Hollywood Husbands

  How touched she was by his generous gesture. ‘I’ve been thinking, we should put you on the payroll,’ she’d said. ‘After all, you’ve been handling all my affairs. Does ten percent of my earnings seem fair? We can have my lawyer draw up contracts.’

  He’d laughed. ‘While we’re together what’s yours is mine. Right? Let’s leave it that way.’

  Time and time again he had proved that he wasn’t after her money. Thank God she’d chosen him, and not that dreadful, power-hungry, social-climbing Dennis Denby.

  Wes picked up his new Nikon camera – a Christmas gift from Silver, along with a metallic silver Ferrari (‘Every time you look at it, darling, you’ll think of me!’), a Sony video camera, and a virtual closetful of new clothes.

  ‘Come here, Vladimir,’ she called. ‘And Unity, dear, would you like to be in the picture too?’

  Vladimir threw Unity a commanding glare. This photograph would be worth another few thousand! What luck!

  Silver stood between Vladimir and a reluctant Unity, her arms around each of them, a perfect smile in perfect place. Pictures with the staff were part of the game. Oh, how they loved it!

  Vladimir would be able to show the snap to all of his friends and boast endlessly of his famous employer.

  ‘Perhaps Madame would like a photograph of herself and Mr Ves together?’ Vladimir suggested respectfully.

  ‘What a good idea,’ she said, beaming. ‘Oh, and Vladimir, you may sleep in tomorrow. No sense in you getting up at six as usual. Shall we say nine o’clock?’

  ‘Thank you, madame.’ Selfish woman. She wouldn’t leave her bed until at least noon. Besides, New Year’s Day was supposed to be a holiday.

  Why should he care? He would be long gone. Hawaii was his first planned stop. Hawaii, with a tall and tanned ex-stripper who sang like Sinatra and gave great toe massage.

  Snap.

  ‘Another one,’ Silver said.

  Snap.

  ‘Just one more.’ She snuggled closer to Wes.

  Snap.

  ‘That’s enough,’ said Wes. ‘We can’t be late, they’ll sail without us.’

  Silver raised an amused eyebrow. ‘You are joking?’

  ‘Mr Ves,’ Vladimir said humbly. ‘Just one with you and your cousin.’

  Wes didn’t need a picture with Unity – she’d turned out to be a miserable cow, not at all grateful for his help. Serious thought was going into how to get rid of her – without the whole story being revealed.

  It seemed simpler to pose and get out of there. Vladimir took the picture, and Wes took the camera from him. ‘Shall we bring it with us?’ he asked Silver.

  Laughing delicately, she said, ‘Darling, this is the most important and exclusive party of the year. If you want to look like a Japanese tourist, bring it by all means.’

  And on that line she exited. Ever the star. And ready to party.

  Chapter Ninety-One

  Everyone was aboard. Music played, champagne flowed, and the white yacht – christened Klinger II – set sail from Long Beach on time. Zachary’s main yacht – Klinger I – stayed permanently on the Mediterranean coast. But Klinger II was no slouch in the luxury stakes. A large sleek vessel, it accommodated Zachary’s party with ease. The hundred guests mingled happily, giving off a certain air of triumph. They were the lucky ones, the chosen few. This would be a party to remember.

  The heated main deck was festooned with fairy lights, flashing and winking in the dark night sky. Small, intimate tables surrounded a dance floor, while a trio of musicians played appealing Brazilian sounds.

  ‘Kiddo!’ Zeppo stood up and waved to Jade, beckoning her over to his table. ‘Join Ida and me.’

  ‘Shall we?’ she whispered to Mark.

  ‘Certainly,’ he replied. ‘The man is a riot!’

  ‘Okay with you?’ she checked with Corey.

  ‘I think I’ll just wander around,’ he said.

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘I’ll feel more comfortable doing that.’

  Leaving his sister and her bridegroom-to-be, he made his way into a magnificent dining room where white-coated waiters were putting the finishing touches to a sumptuous buffet of lobster, cold salmon, oysters and numerous salads.

  Corey was in a deep depression. Norman leaving Los Angeles was bad enough. But not to even call, to just drop him without a word over Christmas and New Year’s was unforgivable. He had left his wife and child for Norman, completely changed his way of living, and now his whole world had crumbled.

