American Star

by Jackie Collins

missed them in jail.

  Later he drove down Melrose, stopped at a store and bought himself a

  new Stetson and some sharp-looking leather boots. He handed the sales

  clerk a check that would bounce, but he'd be long gone by the time they

  discovered it was no good.

  He admired himself in a full-length mirror. Still looked good. Still

  had that lean body and handsome face. Nobody would guess where he'd

  been for the last eleven years. He could do with a suntan. Didn't

  have time to wait to get one. Shame.

  By three o'clock in the afternoon he was ready to start the action.

  He knew exactly where Cyndra's house was. He drove up into the hills,

  through the winding streets, until he reached her security gates.

  Then he leaned out his car window and pressed the entry buzzer.

  A man's voice said, "Yes?"

  "Cyndra?"

  "No, she's not here. Who is this?"

  "I'm here to see Cyndra," he said.

  "I just told you, mister, she's not home."

  "Then I'll wait."

  "Who are you?"

  Should he spoil the surprise? Tell this moron that he was her

  husband?

  No, it was better to c6nfront her face to face.

  "I'm a relative," he said. "What time will she be back?"

  "I can't reveal that information. Leave a note in the mailbox and I'll

  see she gets it."

  What kind of garbage was this? He wasn't leaving any note. He drove

  the car half a block away, turned it around and sat in it waiting and

  watching.

  After a while a fancy white limousine drove down the street and turned

  into the gates.

  Reece started his car, and as soon as the gates opened he followed the

  limo in, thinking to himself how stupid these people in Hollywood were

  if they actually thought a pair of fancy gates were enough to keep

  anybody out.

  He foll6wed the limousine up a long driveway until they reached the

  grand entrance to an imposing mansion.

  A driver got out of the limo, noticed Reece's car behind him and rushed

  over.

  "Can I help you?" the driver said.

  The back door to the limo opened and a man that Reece recognized as

  Cyndra's supposed husband got out. "Hey, Clyde, what's going on?" the

  man called.

  "I'm looking into it," Clyde replied, embarrassed because he was at

  fault for not noticing the car before.

  Reece got out of his car. "I'm here to see Cyndra," he said.

  "I'm sure you are," Clyde replied, very hostile. "A lot of people

  would like to see her. If it's an autograph you want, leave your

  address and we'll see you get one.

  "You don't understand," Reece said. "I'm a relative."

  Marik walked over. "What's going on here?" he said.

  "I want to see Cyndra," Reece said.

  "You shouldn't follow people onto private property. We're going to

  have to call the police."

  "I don't think you'll want to do that," Reece said.

  "Look, man," Marik said patiently. "I know you're a fan and you love

  her. A lot of people love Cyndra-but you cannot follow her into her

  private home. Get it? Now I suggest you get back in your car and

  leave immediately, and we'll forget about this."

  "You don't recognize me, do you?" Reece said.

  "No," Marik said. "I don't."

  "Think back," Reece said. "And fuckin' weep. I'm Cyndra's husband."

  Cyndra had been crying on and off for hours. In the back of her mind

  she'd known the good life could not last. One moment she had

  everything she'd ever wanted, and the next Reece Webster came back like

  a ghost from the past to ruin it all.

  At first she'd tried to deny she knew him. She'd gotten out of the

  limo, stared him in the face and said, "I don't know this man. I've

  never seen him before."

  "Hey, bitch," Reece had taunted. "Would you sooner I went to the

  newspapers with this? I'm giving you the courtesy of coming here

  first."

  They went into the house and the story began to unfold. How she'd

  married him. How he'd used her. And then Vegas. "She shot a guy,"

  Reece said. "Shot him stone cold dead."

  "I didn't do it-you did it," she said accusingly.

  ùMarik looked from one to the other and shook his head. Then he stared

  at Cyndra with hurt eyes. "Why didn't you tell me, baby?"

  Her world was crumbling. "Cause I never thought Reece would come

  back."

  "Here I am," said Reece. "Would've been here sooner-'cept I got put in

  jail on a false charge, that's where I've been."

  "What do you want?" Marik asked.

  "Why, I would imagine that's pretty obvious," Reece said, taking in the

  luxurious surroundings. "I want my wife back."

  "Let's talk straight here," Marik said grimly. "What do you really

  want?"

  "Well," Reece said, tilting his Stetson at a rakish angle. "If I

  can'thave the little lady, then I guess I'll have to be compensated for

  my loss."

