American Star

by Jackie Collins

  message.

  "Uh-huh," she said dully.

  The man nudged Reece. "When we getting' out of here?" he asked,

  perspiration beading his forehead. "It's not good for me to be seen

  with you people. Where we going anyway?"

  "Close by," Reece replied reassuringly.

  "You're not like those con people I seen on TV?" the man said

  anxiously. "They lure you to a room with a girl, take your money and

  beat up on you.

  Reece tipped his cowboy hat. "Do I look like a con man?" he said, his

  lip curling. "Does she look like a con woman? Don't worry, partner.

  You are about to have the dream trip of your life."

  Cyndra caught snatches of the conversation. She knew what Reece

  expected, he'd made that very clear, but she still couldn't believe

  it.

  "Okay, lion," Reece said, all nice and friendly. "Let's go so you an'

  this fine gentleman can get to know each other better."

  "I'm warning you," she hissed under her breath, just loud enough for

  him to hear. "I'm not doing this."

  His hand strayed toward his belt. "Cooperate, lion. I told you this

  mornin'-I been carryin' you too long, it's about time you gave

  something back."

  The three of them walked out of the casino into the parking lot, where

  the humid night air enveloped them like a heavy cloud.

  She wondered what Reece would do when she refused to go through with

  this. He'd probably blow her head off-he was crazy enough.

  But still, he wouldn't be in the room watching them, and once he left

  she'd tell the guy the position she was in-appeal to his better

  nature.

  He looked like a family man, although he sure didn't smell like one.

  He stunk of beer. She shuddered-his smell reminded her of Primo.

  They drove to the motel in Reece's shocking pink Cadillac. By the time

  they got there the man was sweating even more profusely.

  Take my license number," Reece suggested, sensing that this dude could

  back off at any moment. "It'll make you feel more secure.

  "No, no, I trust you," the man said, although he didn't. "How'm I

  gonna get back?"

  "I'll stay around," Reece said. "Whistle when you're done an' I'll

  drive you.

  Cyndra got out of the car and stood stiffly beside it.

  "Get your cute little butt to the room, honey," Reece said coaxingly.

  "An' don't forget t'leave the door open for our friend." He waited

  until she was out of sight and then snapped his fingers, it was time

  for business. "Gotta have cash," he said. "No cash, no pussy.

  The word "pussy" turned the man on. Feverishly he counted out several

  large bills.

  Reece checked it through twice. When he was satisfied he said, "Room

  eight, near the pool." Then he winked. "Do the double loop for me,

  partner, compliments of the house."

  When Cyndra reached their room she thought about locking the door. But

  she knew it wouldn't work-if she didn't let the man in Reece would only

  kick the door down.

  She was pretty, she was young, she had talent-why hadn't her career

  taken off? If it had, everything would be all right. Reece was doing

  this to punish her. How about divorcing him? a little voice whispered

  in her ear. How about getting out while I still can? But she knew it

  was hopeless, he'd never let her go unless she paid back every cent

  he'd spent on her.

  There was a knock on the door. Swallowing hard, she smoothed down her

  dress, walked over and threw it open.

  The man barged past her into the room, his Hawaiian shirt sticking to

  his chest. "Let's do this quick," he blurted. "I'm about ready-so

  hurry it up.

  "I'll fix you a drink," she said, stalling for time. "There's a Coke

  machine down the hall and we got Scotch or vodka. What'll it be?"

  "Nothing," he said, already fumbling with the buttons on his fly.

  She noticed the gleam of a wedding ring on his finger. "Does your wife

  know you're doing this?" she asked sharply.

  He stopped short. "What's my wife got to do with anything?"

  "I . . . I just wondered, that's all."

  His eyes darted around the room, settling on the bed. "I do it the Ir

  he announced. "Whyn't you lie back and take a conventional girl," she

  replied quickly, continuing to conventional way, your clothes off?"

  "I'm not stall.

  "I don't got all night," he said, glancing at his watch.

  "If you'd sooner forget it . . ." she ventured.

  He jumped to attention at that. "I paid good money for you."

  "How much?"

  "What's it to you?"

  His words infuriated her. "It's me you're supposed to fuck, isn't

  it?"

  He reached over, pinching her left nipple through her dress. "I'm not

  used to women talkin' dirty."

  She shrunk away. She was no hooker and she wasn't about to act like

  one. If Reece wanted to blow her head off, then so be it. "There's

  been a mistake," she said, her voice a dull monotone.

  His eyes began to bug. "What mistake?"

