Lovers & Players

  ‘No, no, really, it’s just a splitting headache,’ Amy said, determined not to get caught in anymore traps. ‘Miz Courtenelli,’ she added, appealing to Sofia, ‘do you mind if I leave?’

  Sofia shrugged. She couldn’t have cared less.

  ‘Take Sofia’s car back to your apartment,’ Gianna offered. ‘You call later to say how you feel.’

  ‘Scuse?’ Sofia said, irritated that Gianna felt free to offer her car to one of her minions. ‘Get a cab, Amy. Put it on your expense account.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Amy said, jumping up.

  Once out of the restaurant she walked a couple of blocks, waved down a cab and told the driver to take her to the hospital, where she hoped to find Brad gone.

  Maybe, if she was lucky, she’d finally get to speak to Tina.

  Several TV trucks, crews and on-air talent were out on the street, with a scattering of photographers, taking up key positions outside Max’s apartment building

  ‘Keep your head down and walk right in,’ Chris warned. ‘They don’t know us. And if they ask any questions, we know nothing.’

  ‘Got it,’ Jett replied.

  Chris paid the cab and they made a dash inside.

  The officious desk clerk stopped them. ‘Who’re you here to see?’ he demanded.

  ‘Max Diamond,’ Chris said. ‘Tell him his brothers are downstairs.’

  The desk clerk called up to Max’s apartment, then motioned them to the elevator. ‘The penthouse,’ he said.

  ‘What else do you think Lady Jane was about to tell us?’ Jett asked as they entered the elevator.

  ‘Who knows? She’s got something on her mind, and it’s obviously something he’d prefer we didn’t hear from her.’

  ‘How about him walking in with those two hookers from Max’s bachelor party?’ Jett said, lighting up a cigarette and inhaling deeply. ‘That was a scene and a half.’

  ‘You wanna hear the kicker?’ Chris said. ‘One of them was the girl who stole my watch.’

  ‘The your-cock-needs-a-service girl?’

  ‘Right on.’

  ‘Shit!’

  Max was waiting at the door of the elevator. He hugged them both. ‘Thanks for coming,’ he said, looking wrecked. ‘It means a lot.’

  ‘Just take it easy,’ Chris said, putting his arm round his older brother’s shoulders, ‘and tell us what happened.’

  ‘Let’s go in the living room,’ Max said wearily. ‘I think I could manage a drink.’

  By the time Amy got back to the hospital, Tina’s room was overflowing with flower arrangements, celebratory balloons and baby gifts. To Amy’s relief, Brad was nowhere in sight.

  Tina’s face lit up when she saw Amy. ‘I’m desperately trying to feed the little tyke,’ she wailed, holding baby Brad close to her breast. ‘Believe me, it’s not as simple as they tell you.’

  ‘It doesn’t look simple,’ Amy remarked, checking out the cards on the flower arrangements. Naturally there was a tasteful vase of mixed roses from Nancy–a woman who prided herself on always being socially correct.

  ‘I’m glad you’re back,’ Tina said enthusiastically. ‘I need to hear everything.’

  ‘It’s like I told you earlier,’ Amy said, perching on the end of the bed. ‘It turns out Mystery Man is Max’s brother.’

  ‘That’s so not good news.’

  ‘Exactly,’ Amy said grimly. ‘Now tell me, what am I supposed to do about that?’

  ‘There’s nothing you can do.’

  ‘That’s helpful, Tina,’ she said. ‘I mean, should I make out like we’ve never met before, that we haven’t been in bed together and shared fantastic sex? Am I supposed to pretend it never happened?’

  ‘Maybe a conversation would be in order,’ Tina suggested. ‘Only if he didn’t say anything to you, why would you be the one to open it up?’

  ‘Because I have to,’ Amy insisted.

  ‘When are you doing this?’ Tina asked.

  ‘I don’t know,’ she wailed, as her cellphone buzzed. ‘Oh, God, I’m so confused,’ she added, checking out caller ID. ‘It’s my mother,’ she said, grimacing. ‘I’m not taking it.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘You know why. She’ll be full of complaints about me leaving last night.’

