American Star

by Jackie Collins

  warning her. She'd been blessed in so many ways. Having Nick was not

  part of the deal.

  When Oliver was feeling better she booked them on a long cruise and

  they took off for several months.

  She'd thought about phoning Nick before she left, but then decided

  against it. They both had their lives to lead. They had to do it

  separately.

  "C'mon, stud-fuck me!" Carlysle urged in a feverish voice. "C'mon,

  Nick, fuck me good."

  She was unbelievable. What the hell did she think he was doing?

  "Hey, we're already rocking the trailer back and forth," he pointed

  out.

  She laughed hysterically. "What do you care? You think the crew don't

  know what we do in here all the time? You and me, Nick Angel, we're a

  pair-right?"

  "Yeah, right," he said, giving it to her just the way she liked.

  She caught her breath. "Mmm . . . that's nice. We should've gotten

  together a long time ago."

  ù "We did get together a long time ago," he panted.

  "No, I mean permanently. Like married."

  He started to laugh. Only Carlysle managed to fuck and carry on a

  conversation at the same time. "You want to get married?"

  "I've tried it twice," she gasped. "You could be third time lucky."

  Oh, God, he was almost there. "Did you say lucky?"

  "Hmm - . ." She let out a deep groan. "Don't forget I knew you when,

  and I screwed you when. All these little girls running after you

  now-they want you because you're Nick Angel. I had you when you were

  nothing. Remember?"

  "Yeah, I remember," he said, thinking about the apartment in New York

  and the way she'd greeted him in nothing but a bath towel.

  "Think about it, Nick," she said, speaking very fast. "You're getting

  divorced-we'd be good together. And we wouldn't have to worry about

  that whole boring faithful thing. I could bring girls home for you

  whenever you wanted. You know how you love threesomes."

  He groped for a nearby bottle of vodka and took a healthy swig.

  "Shouldn't drink when you're working," Carlysle admonished.

  "Especially when you're fucking."

  One final thrust and he climaxed.

  Carlysle joined him, letting out a blood-curdling scream.

  Someone hammered on the trailer door.

  "God!" exclaimed Carlysle, struggling into a sitting position. "You'd

  think they'd be used to us by now." Giggling, he yelled out, "Who is

  it?"

  "You're wanted on the set, Ms. Mann. Is Mr. Angel there?"

  "Haven't seen him," she yelled back, pulling on her panties. "Try his

  trailer."

  He got up and zipped up his pants. Carlysle made him feel like a

  teenager. Dirty sex on the floor. Getting it on anywhere they

  could.

  Getting it on anywhere that would make hirrrforget Lauren.

  He took another swig of vodka from the bottle. Carlysle wagged a

  finger at him.

  "Don't sweat it," he said. "It works for the part."

  "Okay, okay."

  He left her trailer and returned to his.

  "Your lawyer called," said his personal assistant.

  "Anything interesting?" be asked.

  "Yes, he left a message for you to call him. Something about Las

  Vegas."

  Las Vegas. So Annie was finally making her play. They'd been

  separated for a couple of months. He'd become a weekend father, seeing

  Lissa on Saturdays and Sundays, taking her on jaunts to Universal,

  Disneyland and the movies-always accompanied by his bodyguards. He

  didn't like it.

  At least Annie hadn't gone through with her threat to keep Lissa from

  him. But still . . . being a weekend father did not cut it.

  Grabbing the portable phone, he waved his assistant out of the trailer

  and called Kirk. "What's going on?" he asked.

  "I don't want to discuss it on the phone," Kirk replied. "How about a

  drink later?"

  "Come by the set. I don't know what time we'll be through tonight.

  Could be shooting late."

  Kirk sighed. "I don't do sets, Nick."

  "For me you'll do it," he said persuasively.

  "All right, have your secretary call my secretary with the address.

  And I hope the location is in Beverly Hills, because my Rolls doesn't

  leave the vicinity."

  "C'mon, Kirk, you're such an old pussy. We're shooting downtown -risk

  it."

  "No, Nick. Call me when you get back to your house. I don't do

  downtown."

  "I'll be tired when I get home."

  "Do you want to hear what Annie is planning or don't you?"

  "Okay, okay, I'll call you."

  He didn't need to hear what she had planned. He already knew.

  She was going to screw him, and she was going to screw him good.

