Lovers & Players (13 page)

‘Why is it
my
fault?’ he asked, ready for an argument. ‘She doesn’t live with
me
.’

‘Are you accusing me of being a bad mother?’ Mariska demanded, challenging him to do battle.

‘No,’ he said, backing down. ‘I’m merely saying someone should teach her better manners.’

‘Oh,
please
,’ Mariska said dismissively. ‘She’s five.’

‘Anyway,’ Max said, ‘close the door. This is private. I don’t want your nosy maid listening in.’

‘I hope it’s about money,’ Mariska said, sitting down on the couch and crossing her legs. ‘I’ve been speaking with friends, and everyone tells me my settlement is not fair,
especially
as you’re about to marry that silly rich girl who’s far too young for you.’

‘Amy’s not too young for me,’ he said curtly. ‘And your settlement was plenty fair.’

Mariska threw him a condescending look. ‘I hear that tonight you’re having a
bachelor
party.’

‘How do
you
know?’

‘Not much goes on in this city that I
don’t
know about,’ she said smugly.

‘If that’s the case, Mariska, then you probably know about your ex–or should I say
current
husband, Vladimir Bushkin.’

The colour drained from Mariska’s face. ‘I–I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ she stammered.

‘Yes, you do,’ he said. ‘And we should discuss what we’re going to do about Vladimir.’

‘Who is this Vladimir?’ she muttered, refusing to look at him.

‘Oh, for God’s sake, stop it,’ he snapped, tired of her games. ‘I
know
who he is. I’ve seen the official papers. He’s your legal
husband,
which means that you and I were never married.’ There was a long, stony silence. ‘Do you have any idea what this means?’ he said, glaring at her.

She glared back. ‘I still don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘Then I suggest you think about it,’ he said coldly. ‘We will meet tomorrow, and in the meantime you can exercise your memory and come up with some answers, because the son-of-a-bitch is blackmailing me, and I’m sure
you
don’t want him running to the tabloids anymore than I do. Tomorrow we’ll come up with a solution together.’

And with those words he got up and slammed his way out of her apartment.

‘You
dumb
fuckhead.’

‘Huh?’ Chris said, fresh out of the shower as he picked up the bathroom phone.

‘Dumb
motherfucker
,’ the harsh voice repeated.

‘Roth?’

‘Yeah, it’s Roth, you Hollywood asshole.’

‘Didn’t you get my message?’ Chris asked, reaching for a towel.

‘I got it all right. What kind of a shit-assed game d’you think you’re playin’?’

‘No games, Roth, I swear,’ Chris said, knotting the towel round his waist. ‘It’s a legitimate family thing keeping me in New York. It’s my father…He’s, uh…very sick.’

‘Fuck your father an’ fuck you,’ Roth growled. ‘I
want
my fuckin’ money.’

This was not the Roth Giagante he knew, the affable, laid-back owner of the Magiriano Hotel.

‘I want you to listen to me, Roth. You’ve been bitching about your hotel losing money–that the Palms and the Hard Rock are getting all the young action. Well, I have an answer for you—’

‘Fuck
you
. This is about your fuckin’ debt. Nothin’ else.’

‘I understand, and you’ll get your money. But right now I’m about to offer you something that’ll assure the Magiriano a worldwide publicity bonanza.’

‘I’m sendin’ someone to see you in New York,’ Roth said ominously. ‘You can expect a visitor.’

‘So can you,’ Chris said quickly. ‘Birdy Marvel wants to get married at your hotel.’

‘You’re pissin’ on the wrong guy,’ Roth said, and the line went dead.

Chris wasn’t sure if Roth had hung up on him or if they’d been cut off. Whatever it was, it wasn’t good. And mentioning Birdy Marvel had not exactly sent Roth singing to the rafters. Obviously the Vegas bigshot didn’t get the enormous publicity bonanza Birdy Marvel would bring to his hotel.

Chris wondered if it was worthwhile flying home for the day.

No, he decided, it wasn’t. He’d explain everything to Roth when he got back to L.A. late on Monday.

Then he started thinking. What the hell was that visitor threat? Christ! Surely Roth wasn’t serious?

Just in case, he decided to take out some protection. He called down to the front desk and requested a driver-bodyguard for the evening.

‘Certainly, Mr Diamond,’ said the concierge, used to such requests.

‘Eight o’clock.’

‘He’ll be waiting for you. We’ll call your suite.’

After that he felt better. ‘Jesus Christ,’ he muttered, wondering why his life had suddenly turned to shit. His immaculate house had major leaks, Verona was turning into a bitch, and now Roth had become an impossible gangster-style pain in the ass. If he hadn’t promised to go with Jett to Max’s bachelor party, he would’ve cancelled and stayed safely in the hotel.

