Hollywood Husbands

  Everyone laughed.

  In the kitchen Vladimir and Unity faced each other across the table and solemnly raised their shot glasses of the finest Russian vodka in a toast.

  ‘To freedom,’ Vladimir said, downing the colourless liquid in one fast gulp.

  ‘To money,’ Unity said.

  They smiled at each other like conspirators. Which they were. True Life Scandal was paying them one hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars for the real story of Silver Anderson, Wes Money and Heaven. It was to be serialized over three weeks, and the first instalment was due to hit the stands on the Monday after New Year’s.

  By that time, Unity and Vladimir would be long gone.

  Somewhere in New York…

  Sometime in the seventies…

  The girl found that living with Eli was the beginning of her life. He was the most unfailingly cheerful and good-natured person she had ever met, and after a while she couldn’t help responding to his kindness.

  ‘Where are you from?’

  ‘I don’t want to talk about it.’

  ‘What do you wanna do?’

  ‘Being a waitress is fine.’

  ‘No, it’s not.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because we are all put onto this earth to do something amazing with our lives. Make a goal, an’ go for it!’

  She didn’t have any goals. Just living was enough.

  Eli wouldn’t allow her to drift. He insisted she accompany him to his singing classes and dancing lessons. One day he took her to his drama group, and she watched enthralled as he acted out a role in Macbeth.

  ‘It’s Shakespeare,’ he told her.

  ‘What’s Shakespeare?’

  ‘Are you kiddin’ me, girl?’

  On her birthday he bombarded her with books on great playwrights and text of their best work. ‘You gotta be more than just a pretty face,’ he told her.

  She was captivated by the realistic scenes of great pathos and drama.

  Occasionally Eli brought a friend home. She hated it when this happened and if it was early enough, she would go out and walk the streets rather than listen to the unwelcome sounds of their lovemaking.

  One day he brought a friend home to stay. ‘This is Luke,’ he said, and she shivered with certain knowledge of bad things to come.

  Luke was a burly British blond with bulging muscles and a permanent sneer. He never dressed in anything but crotch-hugging Levis and torn tee-shirts.

  ‘Luke thinks he’s Marlon Brando,’ Eli joked.

  ‘Don’t fockin’ laugh at me – yer spade fairy,’ Luke spat.

  Eli winced and took it.

  Luke didn’t work. He sat on the roof all day, concentrating on his suntan and guzzling beer.

  The girl did not understand what Eli saw in him. She knew it was only sexual and hoped the attraction would soon pass.

  At night she heard them together and buried her head beneath the covers, desperately trying to shut out the disturbing sounds.

  Luke soon became violent. After several weeks he began to take Eli’s money and go out on drinking binges.

  He tried to steal money from her one day but she turned on him with such ferocity that he never went near her again.

  She slept with a knife under her pillow and was ever watchful.

  ‘Get rid of the fockin’ bitch,’ she heard him tell Eli.

  ‘She stays,’ Eli replied, standing up to him for once.

  ‘She goes or I go.’

  ‘So be it,’ replied Eli bravely.

  To her enormous relief Luke departed.

  ‘I don’t know what happens to me,’ Eli confessed. ‘When it comes to the Lukes of this world I just can’t control myself.’

  They talked late into the night, and for the first time, falteringly, she began to confide in Eli as he was confiding in her. They shared a closeness that was very special.

  Sometime in the early morning, Luke returned. The girl was roused by stifled noises. Luke was not alone, he had two friends with him. They were taking turns holding Eli down and using him.

  She felt the fear leap into her throat as she remembered that time – not so long ago – when she had been abused in the same way. Leaping from her bed, she brandished her knife in the air, shouting, ‘Stop it! Go away! Get out! STOP IT!’

  They took their time before leaving, finishing what they’d set out to do.

  The ambulance arrived too late.

  Eli bled to death from internal injuries on the way to Emergency.

  Several weeks later the girl tracked Luke down to a seedy walk-up he was sharing with a male prostitute in a condemned building. She waited until the prostitute was out plying his trade, and then she torched the building.

