Hollywood Husbands

by Jackie Collins

  ‘Maybe he’ll sue you,’ Beverly said flippantly.

  ‘He didn’t sue when I hit him. Why should he do so now?’

  ‘It’s your boat.’

  ‘Perhaps I’ll go see him.’

  Beverly stopped him with a hand on his arm. ‘What is it with Silver Anderson? She’s not exactly Brooke Shields, and yet every time there’s a fight, she’s involved.’

  Zachary paused to think of the right answer. ‘She’s a true star,’ he said at last. ‘She excites loyalty.’

  * * *

  ‘Has anyone ever told you that you are—’

  ‘Whatever you’re going to say – don’t. Okay?’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because I can’t stand bullshit. You’ve drowned me in it once, and I don’t need a repeat performance. Shall we sit down?’

  ‘No.’ He had her in a tight hold, and he couldn’t help noticing that she didn’t attempt to break it. ‘Are you seriously getting married?’

  ‘Yes, I seriously am.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I don’t really imagine it’s any of your business, do you?’

  ‘As a matter of fact I think you owe me an explanation.’

  Now she did struggle, but only slightly. ‘I owe you an explanation?’ she asked incredulously.

  ‘We had a great time, didn’t we?’

  ‘Oh, sure. One helluva night. Only that wasn’t enough for loverboy. Python, huh? It was on to the next victim, with hardly a pause for a coffee break.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘Forget it.’

  ‘I don’t want to forget it.’

  ‘Well, I do.’

  ‘You hardly waited around, did you?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You heard.’

  ‘Will you quit holding me so tightly. I want to sit down.’

  ‘No, you don’t.’

  ‘Yes, I do.’

  ‘No – you don’t.’

  ‘You’re a bastard.’

  ‘You know something? I think I’m going to forgive you.’

  Her voice was icy. Her body uncomfortably warm. ‘For what?’

  ‘For standing me up.’

  ‘Standing you up. You stood me up, with that French jam tart.’

  ‘If you mean Danielle, she was with the Senator.’

  Caustic sarcasm. ‘Sure.’

  ‘And who was the guy you were walking into Chasen’s with? Some half-baked actor, huh? I credited you with better taste.’

  ‘I guess you would have been happier if I’d sat at home thinking about what a wonderful time we had together, and hoping that one of these days you’d call me again. You know – when you had nothing better to do.’ She paused, her voice alive with indignation. ‘I actually cooked a meal for you. Your slave phoned me at nine-thirty. If you couldn’t see me, why didn’t you call me earlier? Or are you too big a star to pick up the phone yourself?’

  ‘Aretha phoned you before the show at eight o’clock and told you I was tied up at the studio, and that I’d contact you later. You couldn’t even wait, could you? Out on the town without missing a beat.’

  ‘Don’t tell me what time she called and what the message was. It was after nine-thirty. And there was no mention of you contacting me later.’

  ‘Hey, lady – when you’re angry I think I love you even more.’

  ‘Can I break in?’ Mark smiled smoothly as he pried them apart, but there were daggers of anger in his eyes.

  Jack half considered saying – No – you can’t. And grabbing her back. But it was already too late. She was in Mark’s arms. He was whirling her around the dance floor as the fairy lights twinkled and the yacht headed on its way to Laguna and the New Year.

  * * *

  Carlos Brent sprawled snoring in the middle of Zachary’s bed in the master stateroom. Dee Dee Dionne sat in a nearby chair, her ebony features calm and composed, like a beautiful carved statue.

  As Zachary walked into the room he wondered why she put up with the ageing superstar. She was a talented singer, with a certain amount of stardom of her own – she didn’t need Carlos Brent.

  ‘How is he?’ Zachary asked.

  ‘Sleeping it off,’ she replied. ‘He won’t even remember. He was very drunk.’

  ‘Has he ever considered A.A.?’

  ‘Carlos? Never.’ Faint amusement lit her face. ‘He enjoys drinking. It never upsets him, only other people.’

  ‘How do you manage?’

  She smiled wanly. ‘Oh… I manage. When you love someone you always do.’

  Zachary felt like an intruder in his own room. With a blustering cough he walked into his bathroom. Propped against the mirror was an envelope addressed to him marked EXTREMELY URGENT .

