‘How’s your music going?’ he asked casually. They had covered school, home life and boyfriends at the restaurant.
‘Okay,’ she replied listlessly. Frankly it was going nowhere. Just the occasional school party gig, and nothing else. ‘I’ve sent my tapes to all the record companies. All they do is send them back with a shitty form letter.’ She gazed at him hopefully. ‘I wish you’d come and see me next time I perform.’
He nodded, knowing full well he had promised many times before, only something always came up. He made a mental note to definitely do it. Heaven was important to him, and he was going to have to make more time for her now she was growing up.
‘You’ve never even listened to one of my tapes,’ she added reproachfully.
‘Why don’t you give me one? I’ll play it on the drive home.’
‘Promise?’
‘Would I lie?’
She didn’t think so, but he had certainly never gone out of his way to take an interest in what she did.
George was locked away in his workroom when they arrived home.
‘I won’t disturb him,’ Jack said. ‘I’ll call him about you coming to stay with me.’
‘Promise?’
He kissed her lightly on the cheek. ‘What is it with you tonight? Don’t you believe anything I say?’
She laughed self-consciously. ‘Just making sure.’
He was gone before she could find a tape to give him.
Halfway across the Canyon, listening to a soulful Billie Holiday on the car radio, Jack realized he’d forgotten to get Heaven’s tape. Not that he really wanted to hear it. What if she sounded awful? He wasn’t about to take the responsibility of telling her. Maybe she sounded like Silver. God forbid! His sister’s voice did not thrill him. It reminded him of his mother, and the way she had deserted him when he was a kid. The same way Silver had deserted Heaven.
His thoughts moved on to Clarissa, still in New York. Did he miss her? He still couldn’t decide.
Then he thought about Jade Johnson, and what might have been if she hadn’t changed her mind so swiftly. One night of great sex. Maybe more…
How could there be more until things were resolved with Clarissa?
He shook his head, turned the addictive Miss Holiday up loud and clear, and headed for the hotel suite he called home.
Chapter Forty-Eight
Wes did not like confrontations. Never had. Especially when he wasn’t looking his best, and he knew the image he presented was pure shit.
Silver stared him down. She was angry – little glints of light caught the reflection in her eyes and bounced right off him. But she was cool. Didn’t give in to pressure, handled the whole thing with style.
‘Hello, Wes,’ she said calmly, and turning to Nora she added, ‘I didn’t know we had a late meeting?’
Nora knew her moods as well as anyone, and prepared for flight.
Silver then iced Vladimir with a glare. ‘What are you doing here? I didn’t ring.’
‘Madame Silver—’ Vladimir began valiantly. ‘This man is an intruder. I—’
‘Goodnight, Vladimir. You may go to your quarters. I won’t be needing you again tonight.’
He slunk from the room.
Nora cleared her throat. ‘I guess I’ll be going home.’
‘Good,’ said Silver shortly.
‘Vladimir called me,’ Nora began to explain. ‘He thought there was a problem…’
Silver waved a dismissive hand in her direction. ‘Remind me to add a security bonus to your pay-cheque.’
Nora was affronted. She had only been trying to help. ‘I’ll tell City Television,’ she rasped. ‘They pay me, not you.’
Picking up her purse she followed Vladimir from the room. Silver Anderson was treading on dangerous ground. No wonder she had wanted to keep Wes Money to herself; the man was nothing but a cheap hustler – a barman! And when word got out – and it was only a matter of time before it did – the whole town would be laughing.
Dennis Denby stepped forward, determined to assert himself. ‘Who exactly is this man, Silver?’
She’d forgotten he was behind her, trailing her like an eager puppy dog. ‘Dennis, dear,’ she said graciously. ‘I know I invited you in, but now I’m inviting you out. Please be understanding about this. I promise I’ll telephone you tomorrow.’ As she spoke, she edged him from the room.
‘What’s going on?’ he whined. ‘I thought we had something together.’
Kissing him lightly on the cheek, she continued to edge him towards the front door. ‘Whoever said we didn’t?’