  Lighting the first match was easy…

  BOOK SIX

  Hollywood, California

  New Year’s Eve

  December 31 1985

  Chapter Ninety

  ‘Our limousine awaits,’ Mark said, with a twist of irony. ‘I do love you Americans – you do things with such panache. The driver tells me there are forty-nine identical white limos with fully stocked bars and a supply of the best caviar, to transport Zachary Klinger’s illustrious guests to his waiting yacht. You’d think he might want to double up, save a bob or two. I wouldn’t have minded more of the incredible Zeppo White and that strange, zombie-like lady he’s married to.’

  Jade stifled a laugh. ‘Don’t be so rude.’

  ‘You must admit, they do make strange bedfellows.’

  ‘Well…’

  Taking her hand he said, ‘Speaking as a premier photographer of wild and beautiful creatures, you, my dear, are the most beautiful of all.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Surpassing even a pregnant leopard I recently had the privilege of observing.’

  ‘You’re such a flatterer.’

  ‘Part of my English charm.’

  ‘And sooo modest.’

  ‘One tries one’s best.’

  She had to admit that being with Mark again was pleasurable. He made her laugh with his dry sense of humour. And she was almost convinced that marrying him was the right thing to do.

  It better be. They had taken out the licence, had the requisite blood tests, and tomorrow was the big day.

  Beverly had freaked out when she’d told her. ‘Whaaat? You an’ the English asshole? This girl does not believe it.’

  ‘Now that I’m marrying him, Bev, let’s drop the asshole bit, huh? I don’t think it’s really appropriate, do you?’

  ‘Whatever you say. I’m easy.’

  When Beverly realized that Jade was seriously getting married, she offered the use of Zachary’s mansion for the ceremony, sure he wouldn’t mind.

  ‘No guests,’ Jade warned. ‘We just want to do it quietly, and then take off for a couple of days in Carmel before I have to shoot the final batch of commercials.’

  ‘Try this for fit. The two of you. Corey. Me. A sunlit garden – if the goddamn weather doesn’t change – and a nice friendly preacher. Zachary’s flying off to New York right after the party. How does the scenario grab you?’

  ‘Perfect!’

  ‘It’s arranged.’

  Mark had liked the idea when she told him. ‘I can’t wait, my darling,’ he’d said.

  She knew why. She still hadn’t slept with him, and he couldn’t stand that she was making him wait.

  ‘Aren’t I worth waiting for?’ she’d teased him;

  ‘Jade. This is ridiculous. We lived together for six years. Why are you doing this?’

  ‘Because it’s romantic. Besides, it’s such a short time, and it’ll make our wedding night really special.’

  For Zachary’s New Year’s Eve cruise she had chosen to wear a black cashmere Ralph Lauren sweater, sleeveless, with one shoulder completely bare; white silk pants; a bronze buckled belt; and a whirl of delicately thin bronze bracelets around her upper arm. Hoop earrings and slave bangles on each wrist completed her look. On her engagemen
t finger was the antique sapphire and diamond ring Mark had presented her with on Christmas Day.

  ‘Let’s go,’ she said, with a dazzling smile. ‘I promised Corey we’d pick him up on the way.’

  Mark was ready.

  * * *

  Poppy was in gold. From the ornament in her hair to the shoes on her feet, everything was gold, including her nails.

  Howard took one look and decided she should be frozen in time, reduced in size, and placed on somebody’s mantel – next to an Oscar.

  He did not feel well. After snorting cocaine all day, gulping a few Quaaludes and a Valium or two, he felt like shit.

  Once, cocaine was the answer to everything. A couple of toots and he was King Kong. More, and he was ready to take over the world.

  Now the rush didn’t last. It brought him up, and sank him back down almost immediately. And his nose was killing him. Every time he snorted, the pain was like a thousand tiny needles jabbing the sensitive membrane in his nostrils.

  Of course, he knew there were other methods of doing it. If he wasn’t so queasy about needles, he could inject himself with the magic potion.

  He’d tried it once and nearly passed out. Besides, injecting drugs? Wasn’t that getting a little desperate? He was no junkie.

  ‘Honeybunch, have you set the tape machine?’ Poppy asked. ‘I don’t want to miss Zachary on the Python show.’