  ‘I’m sure she’s not mad,’ Tina said, gesturing to an overcrowded side table. ‘Look at the beautiful roses she sent me.’

  ‘Ha! That’s her doing the right thing. If I know my mother, she’s mad all right.’

  Almost immediately the phone next to Tina’s bed started ringing. Tina reached over and picked up. ‘Hi, Brad,’ she said, snuggling the baby even closer. ‘Brad Junior is doing well. I’ve got a feeling he misses you. He’s so cute, his eyelashes are getting longer, along with everything else.’ She paused to listen for a moment, then, ‘Amy,’ she said urgently. ‘Put on the TV. Go to CNN.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Just do it.’

  And there it was, all over the news, the story covering Mariska’s murder.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Damon held her face and kissed her with an intensity she’d never experienced before. Some men could kiss and some men couldn’t. Damon was a master.

  Liberty closed her eyes, allowing herself to be swept up in the moment.

  How was this happening? How had this adventure begun? And where would it end? Damon was married, taken, unavailable.

  And yet…she couldn’t stop herself getting lost in his arms. His lips were driving her crazy, his tongue exploring her mouth, his hands starting an exploration of their own.

  It took all of her willpower, but somehow or other she managed to push him away.

  ‘What?’ he said impatiently.

  ‘You’re married,’ she stated.

  ‘You got somethin’ against marriage?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Hey, I could tell you my wife doesn’t understand me,’ he said, smiling lazily. ‘The deal is she understands me big-time. We, uh, kinda got an arrangement.’

  ‘It’s not my—’

  Before she could finish what she was about to say, he was kissing her again, his hands slowly working their way under her sweater.

  Oh, God! Why was this happening? Arrangement or not, he belonged to another woman, and she wasn’t prepared to share.

  She’d arrived at his office promptly at six-thirty, although she almost hadn’t made it. After the second go-see she’d raced home and changed clothes. She’d put on a soft white sweater, chocolate brown cargo pants, and brown furry boots, purposely not wearing anything provocative. She’d gone for serious as opposed to sexy, tying her long dark hair back in a ponytail and adding some tinted winter shades she’d picked up for ten bucks from a shopping cart. They were a copy of a Chanel pair, and they looked cool, although she realized they’d last about ten minutes before they snapped in two.

  ‘Hello there, LL,’ he’d said, greeting her with a brief hug. ‘Lookin’ good.’

  ‘Hi,’ she’d responded, breathing in his expensive aftershave, her eyes darting around his office checking out the gold records and plaques on the walls, the award statues including several Grammys and many other awards. On his huge Perspex desk stood a silver-framed photo of his wife, the Princess Tashmir.

  ‘Sit,’ he’d said, indicating a comfortable leather couch.

  Damn! She was intimidated by all the trappings of his success. He was Damon P. Donnell, and who was she? Just another would-be singer scratching for a break.

  ‘Gimme,’ he’d said, reaching out for her demo CD.

  She’d handed it over, knowing he’d hate it, shivering with the anticipation of defeat.

  There were two songs on the CD, both her own compositions. They were edgy, with lyrics true to her heart, but they certainly weren’t hip-hop or rap.

  He’d put on her CD and sat back behind his desk listening intently, his face expressionless, leaving her no clue as to what he was thinking.

  She’d sat on the couch across from him, fists c
lenched, sweat trickling down her back, totally freaked out with nerves.

  When the two songs were finished, he’d stood up, walked over to her, and somehow or other the kissing had begun.

  She knew she should’ve shoved him away immediately, not allowed anything to get started. But she was so damned anxious to know what he had to say about her music. It was the reason she was here. The reason she existed.

  And he’d said nothing.

  Now he was kissing her, groping her. It was a cruel and unusual punishment, yet she didn’t want him to stop.

  Finally she summoned the strength to push him away again. ‘My music,’ she began, trying not to sound too needy. ‘That’s why I’m here.’

  ‘Is that why you’re here?’ he asked, smoky eyes all over her.

  ‘You know it’s why I’m here,’ she said, swallowing hard.

  ‘Nothin’ else?’ he questioned, giving her that look of his, that sexy, knowing look.

  ‘Like what?’ she said, pretending she didn’t know what he was talking about, although the sexual tension was steaming up the room.