Reluctantly he allowed himself to be shepherded out. ‘Is anything going on between you and that man?’ was his final plaintive cry.
‘Don’t be so silly,’ she said firmly, closing the door on him.
She paused in the hall before returning to the library and Wes, trying to gather her thoughts. Nora’s words had not escaped her attention. Silver’s party… one of the barmen. And Vladimir’s excited confirmation.
Goddammit! Why hadn’t he told her?
And if he had?
She shook her head – if he had she would have sent him on his way without a second glance.
Marching into the library she confronted her latest lover. Hands on hips she raked him over with a very cool expression indeed. ‘Well?’ she demanded icily.
Slowly, deliberately, without rising, he lit a cigarette. ‘I’m getting really fed up with bein’ treated like a piece of shit around here,’ he said.
‘You’re fed up!’ she raged, pacing up and down in front of him. ‘How the hell do you think I feel?’
‘About what?’
‘God! Don’t pretend there’s nothing happening.’
He blew smoke in her direction and stood up. ‘I think I’ll go,’ he said. ‘I’ve heard of warm welcomes, but this is ridiculous.’
Taking in his dishevelled appearance she snapped, ‘You look like a tramp.’
‘Sorry about that, Madame Silver,’ he said sarcastically. ‘I wasn’t plannin’ on gettin’ beat up before I came to see you.’
She regarded him warily. Even in the state he was in there was something about him. A masculine, strong quality.
She knew she should tell him to get out – out of her house and out of her life.
Why?
Just because he was a barman? Who said that Silver Anderson had to follow rules? She could do whatever she pleased.
‘I wish you’d been honest with me up-front,’ she said edgily.
‘Why?’
‘Because then I wouldn’t have had to be humiliated in front of the people who work for me.’
‘Are you humiliated?’
‘Yes, I am.’
He tested the water. ‘How humiliated?’
She heard the humour in his tone and was not amused. ‘Fuck you, Wes Money,’ she said, stalking to the bar.
‘Promises! Promises!’ Beating her to the bar, he positioned himself behind it. ‘And what can I get for Madame? A glass of her favourite bubbly? A vodka martini? Or let me suggest one of my specialities – a strawberry daiquiri with just a hint of Bénédictine? Oh, and I give great nuts!’
He had her with that one. She couldn’t conceal the glimmer of a smile.
‘You look terrible,’ she said crossly.
‘I had a hard night.’
‘A shower will help.’
‘Is that an invitation?’
‘You know, I really do not appreciate you just turning up here uninvited.’
‘You did invite me.’
‘And you cancelled.’
‘Postponed.’
‘I don’t like being kept waiting.’
‘Sometimes it’s worth it.’
‘When?’
‘Shall we put it to the test?’
Later, much later, after hot sex and a cool shower, while Silver slept, Wes crept downstairs and switched on the television in the kitchen. He opened the fridge and dug into a plate of cold cuts whi
le searching for a news channel with the remote control.
When he found one he almost choked. The murders were a big item. A pretty blonde news reader told the story:
‘Heavy-metal singing star Churnell Lufthansa, and his fifteen-year-old girlfriend, Gunilla Saks, were found shot to death in a remote Laurel Canyon hideaway late last night. No murder weapon was found. The police have no suspects at this time. Churnell Lufthansa climbed to fame in the late sixties with his band the Ram Bam Warns. He was known for—’
Abruptly he switched off, hardly wanting to hear the details, as long as his name wasn’t included, and he didn’t see how it could be.
Quickly he picked up the phone and punched out Rocky’s number. Several rings, and then Rocky’s unmistakable pugilistic voice.
‘Where the fuck are ya, man?’ Rocky demanded.
Wes spoke carefully. How did Rocky know he wasn’t at his house? He hadn’t said anything. ‘I’m home,’ he said guardedly.
‘Naw!’
‘Why wouldn’t I be?’
‘Because they’re fuckin’ loo—’ Rocky stopped.
‘Lookin’ for me?’ Wes finished the sentence for him.