  In the same flat voice she said, "I don't do this sort of thing."

  "But I was told-" "I don't care what you were told. Zip up your pants

  and get out of here. Go home to your wife."

  Without any warning he burst into tears. "I knew I shouldn'ta come

  here," he sobbed. "I knew it was a bad thing to do."

  Cyndra was taken aback, she'd expected a violent reaction, not this.

  "Look," she said, showing some compassion. "I'll get Reece to drive

  you back to the casino. He doesn't have to know nothing happened."

  The man continued to sob.

  "We'll tell him it was the greatest. That way we'll both come out of

  this okay-you'll look like a real stud and I won't get my head bashed

  in." Gently she began steering him to the door. "It'll work out,

  you'll see. We'll-" With a sudden spurt of anger he threw her arm off

  and choked out a frustrated "What about my money?"

  "I can't help you with that."

  "I paid good money for you. I want it back."

  "You'll have to ask Reece, and if you ask him he's gonna know."

  The man seemed to have recovered from his crying jag. Now he was

  red-faced and angry. "I want my money," he said stubbornly.

  "I told you-I don't have it."

  ù "Then you'd better get it, you cheap little hooker."

  "He's got a gun," she said in a flat voice. "He could blow both our

  heads off. Whyn't you do us both a favor an' go quietly?"

  "This was a setup all along," the man said bitterly. "I seen you

  people on television, you had no intention of putting out."

  "Listen, mister, you're the one started to whine like a baby."

  "You black bitch-if I'm not getting my money, I'll sure get my money's

  worth." Unexpectedly he grabbed her, his wet lips slobbering all over

  her neck.

  She shoved him off, but he came at her again.

  Suddenly she was back in the Browning house in Bosewell and he was Mr.

  Browning-grabbing her, forcing her to do things. Every bad memory

  flooded over her.

  "I . . . won't . . . do . . . this," she screamed, kicking out.

  "You'll do it unless I get my money back," he said, roughly squeezing

  her breasts.<
br />
  Was money all anybody cared about? Mr. Browning's words hung in the

  air-black cunt . . . black bitch . . . She could hear his voice, his

  insults. It was like it had all happened yesterday.

  They fell back on the bed and her screams became louder. Somebody

  knocked on the dividing wall yelling, "Shut up!"

  The door flew open and Reece marched in. "What in hellfire's going' on

  here?" he demanded, narrow eyes pinning Cyndra accusingly.

  "He . . . he . . . tried to attack me," she gasped.

  "Damn whore," the man muttered. "The bitch wouldn't give me

  nothin'."

  "I left you two to have a good time," Reece said patiently, tapping one

  of his pointy-toed cowboy boots on the frayed carpet. "An' all you're

  doin' is fighting. Course she's gonna give you any sweet thing you

  want." He threw her a warning look. "Get it together, lion, or you

  know what'll happen."

  "Screw you, Reece," she spat. "You can't treat me like this."

  His hand hovered near his belt. "Oh, I can't, huh?"

  The man decided the time had come to get back to his hotel room and his

  flabby wife. "I want my money," he said, making one last attempt to

  claim what was his.

  "No refunds," Reece snapped.

  i "You had no right to pull this on me," Cyndra said, tears stinging

  her eyes. "I'll divorce you, that's what I'll do."

  Reece stood dangerously still. "Honey, you'll do what I say you'll

  do."

  "Why don't I take my money and leave," the man suggested, not liking

  the way this was going.

  "Shut your mouth an' stay out of this," Reece said, not even looking in

  his direction. This was between him and Cyndra, and she had to learn a

  lesson.

  "Maybe what I should do is call the cops," the man threatened.

  "You stole from me.

  Reece jumped to attention, pulling back his jacket and revealing the

  gun stuck in his belt. "You ain't going nowhere, partner."

  "Aw, Jesus!" the man groaned, the color draining from his face.

  "Aw, sweet Jesus!"

  Reece turned his attention back to Cyndra. "Get your clothes off I

  hear one more scream outta this room an' you know what'll happen.

  The man began slowly edging toward the door.

  Cyndra stared at Reece, a deep rage burning inside her. "You know

  what, Reece-you're nothing but a dumb pimp," she said, the words

  spilling out. "In fact, that's all you're capable of-pimping. How

  does it feel to be pimp of the year? Pimp of the fucking century?"

  Her voice rose. "How does it feel to know you CAN'T DO ANYTHING

  ELSE?"

  The person next door hammered on the wall again.

