Hollywood Husbands

by Jackie Collins

‘Does he really interfere that much?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes,’ he replied sourly. Actually, it wasn’t that bad. Zachary’s main concerns were the two movies he considered to be his. Romance and The Murder. The rest of the product he left alone – allowing Howard more or less carte blanche.

  Howard had gone development crazy. Out of pique, he was spending the studio’s money at an alarming rate. Buying properties, commissioning screenplays, purchasing best-selling novels, and giving the green light to a slew of producers, writers and directors with passable ideas.

  Fuck it. He didn’t give a damn. There were other studios to run. Orpheus was not the be-all and end-all.

  Howard Soloman had a yen to move on.

  * * *

  And on the set of Romance, the two stars had fallen out, causing a certain frostiness all round.

  Silver Anderson said it was Carlos Brent’s fault.

  Carlos Brent said it was Silver Anderson’s.

  ‘The man is an egomaniac,’ Silver said.

  ‘The old broad is a pain in the tonsils,’ Carlos said.

  ‘His voice is gone,’ from Silver.

  ‘She can’t sing anymore,’ from Carlos.

  ‘Box office arsenic,’ announced Silver.

  ‘They’ll only watch her on television,’ announced Carlos.

  Orville Gooseberger tried to patch things up. They both told him to go play with himself.

  Zachary arrived on the set most days to observe the filming.

  Silver complained to Orville, ‘He makes me uncomfortable.’

  Orville shrugged. This one he could do nothing about. The man owned the studio.

  Silver said she had a sore throat and claimed she couldn’t work.

  Each week the film crept more and more over budget.

  Meanwhile, on location in Arizona, where The Murder was shooting, a new romance was blossoming. It startled everybody, including Whitney Valentine, who like everyone else stood on the sidelines and watched.

  Mannon Cable and Clarissa Browning came together as if they had been waiting for this moment all their lives.

  One love scene in front of the camera, and they disappeared for an entire weekend.

  Whitney was shocked. For some time now she had sensed Mannon was getting ready to ask her back into his life, and in spite of his pregnant wife and her own involvement with Chuck, she had considered the possibility of saying yes. She had even gone as far as discussing it with Norman Gooseberger. He not only handled her publicity, but had become a friend, whose advice she listened to.

  ‘Take him back if he asks you,’ Norman had urged. ‘Chuck’s a destructive influence. He’s no good, and he drags you down with him.’

  Agreeing, she waited for Mannon to make his move.

  He didn’t. He started his ridiculous affair with Clarissa Browning, and everyone wondered what she had that was so special.

  First Jack Python.

  Now Mannon Cable.

  Two of the best-looking men in Hollywood.

  And while Clarissa was undoubtedly a magnificent talent, she would certainly never win any prizes in the beauty stakes. Plus her charm was non-existent. Most of her co-workers couldn’t stand her. She was critical, demanding and tight with every cent, never so much as buying the crew a drink if she happened to be in the hotel bar when they were all present.

  On screen she was magic. It was as simple as that. Her acting was flawless, and because of her, Mannon accomplished a lot more than his usual macho strut and self-deprecating sly glances to the camera. He was giving a very fine performance.

  Whitney felt betrayed. Not only had Clarissa Browning taken her role, she had taken her man too.

  The bitch would pay. Whitney knew how to make people pay…

  Chapter Seventy-Two

  It was Jack’s idea they all join up for coffee and dessert, and Kellie was amenable. ‘Ask your friend,’ he suggested.

  She turned around and nudged Shane, who was surprised and pleased. ‘Is it okay with you?’ he checked with Jade.

  ‘Sure,’ she replied, trying to keep her tone casual.

  They got up and moved to Jack’s table, where Kellie immediately patted the empty chair beside her. ‘Sit here,’ she said to Shane enthusiastically, ‘and tell me all about the camera operator you used on the Cloud commercials. I love his work.’

  ‘He is a she,’ he replied. ‘A very talented lady.’

  ‘Really? I’m wild about working with women. My goodness – if females can’t support each other I just don’t know who will. Do you?’