  ‘Looks good enough to eat, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Huh?’ Corey glanced over at the speaker, a skinny blond waiter with bright sharp eyes and a thin mouth.

  ‘I guess, if we’re lucky, we’ll get the leftovers.’

  ‘Yes,’ Corey agreed vaguely.

  ‘Are you in the biz?’

  Slowly Corey realized the waiter was coming on to him. Jesus! he thought. Don’t tell me it’s beginning to show. One glance and they know.

  ‘I’m married,’ he said quickly.

  ‘No law against that,’ the waiter replied with an encouraging wink. ‘I don’t care if you don’t.’

  Retribution. A suitable punishment for Norman. They had sworn to each other that they wouldn’t play around. AIDS was the Russian Roulette of the eighties, and only a fool would risk promiscuity.

  * * *

  The butterflies were churning as Heaven accepted compliments from all and sundry.

  You’re an original!

  Love your record!

  My daughter worships you!

  My son wants to know if you have a poster out?

  She was being fêted by every old fogey in town!

  And none of them was mentioning her mother!

  A blast.

  A mega-blast.

  ‘I’m famous,’ she informed Rocky.

  ‘Told ya I’d do it for ya,’ he boasted.

  Swirling her fake leopardskin coat around her, she revealed a cut-out lace body suit underneath, and a lot of bare midriff. ‘They like what I do!’ she squealed.

  ‘Hey – hey – hey – why shouldn’t they?’

  Bobbing her head confidently, she said, ‘You’re right. Why shouldn’t they? I’m almost a star, and I loooove it!’

  Rocky grinned. He loved it too. Only he couldn’t let a party like this go to waste. There were big spenders aboard. Studio heads and movie stars. He was almost bailing out of dealing drugs. Almost… not quite. There were some opportunities he just couldn’t let slip by.

  ‘I gotta go t’ the john,’ he said quickly. ‘Don’t go away.’

  Where did he think she was going? She was having the time of her life. She’d already greeted Uncle Jack, successfully avoided her mother, and now she was enjoying all this newfound attention.

  ‘Hello again.’

  She turned, ready to accept another compliment, and found herself facing Penn Sullivan.

  Oh God! She felt sick, nervous and hesitant all at the same time. Penn Sullivan! He was totally gorgeous!

  ‘Uh… hi,’ she mumbled, sounding like a stupid idiot.

  ‘Having fun?’

  ‘Are you?’ she managed.

  ‘Well, now that I’ve seen Heaven…’

  Was it her imagination or was he coming on to her?

  ‘Do you know something?’ he asked.

  ‘What?’ she gulped.

  ‘We’re the youngest people on board. Somehow, I think we got railroaded into the wrong party.’

  She couldn’t care less what they’d got railroaded into. Penn Sullivan was utterly amazing!

  * * *

  ‘When are you visiting Washington? I’d like very much to be your official guide,’ Senator Peter Richmond said to Kellie Sidney. He was a Kennedy clone, with a John Lindsay profile, and – one of these days – a fair shot at the main chance.

  ‘I wasn’t planning a trip in the near future,’ she said brightly.

  ‘You’re missing a lot of fun,’ he replied, double entend
re at full mast.

  ‘I’m sure I am.’ She looked at Jack to save her, but he was allowing her no mercy, forcing her to handle the randy Senator all on her own.

  Whitney Valentine, undulating past, rescued her. The Senator took one lecherous look at the quivering Ms. Valentine – sheathed in body-hugging silk jersey with nipples on show – and was on his feet in a flash.

  Jack almost laughed aloud. Washington meets Hollywood. What a perfect combination. Real power and real glamour. He remembered the Kennedy scandals and Marilyn Monroe. The entire country had shivered on the edge of ecstasy for months.

  Unfortunately, Danielle Vadeeme had failed to materialize. Earlier, when Jack and Kellie had arrived to pick them up, the Senator was alone. ‘Food poisoning,’ he’d explained. ‘Danielle insisted I mustn’t let you down.’

  Now he was hot to boogie. With whoever cooperated.

  ‘Hasn’t the man ever seen a woman before?’ Kellie whispered, as they both watched him go to work on Whitney, who seemed to take him quite seriously.

  * * *

  Zachary held court in his library. The large yacht featured several entertaining areas, and the guests could wander around as they pleased.