  "You callin' me a pimp?" Reece yelled. "Well, what does that make

  you? A whore, honey. A drippin' blood-suckin' whore."

  "Oh, I ain't no whore, mister. Don't you get it? I ain't no whore!"

  She leaped off the bed, furious.

  Removing the gun from his belt Reece waved it in her face.

  "-Don't threaten me," she yelled hysterically. "You can't control my

  life. You can't control me." She lunged at him, grabbing for the

  gun.

  The man reached the door, sweat coursing down his face. These two were

  crazy. And he was equally crazy to have come here.

  His hand clutched the doorknob as Cyndra and Reece struggled for

  possession of the gun. His hand was so slick with sweat he couldn't

  get it open.

  And then a shot rang out. One lone shot.

  The bullet ricocheted off the wall and hit the man in the back of his

  head. He fell to the floor without a sound. There was a long moment

  of frozen silence.

  "Oh, shit," Reece said, panic-stricken. "Look what you done, you crazy

  bitch-you shot the dumb motherfucker. You killed him, you stupid

  cunt.

  You gone and goddamn killed him!" m not as bad as you think," Emerson

  said.

  "How do you know what I think?" Lauren replied, sliding along the

  leather seat as far away from him as she could get.

  "It's not exacfly difficult figuring you out."

  "Figure this out, Emerson. I'd like to get out of this car, and I'd

  like to get out now.

  He shrugged. "Okay, I'll admit it. I was bombed outta my skull and I

  gave you a hard time. So I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you."

  She shook her head. "What does it take to get you to understand that I

  don't want anything to do with you?"

  He began to laugh. "That's what I like about you. You're different

  from the rest of em. You can even string two words together."

  "So can Nature," she snapped.

  "You try living with Nature," he said gloomily. "It's a bloody

  nightmare. Anyway, we split-didn't she tell you?"

  Lauren leaned forward and tapped on the smoky black glass separating

  them from the driver.

  "Whattaya doin'," he asked, lounging back and stretching out his long

  leather-clad legs.

  "Telling your driver to stop the car."

  He looked amused. "I thought I told you-you're my prisoner."

  "This is kidnapping."

  He shrugged. "So arrest me.

  She sat back, trying to decide what to do. In spite of everything

  there was no denying that he was a very charismatic figure, and if she

  really wanted to face up to it she was attracted to him in spite of

  what had happened. Besides, what did she have to lose? Exactly

  nothing.

  Nature wasn't talking to her anyway.

  "Okay," she said, with a weary sigh.

  "Okay what?"

  "I'll have lunch with you. Impress me. Dazzle me with your charm.

  Show me that you're really just like the boy next door."

  He chortled with laughter. "Babe, I aven't been like the boy next door

  in twenty years."

  "Make an effort."

  "For you-anything."

  He took her to a small Italian restaurant on Third Street. The jovial

  owner ushered them to a table in the back, treating Emerson like a

  king. His bodyguard stayed at the front of the restaurant, scanning

  the sidewalk for trouble.

  "Champagne, caviar, what'll it be?" Emerson asked, tossing back his

  mane of hair.

  She glanced at her watch. "It's three o'clock in the afternoon."

  "So?"

  "So I'll have a small green salad and some pasta. Then I have to go.

  Besides, this place doesn't have champagne and caviar.

  "Wanna bet? I can get anything I want any time I want," he boasted.

  "And if you don't get it you take it. Story of your life, right, Mr.

  Burn?"

  "What's with this Mr. Burn crap?"

  "I'm giving you a little respect, you should try it some time."

  He leaned across the table, staring directly into her eyes. "You're

  beautiful, y'know that? You got something' I really get off on."

  She hit him with a little light sarcasm. "Gee, you certainly have a

  way with words."

  He didn't seem to mind. "It's me upbringin'," he said cheerfully.

  "Where was that?"

  "Elephant an' Castle-or Asshole, as we liked to call it back in the

  good old days. Sorta Brooklyn with a cockney accent."

  "You and Nature have a lot in common-including a country."

  He laughed derisively. "Me and Nature ave exactly nothin
g in common.

  "You married her."

  "Big friggin' deal. I ad a hangover at the time."

  "Is that your excuse for everything?"

  "Oh, now you're gonna give me the You drink too much speech."

  "I really don't care what you do."

  "You're wrong."

  "About what?"

  "About not caring. From the first time I saw you I knew we had

  something going'. You were like this little mouse runnin' around

  organizing that party for Samm up at my apartment-remember? I noticed

  you immediately cause you seemed different-that's what I like about