‘Nora’s idea,’ Silver had replied. ‘And I must admit, it does give you some sort of background.’
‘You want a background, you should’ve married Teddy Kennedy!’
She had smiled. ‘Just a touch too plump. I do so hate love rolls, don’t you?’
He had to admire Silver. She didn’t give a damn about anything or anybody. She was a tough, gutsy broad who did what she wanted, and to hell with criticism.
‘My life hasn’t always been easy,’ she had informed him one balmy night on their lust-filled honeymoon. ‘Four years ago I had a nervous breakdown. I thought it was all over.’
‘Yeah?’ He wasn’t interested in talking pasts. He couldn’t imagine Silver anywhere but at the top. And once they were married he couldn’t imagine himself being anywhere except by her side.
This was not love. This was good times.
* * *
Poppy fussed among her guests as they began to sit down at their various tables. She wanted Howard. She wanted his blood. Zachary K. Klinger had failed to show.
Just as she was about to start screaming – discreetly, of course – Zachary K. Klinger walked through the door. She recognized him at once, and wasted no time in hurrying over. ‘Mr Klinger,’ she gushed. ‘This is such a pleasure! I am delighted you made it.’
‘Who are you?’ he asked, in his sinister rasp.
‘Why, I’m Poppy Soloman.’ She smiled sweetly. ‘Your hostess.’
He looked her over. He was a big, well-preserved man in his late sixties, with exaggerated strong features – and behind his steel-rimmed glasses, cold, opaque eyes. He made her feel immediately uncomfortable.
‘Why don’t I find Howard for you,’ she suggested.
‘Yes. Why don’t you?’ he said, taking a cigar from his breast pocket and lighting up.
How rude, she thought, and before dinner, too. Perhaps she had made a mistake seating him next to Silver; the man obviously had no manners.
She grabbed Mannon, on his way back from the men’s room. ‘Have you seen Howard?’ she asked anxiously. And then, as an afterthought, because she was nervous, she introduced him to Zachary. The two men had never met. They shook hands and tried to out-grip each other.
‘Howard’s in the john,’ Mannon informed her.
‘Can you get him for me?’ she pleaded.
‘I’ll find him myself,’ Zachary said, staring piercingly at Mannon. ‘We’ll talk later. I want you for Orpheus. When you hear what I have to offer, you’ll jump.’
‘I never jump,’ said Mannon easily – his ease belied by his mouth, which set into a thin line.
‘Never known an actor who didn’t,’ said Zachary, with all the confidence of a man used to getting his own way.
‘Well, I guess you’re looking at him,’ replied Mannon.
‘I don’t think so.’ Zachary set off to find Howard.
Mannon was not pleased. ‘What a jerk,’ he said derisively.
‘I’m certain he’s not,’ Poppy said quickly, not quite sure why she was defending a man she had taken an instant dislike to.
‘Grow up, Poppy. These guys that come walking into a business they know nothing about are all uniform jerks. You can take everything they know about the film industry and shove it up Howard’s ass – and you’ll have room for an agent or two.’
‘Mannon!’
‘Believe me. I’ve been around.’
He stalked off to his table, which unfortunately was the same one Zachary would be sitting at.
* * *
Locked safely in a booth in the men’s room, Howard snorted the magic white powder. With a sigh of deep pleasure he felt the effect almost immediately. Nothing like it. Instant head honcho of the jungle. King Kong with concrete balls! Infuckingvincible!
He sailed out of the booth and bumped straight into Zachary K. Klinger.
‘Mr K. You made it!’ he exclaimed.
‘Was there any doubt in your mind?’
‘Never. Ne-ver.’
‘When I say I’ll be somewhere, I’m there.’
‘Sure you are.’ When it suits you. Howard walked over to the sink and began to wash his hands.
‘I just talked to Mannon Cable,’ Zachary said, in his heavy whisper.
‘Good.’
‘I want him for Orpheus.’
Glancing in the mirror Howard noticed a dusting of white powder beneath his nose. Quickly he wiped it away. ‘I’ve tried to get him. The trouble is he’s always tied up on some other project.’
