Lovers and Gamblers (68 page)

Children. How did she feel about them? Frankly she had never had anything to do with children. Weren’t they all supposed to be nasty little monsters, especially other people’s? And Paul’s children were half Melanie’s. Would they have straggly yellow hair and shrill voices?

Maybe they shouldn’t marry at once. Now that they could, maybe they should wait. Perhaps living together would be fun, just for a while, just so she could get used to the idea.

She noticed the time. Running late for the television star. Just time to try and call Cody, make sure he knew where Dallas was. The line was busy. She didn’t have time to try again. Picking up her camera hold-all she rushed out the door. Soon to be married or not she still had a living to make.

* * *

Al greeted Evan warmly. ‘Everything all right? They treated you good? You look fine.’ The sight of Evan’s acne – worse than ever – made him wince. ‘How about something to eat?’

‘No, thanks.’

‘Well, find a seat, get settled.’

‘Where are you sitting?’

‘I’m at the back – got an – er – friend with me. Why don’t you sit with Paul. I know he wants to talk to you. Cathy – put Evan next to Paul.’

The stewardess took Evan’s arm and steered him to a seat.

Al returned to Dallas. She was still asleep, her head balanced at an awkward angle. He got her a cushion and inched it under her head. She grunted. He smiled to himself. This must be love – since when did he ever bother about a girl’s neck?

* * *

Linda took a series of marvellous photos. The television star seemed to be prepared to do anything for a camera, and by the end of the session she had him reclining across the bonnet of his imported Rolls Royce wearing an orange caftan and holding a can of beer. Let his fans work
that
one out!

‘You must have lunch,’ he insisted when they were finished, and led her out by the pool where a neatly dressed Mexican had laid out twin lobster salads on a poolside table.

His butchness was dropping rapidly and his closet queen tendencies were coming out full force. ‘That woman I work with is a bitch!’ he confided. ‘Everyone thinks she is such a dear. But I know, believe me I know. I had to kiss the bitch the other day.’ His voice rose in disgust. ‘Kiss her! And do you know what she did? The bitch ate onions for lunch. Can you imagine?’

Linda smiled in sympathy.

‘You don’t know what it’s like working on a series,’ he further confided, ‘stuck with the same people day in and day out. Only the guest stars change – and who do we get?’ His voice filled with contempt. ‘Out-of-work movie actors who look down their nose at me. I’m a star, baby, a
star
. But do they appreciate that fact? Oh no. You can bet your sweet ass they don’t. What a drag to be stuck in a television series, they say – when most of them would give their left tit to be in my position.’ He picked disconsolately at his lobster. ‘That bitch, my co-star, thinks
she’s
the star of the series.
She really thinks so
. If I left, the whole thing would fall to pieces. Who do you think gets the ratings?’

‘I’m sure it’s you,’ said Linda kindly.

‘You bet your sweet ass it’s me. Do you think anyone would switch on their set to see that bitch?’

The Mexican appeared silently and respectfully and informed the television star that he was wanted on the phone. ‘I won’t be long,’ he said. ‘Help yourself to anything you want.’ He vanished into the house.

Linda smiled. The sun was shining, everything was working out, she felt marvellous.

She picked up a newspaper to glance at. The gossip column was a who’s who of what was going on in Hollywood that week. Al King was mentioned – an obtuse item that tied him together with Karmen Rush. She read on, suddenly transfixed, and could hardly believe what she was reading.
‘Paul King, younger brother and manager of the great Al, was as surprised as everyone else to find his young and extremely pretty wife Melanie announcing her engagement to the one and only Manny Shorto. Slight snag is the fact that she will have to divorce Paul first. Better hurry, Melanie – Manny celebrates his seventieth birthday next week.’

Linda slapped the paper back on to the table. ‘Bastard!’ she said out loud. ‘Rotten lying stinking bastard!’ And to think she had fallen for his lies. ‘I’ve left her, Linda. I love you, Linda. I’ve told her all about us, Linda.’ The hell he had. Wifey had given him the boot, and he was settling for second best.

Well, screw him. He could stick his marriage proposal right up his lying ass. Second best she was not!

* * *

Dallas was only half asleep, but she kept her eyes closed anyway. She didn’t feel like making conversation. The joint had taken the edge off her nerves and she felt nicely relaxed.

