American Star

by Jackie Collins

  you.

  "I'll tell you what you like about me," she said crisply. "You like

  the fact you can't have me, because you're so used to having every girl

  that breathes, and now finally somebody says no. That's the only thing

  you like about me.

  "Wrong."

  "I don't think so."

  "Whyn't we put it to the test?"

  "How?"

  "Sleep with me an' see if I'm still around tomorrow."

  "Very funny."

  "Glad I got you laughin'."

  After lunch he decided he had to buy some books, so they stopped at

  Doubleday's on Fifth Avenue. Two minutes after leaving the limo, word

  was on the street and he was mobbed. He grabbed her hand and ran her

  back to the limo. As soon as they were inside, the car took off.

  "Home. Mine," she said breathlessly.

  "Deal," he replied. "I'll pick you up at ten."

  "I'm asleep at ten."

  "Tonight's different. Be dressed and ready to hit the town."

  "I didn't say I'd go out with you.

  "You didn't say you wouldn't. Just remember, I could have kept you

  prisoner for the rest of the day, but I'm letting you go. Now you owe

  me.

  "Exactly nothing."

  "Do you always ave to ave the last word?"

  "Yes."

  Upstairs in her apartment she found herself unable to settle down.

  This was crazy. Emerson Burn was a dilettante rock star. She wanted

  nothing to do with him. Or did she?

  How come you had lunch with him, Roberts?

  Why shouldn't I?

  Do you find him attractive?

  Yes, as a matter of fact I do.

  The phone rang and she grabbed it, ready to tell Emerson she was

  definitely not going out with him that night, or any other night for

  that matter.

  "Hi," Pia said brightly. "What are you doing?"

  "I just walked in. Why?"

  "Howard and I want to take you to dinner."

  "I don't like the sound of your voice.

  "What's wrong with my voice?"

  "Whenever you use that tone there's always some single guy you think is

  perfect for me.

  "I resent that," Pia said indignantly. "As a matter of fact, we're

  dining with Howard's uncle, and we thought it would be nice if you made

  up the foursome."

  "Where's his wife?"

  "At their house in the Hamptons."

  "Hmm "Lauren, we're talking about Howard's old married uncle-he's

  hardly likely to jump all over you.

  "He's a man, isn't he?"

  "Oh, please!"

  "Okay, I'll come."

  Pia was so used to getting a no that this was a surprise. "We'll pick

  you up at eight," she said quickly, before Lauren changed her mind.

  Hmm . . . dinner with Howard's uncle. At least it got her out of the

  house, and when Emerson arrived and found nobody home maybe he'd take

  the hint and leave her alone.

  Or then again, maybe not.

  he didn't know how long she'd been sitting there, she only knew that

  Reece had gone and left her. Left her with a dead man lying on the

  floor.

  She crouched on the bed, hugging her knees to her chest, her eyes wide

  with fear, while the man's body lay in a huddle behind the door.

  "I didn't shoot him, you did it," she'd screamed at Reece when it

  happened-breaking away from him, her body trembling.

  "Oh, no no no, baby, I don't take the rap on this one," Reece had said,

  frantically stuffing his clothes in a suitcase and running for the

  door.

  "You can't . . . leave . . . me," she'd said, the words sticking in

  her throat.

  "Just watch me, honey," he'd said, throwing the gun at her.

  And then he was gone.

  At first she'd thought about calling the police. In fact, she wouldn't

  have been surprised if they'd turned up, because the people next door

  must have heard the gunshot. But nothing happened. Absolutely

  nothing. So she stayed on the bed too frightened to move, knowing she

  should have followed Reece and taken off. But how could she?

  He had the car and all their money-she was left with nothing.

  So she sat in the middle of the bed, tears rolling down her cheeks,

  clutching the gun-her only protection.

  Her life was over and there was nothing she could do about it.

  "This is just like I've seen it on television!" Annie exclaimed.

  "Look at all these lights!"

  "Yeah, this is really something," Nick agreed, pulling into the parking

  lot of a downtown hotel.

  "Where are we going?" she asked. "Shouldn't we find Cyndra?"

  "First we're gonna gamble. That's what you're supposed t'do in

  Vegas."

  "Nick "Try an' enjoy yourself, Annie," he said teasingly. "Today's

  your day for takin' chances. Bring it t'the edge-you never know, you

  might enjoy it." He got out of the car, grabbed her by the hand and

  they ran across the parking lot into the hotel lobby.

