Lovers & Players

  So that’s what it came down to. Who’s the hottest? Not, who’s the most talented? Or, who’s got the best script? Just, who’s the hottest? Pretty dumb. ‘I’d toss a coin,’ he said, feigning a yawn, hoping she might get the hint that he wanted to catch a nap. ‘Either way you can’t go wrong.’

  ‘Brilliant!’ she said, a smile lighting up her ambitious face. ‘I never thought of that.’

  Earlier he’d called Max and told him he didn’t think he could make it in time for the rehearsal dinner.

  ‘I’d really appreciate you being here,’ Max had said. ‘I want you to meet my fiancée. And who knows? Red might turn up again, which means I’ll definitely need your support.’

  ‘Okay, I’ll come straight from the airport,’ he’d promised, ‘although I’ll probably be late.’

  ‘As long as you get here.’

  The flight attendant leaned down and whispered in Inez’s ear that Colin Farrell was on board. ‘He’s travelling incognito,’ she said conspiratorially. ‘Sitting in the back of first class. I thought you’d be interested.’

  ‘Oooh,’ Inez said, giggling at the thought of the adventure this might lead to. ‘Is anyone in the seat next to him?’

  ‘No,’ the flight attendant assured her.

  ‘Uh, excuse me,’ Inez said to Chris. ‘Colin’s an old friend. I’ll be back in five minutes.’

  That was the last he saw of her, which didn’t bother him at all. At least now he could get a few hours’ sleep.

  Mariska was nowhere in sight when Max arrived to collect Lulu to take her to the rehearsal dinner. Once more Irena answered the door. He nodded at the overweight, frumpy woman, and asked her to fetch Lulu.

  Seconds later Lulu appeared, dressed up in a pink party dress, and happy as could be.

  ‘Me goin’ party, Daddy,’ she announced proudly. ‘Gonna see my uncles, and Amy, and all your friends.’

  ‘Yes, you are, sweetie,’ he said, bending down to give her a hug. ‘And you look so pretty.’

  ‘Mommy fixed my hair,’ she said, posing. ‘Nice, Daddy?’

  ‘Yes, Lulu, very nice.’

  ‘Can Mommy come too?’

  ‘No, sweetie. Mommy’s busy.’

  He managed to escape from the apartment without running into Mariska. He’d already convinced himself that she was bluffing: there was nothing she could do about Vladimir Bushkin. She’d like to, but she wasn’t capable of it.

  ‘Lulu wants a present,’ Lulu announced in the elevator on their way down to the car.

  ‘No, sweetie-pie, not tonight.’

  ‘Me want present,’ she said, pouting. ‘Daddy promised.’

  ‘I said not tonight, sweetie. You’re coming to a very grown-up dinner, and you’re a lucky girl to be invited.’

  ‘Lulu wants a present,’ she repeated, her face suddenly crumbling, tears forming in her big blue eyes.

  ‘No, Lulu,’ he said sternly.

  ‘Lulu’s tired.’ She sighed, lower lip trembling. ‘And hungry.’

  It suddenly occurred to him that Nanny Reece should be accompanying them. Why hadn’t he thought of it before? Especially as Lulu was supposed to sleep overnight at his apartment.

  As soon as they got out of the elevator, he hurried to the front desk and called upstairs. Nanny Reece answered the house phone. He informed her that she was to come with them, then reminded her that Lulu would be staying the night, and that she should be with her.

  ‘Mrs Diamond told me I could have the night off,’ Nanny Reece said, sounding irritated.

  ‘Sorry, Nanny, you can’t. I need you to be with Lulu. Mrs Diamond should’ve told you.’

  ‘Very well, Mr Diamond,’ Nanny Reece said. ‘I’ll be down in five minutes.’

  Yes, he definitely should’ve thought about it before. In fact, Mariska should’ve thought about it.

  The truth was she probably didn’t want him taking Nanny Reece, because she relished the thought of Lulu jumping all over him so that he couldn’t concentrate on his bride-to-be. A signature Mariska move.

  Yes. It crossed his mind for the thousandth time that divorcing Mariska had been the best thing he’d ever done.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Sitting in the make-up chair on Sunday morning, Liberty decided she could easily get used to all the attention. She was getting the full-on glamour treatment, and she couldn’t help liking it.

