Lovers & Players

  Diahann gladly accepted, which pissed Zippy off, causing an angry rift between him and Gloria. This was a relief to Diahann, because now she didn’t have to deal with Zippy and his wandering hands.

  ‘Zippy’s got himself a little problem,’ Gloria confided, pantomiming someone sniffing a line of coke.

  It wasn’t long before Gloria found out about Liberty, who was now nine, and quite a budding beauty.

  ‘When did she happen?’ Gloria exclaimed.

  Diahann made up an old boyfriend back in Atlanta. Gloria seemed to accept her story, and as a special treat Diahann sometimes brought Liberty to the club to listen to her sing.

  One night Zippy turned up. He was an unexpected and unwelcome visitor. Unfortunately it was a night when Liberty

  was there, standing at the side of the stage watching her mother perform.

  Zippy slobbered all over the child while Diahann was singing, telling her how pretty she was and how he was her mom’s best friend so they should all get together more often.

  ‘Where’s your daddy?’ he asked.

  ‘Don’t have a daddy,’ Liberty replied, thinking what a funny-looking man Zippy was.

  ‘How old are you?’

  ‘Nine.’

  ‘Nine, huh? When you gonna be ten?’

  ‘May the first,’ she said proudly.

  ‘I’ll buy you a present,’ Zippy promised, his almost coke-addled brain figuring out a thing or two.

  When Diahann got offstage, she was furious. She and Zippy became involved in a loud argument, which finished when Gloria intervened and threw him out.

  Diahann had a hunch that she had not seen the last of Zippy, and she was right. A week later he turned up at her apartment. ‘I know whose kid she is,’ he said, taunting her. ‘The dates fit, so don’t go thinkin’ y’ can fool me.’

  She blanked him.

  He was insistent.

  ‘Does Red got any idea he has a kid with you?’ Zippy asked, trying to force his way past her into her apartment.

  She was sure he must be bluffing, how could he possibly know? And why would he even care?

  She told him that he was crazy, that he should go away and leave her alone or she’d call the police.

  Zippy laughed in her face. ‘Ya dumb bitch. Doncha know this means big fuckin’ bucks? We gotta partner up an’ take the old guy for a bundle.’

  Diahann called the police to get him to stop bothering her.

  She was a black woman, Zippy was a white man. The police did nothing.

  A few days later Zippy accosted Liberty outside her school. He reminded her that he was a good friend of her mom’s and that he had the present he’d promised her. He took her to a nearby coffee shop.

  Liberty went with him willingly. Since she’d met him at the club, she figured he was her mom’s friend. Besides, he had a present for her.

  Zippy ordered her a strawberry smoothie, then presented her with a cheap plastic manicure set. He extracted the nail clippers from the manicure set. ‘Gimme your hand,’ he said, ‘an’ Uncle Zippy’ll show you how t’ use it.’

  She did as he asked, and he clipped a couple of her nails. Then, as if by accident, he jammed the sharp part of the clippers into her wrist, drawing blood.

  ‘Ouch!’ she squealed.

  Quick as a flash he produced a cotton swab, soaked up the blood and popped the swab into a small plastic bag.

  ‘You hurt me,’ she complained. ‘I’m going home.’

  ‘Wait a minute,’ he said. ‘You got somethin’ caught in your hair.’ And he pulled out a couple of hairs.

  ‘Ouch!’ she squealed again.

  ‘Don’t worry ’bout it,’ he said, adding the hairs to his plastic bag. ‘You want another smoothie?’

  When Liberty got home and told her mom where she’d been, Diahann went berserk. She accepted most things, but not a roach like Zippy messing with her daughter. How dare he?

  She had no way of contacting him, but she was certain he’d come back, and when he did, she made sure she was ready. She purchased a hand-gun, and learned how to use it. Next time Zippy came sniffing around, she planned on sticking it in his stomach and telling him that if he ever went near her daughter again she’d blow his brains out.

  Two weeks later he turned up at her apartment on a Saturday night. He was not alone. He was accompanied by Red Diamond.

  The two men marched into her small apartment as if they owned it.

  She was too startled to stop them. Fortunately Liberty was away, spending the weekend with a schoolfriend.

