Hollywood Husbands

by Jackie Collins

  ‘You’re fortunate, my darling – it wasn’t a pleasant time.’

  He’d sprained an ankle, but other than that was unscathed.

  They were both lucky. And Corey too, although he’d suffered a few minor burns helping to get people into the lifeboats, including a young waiter who’d had a leg blown off below the knee.

  Naturally, she and Mark had postponed their wedding. And the next thing she knew, she had allowed herself to be talked into this circus. Pretty stupid for someone who liked things private. But too late to do anything about it now.

  * * *

  ‘You okay?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Y’look friggin’ fantastic for an old broad.’

  ‘Darling, I know he’s your hero, but do try to stop sounding like Carlos Brent on a bad day.’

  Wes laughed. ‘Just jokin’!’

  ‘Oh, goody. I do so adore your sense of humour.’

  Bantering back and forth was just their way. Since the True Life Scandal revelations, Silver and Wes had become closer than ever. He had blown his stack about her recent dressing room affair with Carlos, and she had not been thrilled about his supposed drug-dealing activities – he’d denied everything. But all in all, they weathered the bad times, relieved to be alive after the night of horror on Zachary’s yacht from which they’d both escaped without injury, thanks to Wes’s quick thinking. He had hustled Silver into a lifeboat, and at her insistence gone back and found Heaven, bringing her to safety too.

  Suddenly, with chaos all around, a reunion had taken place. Mother and daughter were together again. Temporarily.

  After the appearance of True Life Scandal on the newsstands, Silver had been forced to admit reluctantly that Zachary Klinger was indeed Heaven’s father. And with both Wes and Nora urging her on, she had met with Heaven privately, and falteringly tried to explain why she’d kept it a secret. Of course, she hadn’t told her the real truth – she’d just said that he was a married man at the time, and she’d done what she thought was best.

  To Silver’s annoyance, Heaven and Zachary forged an immediate and wonderful relationship. Heaven moved into the Klinger mansion – and to make matters even more aggravating, her record went to number one.

  Wes couldn’t understand her pique. ‘She’s your own daughter. You should be goddamn proud. I thought everything was okay between you now.’

  Silver wasn’t proud, she was jealous. She just couldn’t help it.

  Now they’d promised Zeppo White to go with him to Jade Johnson’s wedding, and there was no getting out of seeing Zachary and Heaven together – a sight Silver dreaded.

  * * *

  Corey visited Jade just as Springsteen faded.

  ‘Dad’s on his way up,’ he said. ‘How are you feeling?’

  ‘Like I’m entering prison with no hope of a reprieve!’

  ‘I told Mom to stay downstairs – she’ll only make you cry.’

  ‘How do you feel?’ Since Norman’s death he had become even more quiet and withdrawn.

  ‘I’m quitting the publicity business,’ he said. ‘It’s not for me. I think I’ll be better away from the atmosphere.’

  She took his hand. ‘I think you’re right, and remember, Corey, whatever you do, I’m always here for you.’

  A knock on the door announced their father. Oh God! Father of the bride. She was really doing this. She felt hot and cold, dizzy and sick. She was getting married!

  HELP!

  * * *

  As Wes drew out of their driveway, with Silver sitting beside him in the Rolls-Royce, a black sedan appeared from nowhere and cut in front of him, forcing him to brake abruptly.

  ‘Sonofabitch!’ he yelled angrily, leaning on the horn.

  ‘Don’t get excited,’ soothed Silver, taking out a compact and checking her appearance yet again.

  The sedan came to a stop, blocking the narrow street up in the hills of Bel Air.

  Without thinking, Wes got out of the car and started to walk towards the other vehicle, swearing.

  The gunshots took him completely by surprise.

  * * *

  ‘And do you, Jade Johnson, take this man, Mark Rand, to be your lawful wedded husband?’

  Yes, I do.

  No, I don’t.

  She stared at the preacher in the magnificent grounds of Zachary Klinger’s opulent estate. He was a Californian preacher. Blond streaked hair, blue eyes, and a suntan.

  A helicopter hovered overhead, causing an unpleasant breeze.