  Nice of whoever had delivered it to hand it straight over. Staff. They were never good enough.

  Without hesitation he ripped it open. He was in need of a pause before rejoining his party, which seemed to be going extremely well, in spite of the fact that Silver was successfully avoiding him.

  At first all he saw was a magazine, one of those cheap supermarket rags which everyone claimed never to read, yet knew the contents off by heart. Attached to it was the white card of one of his personal assistants in New York, with a handwritten note:

  A contact got an advance copy of this over to me today, and I’m couriering it straight to you rather than discussing it on the phone. It hits the stands on Monday. Please advise if you wish to take action.

  The magazine was called True Life Scandal. And the headline proclaimed in huge black print:

  FATHER OF SILVER ANDERSON’S SECRET LOVE CHILD REVEALED!!

  BILLIONAIRE ZACHARY K. KLINGER IS HEAVEN’S DADDY!!

  And underneath, in smaller type:

  VLADIMIR KIRKOFF AND UNITY SMITH REVEAL THE SENSATIONAL TRUE-LIFE DRAMA OF SILVER ANDERSON’S LIFE! READ ALL ABOUT THE FORMER BARTENDER AND DRUG DEALER SHE MARRIED! HOW SHE HATES HER DAUGHTER – SEVENTEEN-YEAR-OLD ROCK STAR SENSATION HEAVEN! AND DESPISES HER FORMER LOVER – HOLLYWOOD TYCOON AND BILLIONAIRE ZACHARY K. KLINGER!

  READ THE SECRETS!

  READ THEM HERE!

  Revealed by the two people who know her BETTER THAN ANYONE ELSE!

  Full story on PAGE TEN.

  Zachary blinked rapidly a few times. Then he took off his steel-rimmed glasses and stared blankly in the mirror above his black onyx sink.

  If this garbage was true he had a daughter. A seventeen-year-old daughter. And for seventeen years Silver had kept them apart.

  Damn the woman.

  Damn the bitch.

  She’d got away with everything all her life. Forget the announcement he’d planned as the party’s climax. If this was true, he would personally see to it that she paid, and paid in full.

  Chapter Ninety-Three

  ‘I wouldn’t have expected it of you,’ Mark said, an annoying, supercilious curl to his lip, as they sat down.

  ‘Huh?’ In her mind she was still dancing with Jack, caught up in his arms, listening to his voice.

  ‘You and the leg-over merchant.’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘Leg-over merchant, my dear, is a quaint old English expression meaning a man who likes to put it about.’

  ‘Put what about?’ she asked, irritated by his superior attitude.

  ‘For Christ’s sake, Jade. A stud. You do know what that is, don’t you?’

  ‘Fuck you, Rand, what are you trying to say?’

  He went very red in the face, a sure sign that he was angry. ‘Oh, tough talk. The liberated woman. Bravo, darling. Was he enough for you in bed? Is that why I haven’t had the pleasure?’

  Was she really marrying him in the morning? Had she honestly made that decision?

  The Whites returned to the table after a quick whirl around the dance floor.

  ‘Invigorating!’ exclaimed Zeppo.

  ‘Boring!’ muttered Ida.

  Jade arose. ‘Excuse me,’ she said politely. ‘I’m going to find Corey.�
�

  Leaving an angry Mark sitting with the Whites, she took off.

  * * *

  ‘You’re not eating, Howie,’ Poppy complained. ‘The lobster is delicious.’

  ‘If I’ve told you once I’ve told you fifteen times – I am not hungry, so stop shoving food at me. Just back off.’

  ‘Grouchy, grouchy! Maybe the belly-dancers will cheer you up. I hear there’s three of them. Hand picked by Zachary, and gorgeous!’

  The sick ache in his stomach would not quit. If he was smart he would have cancelled out on this whole deal, flown off to Mexico, and found out what the fuck had happened.

  Norman had been getting along fine, they’d told him that yesterday – the asshole doctors he’d hired.

  Correction. They weren’t assholes. They were the best.

  He’d paid plenty to keep the situation under wraps. He’d lied to all and sundry, and in a matter of weeks Norman Gooseberger was supposed to stroll back into town fit and well, with a brand new position as head of publicity at Orpheus.

  Dammit! What went wrong?

  The kid was dead. Massive internal haemorrhaging, he’d been told.