  The hairdresser, a gay guy in a chartreuse tracksuit, brought in several falls to add to her hair. Beverly was busy contouring her face and applying false eyelashes one by one, while Fantasia made sure the scarlet dress fit her like a second skin.

  She knew she looked damn good. She also knew it wasn’t her, it wasn’t Liberty–the would-be singer-waitress. They’d turned her into some kind of amazing fantasy girl. But, she had to admit, it was exciting.

  When she hit the set, Maleek was all over her, calling her ‘sugar’ and showing her exactly how he wanted her to slink around Slick Jimmy.

  Slick Jimmy was all over her too. ‘You into anyone?’ he asked, honouring her with a snaggled-tooth leer. ‘You an’ me should hook up ’cause I’m gonna be the biggest. Ya better catch me while ya can. All them bitches and ’ho’s gonna be creamin’ themselves over me.’

  ‘No, thanks,’ Liberty answered. ‘But if you ever need a back-up singer…’

  ‘I be a rap artist, baby. Rap,’ he said, shooting her an angry glare. ‘Not one a them fancy soul singers like Brian McNight or fuckin’ Keith Sweat. I ain’t down with that shit. This dude’s today!’

  ‘Lucky you,’ she murmured.

  ‘You dissin’ me, girl?’ he said, sweat beading his brow. ‘’Cause you do that an’ I’m gonna have your ass thrown off this mothafuckin’ shoot. I don’t give no fast shit how fine it be.’

  ‘What’s the deal with the sexist lyrics?’ Liberty asked, ignoring his threat. ‘I’m sure you can write more original stuff.’

  ‘Fuck you,’ he said, glaring at her. ‘ “Fat Girls” gonna be the number-one song of the year, off the freakin’ hook. What you know ’bout singin’ anyway?’

  ‘It’s what I do. I’m a singer, and I write my own songs.’

  ‘You recorded anythin’?’ he said, staring at her with a challenging sneer.

  ‘No, but Damon P. Donnell wants to hear my stuff.’

  ‘Yeah, baby,’ Slick Jimmy said, with a full-on smirk. ‘He wanna get into your stuff, that what the man want.’

  Why was it that everybody was under the same impression? Because she looked good, was that what everyone thought?

  The morning passed quickly. Maleek seemed happy with her interaction with Slick Jimmy. Much as she didn’t like the rapper, she was getting into it, pretending it was a game. Acting, that was what it was.

  At the lunch break Damon P. Donnell appeared.

  She wasn’t sure how to behave. Was she supposed to rush over and thank him? After all, he’d picked her out and was paying her all this money to appear in the video. According to Maleek via Beverly, he liked her. What exactly did that mean?

  Then she thought, no, kissing his ass like everyone else was not her style.

  He was dressed casually in a cream-coloured cashmere sweater, black pants and a New York Jets baseball cap worn backwards. Once more, everyone started fussing around him, making sure he had everything he needed. He accepted all the attention as if it was his due.

  After a few minutes he and Maleek got into a conversation, and then the two of them strolled over to the video assist so that Damon could view what had already been shot.

  ‘Go say hi,’ Cindi urged, nudging her. ‘Go on.’

  ‘Why would I do that?’

  ‘Cause he likes you, an’ you like him,’ Cindi teased.

  ‘No, I don’t,’ she said crossly, wishing she hadn’t passed on that piece of information to Cindi. ‘How many times do I have to tell you? All I need from him is to listen to my demo. Besides, if he wants to speak to me, he can come over here.’

  ‘Oooh, Mi
ss Playin’ It Cool,’ Cindi taunted. ‘Get you.’

  Cindi’s words didn’t faze her: she’d made her decision and she was sticking to it.

  The assistant director had assigned her a director’s chair, and she walked over and sat in it.

  Cindi trotted after her. ‘I’m gonna grab me some lunch at the catering truck,’ she announced, clutching a flimsy wrap around her bountiful curves. ‘You comin’?’

  ‘This dress is so tight I can’t eat,’ Liberty said.

  ‘Want me to bring you somethin’?’

  ‘I’m not hungry. Think I’ll stay here.’

  ‘Sure, starve yourself to death,’ Cindi said, taking off.

  Somebody had left a copy of People magazine lying around: Liberty picked it up and began leafing through it.

  A few moments later he was standing next to her. She knew he was there because she could smell his very expensive, very distinctive masculine cologne. She forced herself not to look up.

