American Star

by Jackie Collins

  "And what about Lissa?" Nick said. "Can I spend as much time as I

  like with her? I don't want to have to ask permission to see her. I

  refuse to be a weekend father. Oh, yeah-and when I'm not working I'd

  like her to be able to come and live with me."

  "If you're agreeable to the financial terms I'm sure we can work it

  out."

  "Do I have the money?"

  "I've spoken to your business manager. Right now it's tied up in

  bonds, but he can make arrangements. Yes, you have it, Nick. You're

  doing pretty damn good."

  "Okay," he said. "If this is what it takes to get my freedom."

  "Good," Kirk said. "I'll have the papers drawn up."

  "Fast, Kirk, fast."

  As soon as Kirk left he called Carlysle. "I'm lonely," he said.

  "Naughty boy, I just left you. We did it three times today in the

  trailer-what more do you want?"

  "Come over. Bring a friend."

  She pretended to be insulted. "I'm not a hooker, you know."

  "What's the matter, Carlysle? You getting old?"

  These were the dreaded words for any actress. "I'll be there," she

  said. "Who do you fancy?"

  "Remember that Indonesian friend of yours? Is she still around?"

  "No, she's in New York. But there's this girl I met on the set the

  other day-she's an extra. Great bod. I'll see if I can contact

  her."

  She turned up an hour later with Honey, a seventeen-year-old nymphet.

  Honey had huge eyes, a delectable mouth, an unbelievable body, and she

  was a fan.

  "I can't believe I'm here with Nick Angel," she sighed, gazing around

  his house in awe.

  "You won't be unless you shut up," Carlysle said sharply. "Don't talk,

  enjoy. That's the way he likes it."

  He got through half a bottle of Scotch and still managed to make love

  to them both. Honey was one of the most obliging girls he'd ever come

  across. Anything he wanted she did.

  In the end Carlysle got jealous. She could see he was really getting

  off on Honey and she didn't like it.

  "Don't forget your promise," she whispered as they left.

  "What promise?" he slurred, squinting at her.

  "After your divorce-you and me, we'll be together."

  He might be drunk, but he wasn't that far gone. "I never said that."

  "Oh, yes, you did."

  "Oh, no, I didn't."

  When they finally left he staggered up to bed and got two hours sleep

  before his early call.

  He got through the week, and on Friday night he stayed sober, preparing

  for his Saturday visit with Lissa.

  He picked her up early in the morning.

  "Where are we going today, Daddy?" she asked.

  "Wherever you want, sweetheart."

  He took her to the toy store and out to lunch. But even with his

  ever-watchful bodyguards it was impossible. Everywhere he went people

  stopped him, requesting autographs, wanting to take his photograph,

  telling him how much they loved him. There was no privacy.

  Lissa was upset. "I don't like it, Daddy," she said, beginning to

  cry.

  "Why can't people leave you alone?"

  "Hey, kid-my sentiments exactly."

  Eventually they went back to his house and Lissa settled in front of

  the television, watching a video of The Sound of Music for the

  hundredth time. "I like this movie, Daddy," she said, cheering up.

  "It's He didn't take Lissa home when he was supposed to.

  A furious Annie called up. "Where is she?"

  "She wants to stay here tonight," he said.

  "She can't," Annie replied.

  "What are you going to do about it?"

  "I'll get a court order."

  "You won't get a court order until Monday."

  "You'd better send her home, Nick. I'm warning you.

  "Stop threatening me, Annie. It's over.

  He went into the kitchen and told the cook to make Lissa a hamburger

  and a milkshake. Then he sat beside her and watched the film.

  An hour later Annie was at his door. She barged into the house.

  "Lissa, come with me," she said, her tone brooking no argument.

  "No, my daddy says I can stay here tonight," Lissa said defiantly,

  curling up on the couch.

  "You see," Nick said. "She wants to stay here. There's nothing you

  can do."

  Annie turned on him. "You son of a bitch."

  He stood up. "Don't use language like that in front of Lissa. And

  let's not fight in front of her either."

  Annie's lip curled. "I can't imagine why I ever married you. You're

  nothing but a piece of shit."

  "Oh, and I suppose you're Mother Teresa."

  Annie went up to Lissa and grabbed her by the arm, yanking her off the

  couch. "You're coming home with me."

  Lissa's eyes filled with tears. "Daddy! Daddy! You said I could

  stay."

  Annie was in a rage. "You're coming with me, you little bitch!"