  Technically Mannon had killed him. Oh, Jesus!

  Carmel and Orville were somewhere at the party. Who was going to tell them? And what would happen when they found out? Were they going to just sit back and take it in the good old Hollywood tradition of keeping silent to protect the guilty?

  Clarissa was wrecked. Maybe he should have waited to reveal the news to her, but he’d had to share it with someone, and she was sworn to secrecy.

  ‘Mannon has to be punished,’ she’d said, white with grief.

  ‘No,’ he’d replied. ‘The knowledge alone is gonna be with him forever. That’s punishment enough.’

  ‘I don’t understand. Justice must be done.’

  ‘You’re sounding like a movie. It’s too fucking late for justice. I’ve told you before – the scandal and publicity will ruin both your careers, and kill The Murder stone cold. You want that? For what?’

  ‘Yes. I want that.’

  ‘Get serious, Clarissa. Bigger stars than you have been dragged down by a lot less. Imagine yourself in court, telling your side of the story. Jeez! They’d crucify you. In France the blame would be all yours. Don’t forget, if Mannon hadn’t caught you in the sack with another guy none of this would have happened. You were involved in a hot and heavy affair with Mannon. Everyone knew about it. One word of the truth and it’s over for yoµ. I’ll personally see to that, along with Zachary Klinger and most of the other people aboard this yacht tonight. You’ll end up doing art movies in Siberia. Is that what you want?’

  ‘It’s all so sick.’

  ‘And I guess you in bed with a confirmed fag is normal?’

  She’d pulled her jacket close around her and sniveled in the breeze, while all around them the party went on, unaware of their personal drama.

  He’d reached over to touch her, a small gesture of sympathy to show he wasn’t completely heartless.

  She drew away as if he had communicable herpes.

  ‘You’ll get over it, Clarissa. Hey – we all liked Norman. I’ll fly in tomorrow and take care of everything. He’s going to suffer a burst appendix. I hope to Christ he’s still got one.’

  ‘You’ll be an accessory to murder,’ she’d said slowly.

  ‘No, I’ll be helping everyone out – including you.’

  He’d left her alone on the deck – a solitary figure. She’d be all right. Clarissa wasn’t some dozy-headed starlet – she had guts. She’d survive.

  ‘Hello, Howard and Poppy.’ Whitney wafted into sight wearing a dress that would give any healthy male a hard-on for life.

  ‘So lovely to see you,’ enthused Poppy.

  ‘Have you met Senator Richmond?’ Whitney asked, taking his hand and pulling him forward.

  ‘The Senator Peter Richmond?’ Poppy said triumphantly. She was never at a loss for a name – especially an important one. ‘No, we’ve never met, but I’m delighted. Are you visiting? Is your wife with you? We’d love to give a dinner for you. Something small and intimate, say fifty or sixty people?’

  * * *

  The belly-dancers appeared with dessert: nubile young women, clad in full Eastern garb – their smooth, round stomachs on display as they undulated from area to area, pulsating and fluctuating their agile hips.

  Chuck Nielson tried to grab one as she slid by, her eyes bright with promise above the veiled part of her face.

  ‘C’mere, baby,’ he crowed, pulling at the flimsy chiffon twirling between her legs.

  ‘Get lost, pox face,’ she muttered out of the corner of her mouth, skilfully moving on.

  Only Beverly and Zachary knew the true identity of his exotic belly-dancers. They were all hookers, trained especially for tonight’s performance. It amused Zachary to entertain his guests with the unexpected.

  After the belly-dancers came the break-dancers – six talented black youths.

  ‘They’re sooo jazzed,’ Heaven exclaimed excitedly.

  ‘Yeah,’ agreed Rocky, although he couldn’t see what all the fuss was about. He preferred the belly-dancers himself. Now they were something else!

  * * *

  Below decks, in the powder room, Melanie-Shanna found herself washing her hands next to Whitney Valentine. They hadn’t seen each other since the famous fight between Mannon and Chuck upstairs at the Bistro.

  Whitney hitched the top of her clinging dress a touch higher. ‘Hello, Melanie. How are you?’

  ‘Oh – hi, Whitney, I didn’t see you.’

  Nobody could miss Whitney Valentine in all her glory. She had a body capable of reducing grown men to tears.