‘I want him,’ Zachary repeated.
Howard wondered if old Zach ever cracked a smile. Probably not.
‘I’ll give it another shot,’ he said.
‘You’ll do more than that,’ Zachary retorted sharply.
‘What?’
‘I have a proposal. When he hears it, he’ll be ours.’
‘Don’t get too excited. Mannon’s a lot pickier than everyone seems to think.’
‘Money talks.’
‘To some people.’
‘To everyone.’
‘Like I said – we’ll give it another try.’
As he walked towards the door, Zachary blocked him. ‘I don’t believe in tries. I believe in certainties. I want Mannon Cable and I will have him.’
‘If you say so.’ Shit, Howard thought. The old guy thinks he’s Harry Cohn and this is the 1950s. No way, José.
* * *
‘Well?’ Silver whispered, reaching for Wes’s thigh under the table. ‘Are we having a good time?’
He didn’t go overboard on this new, semi-patronizing attitude she was adopting. Benevolent keeper, showing her new pet off to the crowd.
‘It’s all a crap shoot, Silver, and you know it.’
Giggling girlishly she said, ‘Don’t I just! Some of the women can’t keep their eyes off you. They’re all dying to know where I found you.’
‘You didn’t find me anywhere. Let’s get it straight, I rescued you from a bunch of fags who were out to rip you to shreds. Remember?’
‘How could I ever forget. The thing I liked about you – even then – was your forcefulness.’
‘Silver, dahling!’ Carmel Gooseberger descended on them, a nightmare in huge yellow frou-frous. ‘Is this the bridegroom?’
‘Yes,’ said Silver. ‘Wes, meet Carmel Gooseberger.’
He shook the large woman’s hand.
‘I know, I know,’ boomed Carmel, in an extremely loud voice. ‘Wesley Money, Junior. I think I know your father.’
Wes looked alarmed. ‘You do?’ he asked, remembering a shifty-eyed English pimp whom he hadn’t seen since he was eight, and a pot-bellied American stepfather who had only been in his life for five minutes.
‘Yes,’ nodded Carmel. ‘It’s the San Francisco Moneys, isn’t it?’
Silver kicked him under the table.
‘Sure is,’ he agreed.
‘What a family! Ah yes, I remember them well. It was quite a few years ago. Orville and I had just started going out together, and I was in San Francisco on location – I used to be an actress, you know.’
Silver leaned forward glowing with amusement. ‘Go on, Carmel. Confess. You had an affair with Wes’s father.’
Carmel laughed in a loud and bawdy fashion. ‘If I did, dahl-ing, you’re the last person I’d tell.’
‘What won’t you tell Silver?’ Carlos Brent flashed a smile as he sat down at the table, accompanied by Dee Dee Dionne.
‘Carmel claims to have slept with Wes’s father. She was cheating on Orville at the time.’ Silver spoke with obvious relish.
‘I reckon Carmel humped every good-looking cat in this town before Orville found her an’ took her in off the street,’ Carlos said, with a big grin. ‘Am I right, gorgeous?’
‘Stop!’ roared Carmel, loving every minute of it. ‘You’re so bad, Carlos.’
‘You can’t fool us, sweetie,’ he joked. ‘I got in line once, but the line was so long I didn’t have the strength to wait!’
‘
You’re ruining my reputation,’ shrieked Carmel, patting her frosted hair, frou-frous heaving above a mammoth bosom.
‘What reputation?’ cracked Carlos.
The wisecracks continued as the table filled up. Mannon and Melanie-Shanna came over, and Orville Gooseberger, who had an even louder voice than his wife.
Silver was in fine form. Glittering like a Queen. Accepting compliments and congratulations as her due. Many years before, she and Carlos Brent had indulged in a short and passionate affair. Someone had tipped the press off that they were going to get married, and Carlos had blown a fuse – thinking Silver was the culprit. They had parted acrimoniously. Now, years later, she felt very secure with her hot career, and her horny new husband.