  As Kellie chattered away, Jack turned to Jade and said very quietly, ‘Hello.’

  ‘Hello,’ she replied, immediately getting lost in his green eyes.

  There was no need to say anything more, for they both knew where they were heading.

  Under the table she felt the pressure of his thigh against hers.

  ‘Have you thought about whether you’ll do the show or not?’ he asked.

  Laughing softly she said, ‘Give me a break, I’ve got other things on my mind.’

  Kellie leaned forward and peered across the table at her. ‘You must tell me, who does your makeup?’ she asked eagerly.

  ‘I usually do it myself.’

  ‘How clever of you. I’m hopeless with shading. Fortunately, I have this wonderful Algerian boy who always takes care of me for photo sessions – and then…’

  Jade did not hear a word the blonde actress was saying. All she knew was that she was in the throes of a wild sexual heat, and she did not care how many women Jack Python was photographed with. She only knew she wanted him. And she wanted him now.

  Abruptly she rose from the table. ‘Excuse me,’ she murmured. ‘Just going to the ladies’ room.’

  Her legs were weak, her throat dry.

  Get a hold of yourself, Johnson, she cautioned. He’s only another guy.

  Both restrooms were occupied, so she leaned against the wall by the pay phone and attempted to pull herself together. It had been a long time since she’d felt this way.

  ‘Hello.’ He was beside her.

  Weakly, she managed, ‘We’ve got to stop meeting like this.’

  He thought she was heartbreakingly beautiful, and he had an insane desire to touch her face and body; bury himself in her hair; kiss her eyes and her mouth and her breasts and everything else she possessed. She had him under a spell, and he couldn’t remember when he’d felt like this before.

  ‘What’s going on with you and the guy?’ he asked urgently.

  Shaking her head, she murmured, ‘Nothing.’ And after a slight pause, ‘How about you and Kellie?’

  ‘She means nothing to me,’ he replied truthfully.

  Suddenly he couldn’t hold back any longer. Pinning her against the wall with his hands each side of her shoulders he kissed her long and hard. A forceful, penetrating kiss, which she didn’t try to block, but responded to, just as he knew she would.

  After a few moments he pulled back and said, ‘We’re getting out of here.’

  ‘We can’t do that.’

  ‘We can do whatever we want to.’

  Ida White emerged from one of the restrooms and smiled glassily. ‘Good evening, Jack, dear.’ She was stoned as usual. Oblivious to everything.

  He waited until she had wandered off before whispering to Jade, ‘Come with me. Don’t say a word.’ Taking her hand, he led her through the crowded restaurant to the back entrance.

  ‘We can’t just leave them sitting there, waiting for us,’ she protested weakly.

  ‘It’s not our problem. I’ve picked up both checks, and left a message with the waiter that you got sick and I had to escort you home.’

  ‘They’ll never believe it.’

  ‘Who cares?’

  His Ferrari was waiting, engine running, an attentive valet ready to usher them into the car.

  She got in and leaned back against the plush leather. ‘This is crazy behaviour,’ she said, tingling with anticipation.

&n
bsp; ‘Crazy,’ he agreed.

  ‘And exciting.’

  ‘You got it.’

  The car surged forward, scattering photographers and fans. He drove down the short hill, waited impatiently at a red light, and took off like a rocket all the way to his hotel.

  ‘Why here?’ she asked, as he helped her from the car.

  ‘Because it’s where I live.’

  ‘Good evening, Mr Python,’ said the doorman.

  ‘No apartment? No house?’ she persisted.

  ‘This is home.’

  ‘Good evening, Mr Python,’ said the desk clerk as they walked past.

  ‘No family? No roots?’

  ‘Has anyone ever told you that you ask too many questions?’

  ‘Frequently.’

  ‘Good evening, Mr Python,’ said the elevator operator.

  They rushed into his suite like impatient lovers – which any minute they were to become. And as soon as the door closed they fell on each other with indecent haste – removing clothes with a no-nonsense speed bordering on the obsessive.

  ‘Christ! You’re beautiful!’ he breathed.

  She trailed her fingers down his chest. ‘And you’re just as beautiful.’