  ‘Hey, surely you understand that you an’ me, we got somethin’ special goin’ on,’ he said, those eyes of his working their usual magic.

  Desperately she tried to conjure up Beverly’s words of warning–He’s ’bout as married as a dude can get…No different from all the other horn-dogs out there…Damon’s always out to score the prize…He’s never gonna change…

  ‘Look,’ she said, making a supreme effort not to weaken, ‘special or not, you’re married, so this has to be strictly business. Either you’re into my music or you’re not.’

  ‘An’ how about if I was into it–you think that’d score me points?’

  ‘Points?’

  ‘A little sugar an’ cream?’

  ‘No,’ she said, refusing to meet his eyes, they were too damn tempting.

  ‘Man, you’re cold,’ he complained. ‘Cold an’ hot at the same time. Irresistible combination, baby, an’ you know it.’

  ‘I guess you’re not interested in my music,’ she said, sucking up her disappointment that he was–after all–just another horny guy with one thing on his mind.

  ‘Hey, don’t get all uptight on me–you do have somethin’. I dig your voice. It’s Mary J. Blige mixed with a little bit of Alicia Keys. Husky. Sexy. You got soul, girl. I like that.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘You know you’re cool. Gotta get that confident vibe goin’. Course, it’s not the kinda stuff I usually put out on my label, but I’m thinkin’ I’ll get you together with a producer who’ll know what t’ do with you.’

  ‘You’d do that?’ she asked hopefully, not sure whether to believe him or not.

  ‘Gotta do somethin’ t’keep you comin’ back,’ he said, throwing her one of his killer smiles. ‘Right, babe?’

  And it was then that she realized Cindi was right–she’d fallen in love with a married man. And how dumb was that?

  Before things progressed further, she decided she’d better get the hell out of there. It was too dangerous to stay. She was too attracted to him–and, as she kept on reminding herself over and over, HE WAS MARRIED! Plus, mixing business with pleasure was never cool.

  ‘I have to go,’ she said, edging towards the door.

  ‘Yeah?’ he said, following her. ‘What’s the panic?’

  ‘I’m working,’ she lied–the same lie she’d used on Kev.

  ‘Blow it off.’

  ‘I can’t.’

  ‘Thought we might grab a bite,’ he said, moving even closer.

  ‘Just you, me and your wife?’

  ‘What is it with you?’ he said, giving her a quizzical look. ‘All this wife shit is gettin’ old.’

  ‘Uh…did I mention that I have a boyfriend?’ she said, backing away from him.

  ‘Is that supposed to scare me off?’ he said teasingly, his eyes all over her.

  ‘No,’ she said breathlessly. ‘Your wife is supposed to scare you off.’

  ‘Oh, man!’ he said, laughing.

  ‘What?’ she said, thrown by his cavalier attitude.

  ‘Seems you’re more concerned about my wife than I am.’

  ‘’Cause I’m the one who’ll get hammered if she finds out you’re playing on her.’

  ‘My wife wouldn’t mess with you,’ he assured her.

  ‘Why not?’ she asked boldly.

  ‘’Cause I wouldn’t let her.’

  ‘Word is she’s a wild thing when it comes to watching out for you.’

  ‘No, baby, you’re the wild thing,’ he said, taking another step towards her. ‘I can feel it on your lips, it’s in those crazy green eyes of yours, that body…’

  ‘I have to go,’ she said quickly, her hand on the door.

  He handed her a black card engraved with gold lettering. ‘In case you get home an’ change your mind, here’s my private cell number. You never know, LL, you could get real hungry later…’

  ‘When can I meet with the producer?’ she asked, thinking that if she stuck to business somehow she’d be safe.

  ‘Tomorrow,’ he said, watching her intently. ‘Same time, same place.’

  ‘I’ll be here.’ And before he could get any closer, she was out of there, almost running into the elevator, trying not to think about how irresistibly attractive she found him.

  Damon P. Donnell. Who would’ve thought a few days ago he’d be coming onto her this way? She’d served him coffee for weeks on end and he’d ignored her, acted as if she didn’t exist. Now this. He’d even given her his private number.