‘I guess.’ Rocky’s voice was sulky. He didn’t want to have this conversation.
‘What’s the scam, my friend?’ Wes asked, knowing he wasn’t going to get a straight answer.
‘Ya dumb fuckhead!’ Rocky exploded. ‘Waddya havta ice ’em for?’
‘Huh?’
‘Ya heard me, birdbrain.’
‘Shit!’ Wes said disbelievingly. ‘You don’t think I did it, do you?’
‘Word is out that not only did ya do it, but y’ran off with fifty thou in cash an’ plenty of the white stuff.’
‘That’s bullshit!’
‘It’s on the street. They’re lookin’ for ya.’
‘Where?’
‘Everywhere.’
‘Who’s they?’
‘The big boys.’
‘Shit!’
‘So… where are ya?’
Rocky’s attempt at casual was pathetic. Not only were they looking for him, but there was probably a price on his head. One that Rocky wouldn’t mind collecting.
‘Arizona,’ he said quickly. ‘I came here for my health.’
‘And you’d better stay there.’ Rocky paused, then all in a rush said, ‘Hey – what’s ya number? I’ll call ya if I hear anything.’
‘Don’t call me, I’ll call you.’
Thoughtfully he replaced the receiver. If he’d gone home tonight there was a likelihood he would have joined Churnell Lufthansa and Gunilla Saks in the Garden of Eden. And he wasn’t ready to start fertilizing tomatoes. No way.
He opened up the fridge again and took out a cold beer, wiping the top before putting it to his lips because someone had once told him dogs peed on the side of cans.
Okay. What was he going to do?
Alternatives.
New York. He had a few friends scattered around.
Too goddamn cold.
Not as cold as ten foot under.
Florida and Vicki.
There was no going back. She was probably fat and married now, with two kids and the picket fence she had always dreamed about.
Okay. He had no family. So what the fuck was he going to do?
Silver entered the kitchen silently. She glided on high-heeled mules, a peach robe wrapped around her nakedness. ‘Hmmm…’ she murmured. ‘And what do we have here, a compulsive eater?’
Automatically he reached for the curve of her ass and scrunched a handful. ‘You’re hot stuff,’ he said, charm on automatic pilot.
‘So I’ve been told.’
‘Yeah? Who told you that?’
‘Half of America.’
‘Crazy people.’
‘Don’t be so rude!’
‘Maniacs!’
‘Watch it, barman.’
‘No. You watch it.’
Pulling her close to his chair he parted her robe. Then he pressed his mouth to her thatch and inserted his tongue.
Obligingly she spread her legs, allowing him free access.
Eating Silver Anderson was no hardship. Half the turn-on was the realization that he was tonguing one of the most famous women in America.
She arched her pelvis back with great agility, enjoying every minute of his expert attention.
After a very satisfying orgasm she smiled and said, ‘A first, Mr Money. Nobody’s ever done that to me while I was standing.’
‘You’ve led a sheltered life,’ he remarked, helping himself to a piece of Sara Lee chocolate cake from the freezer.
‘You’ll break your teeth,’ she warned.
He flopped into a chair. ‘Listen – if your pussy didn’t do it – chocolate cake’s a breeze!’
‘You crud!’
She could be very girlish, old Silver Anderson. He found himself laughing with her. And then she was on her knees giving him a little lip.
Whew! If anyone had told him he could get it up again tonight he would have said they were crazy! But up it came. Eager as a housewife at a swap meet.
She knew her stuff. He nearly zoomed through the fucking ceiling! And he certainly forgot all his troubles.
Temporarily.
When it was over she smiled at him. ‘You’re keeping me up,’ she said succinctly.
He grinned. ‘Who’s keeping who up?’
‘You’re a bad influence. I need my sleep. I’m not nineteen, you know.’
‘Jeez! You must be kiddin’!’
‘Funnee. I’ll look like a hag on the set tomorrow.’
‘You could never look anything but beautiful.’
‘Flatterer.’
‘And you love it.’
‘I can’t deny it, barman.’