  ‘Where’s the kid?’ Zippy demanded, as if he had a right to know.

  Red Diamond glared at her with cold, hard eyes. ‘You had the nerve to give birth to my child,’ he thundered. ‘How dare you? Who do you think you are?’

  He had aged since she’d last seen him. He seemed smaller and more wrinkled. It crossed her mind that she should never have slept with him. But if she hadn’t done so, she wouldn’t have Liberty, and Liberty made every day worthwhile.

  ‘What do you want?’ she said flatly.

  ‘No. The point is what do you want?’ Red asked coldly. ‘What blackmailing scheme have you and your cohort come up with?’

  She didn’t know what cohort meant, but she did understand that he was referring to Zippy–who was standing there with a big shit-eating grin on his stupid face as if he’d just discovered America.

  ‘A million bucks should do it,’ Zippy said, winking at her as if they were co-conspirators. ‘A million bucks, an’ then we’ll go away an’ you’ll never hear from us again.’

  ‘Is that all?’ Red drawled sarcastically. ‘Surely you should demand more than that?’

  ‘Huh?’ Zippy blurted, left eye twitching out of control. ‘You want the kid? She’s a pretty little thing–for another two mill you can have her.’

  Diahann stared at Zippy in horror. Who did he think he was? He had no rights over her child. This was insane.

  ‘My lawyers can make you very sorry you ever thought up this scheme to get money out of me,’ Red said, fairly calmly. ‘I came here tonight to see if I remembered the black bitch I slept with. Yes, I do remember her. She was no good then, and she’s no good now.’ A long pause. ‘Tell me, did you two morons honestly believe you could get away with blackmailing Red Diamond? You can’t be that stupid?’

  Suddenly Diahann found her voice. ‘Get out of my apartment,’ she said, in a low, angry voice. ‘Both of you. Right now!’

  Zippy threw her a furious look. He’d thought when she heard the amount of money involved, she’d acquiesce and shut the fuck up. But, no, she was too dumb to do that.

  ‘Oh,’ Red said. ‘So now you’re going to play good cop, bad cop. A little late in the day for that game, don’t you think?’

  Diahann turned to him. ‘I’m not after your money. I want nothing from you.’ She indicated Zippy. ‘This piece of garbage here is speaking on my behalf and he has no right. He’s nothing to do with me. Nothing.’ Tears filled her eyes at the injustice of it all.

  ‘’Scuse me, chickie,’ Zippy said quickly, trying to save a situation that could turn on him. ‘I discovered you. You owe everything to me. So, stop acting like an ungrateful bitch, an’ accept the money Mr Diamond’s gonna give us for keepin’ our mouths shut tight ’bout his little black bastard.’

  Diahann began to lose it. ‘Our mouths?’ she shouted. ‘Liberty’s mine, and she’s not for sale. Both of you–get out now.’

  Zippy moved toward her. ‘Wimmin!’ he said, rolling his eyes at Red. ‘They’re always changin’ their damn minds. We had an agreement, y’ know.’ He grabbed her wrist in a steel-like grip. ‘Shut up,’ he muttered, so that only she could hear him. ‘You’re gonna blow this sweet deal if you don’t shut yer fuckin’ mouth.’

  Diahann was in shock. How could this be happening? What had she done to deserve such treatment?

  ‘A million bucks,’ Zippy whispered. ‘He’ll pay, an’ we’ll split it right down the middle, an’ you ge
t to keep ya kid.’

  Something came over her, a rage so deep that she was rendered almost speechless. Zippy was the lowest of the low, and he was trying to make her his partner. He was dragging Red Diamond into her life, upsetting everything.

  ‘Get out,’ she hissed.

  ‘I ain’t goin’ nowhere, honey, not until you see your way to agree t’ this. An’ if ya don’t, I’ll make sure your little girl’s life ain’t gonna be worth livin’.’

  Very calmly she snatched her wrist out of Zippy’s grasp. Then she walked over to the shelf where she kept her handgun hidden behind a pile of magazines.

  ‘I think we got us a deal at one million big ones,’ Zippy said confidently, turning to Red.