  ‘…forty-nine identical white limos with fully stocked bars and a supply of the best caviar, to transport Zachary Klinger’s illustrious guests to his waiting yacht…’

  SHE COULD REMEMBER!

  Picking up Corey, the ride to Long Beach, boarding the yacht, and joining the Whites.

  SHE COULD REMEMBER!

  The preacher cleared his throat, a gentle reminder that they were waiting for her reply.

  She turned to Mark. He nodded encouragingly.

  Tall and tan and young and lovely

  The girl from Ipanema goes walking

  Jack Python.

  Jack Python with the deadly green eyes and the killer smile! Was he really going to let her go through with this?

  Impatiently the preacher cleared his throat again and decided to repeat himself. ‘Do you, Jade Johnson, take this man, Mark Rand, to be your lawful wedded husband?’

  ‘Are you seriously getting married?’

  If you don’t stop me, I am.

  ‘You know something? When you’re angry I think I love you even more.’

  Well then, where are you when I need you?

  The noise of the helicopter was getting louder.

  ‘Answer,’ hissed Mark, becoming red in the face.

  She remembered him saying – ‘Was he enough for you in bed? Is that why I haven’t had the pleasure?’

  Yes. Right, Mark. On both counts.

  Instinctively she looked up, just in time to see the helicopter swoop down and lower a rope ladder.

  Thank God! Rescue was at hand.

  Without a second thought she gathered up the flimsy skirt of her white silk dress, kicked off her shoes, and made a dash for the ladder, freedom, and most of all – Jack Python.

  ‘Holy shit!’ yelled Beverly, with a hoot of crazed laughter, as Jade scrambled up the precarious rope stairway. ‘One thing about Johnson – she always was a wild one!’

  And the helicopter rose like a bird and whirled off into the future.

  Nine Months Later

  Zeppo White gave up agenting, and became the new head of Orpheus Studios.

  His wife, Ida, recovered from her burns and, as the result of extensive plastic surgery, looked twenty years younger.

  Zeppo continued to chase nubile females who lusted after an acting career.

  Ida gave up drugs and took to very young men instead.

  Zeppo made her a producer. She never produced anything, but gave endless auditions.

  They remained locked in marriage.

  * * *

  Whitney Valentine posed nude for a prestigious men’s magazine, and was paid a record amount of money. A million bucks for revealing paradise. Her movie career took off like a rocket, and she became the highest-paid bad actress in the world.

  Senator Peter Richmond flew in from Washington once a month to visit her, and after a few months swore faithfully he would leave his wife and marry her.

  He never did.

  * * *

  Vladimir Kirkoff stayed in Hawaii, living off his revelations of life with a star. He liked the climate. He liked the people. And most of all he liked the huge, bronzed surfers with their wicked grins and penchant for thrills.

  Vladimir never forgot Silver. He kept her picture in a silver frame with a single orchid beside it. If Madame ever called, he would be there.

  * * *

  Unity Smith was picked up by the police in Amarillo, Texas, working in a peep-show bar. She had spent her money from True Life S
candal on drugs and a hustler with lean hips and a way with the ladies. He dumped her when the money ran out.

  She was recognized from her picture in the cheap tabloid.

  Unity Smith’s real name was Unity Serranno, and she was wanted in the state of New York for the cold-blooded murder of a young couple during the course of an armed robbery in 1983.

  Her husband and partner in crime helped finger her. He was doing time for the same murders, and when he saw her photograph in True Life Scandal he whined to the police – ‘This is her – how come she’s runnin’ around free while I’m locked up? She’s the one pulled the damn trigger.’

  Unity Serranno was taken back to the state of New York and sentenced to life imprisonment.

  * * *

  Mannon Cable bought a home in Carmel. A large, rambling, comfortable ranch house, perched high on a bluff, overlooking the ocean.

  He was acclaimed for his fine work in The Murder, and the quality of the material sent to him improved considerably.

  ‘I’m taking a year off to enjoy my family,’ he told his agent, Sadie La Salle.