She was trying to figure out why she had agreed to come. Was Al King really what she needed in her life right now? He was a selfish, bossy, womanizing chauvinist. Why was he the only person who created a spark of excitement? Why did she want to be with him?

She had to find out. If it was a sexual thing she had to know. Three days in South America should be long enough to get him out of her system once and for all. She had made up her mind what she was going to do. She was tired of the struggle. Tired of fighting the Lew Margolises and Doris Andrews of the world. When she got back to Los Angeles she was going to marry Aarron Mack. Marrying him would protect her from all the hassles – and if there was one thing she felt she needed it was some protection in life. As Mrs. Aarron Mack she would automatically be treated with the respect that all his money deserved. So she didn’t love him. So what? The time had come to put herself first – and she intended to.

The excitement at the airport in Rio was tense. The usual assortment of crowds, fans, police, photographers and television crews waited impatiently for the Al King jet to land.

Cristina found herself boxed into a private enclosure with Louis, his father Carlos and several of his assistants. It had been Louis’s idea. ‘Would you like to come to the airport to see Al King arrive?’ he had asked. ‘Yes,’ she had nodded. He thought she was the singer’s greatest fan. And why shouldn’t he? She had done nothing but ask questions about the man.

Oh God! How she wished she had never heard his name. How she wished she had never agreed to help Nino.

But it was too late to back out now. Nino had trapped her with his insidious form of blackmail. Her most fervent wish of all was that she had never set eyes on him. How ashamed she was of that relationship – if it wasn’t for her shame she might have confessed everything to Louis. But what would he think of her? How could he possibly still want to marry her after her confession?

No, the only solution was to go along with what Nino wanted her to do. If she helped him this last time she would be free of him.

* * *

Al pushed Dallas gently. ‘Seat belt on,’ he commanded.

She opened her eyes. She really had fallen asleep. ‘Are we there?’

‘Coming in to land.’ He had changed into skin-tight black trousers, a black silk shirt, and a positive gold mine of chains.

‘Ready to face your public?’ she asked.

‘But of course. You like the gear?’

‘You look terrific, Mister Superstar.’ Her tone was faintly mocking.

‘You don’t look too bad yourself.’

‘I look horrible. I want a bath, some decent clothes, and a make-up job.’

‘I like you just the way you are.’

‘I bet you’ve been using the same old lines for years – they’re
so
corny. How do I get off this plane without being seen?’

‘What’s with the not being seen bit? You’re with me.’

‘No, thank you.
You
look prettier than me right now. I want privacy.’

‘Funny.’

‘I mean it.’ She put on her tinted shades. ‘I’ll see you at the hotel later.’

He nodded. ‘If that’s what you want. You can go with Paul and Evan – I think you should meet him anyway.’

‘Why?’

‘Why what?’

‘Why do you want me to meet Evan?’

Al frowned. ‘He is my son, you know.’

‘So?’

‘So…’Al faltered. Why
did
he want her to meet him? He had never introduced any of his girlfriends to Evan before. Why start now? ‘I don’t know… We’re all travelling together… Jesus! Do I have to have a
reason?
’

She laughed. ‘Be a good superstar and bring me some grass to the hotel.’

He was annoyed. ‘Don’t keep calling me that.’

She laughed some more. ‘Aren’t we the touchy one!’

The plane was swooping in to land. Al could see the crowds from the window.

‘You stay on board until Paul fetches you,’ he instructed. Maybe having Dallas on this trip hadn’t been such a brilliant idea after all. She could be some smart ass.

‘Yes, sir!’ She saluted. ‘Anything you say, sir! Oh – and don’t forget the joints, Al, I’m depending on you.’

* * *

Evan sat sullenly in his seat. The plane had landed, the star had disembarked. Now all that was left were the remnants. Everyone had gone except the woman at the back of the plane. His father’s woman.

Evan hadn’t really been able to get a good look at her. But now she had moved into an aisle seat, and he could see masses of hair, dark sunglasses, and jeans and a shirt.

He hated her, whoever she was. It was women like her who had broken up his parents’ marriage. Paul had told him about the impending divorce. ‘It’s for the best,’ he had said. For whose best? Evan wondered. Certainly not
his
.