‘Wanna get married?’ He blurted it out before really thinking what he was suggesting.
She raised an amused eyebrow. ‘I beg your pardon?’
He might as well go all the way. ‘I thought we could hop a plane to Vegas an’ just do it.’
She wrapped her peach robe tightly around her and began to laugh. ‘Why on earth would I marry you?’
Everything fell on top of him. He was too tired to take any more crap. ‘Yeah,’ he said bitterly. ‘Why would y’wanna marry me? I’m all right to screw the ass off – but marriage? You’re right, rich lady – I’m just a bum. I’ll take your money and scam out of your life quicker than a wino with ten bucks. Fuck it!’
Getting up from the table he paced around the room completely naked. Turning on her angrily he said, ‘I’ve never asked anyone to marry me in my life. And waddya do? Huh? Huh? You laugh in my face like I’m some kind of pet fuckin’ joke! Well, let me tell you this – I don’t want your money, I’m not interested in your fame. I just kinda thought we’d have a good time together. You enjoy me. I enjoy you. Why not go all the way?’
She was caught off guard. This was the last thing she’d expected. Wes was furious, like a big caged animal. And he looked so funny as he marched up and down her kitchen with his highly impressive credentials swaying in the breeze.
Marriage. Hmmm… Each time she did it, it was a terrible mistake.
Marriage. Hmmm… It might be kind of fun. And front page news, of course.
Wes grabbed another can of beer from the fridge, and pressed it open so violently that a fine spray flew all over the floor.
‘I don’t know a thing about you,’ she pointed out reasonably.
‘I’ll tell you whatever y’need to know.’
‘How kind of you.’
He ignored her sarcasm. ‘I’m free, white, and over twenty-one. I’m also broke, and in a spot of trouble with some characters who think I owe them money – only I don’t. There are no strings attached to me. I’ve got no social diseases. I won’t be your go-fer, but I’ll look after you and watch out for your interests. I’m no fuckin’ genius, but I’m street smart and sharp – y’can learn a lot from me.’
She went on to sa
y something. He held up his hand and stopped her. ‘I don’t want anything you’ve got. Not your house, your cars, your money. I’ll sign any goddamn paper your lawyer puts in front of me.’
‘If you’re broke, perhaps you can give me some kind of indication about what you intend to live on?’ she asked acidly.
He swigged from the can of beer. ‘I don’t mind you payin’ the bills. I got no macho problem about that.’
She began to laugh. ‘What a relief!’
Walking over to her, he grabbed her around the waist, and pulled her towards him: ‘I think we’d be a pretty steamy combination, don’t you?’
‘I’ve got everything to lose and nothing to gain,’ she protested feebly.
He rubbed the scar above his left eyebrow with one hand, and cupped her tight ass with the other. ‘Yes you have. You got me. And y’know somethin’, rich lady?’
It was ridiculous, but she felt the heat of desire creeping up on her again. Her voice was husky. ‘What?’
‘I’ll make you the happiest broad in Hollywood.’
Somewhere in the Midwest…
Sometime in the seventies…
The girl grieved for her father and his lady friend in a proper manner. She was taken in by a neighbouring farmer’s family, while the entire community speculated on who could have committed such a hideous crime – setting a man’s house on fire and incinerating everyone and everything in it.
‘They said he was crisp as a burnt chicken,’ the girl heard the woman of the house confide to a friend. Good, she thought. I hope he suffered. I hope he died a thousand deaths.
Nobody suspected her of the crime. In fact, for the first time in her life she received love and sympathy from most of the people around her.
The farmer and his wife had four children of their own, and it was understood right from the start that her stay with them was only temporary. She shared a room with the two daughters and kept to herself. The sisters – one seventeen and one almost eighteen – regarded her as an unwelcome intruder. Although she was younger than them and in a lower grade at school, they knew her reputation as a loner, and thought she was odd. Their names were Jessica-May and Sally, and they thought and talked about nothing but boys.
‘I think Jimmy Steuban’s cute,’ Jessica-May would say.