the bar, where he proceeded to pour himself a much-needed drink.
Vladimir stomped in after him, his authority questioned, his face turning a dull red. ‘Vat do you think you are doing?’ he demanded. ‘You can’t come in here without Madame Silver’s permission.’
Wes took a long gulp of straight scotch: It hit his belly with a warm spreading sensation. He threw the houseman a threatening glare. ‘Who says?’
‘I say.’ Vladimir peered at the invading stranger. There was something disturbingly familiar about him. ‘I am in charge. You will please leave.’
Wes flopped into an armchair. Frankly, he didn’t need this crap. He was all washed out. ‘I ain’t goin’ nowhere, sunshine. Don’t get your balls in an uproar. Just lie back an’ enjoy it.’
‘Vat?’ steamed Vladimir.
‘Relax. Hang loose. Go with the flow.’
Vladimir felt a migraine creeping up on him. He would get the blame for this. He knew it. Madame Silver was going to be furious and she would fire him, the firing he had nearly got after the bathroom incident. He didn’t know what to do. Physical action was definitely
out of the question. This man looked positively violent. Definitely rough trade.
Running his hands through his wheat-coloured hair, he tried to decide how to deal with this uncomfortable situation.
Wes leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes. ‘I feel like shit,’ he mumbled. ‘If you’re smart you’ll just leave me alone. Stay out of my way an’ everything’ll be cool. I’ll fix it with your boss. Don’t sweat it.’ He was drifting into a light sleep, and he had no strength left to fight it.
Vladimir stared.
And stared again.
His memory was trying hard, but he couldn’t quite come up with where he had encountered this unruly person before.
Almost… almost…
The knowledge eluded him.
* * *
‘So, Dennis?’ Silver said belligerently. ‘Why do you accept defeat like a bull with no balls?’ She had demolished half a bottle of champagne, picked at a lobster salad, tasted dessert (the apple pie and caramel sauce was to die for!) and was now in an argumentative mood.
‘Moi?’ asked Dennis, a slight lilt to his voice.
‘Do you swing both ways?’ she asked suspiciously. She had never thought that of Dennis before, but tonight there was an air about him.
He reacted strongly. Too strongly?
‘Are you drunk?’ he shouted. ‘How dare you. How can you – of all people – accuse me of having homosexual tendencies? Surely you know me better than that?’
‘Calm down, Dennis,’ she said soothingly. ‘Some of my best friends are gay. It’s just that I do not wish to sleep with them.’
‘I’m extremely insulted,’ he said sternly. ‘How would you like it if I asked you the same question?’
Her eyes drifted around the restaurant. Dennis Denby bored her. Everything about him was bland. His face, his clothes, his conversation. ‘Let’s change the subject,’ she said mildly.
‘Why?’ He glared at her spitefully. ‘Have I hit upon something? Do you swing both ways?’
Icicles could have formed on her smile. ‘Get the check. You’re taking me home. And if we’re both terribly fortunate, we’ll never have to see each other again.’
* * *
Vladimir did not dare disturb Madame Silver at the restaurant. He did the next best thing, and disturbed Nora at her apartment.
‘What do you want?’ she asked irritably, interrupted in the middle of Cagney and Lacey and a chicken sandwich.
Vladimir explained his predicament.
Nora was torn. She was enjoying the programme, and her chicken sandwich was delicious. However, the idea of getting a peek at Silver’s new boyfriend was certainly tempting.
‘Are you telling me the guy just walked in the house and fell asleep?’ she asked incredulously.
‘Madame Silver will blame me,’ Vladimir said mournfully.
What the hell… She clicked off the television, clicked on the tape machine, and with a large bite of her chicken sandwich under her belt, set off.
Vladimir greeted her at the door.
‘Is he still asleep?’ was her first question.
‘Yes,’ hissed Vladimir, still furious at this gross intrusion by such an uncouth-looking man. At least Dennis Denby was well dressed and seemed prosperous. This one appeared to have crawled off the street. Sometimes Vladimir thought Madame Silver employed exceptionally bad taste.
Nora hurried inside, making her way straight to the library. The sight of Wes, sprawled out snoring peacefully, brought her to a full stop.
‘Is this the specimen?’ she said loudly.
Vladimir, hot on her heels, nodded. ‘Will you get rid of him before Madame returns?’ he requested hopefully.
Wes, oblivious to the conversation going on around him, slept on.
Nora stepped closer. This big, distinctly masculine, grubby-looking character was not what she’d expected at all. This guy looked like he’d been digging ditches, and that wasn’t Silver’s style. Or was it?
She adjusted her glasses and blew cigarette smoke in his direction. ‘’Scuse me,’ she said in her smoke-encrusted voice. ‘This is not a hotel.’
He opened one sludge-coloured eye and peered up at her. ‘’Ello, darlin’,’ he said, reverting to his childhood English cockney. ‘Wanna give me a back-rub?’
Vladimir clicked his tongue in disgust.
Wes yawned and stretched, throwing his arms wide. ‘I know you would,’ he said to Vladimir. ‘Only I’m not givin’ you the chance.’
