American Star

by Jackie Collins

  didn't get away with it was because your wife came home. Your wife

  -remember her? She used to be my best friend-now she no longer talks

  to me, thanks to you. You're an asshole, you know that?" She slammed

  the phone down.

  It rang again immediately.

  She took the receiver off the hook and buried it under her pillow.

  The next day three dozen red roses arrived at the apartment with a

  note. The note read, Sorry! E. She dropped the flowers off at a

  nearby hospital.

  A few days later while lunching with Samm she casually inquired about

  Nature.

  "Did you two fall out?" Samm asked, raising an elegant eyebrow as she

  picked at her tomato and lettuce salad.

  "You know what Nature's like better than anyone," she replied cagily,

  sipping a glass of water.

  "That's true," Samm replied with a weary sigh. "The girl can be

  absolutely impossible. I don't know what she sees in that mangy rock

  star, he looks like he's in desperate need of a shower-several in

  fact.

  Those leather pants stick to his body like tacky tape-and I do mean

  tacky."

  "So they're still very much together?"

  "About as close as two enormous egos can be," Samm said dryly.

  "You do know she's been bad-mouthing you all over town?"

  Lauren sighed-this was all she needed to hear. "She has?"

  "I wouldn't worry-nobody takes her seriously."

  Emerson called again the following week. "Changed your mind?" he

  asked casually, like they chatted every day.

  "About what?"

  "Gettin' together."

  The man was in ego overdrive. "I have a news flash," she replied

  sharply. "You've finally met the one person who doesn't want to go out

  with you.

  He was not to be put off. "If you're worried about Nature, she's in

  L.A."

  "I thought she came with you on every trip to hold your hand."

  "Nah, can't ave her trailin' me, can I? S'not good for the image.

  Come on, we'll hit a few clubs, ave us a time."

  "You know what, Emerson?"

  "What, babe?"

  "Stop calling me."

  It seemed inconceivable that Emerson Burn had decided to pursue her.

  Did he honestly think that a near rape was prelude to a romantic

  relationship?

  Three months after getting married Pia announced she was pregnant.

  "Howard and I talked it over, and we want you to be godmother."

  "I'd be honored," Lauren replied, thinking how lucky Pia was to be

  married to the man she loved and pregnant.

  Help Unlimited was doing so well that they'd finally rented proper

  office space. Pia decided to keep working until a month before the

  baby was due. "I'm not the sitting-at-home type," she explained. They

  now employed six people, which gave Lauren the luxury of choosing the

  jobs she wished to do. Since she'd taken the cooking course, small

  dinner parties were her forte. She enjoyed organizing incredible

  meals, and it also kept her busy most nights-which suited her fine.

  Sometimes, late at night, when she was lying in bed, a wave of

  unbearable loneliness swept over her. But she'd decided it was better

  to be lonely than to suffer another broken heart.

  Now that Pia had moved out of the apartment they'd shared, she decided

  to redecorate. It wasn't the most luxurious place in the world, but it

  was comfortable and cozy and she was happy there. Weekends she liked

  nothing better than strolling along Eighth Avenue exploring the

  antiques shops and picking out special things.

  One Saturday afternoon she was walking across from Park to Madison

  Avenue, when she noticed a long white limousine crawling along the curb

  behind her.

  She quickened her step, but the limousine kept pace, and when she

  stopped at a street corner the door of the car was flung open and

  Emerson Burn leaped out. He grabbed her arm and spun her around to

  face him. "You been avoiding me," he said accusingly.

  Was he so dumb he really thought she was ever going to talk to him

  again?

  "What now?" she said, attempting to shake his arm off.

  His grip tightened. "Get in the car an' I'll tell you.

  "Forget it."

  "I ain't forgettin' it, darling'," he said loudly. "That's the

  friggin' noint" Two girls spotted him and froze as if they'd just seen

  Jesus.

  Emerson's bodyguard jumped out of the car. "Time ta split, Em," he

  said, watchful eyes raking the street.

  Emerson ignored him.

  The girls clutched each other, bracing themselves for the rush.

  "You ain't bein' fair time," Emerson complained, holding tight. "I

  wanna explain. I was drunk. I had a problem."

  "Now look-" she began.

  The girls sprang into action-sprinting toward him with purposeful looks

  in their eyes. The bodyguard saw them coming. So did Emerson. "Oh,

  shit!" he exclaimed. "Here comes trouble."

  Lauren felt a thump in the small of her back and was rudely shoved

  aside as one of the girls moved in on him.