  Cyndra arrived in Bosewell in a blaze of glory. She did it the way

  she'd always wanted to-in a huge limo, followed by two backup limos

  containing her entourage. She wore a red fox coat, wild extensions in

  her long dark hair and a glamorous gown, The town of Bosewell wished to

  present her with the keys to the city at a special luncheon ceremony.

  The prodigal daughter was returning a huge star.

  A TV crew followed her, recording her visit to be made into a

  television special. Small-town girl makes good. Now a big, big

  star.

  What could be better?

  Returning with Nick seven years earlier had been a small happening.

  Now she was coming back as a megastar.

  Marik was by her side-along with two publicity people from the record

  company, a producer from her new television show, her personal makeup

  artist, her hairdresser and her clothes coordinator.

  They all stayed in the big Hilton in Ripley and made the cavalcade

  limousine journey to Bosewell on Saturday morning.

  They were escorted into town by the Bosewell police and taken straight

  to Town Hall for a reception in her honor.

  The town turned out in force. Cyndra looked around as she was led

  inside and recognized many of the faces. Nobody had given two cents

  about her welfare when she'd lived in Bosewell. Now they were fawning

  all over her-touching and grabbing, telling her how wonderful she was

  and how they were so proud of her and how they'd always known she could

  do it. Well, fuck em. Let em weep.

  A dark woman wearing too much eye makeup and a tight orange dress

  grabbed her arm. "Hi, Cyndra. Remember me?"

  "Dawn," she said, remembering immediately.

  Dawn Kovak beamed. "What a memory! We were at school together."

  "We sure were," Cyndra said, recalling that Dawn had been one of the

  few people who'd talked to her. "Still here, huh? I thought you'd

  have gotten out long ago.

  Dawn waved her hand, flashing a sizable diamond ring. "I stayed," she

  said. "And last year I married Benjamin Browning." She beamed

  triumphantly. "His wife died a few years ago, so now I'm Mrs.

  Browning. Ain't that a kick? Now everyone has to kiss my ass!"

  "You're Mrs. Browning?" Cyndra said, barely concealing her

  surprise.

  "You married Benjamin?"

  Dawn nodded happily. "Yeah. And you can imagine the scandal.

  Not much goes on here, but when I bagged him, boy, was there an<
br />
  uproar!

  Stock went nuts-couldn't accept it. Ben and me, we hadda throw him an'

  his wife outta the house. She's such a pain anyway.

  The crowds were pushing and shoving. Marik attempted to hustle her

  along.

  "I'm sorry, Dawn, I can't talk now," she said.

  y "I'll see you later," Dawn said, moving off into the crowd.

  There were so many people and they all wanted a piece of her. One by

  one they came up to her saying things like "You remember me?"

  "What fun we had in school."

  "It's so good to see you again!"

  Some phony group. If she wasn't Cyndra, big singing star, they

  wouldn't even remember her name.

  So Dawn Kovak, the school tramp, had bagged the richest man in town.

  In fact, Dawn had bagged her daddy. Well, they were all in for a big

  shock.

  She saw Stock fighting his way through the crowd to get near her.

  Stock, once the handsome football hero, was now thirty pounds

  overweight with heavy jowls and a puffy red face. An overweight Meg

  clung to his side.

  The TV crew captured every moment as they finally fought their way over

  to her.

  "I always knew you'd be a star," Meg said breathlessly. "When you

  visited a few years back I said to Stock, She's going to be such a big

  star." I love your records. You know, we were planning on coming out

  to Los Angeles with the children for a vacation. What do you think?

  We'd adore to see your house."

  Stock eyeballed her with lecherous eyes. He'd been one of the worst

  offenders at school, calling her dark meat and other offensive names.

  She wondered how he was going to take the fact that she was his half

  sister.

  "Is your daddy around?" she asked him.

  "You heard the news?" Stock said, scowling. "He married Dawn.

  He's damn senile."

  "It's shocking," Meg added in a hoarse whisper. "She only married him

  for his money. But we're seeing a lawyer. We're not going to let him

  change his will. Stock's entitled to everything."

  Cyndra smiled. That's what you think.

  "How long we gotta stay here, baby?" Marik asked. "I'm getting

  depressed."

  "Just long enough for me to attend the lunch," she assured him.

  "Then they'll hand me the keys to the city an' we're on our way."

  "I still don't understand why you wanted to do this," he grumbled.

  "This town treated you badly. Why did you want to come back?"

  "You'll see," she said, smiling sweetly.

  ù She had not revealed her plans to Marik, but they were all in

  place.

  She knew exactly what she was going to do.

