Lethal Seduction (46 page)

“I wanted to come,” she answered evasively.

“Not because of Joel. You're too much woman for a man like Joel. And I use the word ‘man' loosely.”

“You're not very nice about him.”

“He's a moron.”

“That's cruel.”

“I didn't make my money by being Mr. Nice Guy.”

“You're always talking about your money.”

“It's an intriguing subject to most people. You included.”

“I have my own money, you know,” she announced.

“And who looks after it?”

“My business manager.”

“Make sure he's not cheating you.”

Marika leaned across the table. “What are you two talking about?” she asked, attempting to sound pleasant, but watching her, Joel could tell she was livid.

“Nothing that would interest you,” Leon said, dismissing her.

Marika's expression tensed. If this evening was headed toward war, she was ready to do battle.

•

The audience for Kris Phoenix's show was getting more famous by the minute. Gwyneth, George Clooney, a Baldwin or two, Al King, Gloria Estefan, the irrepressible Whoopi. A lot of celebrities were in town for the fight, and they began piling in, filling up the best tables and creating an air of excitement.

“Showbiz reporter's dream,” Natalie said bitterly. “And
they'll all be my best friend as long as they've got something to plug. Other than that they won't even recognize me. They won't even remember
what
show I'm on.
Access, Showbiz Today, E.T.
Who gives a flying fart.
They
certainly don't. Celebrities. Ha! You can shove 'em
all
up your ass.”

“Hmm . . .” Madison said. “And what's made
you
so pissed off with the world?”

Natalie shrugged, “Dunno. Kris Phoenix an' his goddamn
attitude.
Stars do not treat us like equals. We're the worker squad—promoting their wares.”

“That's not our problem right now,” Madison said. “Our problem is how to deal with Jamie and keep her
away
from Kris. Because the
last
thing she needs is rejection.”

Jamie had gone to the ladies' room, and Madison wanted to get a plan in place that would protect her. The trouble was that Natalie wasn't cooperating, she was more interested in putting down celebrities. Understandable in a way, because a lot of them
were
assholes.

However, in the overall scheme of things, whether they were assholes or not was simply unimportant.

•

On her way back from the ladies' room, Jamie was confronted by Antonio Lopez and his entourage.

“Mama mia!” Antonio sighed, smacking his lips. “You are one fine beauty, lady.”

She had no idea who he was. And even if she had known, it wouldn't have mattered because her mind was set on Kris Phoenix and
nobody
was going to change it. Especially not Madison and Natalie, who kept on muttering about some transient girlfriend he supposedly had.

“Hey, chickie baby,” Antonio said, clicking his tongue. “Wanna join the future champ's table?”

She threw him a haughty glare. “I think not,” she said crisply. And desperate for the boost of another martini, she returned to her table, whereupon Joel arrived and stood there with
a stupid grin on his face. “I swear I've never seen such a bunch of beautiful women,” he said. “And Madison—you're the crown jewel.”

She sighed. What was it with this guy? Why did he keep on chasing her? Couldn't he tell she didn't like him. “Hi, Joel,” she said wearily.

“You should join
our
table,” Joel said. “Instead of sitting here all by yourselves.”

“Thanks, but no thanks,” Madison said. “We're expecting friends.”

“I told you earlier,” Joel said, leaning in close. “You, babe, are lookin' hot.”

“Joel, don't say that to me, okay?”

“Huh?”

“It's plain rude to speak to someone you hardly know in that way. How would you like
me
to say it to
you?”

“Try me,” he said, leering.

“Okay,
honey,”
she said, eyeballing his crotch. “You're looking hot.”

He took a step back. “Hey, listen,” he said, pissed off at the way she treated him. “Did I say anything that would offend a normal person?”

Natalie laughed. “Madison ain't normal, sweetie. You gotta know her to realize that.”

He turned his attention to Jamie. “Where's your old man?” he said, staring down her cleavage. “He shouldn't let a beauty like you out by herself.”

“Peter's in New York,” Jamie said. “Where he be-longs.”

“Trouble, huh?”

“No,” Madison interjected quickly. “Go back to your table, Joel.”

“You're always so pissy with me,” he complained. “Is it 'cause you like me an' refuse to admit it?”

“Yeah, sure,” Madison drawled sarcastically. “It must be those sexy pants of yours. I'm so turned on I can barely think straight!”

•

Marika changed seats with the hotel manager's wife so that she was sitting next to Leon. He was busy talking to Carrie and didn't notice her until he felt her clawlike hand on his arm. He turned to say something, but before he could do so, she began whispering in his ear. “Do you remember that whore in Saigon?” she hissed fiercely. “Do you remember what you
did
to her, Leon?”

“What're you talking about?” he said, shocked.

“Cast your memory back. I'm
sure
you'll remember.”

“That was years ago,” he muttered angrily.

“Ah—but I have the photographs, such fond memories,” Marika said triumphantly. “I keep them
very
safe.”

“Why are you telling me this now?” he said, furious.

“I'm merely reminding you,” she said with a thin-lipped smile, “that
I
know you better than anyone.”

•

Antonio and his group were seated three tables along from Natalie's prime spot. Madison glanced over, then did a second take. Included in Antonio's entourage were Jake and his teenage assistant.

She couldn't believe it. Jake playing hanger-on—she'd given him more credit than that.

Oh well, another loser. Too damn bad.

A
ND SO
K
RIS
P
HOENIX HIT
the stage like a fireball, bouncing around, filled with energy—all sprayed-on leather pants, spiked hair and cocky grin. Time had not slowed him down, and the audience went crazy. This was good old-fashioned rock 'n' roll, and they loved it.

