Hollywood Husbands (46 page)

The two of them got into an old Mercedes, still fighting, and roared off into the night.

Jade found herself alone again.

Naturally.

* * *

‘Sit next to me,’ Zachary Klinger instructed, when Beverly arrived at his bungalow a few minutes after him. She had left her car with a valet at the front of the hotel. He travelled by chauffeured limousine.

‘I’m more comfortable over here,’ she said, settling into a couch across from him. ‘Where are your girlfriends? Did you drop them home?’

‘I want you next to me,’ he repeated.

‘He who wants might never get,’ she joked.

‘Don’t play with me, Miss D’Amo. Tell me what
you
want, and let us not indulge in childish and time-consuming games.’

‘I want to be a big, big star, Mr Klinger. Bigger than even
you
can imagine.’

‘Then sit beside me, and we shall see.’

‘Promises don’t interest me.’

‘What does?’

‘Action. Do something for me, and then I’ll do something for you.’

‘Agreed. But I need something tonight.’

‘No can do. You shouldn’t have sent your girlfriends home. Between ’em they looked like they could do
plenty
for you.’

‘And they will. Only you must sit next to me and watch. I won’t touch you. They won’t touch you. Unless you ask…’

A definite weirdo. Beverly complied – she had absolutely nothing to lose, and plenty to gain.

* * *

‘I’m tired,’ Poppy complained.

She
was tired. Ha! She sat on her fanny all day, and only moved it out of the house to buy jewellery and have lunch with her cronies.

‘I’ve had a very tough day,’ Howard said. ‘
I’m
frigging exhausted.’

Poppy giggled. ‘Are we both too tired to play naughty?’

‘Sorry, sweetheart, tonight I’d need Arnold Schwarzenegger to lift it for me.’

She giggled again. ‘You’re so funny!’

‘I try to please.’

‘Oh, babykins, you do!’ What had he done right for a change? They were approaching their house, and he pressed the automatic gate opener, pulling the car to a halt while the massive iron gates swung open.

‘Howard?’ Poppy asked plaintively. ‘Do you love me?’

‘What kind of a question is that? You know I do.’ He hated it when things got sloppy.

They were in their own driveway now. ‘Pull the car over to the side,’ she whispered. ‘Park, Howard. Pretend we’re in high school.’

‘What?’

‘
Do
it.’

Reluctantly he obeyed. Poppy was a woman you didn’t fight with, not unless you wanted to be up all night.

As soon as he stopped the car she was on him, burrowing into his lap like a hungry rabbit.

‘What are you
doing?
’ he blustered, as she went for his zipper.

‘The thing you like best in the whole wide world, Howie.’ She reached his shorts, and triumphantly pulled his limp, exhausted penis out into the moonlit front seat.

‘Poppy—’

‘Be quiet. You know you love it.’

Enclosing him with her mouth, she gave him her special kiss-of-life technique. The same technique she had used the first time they became more than just boss and secretary. Somehow she had gotten under his desk and displayed her special talent. Three months later they were married.

‘Poppy!’ he groaned, as she did the impossible and summoned a dead person back to life.

For the first time in a long while he did not think of Whitney as he fell asleep later that night.

Chapter Sixty-Seven

Rocky had the Sylvester Stallone walk. He had honed his imitation until it was perfection. Slight swagger, macho steps, a forward thrust. He could, if he wanted to, have made a living as a celebrity look-alike. But hey – as far as he was concerned Sylvester copied
him
.

The drive to Trancas was a bitch, and a couple of times he almost turned his jeep around and headed back to civilization. The Pacific Coast Highway drove him nuts. He always got this insane urge to cross the line and play chicken with the oncoming traffic. It bothered him that one night he might just get stoned enough to do it, and end up in the slammer for sure. Again.

Funny, he’d been living on the edge all his life, and the only thing he’d been put away for was reckless and drunken driving. Six months’ hard time just because this old couple broke down on the freeway and
he
was the jerk who had to run into them. If it hadn’t been him,
someone
would have hit ’em.

Heaven. A foxy little piece. With her own beach house. Probably some shack, but hey – check it out.

When he found the turn-off there were cars crowding the shoulder of the road, and a lot of noise and loud music coming from the house, which was situated beyond a series of stone steps.

