Georgia (47 page)

‘Who put you up to this?’ his eyes narrowed.

‘No one. But I have found myself a lawyer just in case you’re tempted to try and wriggle out of it. Simon Riox.’

She knew as she saw the colour drain from his face that Riox really was the best.

‘I understand my contract with you has only another three months to run,’ she added airily.

Max stared at her. For the first time ever she saw indecision in his eyes. He looked hunted.

‘Don’t be like this Georgia. Aren’t you forgetting that I was the man who believed in you two years ago, gave you a chance and supported you?’

‘I haven’t forgotten anything,’ she said softly. ‘But let’s clear the air Max. You knew you were on to a good thing, the moment you met me. You didn’t do it for love, or charity. Just money. That’s okay. It’s a good pure motive. But during that time you’ve thrown a great deal of shit at me and I’m just calling time if you like.’

‘You wouldn’t find another manager!’ It wasn’t a question, more a statement of belief in himself.

‘Not if you play straight. I like your strength and singlemindedness. But from now on there are new ground rules. I will not pay for this office, the legions of girls who work for you, yachts, gold toilet seats or villas in the South of France. I’ll foot the bill for last night, but not for that cocksucking Yank’s holiday and suite at the Savoy.’

‘But –’ he spluttered.

‘But nothing. I’m telling you that I don’t need or want any of the hangers on. As from today I select who stays and who goes. I pay the boys, a couple of roadies and perhaps I’ll find a wardrobe mistress I like.’

‘I only took people on to make life easier for you,’ he was almost whining now. ‘Some thanks I get for it.’

‘I can appreciate that,’ she snapped. ‘But from now on I want to have people around me I have chosen. I didn’t wear myself out for two years, just to watch other people take over my life!’

‘And if I agree?’ He looked deflated, for the first time since she had met him, unsure of himself.

‘You can continue to be my manager,’ she smiled charmingly. ‘I’m sure you don’t want to kill the golden goose, not when it may lay a golden egg each month or so for years. But if not I’ll start legal proceedings.’

‘Look Georgia,’ he shrugged his shoulders, ‘I’m not a crook. Most of the money hasn’t even come in yet. I’m not a fool either. But you are young, and inexperienced with large sums of money.’

‘True,’ she cut in on him. ‘But unless you hand it over I’ll never learn. By next Friday I want accounts and a cheque. If not you know what to expect. Have I made myself clear?’

Chapter 17

1965

Max pulled the girl closer to him, thrusting one big hand up her skirt and pulling at her lace panties.

‘Oh Max,’ she sighed against his chest. ‘You’re so big. I don’t know if I’m ready for this.’

‘Of course you are baby,’ he buried his face in her blonde hair. ‘Come and sit on my knee and show me those lovely titties.’

A room that overlooked the Thames, pale green brocade settees, a drinks table laden with bottles, fruit piled up like a feast in a cut glass bowl. Through open double doors he could see a huge bed beyond, turned down in readiness for them, soft lamps illuminating it invitingly.

But Max’s heart wasn’t in it. Georgia had even spoiled this for him. Once he would have taken this dumb little dollybird on the office floor. Screwed her senseless in ten minutes and been off to a meeting within half an hour. Now for some reason he’d spent over fifty quid on a meal and champagne and even booked the pair of them into the same suite Al Green had stayed in.

Jenny pulled up her skirt and sat straddled across his lap. Once a glimpse of smooth white thigh above stocking tops was enough to give him a hard on in two seconds flat, but now the sight of white panties with dark blonde hair curling round the lace wasn’t even giving him a twinge.

‘Look what Jenny’s got for you,’ she said in that idiotic baby voice. She unbuttoned her prim secretary’s blouse to reveal breasts like two melons. ‘Does Maxy want to hold them?’

Max took hold of her breasts roughly, pulling them free of the restraining push-up bra. He tweaked her big pink nipples and waited for the expected sigh.

‘Oh Maxy, kiss them,’ she said, pushing herself up against his face.

Once this was his idea of heaven. A willing sexy girl, pretty as paint, with knockers that made every man in the room turn round to look. Why did he still dream of small breasts, ones with tiny brown nipples that reminded him of the wild strawberries he used to find hop picking in Kent?