  "Yes," Marik said. "I understand you want money. And Cyndra wants her

  freedom. We'll pay. And the money will buy a quiet divorce.

  One thing about this Marik guy-he certainly wasn't stupid. "How much

  you got in mind?" Reece said.

  Marik glanced at Cyndra. She was too upset to look at him. "We have

  to discuss it," he said. "In private. I'll talk to my lawyer and

  we'll come back to you with an offer."

  "It better be a big offer," Reece said. "Oh, and by the way, I thought

  I might pay me a visit to Nick Angel."

  "What's Nick got to do with this?" Cyndra snapped.

  "He helped you out, didn't he, sweetheart?" Reece said slyly. "I saw

  what happened that night. You thought I left, but I didn't-I stuck

  around, followed' you. So, y'see, I know exactly what went on. You

  took that good old boy out into the desert and buried him. You're all

  as guilty as hell. I think Nick Angel will want to contribute to my

  future well-being, don't you?"

  "Leave him out of this, Reece. We'll make a deal, but leave Nick

  out."

  "Now, now, don't go getting upset."

  Cyndra's mouth twitched dangerously. If she had a gun she'd blow his

  head off. All her life she'd been a victim, and now, just when she'd

  thought she was through with being victimized, this creep had to come

  back to haunt her with his threats.

  "Calm down, Cyndra. We'll settle this," Marik said, taking charge.

  "We're not talking pennies here," Reece said warningly.

  "I understand," Marik replied.

  "When will I hear from you people?" Reece asked."

  "Tomorrow," Marik said. "Where are you staying?

  "Give me a thousand bucks cash for now, an' I'll contact you

  tomorrow.

  "I don't have that much cash."

  "What do you have?"

  "Five hundred."

  "It'll do."

  As Marik was escorting Reece to the front door, Topaz came running out

  of her room. "Mommy! Mommy! Look at my new dress.

  Isn't it pretty?"

  Reece stopped. "Yeah, sugar, that's real pretty. You're the image of

  your mama.

  Cyndra turned on him, her dark eyes stormy. "Stay away from her.

  Get out of my house and stay away from my family
."

  He shrugged. "Trouble with you, Cyndra, is you got no appreciation.

  Who gave you singing lessons, taught you how to dress an' fix your

  hair? You were nothing when I found you hanging out in New York.

  Now you're a big star. I expect plenty of compensation for all I

  did."

  "You'll get it. I told you that," said Marik.

  Cyndra rushed over to Topaz and picked her up. "Come here, sweetie.

  "Bye, little girl," said Reece, waving. "See you around."

  She ran upstairs with Topaz and tried to call Nick in New York. He was

  out. She left a message with Harlan for him to call her back.

  Then she went to her closet and searched behind her clothes for the

  secret compartment where she kept her most valuable possessions.

  There, alongside her diamond necklace and earrings, was a small

  pearl-handled gun. One of her security guards had given it to her as a

  gift. He'd told her how to use it, too.

  "Never hurts for a lady to have a gun," he'd said. "Especially a

  famous lady like yourself."

  She'd never told anybody about the present, otherwise the guard would

  have gotten fired. But she'd always appreciated it.

  She had a feeling she soon might be forced to use it.

  auren called Oliver in the south of France to make sure he'd arrived

  safely and was settled in.

  "I'm perfectly fine," he said. "In fact last night Peggy invited me

  over for dinner."

  Lauren vaguely remembered Peggy-a titled English widow who'd sold

  Oliver the farmhouse.

  "That's nice," she said. "I'll be there as soon as I can."

  "You don't have to rush," he said. "It's beautiful here, so peaceful

  and quiet. I'm very content."

  Oh, God! Should she bring her knitting?

  Oliver seemed perfectly satisfied with the tranquil life, but she

  wasn't so sure it was for her. Maybe she was making a mistake after

  all. She wished she had the courage to tell him. No. It was

  impossible.

  This was her life.

  Lorenzo called bright and early to inform her that the photo session

  was on for the next day.

  "No more fuck-ups, Lorenzo," she said sternly. "I have to get out of

  here."

  He was hurt. "Please, Lauren, do not insult me."

  She got dressed and wandered around the apartment she'd grown to

  love.

  It was on the market and every day people came to see it. She hated

  showing them around and tried to stay out of the way, leaving the tour

  in the hands of the real estate agent. It had been her home for almost

  twelve years and she was certainly going to miss it.

  She sipped her morning coffee sitting at a table on the terrace

  overlooking Manhattan. It was a chilly December day, but clear. She

  loved looking out at the bustling city laid out below her.