  ‘You are a very ignorant man,’ Red began to say, ‘and I do not do business with—’

  Before Red could finish his sentence, Diahann pulled out her gun and, hands shaking, pointed it at Zippy. ‘Get…out,’ she repeated.

  He blanched visibly at the sight of her pointing a gun at him. ‘Now hold on a minute, ch-chickie,’ he stammered. ‘Ya gotta put that thing down.’

  ‘What kind of a scam do the two of you think you’re pulling?’ Red roared, stepping between them. ‘I’m not some out-of-town mark who’ll fall for this phoney show you’re putting on.’

  ‘The broad’s crazy,’ Zippy said, left eye twitching out of control as he sensed the money slipping away. ‘A crazy bitch with your kid. You should take the damn kid away from her. She ain’t nothin’ but a two-bit slut, an’ if the kid stays with her, she’ll turn out the same freakin’ way. Give us two mill for the girl, an’ you’ll be gettin’ yourself a real fine bargain. I can personally—’

  With all the strength she could muster, Diahann shoved Red aside and went for Zippy–forgetting she held the gun.

  Red moved in to stop the fight. The three of them struggled, locked together for a few moments, and then–bang–the gun went off, and Zippy slid to the ground.

  Diahann took one final look in the mirror. She was still attractive, she thought, still able to command the attention of men, if she so desired.

  She did not so desire.

  She was thirty-eight years old and she’d shut herself off from the world for nine long years. Nine years of looking after Red Diamond, seeing he had everything he needed, never straying far from the house on 68th Street.

  It was safer that way.

  Now Red Diamond was prepared to reveal a part of their secret. But not the secret about Zippy. Oh, no, that was something nobody would ever find out, something only they shared.

  Diahann held her head high, and made her way upstairs. Whatever happened next, she was determined to face it with dignity.

  Chapter Sixty-Four

  At first they’d fought, then they’d made up, and making up was so delightful that when Amy stirred to the sound of her phone ringing she was in a light-hearted, happy mood. It was Thursday morning, the sun was shining, Max knew the truth about her and Jett, so no more guilt.

  Well…a little bit of guilt, because last night had not been pretty. Max had shown a side of himself she’d never seen before–a frightening side.

  Jett lay beside her, still asleep, snoring lightly. She picked up the phone, a smile on her lips, and was hit with a tirade from her usually controlled mother.

  ‘Have you seen the filthy rags?’ Nancy seethed. ‘Do you know what they’re saying? Our family name is being dragged through the mud. This is a disgrace! I will sue every one of these disgusting so-called journalists.’

  ‘Calm down, Mother.’

  ‘No! You calm down.’

  ‘I’m not the one yelling.’

  ‘You will be when you read this garbage,’ Nancy said ominously.

  ‘Why are you reading it anyway?’

  ‘How can I not, when the staff are all gathered in the kitchen laughing at us.’

  ‘I’m sure they aren’t.’

  ‘Our connection with the Diamond family is finished. Finished,’ Nancy repeated sternly. ‘Do you understand me, Amy?’

  ‘Yes, Mother,’ Amy said patiently. ‘I’ll call you later.’

  She put the phone down and took another look at Jett. He was still sleeping, one arm thrown casually across his eyes, stomach exposed–rippling abs and a very fine spattering of body hair. This was love, the feeling she had when she watched him sleep.

  She wondered what the tabloids had written that had her mother so riled up. Nobody believed what they printed anyway, so why did it matter?

  Last night, after she and Jett had made love, they’d lain in bed and talked for hours until they’d fallen asleep in each other’s arms. This morning she felt as if a huge weight had been lifted from her. It was the biggest relief in the world to know she was free.

  The more she thought about it, the more she realized just how wrong she and Max had been together. Surely he would realize it too? They simply hadn’t fitted. Movies. Music. Books. Their tastes were polar opposites. With Jett everything was in sync. They both enjoyed adventure movies, listening to Coldplay and the Black Eyed Peas, and when it came to books there was nothing like a good old John Grisham or James Siegel thriller. Even their TV preferences matched–Alias and Seinfeld. Jett had told her that in Milan he’d caught the first two seasons of both shows on DVD.