Madison remembered the first time she'd seen Kris Phoenix perform. Michael had taken her to an open-air concert in Central Park, and she'd fallen in love with the drummer from afar. She'd been fifteen and would've given anything to get backstage. But it was not to be. She and her dad had ended up eating hot dogs, while walking along Fifth Avenue. It was a good memory.

Michael. Daddy.
She'd tried to put him out of her mind—but there were moments when it wasn't possible. He was her father, the man she loved. And being estranged from him was incredibly painful.

The truth was she missed him.

How can you miss him?
she asked herself scornfully.

Because I do.

That's bullshit. He's a murderer. HE KILLED YOUR MOTHER.

Nobody knows that for sure.

Oh yes you do.

“I'll be right back,” she whispered to Natalie.

“Where you goin'?”

“Ladies' room.”

She got up from the table and made her way to the back of the darkened room.

Kris was stomping across the stage, belting out one of his familiar hits. She didn't care. She didn't care about anything. If it wasn't for Jamie she would've made a fast getaway.

The ladies' room was empty except for an old woman with an enormous beehive hairdo who was stationed next to an ashtray filled with five- and ten-dollar bills. No cheap tipping at
this
hotel.

“Hello, luv,” the old crone said in a thick cockney accent. “Missing the show?”

“Looks like it.”

“Farrah Fawcett was in 'ere earlier,” the old woman confided. “Still got that lovely hair, she 'as.”

“Good for her,” Madison muttered, shutting herself in a stall.

Damn Jamie for coming to Vegas. It was such a bad idea, and now
she,
Madison, was supposed to be the one to save her, because she couldn't depend on Natalie. It simply wasn't fair. Didn't she have enough to deal with?

She emerged from the stall.

“I
used t'have lovely hair,” the old woman said with a mournful sigh.
“I
was a showgirl 'ere in the early days. Nearly went out with Bugsy Siegal, I did.”

Madison fished out a twenty and left it in the ashtray. Then she hurried from the room, and bumped straight into Jake. Literally.

“You know what I hate?” he said.

“Dating teenagers?” she said breathlessly.

“Ancient rock stars in too-tight pants with socks stuffed in their crotch.”

“You know what
I
hate?” she said.

“Tell me.”

“Men who sleep in my bed for a week, run off to Paris and never call.”

“You know what I
like?”

“Can't wait.”

“A quiet dinner for two in a romantic restaurant, which—believe me—is not easy to find in Vegas.”

She sighed wistfully. “Sounds good.”

He took her arm. “Then let's go.”

“Can't.”

“Why?”

“It's too complicated.”

“What's complicated?”

“Everything.”

“C'mon, Madison—I don't have time to fight about this.”

“You've got to understand, Jake, I really would like to have dinner with you, but I've got this girlfriend, Jamie, and she's in trouble.”

“What kind of trouble?”

“The man kind, of course.”

“Wanna tell me about it? Maybe I can help solve it. I'm a guy, you know.”

“Really?” she said, shooting him an amused look. “I was beginning to forget.”

He grinned. “And she's quick with the quips.”

She loved his grin—it was boyish and yet very masculine.

Why am I punishing myself?
she thought.
What's wrong with enjoying myself with Jake and not taking it too seriously. After all, tomorrow I'm turning thirty. Better do
something
to celebrate.

“Okay,” she said. “Here's the sad story. Jamie discovered her husband was having an affair.”

“Happens all the time, doesn't it?”

“The affair
he's
having is with another man.”

“Oh—not so good.”

“Exactly.”

“So how are you helping?”

“Jamie's in Vegas . . . she came here to uh . . . sleep with Kris Phoenix.”

“Does she know him?”

“Of course she does. He's been coming on to her for a while. Except now he has a permanent girlfriend by the name of Amber Rowe.”

“The actress?”

“That's the one.”

“So how is your friend planning to jump into bed with him?”

“That's the problem. I have to prevent her from making a fool of herself, because Amber is very much in evidence, and Jamie is under the impression she can get any man she wants. Usually it's true.”

“So, you're telling me we can't have dinner 'cause you've got to protect this friend of yours?”

“That's what friendship's all about, isn't it?”

“How about we
both
go protect her?”

“And what would you do with your teenage assistant?”

“What am I
supposed
to do?”

“You're with her, aren't you?”

“No. Antonio asked us both if we wanted to come along tonight. She's a big Kris Phoenix fan and said yes. I tagged along because I was looking for you. When I saw you go to the ladies' room I was right behind you.”

“You can't leave her alone with Antonio. He's a sexual predator, and she's a baby.”

“Here's the deal,” Jake said. “As soon as the concert's finished I'll send her home in a cab, you'll take your girlfriend back to her hotel, then you and I will have a late romantic dinner. How does that sound?”

“I . . . uh . . . don't know.”

“Well,
I
do,” he said. “You think I'm an undependable schmuck, and I probably am. But I thought I explained to you when we had dinner in L.A. last year, that after my wife was killed in a car wreck, I couldn't get over the feeling that somehow or other it was my fault.” A long beat. “Here's the thing, Madison. I
don't want anything happening to you.” Another long beat. “I know it sounds crazy, but
that's
why I can't get involved.”

“We're not
talking
involved,” she said heatedly. “I just got out of an
involved
relationship with someone who dumped me. So I'm not thrilled when people leave and don't bother to call. Anyway,” she added, “didn't you tell me that you and your wife were separated when she was killed?”

“That's right. But the night she died we'd gotten together and ended up having a big fight, so maybe she wasn't concentrating. I dunno, Madison, but somehow I feel responsible.”

“Okay, Jake, after the concert I'll take Jamie back to her hotel, you put your teenager in a cab, then let's get together and talk.”

“Sounds good.” He looked at her quizzically. “Y'know, that's what I like about you, Madison.”