  There was no conversation after that as he took her with a powerful urgency. It was something he had to do before he could even begin to think straight.

  And it was like that for her too. They were both holding back, and their mutual release was fast and sweet – earth-shattering and very, very necessary.

  Now they could relax and enjoy the sinful pleasures of discovering each other’s body. Which is exactly what they did, slowly and luxuriously.

  Leading her into the bedroom he laid her on the bed, and began – with exquisite restraint – to carefully explore every inch of her smooth, taut body.

  She responded by touching his skin with the tips of her fingers, tactilely feather-stroking his chest, until his further pleasure became only too obvious.

  ‘I’m glad to see you’re a man of action,’ she murmured happily.

  ‘For you – anything!’

  ‘Just because you want me on your show…’

  Tantalizingly he started to kiss her neck, moving down at a leisurely pace, relishing the piquant taste of everything about her.

  She enclosed his hardness with her hands and teased his unquenchable desire, until the slow, erotic pace of things turned once again into fervent, reckless lovemaking.

  And after the second time they fell asleep, wrapped in each other’s arms, peaceful and voluptuously content.

  Chapter Seventy-Three

  ‘Wow!’ sighed Heaven. ‘It’s like totally killer!’

  Rocky nodded his agreement. He felt pretty confident standing in the recording studio listening to the final mix of her record. She had people swarming all over her – the producer, the sound engineer, a couple of record company executives – but he felt confident because he was the one who had set the whole gig up, and he was the one with a signed management contract in his pocket, giving him a hefty fifty-one percent of her. And it was signed by her grandfather – who happened to be her legal guardian, even though he lived in cloud-cuckoo-land. She had told the old guy it was something important to do with school – dragged in the housekeeper and a television repairman as witnesses – and he had signed away without even reading it.

  Rocky had warned her – up front – that unless she got the contract signed, he wasn’t doing a thing.

  Well… once he realized who she was he’d had to protect himself, hadn’t he? She was the under-age, unwanted daughter of – guess who? Silver Anderson. Sweet coincidence.

  When Jack Python had walked into the beach house that night, three months ago, Rocky had thought the television king was her boyfriend. It soon became clear he was her uncle, and a very pissed off uncle at that. He had wasted no time in throwing Rocky out. Hey – it wasn’t the first time.

  Rocky had driven off into the night with no thought of ever seeing the kid again.

  Two days later she called him. Out of curiosity he arranged a meet at Charmer’s Market, in Venice.

  When she arrived he sat her down, bought her a cup of coffee, and got the full scam.

  She was Silver Anderson’s kid. How could he resist?

  First of all he came up with the legal papers giving him fifty-one percent of any deals. And once it was safely signed, he got hold of the guy he knew at College Records.

  His contact was a major buyer, who was really only interested in scoring the best dope to supply to the recording company’s biggest stars.

  ‘I’ve gotta girl I wancha t’hear,’ Rocky told him. ‘She sings the ass off Madonna.’

  The man sighed wearily. ‘So does my niece, my janitor’s daughter, my bookie’s girlfriend, an’ the checkout flim at Safeway. This is what I need from you.’ He then gave Rocky a hefty order for cocaine and Quaaludes.

  Rocky filled the order, and shoved Heaven’s tape at him. ‘She’s Silver Anderson’s kid,’ he said. ‘Pass this on to someone who can listen. If anythin’ happens there’ll be a cut for you.’

  A week later the man came back to him. ‘What does she look like?’

  ‘A sixteen-year-old prick-tease. We’re talkin’ juicy.’

  ‘Get me over a picture. No snaps. Something professional.’

  ‘It’s done.’

  Rocky had to wait for her to call him. He was bad news at the beach house – Uncle Jack had put up a few rules.

  When she finally phoned he asked her about photographs.

  ‘Antonio – you know, the famous photographer – has like these incredible shots,’ she said. ‘Only I can’t get hold of them.’

  ‘Leave it t’me,’ Rocky said. ‘Just give me his address.’

  The next day he sauntered into Antonio’s studio, displaying greased-up muscles and a crooked smile.