He was merely going through the motions, sucking at her tits, sticking his fingers up round her pants and hoping he’d get hard enough not to disgrace himself.

But he felt nothing. No passion, not even disgust. She could be an inflatable doll, bland, obedient and perfectly formed.

‘Suck me!’ He pushed her down on to the floor between his legs, unzipping his fly and pulling her head to him. He would be all right in a moment, just stick it in that big red mouth, feel that drooling tongue and he’d forget Georgia.

‘I will if you lick me too,’ she said already pushing his silk shorts aside. With one hand she released her skirt and wriggled out of her pants, leaving only her blouse, the suspender belt and stockings.

‘Let me see how good you are at it first,’ he said drawing her head towards him. ‘If you’re a good girl I’ll suck you all night.’

This girl wanted what they all wanted. Only an hour ago she had informed him she had a good voice. She really believed that if she went to bed with him then he’d be getting her a recording contract within a week. Didn’t the silly bitch know London was full of girls who thought they could sing?

‘Is that good?’ she asked, running her tongue down his cock. It was lucky he was so well hung. She hardly noticed it was still flaccid. He’d have to turn his mind on to something else. Make up some fantasy with three negro girls pandering to his every whim.

‘Wonderful,’ he groaned, looking down at that triangle of damp hair in front of him. She was fingering herself and that usually turned him on a treat. ‘Make yourself come for Maxy, darling,’ he sighed. ‘Be a rude little girl. I like that.’

It was beginning to work. The combination of her mouth and watching those fingers sliding in and out of that damp fanny made his cock rise up. He’d wait until it was right up then pause to take one of those pills in his pocket. Then he’d give her something to think about.

It was after two now. Max glanced at the clock by the bed wishing he could come and get it over and done with. That guy in the bar downstairs knew what he was doing giving him these pills, they really did keep you going. But he’d fucked little Jenny in every position he could think of and now she was almost asleep.

‘Sit on my face,’ he ordered her. ‘I’m going to wank myself off while I suck you.’

That was better. He could close his eyes, taste that damp hot pussy and make believe it was Georgia. Her waist was as tiny, even if her skin wasn’t as smooth, as long as she didn’t try to drag his hands up to those great melons again.

‘I love you Maxy.’

Why did they always have to say that? They didn’t mean it anymore than he did. There was only one woman he loved and she didn’t want him.

‘Think of those long, brown legs,’ he told himself. ‘That juicy pussy. She wanted you more than any other girl that night. You’ll get her yet.’

His strokes were getting frantic. He willed Jenny not to speak and spoil the illusion. He was tired of being told what a wonderful lover he was. He wanted a girl who hadn’t experienced any of this before.

He came then, quivering, shaking, his mouth biting into that hot, furry mound.

‘I came again,’ she sighed, rubbing herself all down his chest. ‘That’s twelve times.’

‘No, you didn’t,’ he said rolling over to get away from her. ‘Why do women make such preposterous claims? Twice maybe, that’s enough for anyone.’

She was hurt now, sitting up in bed with her blonde hair falling over those huge breasts, arms clamped around her knees, ready to cry.

‘You don’t really like me,’ she said, full lips turning down at the corners. One of her false eyelashes was coming loose and she had mascara streaked down her cheek.

‘Of course I do.’ Max reached up from his position on his side, half-heartedly fondling her leg. ‘Now cuddle down and go to sleep. It’s late.’

She fell asleep almost at once. Max heaved himself up on to the pillows and looked down at her. She looked about sixteen now. She said she was twenty-two but the truth was probably eighteen. Once a girl like her could have kept him interested for weeks. Silky blonde hair, eyes like a couple of cornflowers all wrapped up in a cool presentation which didn’t give a hint of how sexy she was.

He was sorry now he had treated her badly, he liked his women to fall asleep smiling.

What was happening to him? Once he wouldn’t have given a shit whether he’d been a brute, or the world’s greatest lover. Women liked a combination of the two, Miriam always told him that.

‘Poor Miriam,’ he murmured softly.

Max loved his wife. Perhaps he had never been ‘in’ love with her, but he cared deeply. She was a good woman, warm, comfortable and caring. Did she notice he stopped making love to her around the same time he met Georgia?