  "I'm insane about everyffling you do!" the girl yelled hysterically,

  pulling at his jacket. "I love you! I really really love you!"

  Before Lauren could think about what to do the bodyguard bundled

  Emerson into the limo-somehow pushing her in behind him.

  The car immediately took ofœ "Well," Emerson said, "that settles it.

  You're trapped, darling', an' there ain't nothin' you can do about it."

  ve never done anything like this before," Annie said, throwing Nick a

  sideways glance.

  He laughed. "Anybody would think we were planning on robbing a

  freakin' bank!"

  "You know what I mean. Taking off like this, it's . . ." She looked

  at him questioningly. "I guess it's fun."

  "Now you're beginning to learn."

  They'd been driving for several hours. The freeway ride was long and

  boring, but the thought of seeing Las Vegas for the first time excited

  both of them. "Hey, how much money you got on you?" he asked,

  realizing he hadn't come prepared.

  "About fifty dollars. Why?"

  Cause we're gonna blow it, that's why."

  "Oh, no, not with my money," she said indignantly.

  Grinning, he steered the old Chevrolet onto an off ramp. "C'mon,

  Annie, you gotta take some chances in life."

  "It's my rent money," she objected.

  "So we'll double it. How's that?"

  She glanced over at him. "You know, Nick, you're really strange."

  "Oh, so now I'm strange. What's this leading up to?"

  "Can I be honest with you?" she asked earnestly.

  "You can be whatever you like," he replied, pulling into a Chevron

  station.

  "It's just that sometimes it seems you're coming on to me, and then

  other times you act as if you're my brother."

  Oh, shit-the last thing he needed was Annie developing a crush on

  him.

  But then again, why not? DeVille was long gone and he was bored with

  the endless stream of one-night stands he could have any time he

  wanted.

  "Are you interested in me or not?" she asked, putting it firmly on the

  line.

  He stalled for time. "Is this a propos
ition?" he said lightly,

  winding down his window.

  "I. . . I need to know."

  "Hey, I'm here with you, we're driving to Vegas."

  "Is that your idea of a commitment?"

  Commitment! The very word gave him nightmares. What was it with women

  and commitments? Why couldn't they take it day by day?

  The gas station attendant leaned into his window-saving him a reply.

  "What'll it be?" the old man asked, scratching his grizzled beard.

  "Fill her up," Nick said. "An' check the oil an' water while you're at

  it."

  "Well?" Annie demanded, not letting him off the hook.

  He took his time before replying. "We're going' on a trip," he said

  carefully. "Whyn't we take it nice an' easy and maybe we'll find

  out."

  Reece Webster sat back in the smoky atmosphere of the small casino bar

  and watched Cyndra sing. She was good. She was really good. So how

  come she wasn't getting anywhere? The record labels hadn't liked the

  deal he'd proposed, and the bigger hotels had said she needed

  experience. Experience, goddamn it! He was giving her experience, and

  what kind of thanks was he getting? Exactly nothing. Cyndra had no

  appreciation of the things he did for her.

  Well, what did he expect? Women were all takers and Cyndra was no

  exception.

  He hoped he hadn't wasted his time marrying her. He'd been so sure she

  was going to be his ride to the big time-now all he did was pay the

  bills. The money she made at the casino didn't even cover his

  expenses. Some dud investment. He'd put two years into singing

  lessons and grooming and it simply wasn't paying off.

  His narrow eyes raked the room. Several men were watching Cyndra with

  that look on their faces. Reece knew the look well. It was the I

  wanna fuck your brains out look.

  He studied her dress. Not sexy enough. She needed more cleavage and

  maybe a deep slit in the skirt. She had great tits and long legs.

  He'd have to deal with that. He'd have to pay for it too.

  Cyndra was beginning to remind him of his first wife. That bitch had

  dragged him down like a lead weight, all she'd been capable of was

  grabbing everything he had. Now Cyndra was falling into the same

  category, and it was about time he did something about collecting on

  his investment.

  The other night he'd overheard a couple of guys talking while Cyndra

  was on stage. "I wouldn't mind a piece of that," one of them had

  said.

  "Yeah, with gravy all over it!" the other one replied.

  Reece had sidled over. "Wanna meet the little lady?" he'd offered.

  Cause if you d0, I'm the man can arrange it."

  Both men had nodded eagerly, so Reece had negotiated a deal. The

  problem was he'd forgotten to tell Cyndra, and when he'd sat her down

  with the two guys and they came on to her she insulted them both. The

  men were real riled uand who could blame them?