  Poppy Soloman sat as close to Zachary as possible. She was worried about Howard. He had been behaving very strangely lately. In the car on the way to the party he was like a zombie, and he wouldn’t even tell her what the urgent phone call from Mexico was all about.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ she’d asked.

  ‘Migraine.’

  After that he’d refused to speak, in spite of valiant efforts on her part.

  ‘I’ve been meaning to ask you something,’ she said to Zachary in her breathy, little-girl voice. ‘You do know that Howard lives, eats, and breathes Orpheus? The studio is his life.’

  ‘I’ve always appreciated loyalty,’ Zachary replied, puffing on his cigar. ‘I pay well for it.’

  ‘I’m sure you do. And you can’t get anyone more loyal than my Howie.’

  Zachary couldn’t be bothered with people who didn’t get right to the point. ‘What are you getting at?’ he asked brusquely.

  ‘He needs a vacation, he really does,’ she sighed.

  ‘I’m not stopping him,’ Zachary pointed out.

  ‘I know,’ she said very seriously, realizing that if Howard caught her having this conversation he would be furious. ‘But he refuses to take one. And unless you force him, he’ll just keep going until he drops.’

  Zachary nodded. He was quite impressed by her concern. Poppy had never struck him as a caring wife until now.

  ‘I’ll see he takes a vacation,’ he promised. ‘I’ll order him to. Will that suit you?’

  ‘Thank you,’ she said gratefully, already planning Paris, Rome, maybe even London – the shops were great in London.

  * * *

  Meanwhile, Clarissa had cornered Howard on one of the upper decks.

  ‘I phoned the nursing home earlier,’ she said sharply. ‘They refused to give me any information about Norman. You know perfectly well they’re supposed to tell me how he is. Have you changed the instructions and forgotten to leave my name?’

  ‘Uh… things are a little different.’

  ‘Different? What are you talking about?’

  He looked around to see if they were being overheard. ‘It’s not a matter for discussion tonight.’

  ‘What isn’t?’ Aggravation filled her voice.

  ‘Tomorrow, Clarissa. I’ll come by your house in the morning.’

  ‘I don’t need you in my house, Howard. I want to know what’s going on, and I want to know now.’

  Howard muttered something she didn’t hear. ‘What?’ she snapped, making him repeat it.

  ‘He’s dead,’ he mumbled.

  Mesmerized, she watched a muscle twitch wildly by his right eye while a cold, clammy feeling swept over her, a mixture of fear and hate. ‘Dead?’ she echoed dully.

  Taking a deep gulp of night air and wiping the sweat from his brow, he said, ‘’Fraid so.’

  Chapter Ninety-Two

  He knew she was aboard – Beverly had told him. Only Jack Python had her number now, and he wasn’t about to fall a second time.

  Casually he strolled around the yacht looking for her. He had told Kellie he was going to the men’s room, and she seemed quite happy chatting to an amenably stoned Chuck Nielson.

  When he spotted her, he thought – Ha! So she’s beautiful. So what? And like a magnet he was drawn towards the table where she sat with the Whites and a sandy-haired man. ‘Hello, Zeppo. Ida, how are you?’

  Zeppo jumped to his feet. ‘Jack, my boy. The report on tonight’s show is fabulous.’

  Zeppo always knew everything – sometimes before it happened.

  ‘Thanks. Zachary’s putting it on later. Are you going to watch?’ He could smell her scent; it reminded him of no one else.

  ‘Wouldn’t miss it, kiddo,’ enthused Zeppo. ‘Do you know Jade Johnson?’

  ‘Yes, he does,’ interrupted Ida knowingly.

  ‘We’ve met,’ Jack replied, staring straight at her.

  ‘And her fiancé, Lord Mark Rand.’

  Her what?

  ‘Congratulations,’ he said, almost too quickly. ‘I didn’t know you were engaged. When’s the wedding?’

  ‘Tomorrow,’ she said calmly. ‘How are you?’

  ‘Fine, great, I couldn’t be better.’

  Her eyes were wide and flecked with little pieces of gold coin. He knew what her hair felt like, soft and silky. And he could remember in an instant how incredible it was to be in bed with her.

  She was engaged, goddammit. She was about to marry someone else.

  ‘I saw the show you did with Lord Snowdon,’ Mark said. ‘A very interesting piece of journalism. You asked all the right questions.’ Turning to Jade he added, ‘Didn’t we see it together, darling?’