Nora frowned. He was not your standard Beverly Hills bachelor by any means. Nor your Hollywood stud. She had a feeling she had seen him somewhere before. ‘Have you and I met?’ she demanded.
He stretched again, very slowly. Then he stared at the two of them – Silver’s butler and the old publicity broad. He had a hunch they were of a mind to throw him out.
‘Where’s Silver?’ he asked, playing for time. ‘She told me to meet her here, an’ now she’s on the missin’ list.’
‘When did she tell you to meet her?’ said Nora.
‘Last time I spoke to her.’
‘And when was that?’
Jeez! He needed this scene. He stared the dyke down. ‘I don’t think that’s any of your business.’
‘Everything Silver Anderson does is my business,’ she replied tartly. ‘And I suggest you shift your fat ass before Miss Anderson comes home and finds you here.’
It was the ‘fat ass’ he took exception to. Who did the old bag think she was dealing with? What right did she have to throw him out? The only person who could do that was Silver.
‘Go whistle up Liberace’s ass,’ he said insolently.
Nora was startled. ‘What?’
‘You heard.’
‘Unless you get out of here now, Mr… Money,’ Nora said slowly, emphasizing every word, ‘I shall call the police, and they will evict you in a proper manner.’
He stood up. ‘Y’can do what y’want. Silver invited me. An’ here I stay until she tells me to get out.’
‘You’re giving me no choice,’ Nora said sternly.
He was unmoved. ‘Go ahead. The Enquirer’ll love it.’
‘Yes. I suppose that’s the sort of scumball you are. Anything for the money. Am I getting your number?’
‘You’re gettin’ on my tits, old lady. I don’t appreciate bein’ threatened when I’m an invited guest.’
Vladimir watched the heated exchange like a spectator at Wimbledon. He loved every minute of it! Wait until they heard about this one down at Rage. Better than Dennis Denby any day.
‘Mr Money,’ said Nora, very, very slowly. ‘Are you going to leave quietly, or am I going to telephone the police?’
‘Why don’t you call Silver an’ save us all a lot of bother?’ he suggested.
The idea had crossed her mind – although she would sooner see him dragged off in chains. Instant hate had taken place.
‘If you insist,’ she said stiffly. Turning to Vladimir, she instructed him to call the restaurant where Silver was dining.
Meanwhile, Wes picked up his glass and strolled over to the bar. He needed a refill. He was handling this much more calmly than he felt. His stomach was churning, his head still aching. What if Silver did tell him to get lost? And the last thing he needed was the cops.
He poured a steady stream of scotch into his glass. His legs felt like two hollow pipes. If he drank all night there was no way he could get the slightest buzz on. Pleasure was out.
Then three things happened all at once. Vladimir held the phone aloft and announced, ‘Madame is on her way home.’
Silver herself burst into the room, flushed and slightly tipsy, with Dennis one step behind.
And Nora, with a sudden start of recognition as she watched Wes pour his drink, stared at him closely and exclaimed, ‘Now I know where I’ve seen you before. The night of Silver’s party – you were one of the barmen!’
‘Yes, yes!’ agreed Vladimir, almost jumping up and down with excitement. ‘I remember too!’
Silver looked at Wes.
Wes looked at Silver.
There was a dramatic silence.
Chapter Forty-Seven
‘I’m renting a house at the beach for the summer,’ Jack said.
Heaven, who had been gazing idly out the window of his Ferrari, jumped to attention. ‘A beach house! Wow! Is it near Muscle Beach?’
He laughed. ‘No. It is not near Muscle Beach. It’s in Trancas. And it’s remote and quiet and – well, I love it.’
What kind of a place was remote and quiet? – somewhere dull. Why couldn’t Uncle Jack rent right in the heart of Malibu where all the interesting people were?
‘I want you to come and stay,’ he said. ‘Maybe bring a girlfriend if you like.’
She fidgeted on the hot leather seat. ‘It sounds awfully…’
Searching for the right word she came up with ‘lonely.’
‘Not at all. There’s shops and restaurants just a short drive away. And I want you to stay when I’m there. We’ll keep each other company.’
God! She had seven girlfriends who would adore to keep Uncle Jack company. For an older man he sure had fans. ‘What about Clarissa?’ she asked. ‘Will she be there?’
‘I don’t know,’ he replied honestly. There were decisions to be made, and he wasn’t in the mood to make them.
‘Hey, Uncle Jack, I think I’ll love it!’ she decided. ‘When can I come? And for how long?’
‘All summer if you want.’
‘What about Grandpa?’
He smiled. ‘I don’t think he’ll notice, do you?’
She smiled back. They both understood about George.
Sometimes she felt very close to her uncle. Tonight was one of those times. He had called late Sunday afternoon and said, ‘I just got back from Vegas, and I feel like grabbing a Chinese feast. Do you know anyone with the same urge?’
‘Me! Me!’ she had replied, standing Eddie up, but who cared?
‘I’ll pick you up in an hour.’
True to his word he was there within the hour, and drove at breakneck speed to Madame Wu’s on Wilshire, where he had pre-ordered a great Chinese meal. Now he was taking her home, and she wished he wasn’t. She would give anything to live with him permanently.
Hollywood Husbands Page 24