  ‘Hiya, beauty,’ he said to the receptionist, who was all L.A. style – with punked hair, orange makeup, and sixties geometric clothes.

  She stared at him. The last time she’d seen anyone who looked like Rocky was on a television programme called Hollywood Close Up – when they did a segment on Sylvester Stallone.

  ‘Can I help you?’ she asked.

  ‘Baby – y’can help me all ya want. I’m yours!’

  He ended up swapping a full ounce of prime coke for one twelve-by-fourteen glossy print of Heaven, which he had to admit was a dynamite photo.

  ‘Don’t you dare ever say where you got this,’ the receptionist warned. ‘It’s appearing in Bazaar soon, and Antonio will kill me if he finds out I did this.’

  Rocky touched his lips with his index finger. ‘Your secret – my secret. I live by the code of silence.’

  Without showing the picture to Heaven, he delivered it to his contact, who must have handed it directly to the right person, for the next day Rocky got the call he’d been waiting for – ‘Bring her in.’

  So he did. And after that it all happened.

  Now, here they were, months later, with a very hot record all set to hit the airwaves.

  Hey – he’d had a hunch his break was on the way.

  Heaven was it. And he owned fifty-one per cent of her.

  * * *

  She accepted everyone’s compliments with a warm glow, hardly believing that it was finally happening for her. All she needed was the record to be a hit. And it would be. She knew it. Even though it wasn’t exactly the record she would have made. For a start it wasn’t a song that she’d written, and the arrangement was too upbeat – she would have preferred a slower tempo. And the title of the song – ‘Gonna Eatcha Tonight!’ – was kind of gross. The lyrics were certainly bound to cause mucho controversy, which wasn’t such a bad thing. The hook went:

  I’m a Maneater… yes I am…

  Maneater… sure I am…

  Maneater… and baby—

  I’m gonna eatcha tonight!

  Real sophisticated stuff. But she had given it her all. And it sure sounded
good!

  Sneaking a glance at Rocky she decided he looked pleased, and so he should, for he had half of her action, which as far as she was concerned he deserved. Without Rocky, none of this would have happened.

  When Uncle Jack had walked into the aftermath of that bummed-out party, he had vented his wrath on poor Rocky – who was really innocent of any blame. After kicking him out of the house he had turned on her. ‘I don’t want you ever seeing that creep again. Do you understand me?’

  ‘Why?’ she had asked defiantly.

  ‘Why? Are you asking me why?’

  She had never seen him so angry.

  ‘I’ll give you a list of reasons why.’ He continued in a tightly controlled voice. ‘One – he’s a lowlife. Two – you’re a child and he’s almost old enough to be your father. Three – he’s—’ He stopped, exasperated. ‘What am I explaining this to you for? I trusted you and you let me down. In future you’ll listen to me, and when I say you’ll do something, you’ll do it. No questions.’

  What a summer to look forward to! She was better off with her distracted grandfather.

  As it happened, all turned out okay. After a few days Jack cooled down, and things returned to normal.

  Secretly she contacted Rocky, and after the hassle of traipsing over to the Valley and getting George to sign the contract Rocky produced, it was all go.

  Now she actually had a record ready to come out, and it was the most exciting day of her life!

  Unfortunately there was nobody she could share it with. Only Rocky, for he was the only one who knew about it.

  Soon, everyone would know. College Records planned a big party to launch her upon an unsuspecting world.

  ‘They’d kinda like it if your mother came,’ Rocky had told her a couple of days ago.

  ‘NO WAY!’ she’d exploded. ‘Like I don’t want any trading on her name or Jack’s name. I really mean it.’

  ‘Forget it,’ he’d said easily. And promptly told the publicity department to drop the information into any column that would run it.

  Hey – the kid was a kid – she’d soon learn. Use whatever you have.

  Rocky loved the idea that he might soon become a successful personal manager. Jeez! What a kick. Just like Wes Money he could move into the big time without a backward glance. And taking a ride with the same family too. What a double kick! Wes got the old broad, and he got the kid. Not that he’d made a move on her – yet. There was plenty of time for that. Plenty.