  Nick tried to stop her. "Don't talk to her like that, Annie."

  "I'll do what the fuck I want. I don't have to listen to you, I hate

  you." She pulled the reluctant child toward the door Lissa began

  screaming.

  "Don't do this, Annie," he said, going after them. "Can't you see she

  doesn't want to go.

  "I'll do what I damn well please."

  He wanted to slap her, but he couldn't do it in front of his daughter

  -this scene was traumatic enough for Lissa to deal with.

  He followed them outside. Christ! Money, fame, none of it mattered

  when it came to Lissa.

  Annie shoved the child into her car. "Don't you ever pull this stunt

  again, Nick, or you won't see her at all."

  "Quit threatening me, Annie, cause I'm through taking your crap.

  I'm talking to Kirk about this."

  She jumped into the car. "Your high-priced Beverly Hills lawyers can't

  help you get Lissa," she sneered. "I'm her mother, she'll always stay

  with me." She started the car and roared off down the driveway.

  "Don't bet on it," he yelled after her, filled with an impotent fury.

  It was the last he saw of either of them. Their car was in a head-on

  collision. Neither Lissa nor Annie survived.

  wo overripe teenagers in short black knit dresses with black hose and

  "fuck me" shoes boogied the night away beneath the midnight tent, where

  lights sparkled like ministars and an assortment of predators circled

  the dance floor on the lookout for a score of some kind or the other.

  Honey Virginia, bleached blond hair pulled demurely back, finely tuned

  body clad in strapless lace, sat on Nick's knee, purring sweet sexual

  promises into his ear.

  Diana Leon, sitting across the table next to her husband, watched from

  the corner of a jaundiced eye. Nick Angel never failed to amaze her.

  His capacity for everything was overwhelming. Honey entered his life

  on and off, and in between Nick covered the waterfront.

  Diana often urged Freddie to talk to him. "Does he practice safe

  sex?

  Does he understand about AIDS?"

  Freddie always placated her. "I'm his agent, not his sex therapist."

  "But he's so . irresponsible. You should talk to him. You're his

  friend."

  Freddie knew better than to discuss women with Nick Angel. Nick was a

 
; legend, having steadily laid every fuckable woman in Hollywood since

  he'd first arrived in town. It was surprising he could still get it

  up. But then again, little Honey could raise the dead if the mood took

  her, and Nick was by no means dead-just a touch jaded. And at age

  thirty-four showing definite signs of wear and tear. Freddie decided

  that maybe he would have a talk with him. Nick was getting out of

  control, it was becoming increasingly obvious. It had been a steady

  slide since Lissa's death in the car crash with Annie. At first Nick

  had been inconsolable. He'd gone off to a retreat and stayed there for

  several months. When he returned it was like nothing had ever

  happened. He refused to discuss the accident. But Freddie knew he was

  breaking up inside. Nick had always been a drinker, and as the months

  turned into years his habit escalated.

  "You should get into one of those twelve-step programs," Freddie had

  suggested one day. "I think you've got a problem."

  Nick had turned on him, green eyes full of a deep hidden anger.

  "You think it's time I started looking for a new agent, Freddie?" he'd

  asked.

  Freddie knew when to back off. It was one of his strengths.

  "Can we go?" Diana whispered in his ear. She hated parties and had

  only attended this one because the woman for whom the party was being

  given was Freddie's latest client-a blond video superstar called Venus

  Maria.

  "Five minutes and we're out of here," Freddie promised.

  Honey removed herself from Nick's knee, stood up and stretched.

  Every man at the party craned his neck to get a better look at her

  spectacular body.

  Nick had been with her for four years on and off. In between he

  screwed all his leading ladies and anybody else he fancied. He was

  playing a dangerous game-AIDS was not selective.

  Diana was getting restless. She rose from the table. "Good night,

  Nick. Good night, Honey dear," she said politely.

  Nick leaned back. "Are you two going?"

  "Past my bedtime," Diana said with a stretched smile.

  "See ya," Nick said. He'd always considered Diana Leon a tightassed

  broad. The older she got, the more tight-assed she became.

  Honey decided to join the two overripe teenagers on the dance floor.

  She put them to shame with moves even strippers hadn't thought of.

  Nick watched her. The next morning they were leaving for New York. He

  had a birthday coming up and he didn't care to celebrate it in Los

  Angeles. Not that there was any cause for celebration-getting older

  was a pisser.

  Two years ago he'd purchased a New York apartment. He liked having a

  place in the same city as Lauren, although they hadn't seen each other

  in four years. She'd called him when the news of the accident hit the

  headlines.