Party time
, he said to himself. There was nothing Rocky liked better than to party.

* * *

Stewardesses always came on to Jack; it was automatic. The one on the flight back was outrageously pretty, a blonde Californian peach.

‘How long have you been doing this?’ he asked.

‘Six weeks,’ she replied. ‘It’s hard on the legs, but I’m
really
enjoying it. I get to meet so many interesting people.’ She paused and twinkled, all shiny-bright and eager. ‘Like you, Mr Python.’

‘Call me Jack.’

‘Give me your number and I will,’ she said boldly.

He reckoned she would last another six weeks on the job before she was either discovered and became an actress, or lured off to get married. She was that pretty.

‘What will you do when we get to L.A.?’ he asked.

She laughed ruefully. ‘Flake out.’

He had a strong desire to take her to bed. She was so different from the socialite, and very appealing in a one-night-stand kind of way.

Strapped in his seat, with a scotch on the rocks and Jade’s picture shut safely in the magazine, he tried to make up his mind whether to come on to her or not.

Christ!
he thought, as the 747 prepared to land.
I’ve been almost faithful for eighteen months. And for what? To catch Clarissa with her talented ass in the air servicing some macho actor. The hell with it.

He rang the buzzer and the stewardess came running.

‘I’ll buy you dinner if you’re available,’ he said.

* * *

Heaven didn’t care anymore. She would make up a story for Uncle Jack. Like she invited a couple of people over, and a whole crowd gate-crashed. Which wasn’t such a lie, it was the truth.

The trashing of the house was almost complete. Couples were now making out in both bedrooms, and strangers surged everywhere. Someone had turned on the jacuzzi, which was packed with naked bodies.

She couldn’t see Eddie. She hated Eddie. She would never speak to him again for allowing this to happen.

* * *

Roaming around, Rocky figured he had fallen into teenage heaven. Baby pussy was knee deep, and he was in love with all the little foxes with their tight fannies and perky tits.

Rocky partied a lot, but usually the parties were full of hard-faced women who pretended to be actresses or models but usually turned out to be hookers on the side. He had lived with a few – more than a few, in fact. Good bodies – money-trap minds. Any money he made was strictly for himself. He had a decent apartment, and a third-hand Merc, which he used when he wasn’t in the Jeep. The Jeep was strictly for business purposes only. Like tonight, for instance. He had worked bar at a big party and walked away with three thou in drug sales,
and
a case of the best scotch.

He had not walked away with Silver Anderson – who wasn’t even there.

When he thought about his so-called friend Wes Money, and what he had gotten away with, he could hardly believe the jerk’s dumb-ass luck. And
he
, Rocky the man, was responsible, for it was he who had taken Wes to Silver Anderson’s house in the first place. And not so much as a ‘thank you’ for his trouble. No dinner invite. No ‘Come by the house.’ No nothin’.

Some people.

Some people were dogshit.

Rocky glowered. And flexed his not inconsiderable muscles. And said, ‘Yo there, fox-trap,’ to a fifteen-year-old, who moved away fast.

Conveniently, Rocky forgot it was he who had set his good friend Wes up the Laurel Canyon trap. Not that he’d known the extent of the scam, but he
had
known it was something heavy, and if he’d been a true friend he would never have given Wes the number to call.

Grabbing the attention of a tall lunatic in Levi cut-offs, he asked, ‘You seen Heaven, man?’

The boy jumped excitedly. ‘A few of the dudes got Ecstasy. What’s this Heaven shit?’

It occurred to Rocky he was wasting precious time. He had the perfect opportunity to go for sales. Business looked like it could be brisk.

* * *

The stewardess had peach-fuzz-smooth skin, a glorious mound of apricot pubic hair, and an obliging disposition. Making love to her was like taking a trip through a smalltown candy-store.

They were in Jack’s suite at the Beverly Wilshire, and it was past midnight. After the event he just wanted to get rid of her.

And then he got an attack of the guilts. She was genuinely nice, and tried so hard to please.

She was also a fan, which he couldn’t help being irritated by.

‘What’s it like being Jack Python?’ she asked in an awestruck voice.

What
was
it like?

‘Very public,’ he said at last, which seemed to satisfy her.

‘I bet you’ve met everybody.’