  "Holy shit!" Nick exclaimed, taking in the banks of slot machines all

  in constant use. A grin spread over his face. "Y'know, I always

  wanted to do this." He groped in his pocket for change, coming up with

  several quarters. "C'mon, pick a machine-we're gonna win big time!"

  "We are?" she asked unsurely.

  "You bet your ass we are!"

  They played the slots for two hours straight, ending up ten dollars

  ahead. By this time Nick had the fever-he was all set to carry on, but

  Annie was ready to quit. "We'd better go find Cyndra," she said.

  "It's one o'clock. What will they say when we turn up in the middle of

  the night?"

  "They won't care. Tomorrow night we'll hear Cyndra sing, then we'll

  drive back to L.A."

  "Ican't take off work again tomorrow," Annie objected.

  "You'll call in sick. Big deal."

  She sighed. "You're making me as bad as you are."

  "Hey-that can only be an improvement, right?"

  "Thanks a lot!"

  Armed with directions they drove to the motel where Cyndra and Reece

  were staying. It was not the most glamorous place in the world -just a

  few rooms located around a small pool.

  "Annie said accusingly. "I told you we should "I bet they're asleep,

  have come earlier."

  "I bet they're not," he retorted confidently. "Nobody sleeps in

  Vegas."

  They parked the car, found the room and knocked a few times, getting no

  answer.

  "I gotta stop making a habit ofthis," he grumbled. "I'll spring the

  lock-no problem."

  "You can't do that," Annie said, alarmed.

  "Yeah, right," he said, working his magic on the lock and pushing the

  door open.

  The first thing they saw was Cyndra sitting in the middle of the bed

  holding a gun. The second was the body slumped on the floor behind the

  door.

  "Oh, my God!" Annie gasped.

  Cyndra stared at them blankly while Nick edged his way toward her.

  "Take it easy," he said, speaking fast. "Take it real easy." Gently

  he removed the gun from her hand. "What happened?"

  She covered her face with her hands and began to sob. "Oh, Nick

  Nick.

  .

  He put his arms around her, cradling her to him. "C'mon, baby, you can

 
; tell me."

  Slowly she began to choke out her story. "Reece wanted me to .

  to sleep with this man. He brought him to our room. . . and then then

  the guy wanted his money back because I wouldn't do it, and . and.

  .

  . Reece took out his gun. . . we were fighting.

  and it went off. It was an accident, Nick, it really was."

  "Where's Reece?"

  "He ran.

  "And left you like this?"

  "What's going to happen, Nick? Nobody's gonna believe me. The cops

  won't understand."

  Cyndra was right, she wouldn't stand a chance.

  He went over to the man, staring down at his immobile body, hoping this

  was all a big mistake and that the guy would breathe, move,

  something.

  No such luck.

  "I'll phone the police," Annie said, pale and shaken.

  "No," he said quickly. "This don't look so good." He turned back to

  his sister. "You're sure you didn't know him?"

  She shook her head. "Reece picked him up in the casino. I never saw

  him before."

  "So there's no connection between the two of you?"

  "Not unless we were seen leaving together."

  He bent down, gingerly groping inside the man's jacket for his

  wallet.

  It was imitation leather and contained five hundred dollars, a couple

  of credit cards and a driver's license in the name of George Baer.

  "We gotta get him out of here, an' fast," he muttered, thinking

  aloud.

  "Yeah, that's what we gotta do."

  Annie asserted herself. "No. What we must do is call the police."

  "Will you shut up about the cops," he said, glaring at her. "Cyndra's

  in trouble, we gotta help her."

  "I can't be an accessory," Annie said stiffly.

  "I'm asking you a favor."

  "It's too big a favor."

  He pinned her with his green eyes. "I'm worth it, aren't I?"

  She hesitated. "I . . . I don't know."

  "Do it for me, Annie," he said persuasively. "Nobody has to know what

  happened here tonight."

  "I'll know," she said vehemently. "And I can't live with it."

  She was getting on his nerves. Fuck her if she didn't want to

  cooperate. "If that's the way you feel you'd better take a walk."

  "Don't you understand," she said, her eyes filling with tears. "This

  is wrong."

  "Cyndra's my sister-she needs me, so get off my fuckin' case."

  "I'm not leaving," Annie said stubbornly.

  "If you're staying you're helping, an' that makes you part of it."

  "What are you going to do?"