Poppy hovered, waiting for Zachary to emerge from the men’s room so she could guide him to his seat. Howard was settled at his own table, with Whitney on one side and Ida White on the other. Ida was looking particularly glassy-eyed. Poppy hoped she’d last through the dinner. Ida had been known to go to the ladies’ room at parties and fall into a blissful, drug-induced sleep. No one was sure what she was on, but whatever it was it certainly kept her floating, her head calmly above water – only just.
Zachary appeared, and Poppy grabbed him. ‘You’re at my table,’ she cooed, and then proceeded to name-drop. ‘You’re sitting with Carlos Brent, Mannon Cable, Silver Anderson – you do know this party is for her?’ Without waiting for a reply she rushed on with, ‘Oh, and Orville Gooseberger. Quelle character! Quite a group for one table, don’t you think?’
‘Am I next to Silver Anderson?’ he asked curtly.
‘As a matter of fact, that’s exactly where I’ve seated you.’
Zachary nodded his approval.
Proudly, Poppy led him across the room. Several people tried to greet him, but Zachary gave the word ignore new meaning.
They reached the number one table, and Poppy began to introduce her most important guest.
Silver had a glass of champagne halfway to her lips when she looked up and saw Zachary.
The colour drained from her face.
Zachary K. Klinger was ‘The Businessman’ from her past.
Zachary K. Klinger was Heaven’s father, although he didn’t know it.
Zachary K. Klinger was the hate of her life.
Chapter Fifty-Two
‘It’s amazing!’ Heaven exclaimed for the tenth time. ‘I totally, like, love it!’
She was referring to the beach house, which she had explored several times.
Jack loosened his tie and removed his jacket. He had been in a meeting with his accountant all afternoon and felt a strong need to flake out.
‘And my room is just brilliant!’ she continued. ‘It overlooks the beach and the ocean. I can just sit at my window all day and stare!’
‘Sounds good to me. Do you want to stare in the fridge and see what the maid got in for us? I left a note for her to stock up at the market.’
‘I’m starving!’
‘You’re always starving! Whenever I see you I get this feeling you don’t eat between my visits.’
‘I don’t.’
‘You’re a funny one.’
She giggled happily. ‘I’ll check out the food situation. Do not go away!’
As she rushed into the kitchen, he wondered what he had gotten himself into. Who would ever have thought he’d be living in a house and looking after a kid. Jack Python – surrogate father!
He kind of liked it.
Clarissa was still in New York. Because she had time between films, she had decided to do an obscure off-Broadway play for a limited run. They spoke on the phone every few days, but it was definitely a relationship that had gone off the boil. He knew she was waiting to see what he planned to do about her ultimatum. And quite frankly, the more he thought about marriage, the more he loathed the whole idea. Who needed it?
Silver had just married again. Silver could do what she damn well liked. He cared about her the way she cared about Heaven. Zilch feelings.
‘I found potato salad, coleslaw, chicken and ham,’ Heaven announced triumphantly.
‘Or we could go out,’ he suggested.
‘Let’s stay in.’
‘You don’t have to twist my arm.’
Much later, after food and unpacking and calling all her friends – including Eddie – Heaven fell into a happy sleep while Jack prowled around the house. He wasn’t at all tired. Grabbing a sweater he decided to take a walk along the beach.
The dull realization hit him that he had to go to New York and settle things with Clarissa. They were either on or off. He definitely did not want marriage. She did. Either she was prepared to go on with the relationship the way it was, or it was over.
Decision made, he felt better. He would tell Heaven to have a girlfriend stay with her, and as soon as that was arranged, he’d take the next flight into New York. The show was on a six-week break, so it was the perfect time to sort things out.
In a way he hoped Clarissa would tell him it was over. Being with her was not exactly a laugh a minute. She was a broody, intense woman, simmering with secrets. She never revealed herself to him. There was always that guarded quality as if there were an unseen wall between them. The only time she really laid herself wide open was on the screen.
If he was really truthful with himself he would admit that the real appeal of Clarissa was her enormous talent.
He jogged back to the house and watched a late night movie. Lana Turner in her prime. A sexy, ballsy broad. They didn’t make ’em like that anymore.