‘Not quite.’

‘I bet you’ve met Paul Newman.’

‘Yes,’ he admitted.

‘I always buy his salad dressing,’ she said reverently. ‘It’s excellent. Have you tried it?’

Time to extract himself.

Definitely time.

He was out of practice, and couldn’t quite remember how to go about it.

She gave him the perfect cue by sitting up in bed and stretching – bouncy tits glowing with health. ‘I’m hungry,’ she said. ‘Aren’t you?’

He was out of bed in seconds. ‘I’ve got a great idea.’

‘What?’

He reached for his pants and pulled them on. ‘Where do you live?’

‘Santa Monica. Eleventh Street. I don’t have to be home until later…’ She gazed at him expectantly.

‘Get dressed,’ he said cheerfully. ‘We’ll go over to Hughes and buy everything in the market. Then I’m going to drive you to your place, and you’re going to cook me the best breakfast I ever had.’

‘I am?’ she asked uncertainly, disappointed because room service seemed like a much better plan.

‘You
can
cook, can’t you?’

‘Sort of.’

‘Let’s go!’

* * *

Making money with the kids was better than raking it in from their rich mommies and daddies. And they knew what they wanted too – a few uppers, downers, ludes, grass, coke. Especially Ecstasy – the new designer drug. Like their Calvin Klein and Guess jeans, they wanted only the best. And Rocky found that quite a few of the little foxes were prepared to barter for their goods.

He was just thinking about taking one grateful teenager for a walk along the beach, when he spotted Heaven, curled up in a corner, ignoring the wild action like it wasn’t even happening. With a growl of recognition, he pounced. ‘I made it!’

She regarded him with huge amber eyes, and dragged herself back to reality. ‘Like a day late,’ she muttered.

‘Din’t wanna miss the party,’ he said breezily. ‘This is some heavy place. You got an old man keepin’ you or what?’

‘I live here alone,’ she mumbled. She certainly didn’t owe
him
any explanations.

He was impressed. ‘Yeah?’

She stared at him warily. ‘Have you
really
got a friend in the record business?’

He scratched his armpit. ‘Yeah. Wanna warble somethin’?’

‘If you clear all these total creeps out of my house, I’ll play you my tape. Can you get rid of them?’

He looked affronted that she would even consider he might not be able to. ‘Yer askin’ Rocky,’ he said boastfully. ‘I’ve bounced ’em out of bigger parties than this.’

* * *

Jack purchased two hundred dollars’ worth of groceries in the market while the blonde stewardess kept on exclaiming, ‘You’re
crazy
. Who’s going to
eat
all this stuff?’

‘Let me enjoy myself,’ he insisted. ‘I never get to do this.’

Filling the Ferrari with paper sacks, he drove to her apartment, a modest place she shared with two other stewardesses.

‘Shhhh!’ she giggled, as he filled the tiny counter space in her kitchen. ‘It’s three o’clock in the morning!’

‘I’d better go,’ he said, when he’d delivered everything.

‘No, no. I’m going to cook for you, remember? That was why we went to the market.’

He kissed her button nose. ‘I’m not hungry anymore. And I’ve got a teenage niece alone in my beach house. I’ve got to be going.’

In a way she was relieved. Explaining Jack Python to her roommates at three in the morning was not a simple task.

Understandingly she nodded, and asked very softly, ‘Will I ever see you again?’

He wasn’t about to lie to her. ‘Tonight was special.’ Only a white lie. ‘The truth is, I’m just coming out of a long relationship, and I don’t want to make any promises I might not keep.’ He touched, her cheek. ‘So… pretty lady, don’t wait for the phone to ring, because right now I’m not the most reliable guy in the world.’

‘I appreciate your honesty… Jack,’ she said earnestly. ‘Take my number anyway – .you never know when you might feel like shopping!’

He grinned.

‘And thanks for the groceries,’ she added.

He left feeling good. It was nice to be able to walk away with a clear conscience.

* * *

He was doing it! Rocky was clearing them out in clusters. Telling them the party was over and brooking no argument.

Eddie was the only one to give him trouble.

Heaven turned away when Rocky forced him over to a quiet corner and had a word in his ear.

Eddie left shortly after, his face red, his guitar under his arm.