  ‘Work comes first,’ she admonished. ‘I’ve got a script for you that Redford would kill for.’

  ‘Bye-bye, Sadie. See you in a year.’

  Melanie-Shanna became pregnant again. She glowed with health and happiness. Every day Mannon woke up and thanked God for his son, Jason, and his wonderful wife, whom he finally appreciated.

  For the first time in his life Mannon Cable let go. And it made him a very secure and contented man indeed.

  * * *

  Carlos Brent married Dee Dee Dionne in a lavish ceremony in Las Vegas. It was his fifth wedding, and he bought the bride a magnificent diamond necklace as a betrothal present.

  His daughter, Susanna, was incensed. ‘You see that bitch,’ she told anyone who would listen. ‘That bitch is walking around with my inheritance hanging round her neck!’

  * * *

  Orville Gooseberger retired from the movie business and moved to Palm Springs with his wife.

  Palm Springs was too quiet for Carmel. They divorced after thirty years of marriage, and he remarried – a twenty-one-year-old mud wrestler.

  Carmel moved to Houston, Texas, and found herself an oilman. She, too, remarried. Unfortunately her new husband expired six weeks after the wedding, leaving her most of Houston.

  Orville divorced his mud wrestler, got back together with Carmel, and they returned to Hollywood where they both belonged.

  * * *

  Howard Soloman went into ‘indie prod’ – independent production – and gave up cocaine with the help of a fine organization called Cocaine Anonymous.

  He genuinely loved the movie business, and had no intention of ever getting out. But the pressures of running a studio were not something he missed. Now he was his own boss, the pace of his life was a little less frantic: there was time to take the occasional trip, no need to go out every night, and if he wanted to spend a day at home just lazing around the pool – he did so.

  Poppy adjusted. She was very adaptable when she had to be.

  And, of course, she still gave great parties.

  * * *

  Corey Johnson gave up his PR job at Briskinn & Bower and moved back to San Francisco. It took him a long time to get over Norman, but eventually he met a successful writer called Ted, who invited him to move in. He did so, and six months later Ted died of AIDS. For a while Corey was numb with grief – he had nursed Ted through the last helpless months, and Ted had left him his house and a reasonable monthly allowance. The doctors told him he had not contracted the disease.

  After much thought, he decided to use Ted’s house as a hospice. He opened it up as a haven for AIDS victims who had nowhere else to go and helped them through the final difficult days, allowing them to die in dignity and peace, with someone nearby who cared.

  * * *

  Wes Money almost died. He took two bullets, one dangerously close to the heart.

  Silver Anderson, who without any thought for her own safety had left the car and rushed to his assistance, was also shot.

  As the black sedan raced off, leaving them both on the ground wounded, she had managed to memorize the licence plate as the car sped away. And then she crawled to the Rolls and phoned for help.

  More Hollywood dramas! The press was ecstatic! Silver Anderson alone could keep their circulation rising!

  They were rushed to the hospital. Wes was operated on immediately for the removal of two bullets, and Silver was treated for minor lacerations – a bullet had merely grazed her shoulder. ‘You can go home tomorrow, Miss Anderson,’ she was told.

  Silver never stepped from the hospital until Wes was out of intensive care and off the danger list. When he drifted back into the real world, she was there beside him, her hair a mess, no makeup, dressed in a crumpled tracksuit. ‘How dare you!’ were the first words out of her mouth. ‘If you think you’re leaving me, Mr Money – you can think again! I need you, barman. And don’t you ever forget it!’

  She postponed her NBC special to nurse him back to health, personally cooking him greasy chicken soup and burnt scrambled eggs.

  ‘Silver,’ he begged her weakly, ‘if you ever want me to recover, you’d better quit with the cooking!’

  Thanks to Silver’s diligence, the black sedan was traced to a known drug kingpin, Sol Winogratsky. Within hours he was picked up and charged with attempted murder.

  * * *

  Nora Carvell decided she was getting too old for all the excitement and that it was time to retire. She gave up smoking and went to live with her sister in Florida.

  Before leaving Hollywood she was delighted to be present at a reconciliation lunch between Silver and her daughter, Heaven. The two of them finally seemed to be getting along.