  "I'll deal with it, okay?" he replied, tired of her questions.

  He coaxed Cyndra off the bed and told her to pack her things.

  Then he stripped the blanket from the bed and began rolling the man's

  body in it. No easy job. There was blood everywhere and Annie's

  accusing eyes nailed him every move he made. Sweat enveloped him. His

  mouth was dry and his heart pounding. Shit! He didn't even know if he

  was doing the right thing, but if he was to get Cyndra out of this mess

  there seemed to be no other alternative.

  Finally he had the body wrapped in the blanket. The next move was to

  get it out of the stinking motel room and into the trunk of the car.

  "Nick, I'm really frightened," Cyndra said, clinging to his arm.

  "Don't be," he said, sounding more confident than he felt. "It's

  almost taken care 0œ I'm gonna drive the body out to the desert and

  bury it. You two'll stay here until I get back."

  "No," she said sharply. "I can't let you do this alone. I'm coming

  with you."

  "If you're going, so am I," Annie said, quickly joining in.

  The two of them were beginning to drive him crazy, but it was probably

  safer to take them with him. "Okay, okay," he said reluctantly. He

  went outside and took a look around. When he was sure it was all

  clear, he backed his car up as close as he could get. Then, still

  keeping a wary eye out, he dragged the body out of the room and somehow

  or other bundled it into the trunk.

  By the time they set off everyone was on edge.

  "We're taking this nice and easy," he said, trying to keep them both

  "If we get pulled over for anything-anything at all-stay cool, calm.

  right?"

  He drove carefully out of town through the gaudy neon-lit streets until

  they reached the quieter outskirts, and eventually the desert.

  Then he drove another half hour before pulling over to the side of the

  road, lugging the man's body from the trunk, dragging it across the

  sand for what seemed like an eternity-and then digging a shallow grave

  with his hands.

  When he was finished he rolled up the blood-soaked blanket and carried

  it back to the car. "We'll bury this somewhere else," he said,

  throwing it in the trunk. "Don't want any connection between the body

  and the hotel room.

  "What about the gun?" Cyndra asked anxiously.

  "I'll get rid of it on the way back to L.A."

  "This is a nightmare," Annie said, shaking her head. "I wish I'd never

  met either of you.

  "Well, sweetheart, you did, an' now you're part of it, so shut up," he

  said roughly, not in the mood to listen to any more of her

  complaints.

  Within minutes they were on their way back to L.A. made a mistake,"

  Oliver Liberty said.

  "Excuse me?" Lauren replied.

  They were sitting in an exclusive New York club, sipping brandies while

  Pia and Howard clung together on the small dance floor. The sound of

  Frank Sinatra singing "In the Wee Small Hours of the Morning" flooded

  the darkly paneled room.

  Oliver puffed on a long thin cigar-it somehow suited his aquiline

  features. "I said I made a mistake," he repeated.

  "About what?" she asked politely.

  "When my wife left me I was very angry. We'd been together for over

  thirty years until one day she decided she'd had enough. She became an

  overnight feminist, and suddenly I was the enemy."

  "That's not good.

  "An understatement, my dear."

  "So you met Opal-" "And foolishly married her."

  Lauren wasn't sure she wanted to hear this. Sitting in a nightclub

  listening to Howard's uncle tell her all about his failing marriage was

  not her idea of heaven. But then again, she'd had a nice enough

  time.

  They'd been to an expensive French restaurant, talked about everyflA

  thing from politics to the latest fashions, and although he might not

  be the youngest man in the world, he certainly had an abundance of

  charm.

  "Are you sure you should be telling me this?" she asked.

  "I can talk to you," he said, nodding as if to reassure himself. "You

  have a certain quality."

  "What quality is that?" she asked lightly.

  "Something in your eyes. An understanding. And let us not forget,

  you're also a very beautiful woman.

  This certainly seemed to be her week for compliments. "I'm flattered,"

  she said, "but I'm no psychiatrist."

  "I didn't say you were," he replied, nodding toward the dance floor.

  "Shall we?"

  "Okay," she said, getting up.

  He stubbed out his cigar, took her hand and led her onto t
he crowded

  floor. For a moment he held her at a discreet distance, and then

  without warning pulled her into his embrace. "I've already spoken to

  my lawyers," he said.

  "About what?" she asked, inhaling his expensive aftershave.

  "A divorce."

  "Why are you telling me?"

  "Because you're easy to talk to, and I want to see you again. That's