  "Is there anything I can do?" she'd asked, full of concern.

  Yes, be here with me, he'd wanted to say. But he knew she wasn't going

  to leave Oliver. He decided it was time to get the hell out. Honey

  was still busy on the dance floor. He walked (;ver and pulled her by

  the arm. "C'mon, we're going."

  "I don't wanna "I said we're going."

  She followed him dutifully. Twenty-one years old and an idiot, but

  with the best body in town. That was all right-he wasn't interested in

  conversation. Meaningless sex. His life.

  "Why did we have to leave so early?" Honey complained in the car on

  the way home.

  Cause I might feel like flying the plane tomorrow. If I do I want to

  be able to see where I'm going."

  He'd been taking flying lessons for a couple of years, it was the one

  thing he did where he tried to remain sober.

  Back at the mansion Honey did a slow striptease for his benefit.

  She was undeniably luscious.

  He watched her for a few minutes, then passed out.

  She might be luscious, but he'd seen it all before.

  "You look tired, bellissima," Lorenzo said, full of concern.

  "Thank you," Lauren replied crisply. "That's just what I want to hear

  when I'm about to go before the camera."

  "The camera loves you. You will always look beautiful. Me-I know you

  too well, and you do look tired."

  "I am tired," she confessed. "I had so much more energy when I was

  working all the time. Every morning was a challenge-I'd get up and

  there was always something new to do. Now that Oliver's retired I do

  nothing but sit around at home."

  "Why?"

  "Because he likes me there. It makes him feel secure.

  "You don't have to do this, Lauren."

  "Yes, I do," she said defensively. "I'm his wife."

  "You don't love him."

  "What's love got to do with it?"

  "When I married my wife I loved her. When I fell out of love we got a

  divorce."

  "Well, Lorenzo, you do things in a much more simple fashion than I

  do.

  I believe in loyalty and sticking with somebody through bad times."

  "Oliver is perfectly healthy now.

  "I know, but he got used to not working. He liked it so much he

  decided to retire."

  "That doesn't mean you have to waste your life."

  "I'm doing the new Marcella campaign," she said. "What more do you

  want?"

  "Yes, but that's all you're doing. Before, you were so

  vital-everything excited you."

  "I guess I'm not excited anymore, Lorenzo. This is the last year I'll

  do the Marcella campaign. As you know, we're moving to the south of

  France."

  "Lauren, you're making a mistake-shutting yourself away from the

  world."

  "It's not a world I particularly want to be in anymore. Anyway, the

  south of France is beautiful. And Oliver's found this wonderful old

  farmhouse way up in the hills-miles from anywhere."

  Lorenzo shook his head. He simply didn't understand her.

  It was Sunday afternoon and Cyndra was entertaining. She paused at the

  top of the stone steps leading to her patio. She paused just long

  enough for people to notice she was making an entrance.

  Smiling at her guests she watched Marik leap to his feet. He was

  always so attentive and concerned about her welfare. He was also a

  consistently good lover. It was a shame he wasn't more attractive.

  Don't think that way, she scolded herself. Marik is the best thing

  that ever happened to me. He's kind and caring, and he genuinely loves

  me. Apart from that he's a talented producer, and he made me a star.

  Behind her, Patsy, their plump English nanny, carried their little

  girl, Topaz. Topaz was the pride of her life. Three years old and

  adorable. Cyndra would do anything for her child. So would Marik, he

  worshipped their daughter.

  Cyndra greeted her guests graciously, going from table to table,

  smiling and chatting warmly.

  Marik crept up behind her, hugging her tightly. "You look fantastic,

  woman," he said, nibbling her ear. "Every year you get

  betterlooking."

  "Thank you, dear."

  Out of the corner of her eye she noticed Gordon and Odile arriving.

  Gordon was still her best friend. She confided in him, went to him for

  advice, discu
ssed most things with him, including the incident in

  Vegas-which he'd told her to forget about.

  She went over to greet them. "Hi, Gordon."

  "Hi, beautiful," Gordon said, kissing her on both cheeks.

  "Hello, Odile," she said with a smile.

  "You're looking hot, Cyndra."

  "Thank you. From you that's a compliment."

  Over the years she'd actually gotten to like Odile. Yes, she was

  beautiful and, yes, she was Gordon's wife. But she was also an

  extremely nice woman.

  Gordon and Odile were Topaz's godparents, along with Nick, who was