  Much to his chagrin he'd had to return their money.

  So what the hell was wrong with a little light hooking on the side?

  Convincing Cyndra was a bitch. Except that today he'd asserted

  himself-put the fear of God into her. That's what women expected-a

  little fear in their lives. They had to know who the boss was.

  Sipping his malt whiskey he scoped out likely prospects, focusing on a

  stocky man sitting alone at a corner table watching Cyndra like he'd

  just discovered candy for the first time. The man was middleaged with

  a florid complexion. A brightly colored Hawaiian shirt and open

  sandals on his feet announced tourist.

  Casually Reece wandered over. "Howdy," he said, tipping his cownv }it

  The man looked up. "Do I know you?"

  "No," Reece said, "but I got a strong suspicion you'd like to."

  "Get your homo ass away from me," the man said, his florid face

  reddening even more.

  "You got it wrong," Reece replied, scowling. "I ain't that way. I

  came over here t'do you a favor."

  "What favor?" the man asked suspiciously.

  Reece gestured toward Cyndra. "Y'see that little lady standing up

  there? She's what I got in mind for you, but if insults is what I

  getthen we got no more conversation." He turned to go.

  "Wait a minute," the man said.

  Reece stopped. "You interested or not?"

  The man glanced around furtively. "I'm interested," he said, lowering

  his voice. "How much will it cost me?"

  "Did you win or did you lose? Cause if you lost you can't afford this

  baby."

  "I won at craps."

  "Then you're a lucky son of a gun, cause she's gonna cost you two

  hundred and fifty."

  The man licked his lips and thought quickly. His flabby wife was

  upstairs sleeping off the effects of winning at the slots. His snotty

  teenage son was out chasing girls. This was the opportunity of a

  lifetime and he didn't want to blow it. But two hundred and fifty

  bucks was an awful lot of money, he could buy a second television for

  that much money. "I . . . I don't know," he said hesitantly.

  "You don't know," Reece repeated, as if he couldn't believe what he was

  heaiing. "You got a chance for a piece o' that and you don't know?"

  Sweat beaded the man's thick neck. "Is she good?" he asked

  hoarsely.

  "Is she worth it?"

  Reece tilted his cowboy hat even further back on his head. "Are you

  shittin' me? Does Kentucky give fried chicken? Does Cadillac give the

  smoothest ride going'? Man, this little lady is the best you ever

  had."

  They came upon Las Vegas like a shimmering jewel sitting in the middle

  of the desert. It was dark and they'd been driving for hours without

  any light at all. Now in the distance they saw the city spread out

  before them and it was a startling sight.

  "It's incredible!" Annie gasped.

  Nick grinned. "I told you-you gotta get out an' do things. No good

  sittin' on your ass all day expecting. . . I dunno-" He looked at her

  quizzically. "What do you expect, Annie?"

  She shrugged. "I work hard, go to class . . one of these days I'll

  get a break."

  "Yeah, I guess that's what we all think." He pulled the car over to

  the side of the road, sliding his arm around her shoulders. "I'm glad

  you came.

  "So am I."

  They were silent for a while, staring at the mirage ahead-at least

  that's what it looked like in the middle of the barren desert. Finally

  he broke the silence. "I never asked you before-where's your

  family?"

  "They're in Florida, where I grew up. I left three years ago and took

  the bus out to L.A." She snuggled closer. "What about you? Cyndra's

  never talked about your family. Where are your parents? Do you have

  any other brothers or sisters?"

  He drew away from her on the pretext of reaching for a cigarette.

  "No sad stories," he said, shaking loose a Camel. "Cyndra and mewe got

  a father in common, a real charmer. Neither of us has seen him in

  years.

  "You don't speak to him?"

  "Nope."

  "That's a shame. Family is all we really have."

  "Yeah, well, you ain't met mine," he said flippantly.
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  "What about your mother?"

  He struck a match and lit up. "She died when I was sixteen. Left

  me.

  "She didn't leave you, Nick," Annie said softly. "Dying is not exactly

  making a" He didn't need to dredge up any more memories, it was painful

  enough without having to talk about it.

  "Hey, can we quit this conversation? Let's appreciate what we got in

  front of us. Take a look at that view!"

  "It's beautiful," she murmured.

  "Yph "lip icI taftin the car. "Let's o et us a Diece of it."

  "This is my friend," Reece said.

  Cyndra nodded, not looking anywhere near the man in the Hawaiian

  shirt.

  "My good friend," Reece added, in case she hadn't quite gotten the