  ‘If I know old Zach,’ Howard said, with a manic twitch, ‘he’ll have a screening room on the boat, and we’ll all have to sit and watch. Talk about a captive audience! That’s probably why he’s having the party on his yacht in the first place. Nobody can escape.’

  Poppy adjusted a huge gold earring. ‘I think it’s a wonderful way to spend New Year’s Eve. I’m bored with normal parties.’

  ‘As long as you don’t get seasick.’

  ‘Oooh. It’s not going to be rough, is it?’

  ‘Just kidding.’

  On their way out to the car, Roselight’s nanny came running after them. ‘Mr Soloman,’ she called, ‘there’s a call for you from Mexico City. The operator says it’s urgent.’

  * * *

  ‘I can’t imagine like why they invited me,’ Heaven said, excitedly gobbling caviar as the white stretch limousine transported her and Rocky to Long Beach and Zachary K. Klinger’s exclusive party.

  ‘’Cos you’re a star,’ Rocky said confidently. ‘An’ don’ forget who did it for ya.’

  ‘Maybe Uncle Jack suggested they ask me,’ she mused.

  ‘Naw. Why’d he do that?’

  ‘It’s New Year’s Eve. He always tries to see me then.’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Forget about ya Uncle Jack,’ Rocky said, flicking on the built-in television. ‘You’re a big girl now – ya got me.’

  * * *

  ‘I must have been unhinged to even think about letting you get away from me,’ Mannon said, his arm around Melanie-Shanna as they entered the limousine.

  ‘I was sure it was what you wanted,’ she replied softly. ‘You were so cold towards me. I could never do or say the right thing. And when I got pregnant it was like you couldn’t care less.’

  ‘I guess the idea of becoming a father made me nervous.’

  ‘It wasn’t exactly easy for me. Especially with your attitude…’ She hesitated. ‘And Whitney…’

  He hadn’t thought of Whitney in months. One thing Clarissa had cured him of was his obsession with his ex-wife. And now he was cured of Clarissa too. Christ! When he remembered that night in Puerto Vallarta he was so ashamed. Beating that boy, half killing him. The memory was a nightmare. Thank God for Howard, who kept the whole deal out of the press and spirited him out of there.

  The fucking pills the stupid makeup girl had given him had made him crazy. Not to mention Clarissa. Thinking of her now, he shuddered. The woman was a fling, an interlude, and an unfaithful liar.

  He couldn’t care less if he never set eyes on her again.

  * * *

  They’d taped Face to Face with Python early, ready for viewing later that evening, and it was a smash. Zachary K. Klinger was the kind of guest Jack wished he had on every week – forceful, opinionated, jagged, and sharp as a stiletto.

  ‘What a show!’ Aldrich congratulated him. ‘Dynamite! Especially when you got him talking about his personal life, and his sorrow at never having kids. Jesus, Jack – it’s compulsive viewing.’

  Jack agreed. He knew it was a sensational show, and he also knew it presented an in-depth portrait of a man who had everything – and yet yearned for what he thought he was missing. Great insightful television. It wasn’t often he could say that.

  Zachary had been pleased too. Considering he never consented to do interviews, it was a real coup for the Python Show to get him.

  ‘I’ll see you at my party,’ Zachary said as he departed, accompanied by several assistants. ‘I understand you’re bringing Senator Richmond with you. I’m delighted. I haven’t seen him for a while. I had no idea he was out here.’

  Jack didn’t say – He’s visiting Danielle. He merely nodded, and wondered how he had become the beard for Peter Richmond.

  They were all going to the party together: Jack with Kellie Sidney, the Senator with Danielle Vadeeme.

  Peter Richmond had phoned him and asked, ‘Are you attending Zachary Klinger’s party?’

  When he’d said yes, the Senator had inveigled an invitation for himself and the French actress. ‘Danielle wants to go,’ he’d explained. ‘If we come with you it will appear you’re with her.’

  ‘I’m taking Kellie,’ Jack had explained.

  ‘With your reputation,’ Peter guffawed, ‘everyone will naturally assume you’re with the two of them. I have to be careful. I am a married man, you know.’