Where would he live? Which one of them would want him?

He wished that he’d never come back. He wished that he was still travelling across America with Glory and Plum, having good times, having fun. If it hadn’t been for Nellie… Poor beautiful Nellie. And her death was his father’s fault too.

Evan scowled. Why was he unlucky enough to be born with a father like Al King?

Paul reappeared. ‘All clear,’ he shouted. ‘Let’s go.’

Evan gathered together his magazines and set off towards the exit.

Dallas followed him. Paul took her arm. ‘Tremendous reception Al got,’ he said.

Dallas smiled. ‘Paul, you’re a man of connections. You think you could get me some grass?’

Paul frowned. First Al. Now Dallas. Why were people always asking him to do things for them?

* * *

Nino was in the lobby of Al’s hotel when he arrived, heralded by a rush of photographers. He leaned unobtrusively behind a pillar and watched the star.

Al King was older than he had expected, and taller than he appeared in photos. But he was good-looking all right.

Nino picked at his teeth with the side of some book matches, and watched Al all the way into the elevator. He took note of everyone around him. The tall black man who hovered watchfully in the background was obviously Al’s bodyguard. The others appeared to be the usual hangers-on that stars collected around them. Nino watched the indicator light on the elevator ascend to the tenth floor. It paused there, and within minutes returned to the lobby. The fat man who had accompanied Al up got out and waddled towards a cluster of photographers standing in the lobby.

Slowly Nino strolled towards the busy reception desk. He smiled at a girl working there. ‘Time for your coffee break, Didi?’ he asked casually.

Her face lit up. ‘Nino! You are early.’

‘Only ten minutes. Can’t you get away now?’

She looked quickly at her watch. ‘I don’t see why not.’ She called to one of the boys behind the desk, ‘Drago, I’m taking my break now.’

Drago nodded.

‘One minute,’ she instructed Nino. ‘I’ll get my purse.’ She vanished into a room marked ‘Employees Only’.

Nino strolled over to the magazine stand. Didi had been so easy. They were all so easy. A little sweet talk. A few false declarations of love and passion, and they were yours.

He had manoeuvred a meeting with Didi nine days previously, as soon as Cristina had told him what hotel Al King would be staying at. Within two days he had slept with the girl. Within five she had agreed to give him the information he required. He had fed her some story about a thesis he was working on. The life and times of the very rich.

Didi came hurrying over. She clutched his arm and kissed him warmly. ‘I’ve missed you,’ she declared.

‘We only saw each other last night,’ he replied.

‘I know. But I have still missed you.’

They walked from the hotel, arms linked, Didi chattering on about the injustices of working in a hotel. If Nino had more time he might have considered recruiting her for the organization. She was perfect material, and she would be able to furnish invaluable information about the guests who booked into the hotel. However, she would need working on, and Nino didn’t have time for that now. He had much more important things on his mind.

‘Did you get me what I asked for?’ he questioned.

‘Yes,’ she replied smugly, ‘I have a duplicate list of the Al King party and what rooms they are in. I copied it out – first thing this morning when the reservations were confirmed.’

‘Good girl.’

Didi smiled. ‘I have an hour’s break. Will that give us time to go to your room?’

Nino hid a grimace of disgust.

‘Of course,’ he replied. ‘Isn’t that the reason I came to see you?’

* * *

‘Shall I open the shutters, señorita?’ the bellboy asked. Only he wasn’t such a boy. He was tall and muscled, dark-haired, with knowing eyes.

Linda would adore him, Dallas thought, Linda would probably ravish his fine young body. ‘Hey,’ she said, ‘you look like a guy knows his way around. Can you get me some grass?’

‘I beg your pardon, señorita?’ the boy replied carefully.

‘Grass. Shit. Hash.’

The boy continued to look wary.

‘Something to
smoke…
’ Dallas pantomimed dragging on a joint, then she rolled her eyes and indicated joy. ‘You get me?’

‘Ah!’ the boy said at last. ‘It is expensive…’

‘But you can get it! I knew you would be able to help me. And some pills.’ She pantomimed popping pills into her mouth. ‘Something good. Quaaludes if you can – anything, it doesn’t matter. Something to get high – you with me?’