By one a.m. he began to fade, his eyes closed, and he drifted off to sleep.
Tomorrow he would work things out.
* * *
Back in the city, in her apartment on Wilshire, Jade sat alone on the terrace with a pack of Camels, a glass of wine, and a small dish of yoghurt-coated pretzels. She had A Star is Born on her stereo – the Streisand/Kristofferson version of the movie was one of her favourites.
The lights of Los Angeles were laid out like a glittering patchwork quilt. She never tired of watching them sparkle. Hmmm, she thought, I’m turning into a loner. I like my own company a lot more than the party circuit.
Well, that’s what happened when there was no one in particular she wanted to be with. Besides, she enjoyed her own company, and never felt lonely. Ever since she was a child she had been self-sufficient and able to entertain herself. Whereas Corey had always needed friends over.
Corey—
My brother—
Is gay.
Subconsciously she had tried to stop herself from thinking about it all day. After lunch, which turned out to be a stilted affair, she had bolted from the restaurant fast. Without thinking, she’d gotten in her car and headed for the nearest shopping mall, which happened to be the Beverly Center. Once there, she had toured the shops with a dedication bordering on the obsessive.
One leather jacket, two pairs of Levis, a silk shirt, three pairs of stiletto-heeled shoes, four hard-cover books, an assortment of makeup, and a heavy glass ashtray later, she had driven home, where she showered, watched a tape of Hill Street Blues, and mindlessly ate a can of cold baked beans, a bar of chocolate and an orange. She smoked three cigarettes – a habit she had given up six years ago – and now she was sitting on her terrace finally thinking about Corey.
The revelation was an enormous shock. Not that he’d said anything. It hadn’t been necessary. Just watching him with Norman Gooseberger the picture had become excruciatingly clear, and she knew immediately why her brother had been avoiding her.
Desperately she had tried to act normally, but it was difficult when all she wanted to do was scream at him – Why? Why? Why?
Polite conversation took place. Have you seen this movie? Been to that restaurant? Tried this hotel?
Norman seemed nice enough. His father was Orville Gooseberger, the well-known film producer, and his mother – to quote him – gives great charity.
‘How did you two meet?’ sh
e’d found herself asking.
And Norman replied. Corey had nothing to say. It seemed they had worked together in the San Francisco branch of Briskinn & Bower, the big publicity firm. When Norman was transferred back to Los Angeles, he’d asked his father – who owned a chunk of B & B – to arrange for Corey to be transferred too.
She didn’t want to know any more, hardly caring to hear the details.
Now, sitting quietly on her terrace, she began to wonder. Had Corey always been gay? Or did Norman bring it out in him?
She remembered how when he was a teenager he had always been inordinately shy around girls. One day her mother had voiced a mild doubt, swiftly forgotten, because the very next week he had started steady dating a girl named Gloria, with big breasts and sturdy legs. Were he and Gloria making out? She had asked him once, but he never replied. And then she had taken off for New York and her career, and only saw him on her occasional visits home.
When he met Marita, the entire family had been delighted, once they got over the shock of her being Hawaiian. Their wedding was old-fashioned and lovely, and they both seemed very happy. A year later, when the baby was born, everyone felt Corey was settled for life.
Now this bombshell. Her mother would have a nervous breakdown.
She reached for another cigarette. Some of her best friends were gay.
Jesus Christ, Johnson. What kind of a bigoted thought is that?
She hated herself for it, but she couldn’t control the shock and disappointment she felt. And she was angry too.
Why hadn’t he told her?
Because, asshole, he knew you’d react just like this.
Shut up.
It’s true!
Guilt crept up on her. Was Corey doing it to spite her? Beautiful, successful Jade Johnson. Always the centre of attention. Always the star of the family. Was Corey striking back in the only way he could think of?
Drawing deeply on her cigarette, she realized she was the one who would have to tell their mother.
Why?
Because she has to know.
Why?
Oh, fuck off.
The phone interrupted her argument with herself. Since the answering machine was still on she let it pick up. First the message, then the bleep, followed by the unmistakable tones of Lord Mark Rand. English jerk-off artist.