  How great was that? A man she could watch TV with. Max had considered TV a total waste of time.

  Momentous decision–should she fix Jett breakfast? What would he like? Tea? Coffee? Did he take sugar and cream? Cereal or eggs?

  She knew so little about him, yet she felt she knew everything. He’d told her about his drinking and drug days, the lost years wandering around New York like a zombie, sleeping with anyone and everyone, shit-faced and out of his mind most of the time.

  He’d got into a few family horror stories. His abusive father. His alcoholic mother. The beatings he’d received, and his fractured childhood being shuttled back and forth between the two of them.

  Then Italy and his recovery. And Gianna, whom he swore he didn’t love. ‘I love you, Amy,’ he’d said. ‘You’re it for me. I’m through with other women. Over. Done.’

  ‘Really?’ she’d asked, tilting her head on one side.

  ‘Yeah, really,’ he’d replied, a huge grin on his face.

  She smiled as she thought about his words. I’m through with other women. Over. Done.

  How high-school. How very sweet. How much she loved him.

  Chris awoke to a cup of strong black coffee and a nagging ache in his gut. He hadn’t had much sleep, a couple of hours at most. In the early hours of the morning he’d received an urgent call from Max so he’d hauled himself out of bed and hurried over to his brother’s apartment, where he’d found Elliott Minor and Detective Rodriguez.

  It seemed that Max had been at a murder scene and had not immediately reported it to the police. And there was also the matter of Mariska’s box–evidence Max had taken from her apartment and kept to himself, only handing it over now.

  Some mess, but Elliott was definitely a lawyer with well-placed connections, and after a few phone calls to the right people Max was exonerated of any guilt and left with a stern warning about not withholding anymore crucial information concerning Mariska.

  ‘You got off easy,’ Chris told him, after everyone had taken off. But before he could make a quick exit, Max had launched into a long diatribe about Amy and Jett. Somehow or other he’d found out about them, which meant that Chris had been obliged to spend the next two hours smoothing out Max’s bruised feelings, and persuading him not to have Jett beaten up and tossed in the East River.

  What a night! No rest for the weary. And in between he’d fielded calls from Birdy Marvel, Lola Sanchez, Gregory Dark and Jonathan Goode, four of his most important clients. Birdy was carrying on about her upcoming wedding, Lola wanted to sue a chasing paparazzo who’d slammed into the back of her new Ferrari on purpose, Gregory was demanding more of the back-end from his upcoming studio deal, and Jonathan was claimin
g he’d met a girl, fallen in love, and would marry her within days.

  Nuts. They were all totally nuts.

  Now he had the meeting with Red to look forward to. It should be a laugh a minute with both his brothers there. He couldn’t wait.

  In the meantime, he was desperate to get back to the comparative sanity of L.A. He was even considering not breaking up with Verona, his current girlfriend in L.A. Verona could–when she wanted–be quite a calming influence, which was exactly what he needed right now, a little peace and calm. Besides, his house would need redecorating, so who better than Verona to take care of it?

  The downside was that she would expect to move in. Why not? he thought. But only for a few months while she gets everything organized.

  He could handle it. After the past week he could handle just about anything.

  Elliott Minor was worth every penny of his quite exorbitant fees. Having come clean on everything to Detective Rodriguez, Max had expected to spend at least a few hours down at the precinct answering questions, but Elliott had made sure that didn’t happen, although Max could tell that the detective was royally pissed after receiving a call from his captain.

  By that time Max hadn’t given a shit. He’d had a tough night and all he wanted was to swallow a couple of Ambien and sleep it off.

  In the morning he lay in bed experiencing an overall bad feeling. His first thoughts were of Amy, his once perfect Amy. It was over, she’d betrayed him. He’d never expected it of her, for not only had she betrayed him, she’d done so with his own brother. This left a sour taste in his mouth. Jett he could understand. But Amy? Oh, no, not Amy, his innocent bride-to-be.

  Bride-to-be no more. He was finished with her. She’d slept with his brother. There was no going back.

  He reached for the phone, called Mrs Conner and checked on Lulu. Mrs Conner informed him that everything was fine, and that Lulu was having a lovely time.