  The maid brought her the newspapers. She glanced through them quickly,

  stopping at an item in USA Today. She scanned it once, then read it

  more slowly a second time.

  Today millions of fans across the world celebrate the thirty-fifth

  birthday of cult superstar Nick Angel and the opening of his latest

  movie, Killer Blue. A statement issued by Panther Studios disclosed

  that Nick will not be present at the Los Angeles premiere of Killer

  Blue as expected. A personal spokesman for Angel reported that the

  actor will spend his birthday in New York.

  Nick was in New York and it was his birthday Was she ever going to

  forget him?

  I can call him if it's his birthday.

  No, you can't.

  Why not?

  Because he'll want to see you and you're leaving for a new life with

  Oliver in France.

  She shut her eyes for a moment, saw his face and wanted to be with him

  more than anything else in the world.

  So why are you punishing yourself, Roberts?

  I'm not punishing myself Yes, you are. If you want to be with him you

  should.

  I murdered his father.

  Maybe. Maybe not.

  I murdered his baby.

  You had no choice.

  She reached for the phone. Her hand hovered over the receiver for cnn

  afew seconds. Then she shook her head. No, it wasn't right. She'd be

  tempting fate again-just forget it.

  Honey took the second phone call from Cyndra. "He left here early,"

  she said. "I think he's taken his plane up."

  "But I need to speak to him," Cyndra said.

  "He'll be back later. I'm having a surprise party for him."

  "Nick doesn't like surprises."

  Honey giggled. "He'll like this one."

  "Let me talk to Harlan," Cyndra said.

  Harlan got on the phone sounding swishier than usual. Since his move

  to New York he'd become extremely caustic. "Sister, dearestand what

  can I do for you?"

  "I need to talk to Nick. Is there any way I can reach him?"

  "He's not in the best of moods," Harlan said. "Raced outta here like

  he had a ferret playing tag up his ass."

  "Tell him to call me as soon as he gets back."

  "Will do."

  He'd got out of his apartment, left them all standing there, and now he

  was completely alone.

  At the controls of his small plane Nick felt a glorious freedom.

  There was something about being alone, totally out of reach by anyone-a

  rarity for him. Oh, sure, he had his retreats, but one by one they got

  discovered. The National Enquirer had the number of his beach house.

  Every fan in town knew where he lived. Most of his business

  acquaintances had somehow or other gotten hold of his private phone

  number.

  Now he was cut off from everything and everyone, and it was a wonderful

  feeling.

  Flying was something he'd never imagined himself doing. He'd taken it

  because of some macho bet with an old actor who'd one of his movies.

  Now he enjoyed it better than any up appeared in thing.

  Color me dead.

  It was a tempting thought. He could fly this little mother right into

  the fucking ocean and vanish forever. The ultimate thrill. No more

  hassles. No more fame. Because the fame was suffocating the life out

  of him. And there was nothing that made him happy anymore Except

  Lauren .

  And what had he done about that situation?

  He'd let her get away again. Hadn't even bothered to pursue her.

  "Call me when you're free," he'd said. And four years had passed.

  She was never going to leave Oliver. She'd stay with him until he

  dropped.

  Well, shit, he couldn't take it anymore.

  On a sudden impulse he turned the plane around and headed back to the

  airstrip.

  Reece thought about Cyndra, he thought about her a lot. Damn, she

  looked hot-a real juicy piece. He'd been right about her all along.

  Cyndra was a star-and only because he'd had the foresight to pay for

  her singing lessons and all the rest. The truth was that he'd

  discovered her before anyone. He was the one who deserved all the

  credit.

  Goddamn it! He'd even introduced her to Reno Records. They owed him

  plenty, too. They should all be sucking his dick.

  He was bored in his hotel room, there was no way he was going to sit

&n
bsp; there waiting to hear from Marik. He had five hundred dollars.

  The idea was to go out and spend it.

  He got in his car and drove down Sunset, cutting up La Brea to

  Hollywood Boulevard. A sign caught his eye. NAKED LIVE BEAUTIES.

  TOPLESS, BOTTOMLESS, BIG BARE BABES.

  He parked his car, went inside and got himself a seat at the bar, where

  he watched a long-legged dyed blonde bump and grind as she removed

  strips of black leather from her sinewy person.

  He beckoned her over with a twenty-dollar bill. "Come here, doll.

  Get that sexy ass over here." He folded the bill into a thin strip.