  Together? The show with Snowdon was three years ago. This must be the English jerk she’d mentioned. The English jerk she’d said was out of her life.

  ‘I don’t remember,’ she murmured vaguely.

  The Brazilian trio were playing The Girl from Ipanema.

  Tall and tan and young and lovely

  The girl from Ipanema goes walking

  And when she passes each one she passes goes

  Ahhh…

  ‘Do you mind if I steal a dance with Jade?’ Jack asked abruptly.

  ‘It’s up to the lady herself,’ Mark replied with a hearty chuckle. ‘She always makes her own decisions.’

  ‘Shall we?’ He held her gaze with his deadly green eyes.

  Oh God! Why did she feel like this whenever she saw him? I swear I’m regressing, she thought. I’m sixteen, and standing next to the football hero at my first prom.

  She wasn’t about to let the professional stud think he’d got to her. ‘Sure,’ she replied casually, wondering why her voice sounded like an idiot’s squeak.

  They moved to the dance floor, held each other at arm’s length for a beat or two, and then – as if by mutual consent – he pulled her closer to him, and she felt her flesh burn where his hand rested on her bare shoulder.

  ‘Hello,’ he whispered, as if nothing had happened.

  * * *

  ‘Adore your dress,’ Silver said to Dee Dee Dionne.

  ‘Adore yours,’ Dec Dee replied. ‘Fabrice?’

  ‘But of course.’

  ‘Shit! I hate it when broads gab on about clothes,’ Carlos said loudly. Zachary and he had forgotten about their fight and were now talking again, hence his appearance at the party.

  ‘It’s just our way,’ soothed Dee Dee.

  ‘Broads are good for fuckin’, suckin’ an’ shoppin’. Give ’em anything else t’do, an’ they’re lost souls.’ Carlos roared with laughter at his own humour, expecting Wes to do the same.

  Wes didn’t. He wasn’t entourage material, and Silver loved him for it.

  Carlos was three-quarters of the way through a bottle of J
ack Daniel’s and feeling no pain. ‘Wassamatter?’ he slurred. ‘Not funny?’

  ‘No,’ Silver said curtly, remembering why their affair – so many years ago – had broken up. When Carlos got into heavy drinking he became a pig. ‘Vulgar and very unamusing.’

  Ignoring her, he nudged Wes. ‘Ever had a black chick suck your dick?’

  Dee Dee’s mouth tightened with disapproval and embarrassment.

  ‘Black chicks are the best,’ Carlos continued. The… very… best.’

  ‘Come on, darling, let’s go get some food,’ Silver said quickly.

  “Course, our little Silvy here doesn’t want to hear that,’ Carlos sniggered. ‘’Cos our little Silvy thinks she’s the best cocksucker in town. She th—’

  Wes hauled back and punched him right in the mouth.

  Carlos slid to the ground like a pole-axed bear.

  It was over in seconds.

  Summoning a couple of waiters, Wes said, ‘Carry Mr Brent downstairs an’ put him to bed, he’s not feelin’ well.’

  The waiters exchanged glances, then proceeded to pick up the fallen superstar and cart him off, a concerned Dee Dee in attendance.

  ‘You shouldn’t have done that,’ Silver said, her eyes bright with admiration.

  ‘Why not? He insulted you.’

  ‘Darling, he was drunk.’

  ‘Yup. An’ that’s the only way to deal with ’em. When I was working bar I used to do it all the time. He won’t even remember when he wakes up.’

  ‘Someone will tell him. And Carlos Brent is not a nice man to have as an enemy.’

  ‘You think I care? Listen, Silver, I may be a peasant, but where I come from – if someone insults a lady, they’re askin’ for it. ’Specially if that lady just happens to be my wife.’

  Inexplicably she felt like crying. Nobody had ever defended her before – except Zachary, and he didn’t count.

  * * *

  The news was brought to Zachary by a minion.

  ‘Put him in my stateroom,’ he said generously.

  ‘Yes, Mr Klinger.’

  ‘What happened?’ Beverly asked.

  ‘A little fracas. Carlos seems to have a penchant for inviting a right hook.’

  ‘That man is one rude sonofabitch.’

  ‘We’re fortunate he left his bodyguards on shore. A brawl was hardly my plan for this evening.’