  * * *

  Reba Winogratsky took over her husband’s business while he was doing time for an attempted murder rap he should never have gotten involved with in the first place. It was all the fault of that stupid magazine True Life Scandal. Printing that she’d had an affair with Wes Money. Really!

  Like a fool she had left the magazine on the floor in the can, and Sol had read it on one of his marathon craps.

  ‘Is this the same motherfucker who ran off with my money?’ he screamed.

  How many Wes Moneys married to Silver Anderson did he think there were?

  ‘Yes. Sol.’

  ‘An’ you fucked him?’

  ‘Yes, Sol. We were separated at the time. You were schtupping the female bodybuilder with the big biceps. Remember?’

  Sol had a hot temper. It was his undoing.

  * * *

  Heaven adored living with her father, even though it was unbelievable to realize she was Zachary Klinger’s daughter. He was such an important man, so rich and powerful. At first she was in complete awe of him, but gradually – with the help of Beverly – the two of them began to get to know each other.

  And things with her mother were looking up. Since the shooting incident, while not exactly close, they were in regular contact, and it pleased Heaven a lot. At last she felt she was part of a real family.

  And her record went to number one. What a blast! But best of all, she and Penn Sullivan had become an item – as they say in Hollywood.

  At twenty-three, Penn was old enough to look after her, and young enough to understand.

  They really enjoyed being with each other.

  When Zachary K. Klinger suffered a mild stroke, his daughter and Beverly were by his side, a close-knit family unit.

  It was the relationship Heaven had yearned for all her life.

  * * *

  Rocky was cast adrift right after the great yacht disaster. Zachary K. Klinger bought his part of Heaven’s contract for a princely sum and banished him from her life.

  Heaven didn’t care – she hardly seemed to notice.

  Rocky bought a Porsche, a closetful of new clothes, and a penthouse in Marina Del Rey.

  He met an Amazon woman
with Nordic bones and a voice like the crunch of gravel on a wet day.

  ‘Gonna make ya a rock star, babe,’ he promised her.

  He was still trying.

  * * *

  Lord Mark Rand stayed in Hollywood and directed a film for Zeppo White and Orpheus. Zeppo was under the misguided impression that anyone with a title could do no wrong.

  Mark’s directorial debut was the flop of the year. Fortunately for him he was still invited to lots of parties. After all, he was a Lord, and Hollywood was crammed with social-fucks.

  * * *

  Jack Python assisted at the birth of his first child with all the aplomb of a seasoned veteran. He held the baby immediately after the doctor, placing it lovingly on Jade’s stomach. ‘It’s a boy,’ he said for the sixth time since his son had entered the world.

  ‘A boy,’ she murmured happily. ‘Looks just like Daddy, I hope.’

  ‘Take a peek.’

  She raised her head. ‘Gorgeous! All that hair!’

  ‘I think we should get married,’ he said seriously.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because.’

  ‘Because what?’

  ‘Because I love you, goddammit!’ he said, exasperated.

  ‘Let’s stay single,’ she suggested.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because.’

  ‘Because what?’

  She smiled. ‘Because I love you, goddammit!’

  JACKIE COLLINS

  There have been many imitators, but only Jackie Collins can tell you what really goes on in the fastest lane of all. From Beverly Hills bedrooms to a raunchy prowl along the streets of Hollywood; from glittering rock parties and concerts to stretch limos and the mansions of the power brokers — Jackie Collins chronicles the real truth from the inside looking out.

  Jackie Collins has been called a “raunchy moralist” by the late director Louis Malle and “Hollywood’s own Marcel Proust” by Vanity Fair magazine. With over 500 million copies of her books sold in more than 40 countries, and with some thirty New York Times bestsellers to her credit, Jackie Collins is one of the world’s top-selling novelists. She is known for giving her readers an unrivaled insiders knowledge of Hollywood and the glamorous lives and loves of the rich, famous, and infamous! “I write about real people in disguise,” she says. “If anything, my characters are toned down — the truth is much more bizarre.”