  ‘Hey,’ he said, tapping her shoulder. ‘Thought I’d be receiving a very big thank-you right about now.’

  She glanced up. ‘Mr Donnell,’ she said, feigning surprise. ‘Of course I thank you, only this is not what I do. It’s an experience, that’s all. Oh, yes–and I do appreciate the money.’

  ‘Somethin’ different about you,’ he said, raising his tinted shades and squinting at her.

  ‘Good or bad different?’ she responded, putting down the magazine.

  ‘You was a beauty before,’ he observed, ‘now you’re really stylin’.’

  ‘Thanks, Mr Donnell.’ And she wanted to add, How come you never noticed me when I was serving you coffee every morning? What was I–invisible?

  ‘Think you’d better call me Damon,’ he said, giving her a long, lazy stare. ‘Gotta hunch we’re gonna be tight.’

  Trying to ignore his incredibly sexy eyes, she stayed on the subject of her music. ‘I brought my demo with me today–I’d like to play it for you.’

  ‘You would, huh?’ he said, not taking his eyes off her.

  ‘Yes, I would,’ she said, still pretending not to notice his intense scrutiny.

  ‘So…Liberty,’ he said, rubbing his slightly stubbled chin with his index finger, ‘you’re serious? You are a singer.’

  ‘Did you think I was making it up?’

  ‘Who knows today? Everyone’s chasin’ a piece of the action.’

  ‘Then how come you sound surprised?’

  ‘Y’ know,’ he said, suddenly serious, ‘straight singers ain’t my deal. I’m in the hip-hop, rap business.’

  ‘No,’ she corrected. ‘You’re in the record business, you can deal with who you like.’

  ‘I can?’

  ‘You’re the boss, aren’t you?’

  ‘Yeah,’ he agreed, with an amused grin. ‘I’m the boss.’

  ‘If you can’t listen to my demo now, can I come to your office tomorrow and you’ll listen to it then?’

  ‘Got no reason to stop you.’

  ‘What time?’ she asked, determined to pin him down.

  ‘You could show up around six-thirty.’

  ‘I’ll be there.’

  ‘And, uh…Liberty—’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Keep it between us,’ he said, then walked away.

  Beverly was right, he was definitely coming onto her. Not that he’d actually said anything: it was all in his eyes–those smoky incredibly sexy eyes.

  And yet, if he was on the make, how come he’d walked away? And what was with the ‘keep it between us’? Like, who was she going to tell?

  Hmm…He was into game-playing. Yes, that was it.

  Well, she might not be in his league, but she knew how to play a game or two herself.

  And the best news of all was that she had an appointment with him tomorrow, six-thirty, at his office.

  And she would be there. Because Damon P. Donnell was her one big shot at the future.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  The rehearsal dinner was being held at the Waldorf Astoria to accommodate Grandma Poppy. She was ninety years old, so having the dinner at her residence hotel made it easier for her.

  Amy arrived early, and took the elevator upstairs to fetch her. ‘Hi, Grams,’ she said, kissing her adored grandmother on both cheeks. ‘Don’t you look lovely?’

  ‘Thank you, dear.’

  ‘You’re sure you’re up to this?’ Amy asked, concerned that it might be too much for the old lady.

  ‘Wouldn’t miss your party,’ Grandma Poppy said, fiddling in a beaded bag. ‘The moment I’ve had enough, Hueng will bring me back upstairs.’

  ‘Then you’d better be sure you tell him when you’re ready,’ Amy said sternly. ‘No overdoing it.’

  ‘Allow me to look at you, child,’ Grandma Poppy said.

  Amy executed a little twirl, showing off her dress.

  ‘Delightful!’ Grandma Poppy exclaimed. ‘I’m so proud of you, dear. I do hope your young man appreciates the prize he’s getting.’

  ‘He’s not so young, Grams,’ Amy said, with a faint smile. ‘Max is in his forties.’

  ‘That’s young, dear.’

  Hmm…Amy thought. Anyone under seventy is probably young to Grams. ‘Shall we go downstairs?’ she asked. ‘Are you ready?’

  ‘In a minute,’ Grandma Poppy replied, fishing an old leather ring box out of her bag and handing it to her granddaughter. ‘First, I have something for you.’

  Amy accepted the gift and opened the box. Inside was an antique emerald ring, with diamonds and tiny pearls. ‘Grams, this is exquisite,’ she gasped. ‘Are you absolutely sure you want to give it to me?’