  ‘Congrats on the baby,’ Whitney said. ‘I’m sure it’s made Mannon very happy, he always wanted kids.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  Whitney glossed her lips and fluffed out her hair. ‘I’m so glad you two stayed together. Believe me, Clarissa Browning is a grade A cunt. She would have made him nothing but miserable.’

  Melanie-Shanna, busily applying lipstick, nodded her agreement. ‘It’s all worked out,’ she said quietly. ‘We’re over Puerto Vallarta and his affair with her. He’s happy being back with me and the baby. He says Clarissa was just a bad nightmare.’

  ‘Good,’ Whitney said firmly. ‘Let’s be friends, huh?’

  Melanie-Shanna could hardly see that happening, but at least she finally felt secure with his ex-wife. Whitney didn’t want Mannon, and he didn’t want her anymore. ‘How’s Chuck?’ she asked. ‘Are you two still together?’

  ‘On and off.’ Whitney shrugged. ‘Tonight more off than on. He’s such an asshole when he drugs out – like right now.’ She leaned confidentially towards her new friend. ‘I have met the most attractive and interesting older man. His name is Peter Richmond. Senator Peter Richmond. And I think he likes me.’

  ‘Isn’t he married?’ Melanie-Shanna asked, putting away her lipstick and closing her purse.

  ‘In name only. When you’re in politics getting divorced is a definite no-no. Anyway – he says—’

  They left the powder room chatting amicably.

  Clarissa waited a beat often before emerging from a locked toilet.

  * * *

  ‘So you’re not talkin’?’ Wes asked.

  ‘I never said we weren’t speaking,’ Silver replied, an argumentative edge to her voice.

  ‘She’s sitting right over there, an’ you haven’t said one word to each other. What’s the deal? You don’t talk to your brother and father. And now I find out you don’t even talk to your kid.’

  ‘I think she should come over to me, don’t you?’

  ‘I think you’re full of crap.’

  Silver put on her haughtiest tone. ‘And what exactly do you mean by that remark?’

  ‘Just what it sounds like. She’s your daughter, for crissake – not some deadly rival. Loosen up an’ at least say hello.’

  ‘Keep your nose ou
t of it, if you please. It’s not your business.’

  ‘You’re being unreasonable. An’ if you don’t wanna say hello, I will.’

  Glaring at him angrily, she said, ‘Don’t you dare!’

  ‘Why shouldn’t I? I’m her stepfather. I’m goin’ right over an’ introducing myself.’

  Silver was unaware of the conversation he’d had with Nora concerning her relationship with Heaven.

  ‘Why doesn’t she want to have anythin’ to do with the kid?’ he’d asked.

  Nora had shaken her head. ‘Some kind of guilt about the girl’s father.’

  ‘Who was that?’

  ‘Nobody knows.’

  ‘Come on. You know.’

  ‘No, I don’t.’

  ‘Yes, you do.’

  ‘I don’t.’

  ‘Swear on your life.’

  ‘If you could forge some sort of relationship between the two of them it would be nice. See what you can do, Wes. You’re the only one I’ve ever seen her listen to.’

  Silver picked up her champagne and drained the glass. ‘If you go over to her, I will not speak to you for the rest of the night.’

  ‘That’ll make a whole bunch of us you’re not talkin’ to.’

  ‘I mean it, Wes.’

  ‘We’ll see.’

  ‘I said I mean it.’

  He stood up. ‘I’ll be back in a minute.’

  * * *

  Jade couldn’t find Corey. She wandered from area to area, bumping into Poppy along the way, an unfriendly Howard, and finally getting stuck with Chuck Nielson, who introduced himself and then wouldn’t leave her alone.

  ‘You’re somethin’,’ he kept on mumbling. ‘An’ I’m just a bum.’

  He offered her a joint.

  She turned him down.

  He offered her cocaine.

  She turned him down.

  He offered her his body.

  She laughed.

  ‘Don’ laugh at me,’ he said, roughly grabbing her.

  ‘Leave the lady alone.’ Jack was there, dangerous green eyes and killer smile.

  Chuck backed off without a word.

  ‘Do you know what we are?’ Jack asked, his voice caressing her.

  She shook her head.

  ‘We’re unfinished business. And there is no way I am letting you marry that jerk tomorrow. No way at all.’