  On the cheat.

  Weren’t most of them?

  Sometimes Jack found it useful to store favours, so he’d agreed.

  Kellie kept him waiting as usual. He was used to it now, as the dogs crawled all over him, and her three-year-old son greeted him with a sticky hug. Kellie walked the tightrope between movie star, mom, and producer with careless style.

  ‘Ooops!’ she exclaimed, rushing into the living room clad in a sexy long dress. ‘Odd earrings!’

  ‘And shoes,’ he pointed out.

  ‘No?’

  ‘Take a look.’

  Glancing down at her feet, she clapped a hand over her mouth. ‘What a putz!’

  ‘But a lovable one.’

  She grinned at him. ‘Thanks!’

  It had taken effort on his part, getting connected with Kellie again. After the Spago incident, when he had slipped away with Jade Johnson, she had not been inclined to see him again. It had taken roses and persuasion, for out of all the women he’d dated since Clarissa (excluding Jade, of course – she was something else) Kellie was the nicest. And he admired her strong sense of family.

  ‘I can’t wait to meet the Senator,’ Kellie said. ‘I hear he’s quite a boy in Washington.’

  ‘So I believe.’

  ‘Politicians are very highly sexed.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  She giggled. ‘I never said I was a virgin when we met!’

  * * *

  Up in Benedict Canyon, Clarissa let the driver wait as she finished getting ready. She wore a navy blue pants suit and a white sweater. Nothing fancy for Clarissa Browning. She didn’t need the phoney glitter of Hollywood.

  Leaning close to her mirror, she traced the outline of a faint black eye – a souvenir of Mannon Cable. The violent bastard.

  Earlier, she had called the private nursing home in Mexico to ask after Norman. They refused to give out information on the phone, even though she had a private number to contact.

  She brooded about Puerto Vallarta and what had taken place there. Mannon Cable should have been properly punished for behaving like a maniac, but no – Howard Soloman had arrived with his warnings and threats. ‘If you let out one word
of this,’ he had told her, ‘your career will be over, finished. Just like that.’

  Hollywood folk.

  They had their own laws.

  Hollywood folk.

  Sometimes she loathed the whole pack of them.

  * * *

  Beverly D’Amo was rushing from the house on her way to Long Beach to meet Zachary when the messenger arrived, carrying a brown manila envelope marked:

  EXTREMELY URGENT

  PRIVATE PAPERS

  Attention of: ZACHARY K. KLINGER

  Hand-delivered envelopes arrived for Zachary every day – often marked URGENT. But extremely urgent?

  She decided she’d better bring it with her. Not that he would want to be bothered in the middle of his party – only with Zachary, one never knew. And if she didn’t take it he’d probably ask if it had arrived, and then berate her for not bringing it.

  Couldn’t win.

  She tossed it on the back seat of the limo and promptly forgot it for the moment.

  * * *

  ‘Happy New Year, Vladimir. And you too, Unity, dear,’ Silver said graciously, thinking to herself what an absolutely bizarre couple they made – her gay Russian houseman and Wes’s little cousin. They seemed to have formed some peculiar kind of liaison. ‘Are you going out?’

  ‘Yes, madame,’ Vladimir replied courteously. We are going out and never coming back. With sixty-five thousand dollars apiece, finding somewhere to go should present no problem.

  ‘Perhaps you’d like your picture taken with me,’ Silver said with a winning smile. ‘Wes – get your camera.’

  She knew she had never looked better. Wes Money was like a rejuvenating tonic. Her skin was smooth and clear with the flush of regular sex, her body trimmer than ever. And the six-thousand-dollar Fabrice dress she had invested in was spectacular. Not to mention Wes’s surprise gift – a stunning diamond and ruby heart necklace. She’d been quite taken aback when he presented her with it on Christmas night. ‘Tell me,’ she’d whispered later, ‘did I pay for it?’

  ‘No, you didn’t,’ he’d replied, insulted.

  ‘Well, where did you get the money?’ she’d asked, perplexed.

  ‘My life’s savings,’ he’d replied jauntily. ‘Consider it well spent. Now I really am busted out.’