  They were finally seated. The lunch was long and boring. People got

  up and made little speeches about what an excellent student she'd been,

  how they'd all known she would do so well. Even the school principal

  spoke glowingly of her.

  Eventually it was time for the presentation. The chief of police stood

  up, made a short speech and handed her the keys to Bosewell.

  A round of applause rippled through the room.

  She smiled and got to her feet.

  "A long time ago this town was my home," she said, speaking clearly.

  "I lived in the trailer park. Nobody took much notice of any of us

  then, but we were just barely surviving. My mother worked as a maid.

  In fact she worked for the illustrious Browning family, who I'm sure

  you all know." She shot a vindictive glance at Benjamin, sitting with

  his new wife. "Oh, the Browning family was very good to my mother.

  They used to give her their cast-off clothes and leftover food."

  A buzz echoed around the room.

  "And when I was a little girl," Cyndra continued, "my mother took me

  with her to their house. It was always fun at their house. Well, let

  me put it this way-I was too little to understand what fun was all

  about, but I think Mr. Browning had a good time. He used to come into

  that back room when I was a little girl and pat me on my cute ass, and

  run his hand up my panties, and sometimes he even lifted my dress so he

  could really get a good feel."

  A murmur of consternation from the crowd.

  Cyndra checked to see that the TV cameras were recording everything.

  They were.

  "Yes," she continued. "That filthy bastard abused me good when I was a

  child. And then when I was a young girl, he raped me." She paused for

  effect. "I was sixteen and a virgin. His wife was out shopping at the

  time, and his spoiled bigoted son was at school, screwing all the

  girls. Mr. Browning raped me, and called me every foul name he could

  think of. I had to go to Kansas to get an abortion. Before my mother

  died she told me the truth. When she first went to work for the

  Brownings she was a young, innocent girl. Benjamin Browning raped her

  too. And you want to hear the twist to this lovely American folk

  story? I'm his daughter. I'm Benjamin Browning's daughter. And I

  have a letter to prove it."

  The room erupted.

  "Oh, baby, baby, when you do it, you really do it," muttered Marik.

  "Let's get the hell outta here, and fast."

  Cyndra refused to be stopped. "I've come back to town," she said in a

  loud clear voice, "because I know there's nothing you all love better

  than a good old American success story. And I thought you'd enjoy

  hearing the truth."

  Cyndra's story made every TV news program in America, and she was

  thrilled. "I had to bring it out in the open," she explained to

  Marik.

  "I needed to. It was my life and he tried to ruin it. Now I've ruined

  his. I'm a survivor, but there's lots of kids out there who'll never

  survive-because their fathers or uncles or somebody else is abusing

  them every day. This is something we shouldn't hide. I refuse to be

  ashamed anymore.

  "Right on, baby," Marik said. "I'm with you all the way."

  Marik had supported her royally. On the way back to L.A. she'd made

  him stop in Ripley, and with her two security guards they'd searched

  for Harlan and kidnapped him just as she'd sworn to do.

  They'd found him in a bar dressed in tattered clothes and drugged out

  of his mind. He hadn't recognized her at first, but when he had he'd

  broken down in tears and allowed himself to be taken without a fight.

  He was such a pathetic sight. She'd vowed there and then that she'd

  look after him and help him make a decent life for himselœ He was her

  brother and she loved him.

  Back in L.A. she'd put him into a private clinic to break him of his

  habit, visiting him every few days.

  Three weeks after getting back she and Marik were married in a lavish

  ceremony in Beverly Hills.

  She'd long forgotten about Reece Webster. As far as she was concerned

  he was dead.

  he wants five million dollars in a bank in Switzerland. This demand is

  separate from the divorce settlement."

  "Shit!" Nick exclaimed.

  "I know," Kirk agreed. "Apparently it's the price of her silence." He

  paused. "Is it worth it or do you wish to take a risk?"

  "I don't know," Nick said, pacing up and down. "You tell me.

  "You're a big star.
You'll make a lot more movies. In the long run

  five million dollars won't mean that much to you. My advice is to pay

  it."

  "Jesus! She's getting half my money as it is, and she wants another

  five million bucks on top of it. How greedy can you get?"

  "I've seen worse," Kirk said. "In Hollywood it's often this way.

  When the husband is famous and the wife isn't, there's always

  resentment. Usually the wife came to Hollywood to be an actress.

  Instead she marries a famous man, and has the compensation of being a

  wife with clout. When that clout is taken away she wants

  revenge-usually the revenge is financial."