  It was crazy, yet exhilarating. And he was putting her together with a producer in spite of the fact that she wasn’t falling into his bed or his car or the couch in his office.

  Wow, he’s something else, she thought. I could really go for him.

  But it’s not going to happen, her stern inner voice warned. ‘Cause falling in lust with Damon P. Donnell would be the worst damn thing you could do.

  Back at the apartment the answering-machine she shared with Cindi was flashing five messages. They were probably all for Cindi. They usually were.

  She opened a can of Campbell’s tomato soup and poured it into a pan to heat it. It occurred to her that if she wasn’t so full of principles she could be sitting in a fancy restaurant eating lobster and steak with Damon. Then later she could be falling into his bed, making wild passionate love.

  But, hey, she did have principles, and nothing was going to happen sexually, just career-wise. That was all she asked for. Let him help her get some kind of singing career started.

  For a moment she thought about the way he’d kissed her. It was so damn hot. Damon P. Donnell was some fucking great kisser. The best.

  The married best. Married, married, married. Had to keep reminding herself.

  The soup was bubbling, so she grabbed a bowl, poured it in, and sat at the counter that separated the minuscule kitchen area from the living space.

  While she was eating she leaned over and pressed the button on the answering-machine.

  Message one: Cindi, it’s Moose, an’ it’s Monday. You was supposed to phone me, woman, an’ I’m waitin’. Don’t be keepin’ me waitin’ like this.

  Message two: Hey, babe, Kev here, but you know that. Just got called on another outta town gig. I’m leavin’ tonight, so later.

  Message three: Liberty, it’s Mom. Please call me back, it’s important.

  Message four: Hi, Liberty, Bruce here. Congratulations. You got the job. Contact the agency immediately you receive this message.

  She leaped up, pressed repeat and listened to Bruce all over again. You got the job! How fantastic was that? Oh, man, the woman who took the Polaroids must’ve liked her. Unfortunately she had no clue what the job was.

  She wished Cindi was around to share her good news, but no, Cindi had moved out.

  Grinning to herself she played message five, it was Diahann again. What did she want?

  Before she could
find out, Bruce called a second time. ‘Aren’t you the lucky girl?’ he said. ‘Three days in Malibu. They want you on a ten o’clock plane to L.A. tonight.’

  ‘Excuse me?’ she said, stunned.

  ‘Look, I’m at the theatre with my wife, so I can’t talk, but I hope you’re about to say yes, Liberty, because I can assure you that opportunities like this do not happen every day.’

  ‘Tonight?’ she said, her head spinning. ‘I have to leave tonight?’

  ‘That’s what I said. Thirty thousand, all expenses paid. The agency takes a thirty-five per cent commission. Are you on e-mail?’

  ‘Uh…no,’ she mumbled, thinking, Did he just say thirty thousand?

  ‘Then I’ll fax you papers to sign.’

  ‘I–I don’t have a fax machine,’ she stuttered, still in shock.

  ‘They’ve booked you into Shutters in Santa Monica, I can fax you there. There’ll be a car to pick you up at LAX. And an e-ticket waiting for you at the United desk at Kennedy. This is your shot, Liberty, do not blow it. Bon voyage.’

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Max’s main concern was getting Lulu settled somewhere safe, far away from the prying eyes of the press. Fortunately Amy came through. As soon as she heard the news she rushed over to his apartment, full of concern and caring. ‘Oh, Max,’ she said, hugging him tightly. ‘I’m so sorry. It’s such a terrible tragedy.’

  ‘I know,’ he responded, holding onto her.

  ‘Did they break in? Was it a robbery?’ she asked, extracting herself.

  ‘That’s what the detectives seem to think.’

  ‘I don’t know what to say. It’s just awful, Max. I wish there was something I could do.’

  ‘There is. I’d like you to take Lulu for a couple of days. Her nanny’s quitting on me, and Lulu shouldn’t be around here with the press setting up camp outside.’

  ‘There’s no question I’ll take her. It’s the very least I can do.’

  ‘Thanks, sweetheart, it means a lot to me.’

  ‘Don’t wanna go, Daddy,’ Lulu muttered, lower lip quivering when he informed her she was going home with Amy. ‘Wanna stay here with you.’