  ‘It was a present from an Indian prince when I was a mere girl,’ Grandma Poppy said, a faraway look in her eyes. ‘He promised it would bring me long life and happiness. It seems he was right, so now I bestow those precious gifts on you.’

  ‘Thank you so much,’ Amy said, slipping the ring on her finger. ‘I couldn’t love it more.’

  ‘I’m ready to go,’ Grandma Poppy said crisply. ‘I refuse to miss one moment of this extremely important occasion. Come along, dear, it’s time we started celebrating.’

  ‘How I look?’ Gianna asked, knowing full well she looked incredible.

  ‘Not bad,’ Jett replied, provoking her.

  ‘Scusi!’ she exploded, not taking him seriously at all. ‘Bastardo!’

  They both began to laugh.

  He couldn’t wait to see the expressions on his brothers’ faces when they got an eyeful of Gianna. She was featuring her Italian supermodel look–a Roberto Cavalli outfit that was totally wild. It consisted of a long gypsy-style skirt, a suede and leather-studded vest worn over a skimpy python-print bra, multiple ivory and gold crosses strung round her swan-like neck, plus fourteen ivory and silver bangles. There was plenty of toned, taut skin on display.

  So what? Jett thought. Give the New York natives a show.

  He was wearing his new Armani suit, which fitted him perfectly, and a black silk shirt unbuttoned at the collar. They made a striking couple.

  Jett wondered if there was any way he could palm off Gianna on Chris. His brother had told him he was breaking up with his current girlfriend, so why not? Gianna was the perfect girl to help a man get over a break-up. She was a fun-loving, sex-mad goddess. What more could any man ask for?

  ‘Come on,’ he said, dragging her away from the mirror and out of the apartment. As they crowded into the tiny elevator he said, ‘Did I tell you about my brother, Chris? He’s a major entertainment lawyer in Hollywood. Looks after all kinds of stars–Birdy Marvel, Jonathan Goode.’

  ‘I like–how you say? Jamie Foxx,’ Gianna said, licking her lips. ‘Veree sexy, no?’

  ‘Don’t think he’s Chris’s client. But, hey, you ever thought of movin’ into acting?’

  ‘Scusi?’

  ‘Maybe you should talk to Chris about it, I’m sure he could hook you up.’

  ‘Si?’ Gianna said, not particularly interested. br />
  ‘Yeah, really,’ Jett said, pushing it. ‘Y’know, a lot of actresses start out as models. Cameron Diaz is example number one.’

  ‘Cameron who?’

  ‘Diaz. She’s big in America. Look, I’ll make sure you get a chance to talk to Chris tonight. Could be the start of something.’

  Lady Jane Bentley was on a mission, and that mission was to gain entry to Red Diamond’s safe. All she needed was the combination and, knowing Red, he would have written it down somewhere.

  As she continued her thorough search, she couldn’t help recalling their first meeting. He’d lured her into his bed with lavish gifts and promises of what she would get if she left her husband and moved in with him–at the time she was married to one of his business rivals, Lord James Bentley, an English media tycoon whom Red loathed.

  When it came to the pursuit of a business he wished to acquire or a woman he wanted, Red Diamond was ruthless. It had taken him many months, but eventually he’d won her over: she’d left her husband, and moved back to America to be with Red.

  The headlines were lurid. There was nothing like a good juicy scandal in Billionaire Land. And Red was triumphant. As usual, he’d won.

  At first Lady Jane had been fascinated by Red Diamond. His very ruthlessness was an aphrodisiac, not to mention his vast fortune, plus he was a ferocious lover. She also preferred New York to London: it was more exciting, and moving back she’d been looking forward to entertaining on a grand scale. However, after a while she realized that Red Diamond was not the man she’d left her husband for. He was a cruel tyrant, who cared about nobody but himself. He had no desire to entertain, no wish to travel, he was estranged from his three sons, and he hardly ever left his house. The lovemaking stopped as soon as she was in residence. All he required was that she service him orally twice a day, a sexual act she considered repugnant and demeaning.

  Lady Jane found herself in an impossible position: she’d left her husband to be with Red in such a public fashion that it would be a major embarrassment to admit defeat. She had chosen to ignore Red’s shortcomings and made a life with him–because how much longer did he have? After all, she was thirty years younger than him and could afford to wait.