He had thought he had it all that night Georgia let him take her to his flat. A number one hit in the bag, money pouring in and the girl of his dreams at his side.

Sex didn’t really come into it. He would have held her all night without making any demands and he still didn’t understand why she’d suddenly frozen on him.

But even after she’d said she wanted it forgotten, Max hadn’t given up hope. Georgia wasn’t the type to give herself to a man without really caring.

Then there was that damn party at the Savoy. Of course he was using her money, that’s what the game was all about. But the way she attacked him was ridiculous.

Now she had Simon Riox in her court and between them they’d sewn him up so tight he could barely manage to buy a new car.

If she just let him direct her to the places he’d negotiated deals, that would be something. But no, she didn’t let him get a look in.

‘A thousand pounds that bird in Sloane Street offered me for getting Georgia to wear her clothes,’ he muttered. ‘The fucking bitch wouldn’t even walk through the door of the boutique. She’s even made some private deal with a chauffeur to ferry her about, that’s another five hundred down the Swanney.’

The contract with the stage management team was torn up before it was even signed. Now she had two great hulks who were so protective to her Max couldn’t get near enough to even smell her. She even had the men at Decca eating out of her hand.

Her could overlook all that. After all he was making a fortune from her straight. It was the ideas she might give other entertainers that bothered him. If everyone ran their affairs themselves there would be no more room for men like Max.

‘First Love’ had been even bigger than ‘No Time’ and that bouncy, snappy ‘Dancing with you,’ would still be played in clubs when he was getting his pension. Now he heard she’d written another winner, rumour had it Jack Levy had been heard singing it in his office, yet Georgia hadn’t even mentioned it to her manager.

That was what hurt the most. Somewhere along the line Georgia had stopped needing him. She really believed he knew nothing about music, she didn’t want to confide in him. She didn’t even care if he was in the audience.

Take his idea of booking the Albert Hall with a full orchestra just after she got her first hit. She laughed at that!

‘Don’t be silly Max,’ she said, standing there with her hands on her hips in a pair of jeans so tight it took his breath away. ‘It would alienate my fans. It’s too soon. I don’t want them to think I’ve sold out already. Book me into places the kids can dance in. Let’s carry on with soul music and rock. When I’ve made my first long player that’s the time to lure the listening people in.’

Didn’t she know he wanted her to be more than just a pop star? He wanted her in cabaret in Las Vegas, chatting on the Johnny Carson show, then moving on to making a big musical. She could be Carmen!

Why did she have to make such a big thing about her band too? How could he separate them now without causing ripples? She pushed each one of them forward, made sure everyone knew what a stud Rod was, or that Speedy was the thinker in the band. They were supposed to be faceless men in the background. She’d managed to make each one of them a star in his own right. Les even claimed she was going to pay for him to have his nose fixed!

How the hell could Max push them back into line after she’d spoilt them all?

Was there anything left up his sleeve to pull out?

‘More long tours,’ he murmured, banging the pillow and lying down beside Jenny. ‘That should knock the stuffing out of her, piss the boys off. I can get a few backhanders again and fiddle the expenses. In a year or two she’ll be dying to sing at the Albert Hall.’

Max smiled to himself as he slipped off his suit jacket and opened his office window. In his briefcase he had enough cash to buy himself the new ‘Roller’. A white one this time with red upholstery and his double ‘M’ on the doors in gold.

The second LP was already the top selling album for ’65. He had five gold records on his wall, and any day he would be getting the sixth.

Where did she get the inspiration from to write such brilliant songs? Every one fresh and new, the latest ‘Devil Man’ he liked to think was about him, but she only laughed when he suggested it.

August in London was usually impossible, but right now it looked wonderful.

‘Strange how things work out,’ he said aloud, posing in front of the mirror. That masseur in King’s private health club in Pall Mall was doing him a power of good, he’d tightened up his muscles, made him look ten years younger. ‘I send them off to Europe thinking they’ll soon be urging me to bring them back home, and what do they do? Make it fucking well work for all of us!’

Sell-out concerts in every major city, promoters ringing Max offering him anything to book a return date. That was where this new wedge had come from. Five thousand pounds, slipped under the table. Riox, Georgia and the taxman couldn’t trace it.