I need a drink
, he thought, and went to the mini-bar, where he selected a miniature of Jack Daniel’s and drank it straight from the bottle.

Ever since Red’s request to see him, nothing had been going right. It was the curse of his old man. Why didn’t the old bastard drop dead and leave them all alone?

Was that too harsh?

No.

An hour later Jett arrived at the hotel. ‘Nice suite,’ he said, wandering around. ‘You believe in treating yourself good, huh?’

‘I’m not married, got nobody else to spend it on except me,’ Chris said.

‘Be nice if I could say the same.’

‘You can.’

‘No,’ Jett answered, walking to the window and staring out at the New York skyline. ‘I wish I could say I’ve got nobody to spend it on except me. Problem is, I haven’t got much to spend.’

‘You gotta be making money modelling?’

‘Horse crap compared to what
you
guys pull in. You and Max are rolling in it.’

‘If only that was so,’ Chris said. ‘Unfortunately, little bro’, I’ve got myself into something kinda dumb.’

‘You?’ Jett said, sounding surprised. ‘C’mon, Chris, you’re a sharp lawyer. Dumb is
my
bag.’

Chris shrugged. ‘I started gambling.’

‘Gambling?’

‘I had this girlfriend, Holly Anton, a complete maniac, sex and anything else you can think of. Every weekend we flew to Vegas, and before I knew it I was hooked on poker and blackjack. It wasn’t long before I’d lost a
lot
of money. Now I owe big and they’re chasing me for it.’

‘Who’s chasing you?’ Jett asked, lighting a cigarette.

‘Some Vegas bigshot. You can’t give those guys a cheque, they want cash, and right now I don’t have it.’

‘How much are we talking?’

‘Plenty. I flew here to see if Red’s about to kick it and leave us something.’

‘Same reason I’m here,’ Jett said, inhaling deeply. ‘Our old man treated us like trash, and our mothers the same way, but he’s still our father. I was thinking this could be how he’s gonna make it up to us.’

‘We’ll see,’ Chris said guardedly. ‘Do you have to smoke in here?’

‘Is it bothering you?’

‘Frankly, yes.’

‘Then you’d better not go to Europe,’ Jett said, stubbing out his cigarette. ‘Everyone smokes there.’

‘Did you ever get into gambling?’ Chris asked curiously.

‘No, just booze, women and drugs. That was enough. Smoking’s my only addiction now.’

‘It must be a satisfying feeling to put all the crap behind you.’

‘Trust me,’ Jett said, with a rueful grin. ‘It’s
never
behind you. I’m twenty-four and I’m an alcoholic. Oh, sure, a
recovering
alcoholic, but you never know what tomorrow brings. When I was drinking I was a wild man, the kind of person you didn’t wanna be around.’

‘You’re telling
me
?’ Chris said. ‘I remember Red’s seventy-fifth birthday party when you walked in with the Puerto Rican hooker. You were wearing no pants
and
feeling no pain. That was
some
sight!’

They both started laughing.

‘I expect that particular scene went down well with the family, huh?’ Jett said wryly. ‘Especially Red.’

‘Oh, yeah, it was a laugh riot!’

‘Here’s the good news. I’m not the same person today.’

‘That’s nice to know.’

‘I’m the new, improved, sober and boring Jett. And I couldn’t care less if I ever have another drink.’

‘Okay, little bro’,’ Chris said. ‘I believe you. Now it’s time to hit the road and see what Max’s bachelor party has in store for us.’

‘I had no clue he was even divorced until I got here. Who’s he marrying now?’

‘Dunno. Guess we should ask him.’

‘Yeah,’ Jett said, grinning. ‘Guess we should.’

‘A
re we going somewhere?’ Lady Jane Bentley asked, entering Red Diamond’s pristine dressing room where he was busy picking out clothes.

‘No,
we
’re not,’ Red replied, choosing a white shirt from a hanging row of immaculate others. ‘
I
am going to Max’s bachelor party.’

‘Excuse me?’ she replied. ‘You’re going where?’

‘I’m
going
to my son’s bachelor party,’ Red repeated, his voice rising. ‘What are you, woman–
deaf
?’

‘I wasn’t aware you were invited.’

Red threw her a withering look. He was fast becoming bored with Lady Jane Bentley. Six years was long enough to be with one woman. Besides, getting old was not for the weak. Now, when he required a hard-on, he had to take Viagra, and that infuriated him. A hard-on was a hard-on, not something manufactured by a little blue pill.

‘Red Diamond doesn’t need an invitation,’ he said off-handedly, her very presence irritating him.

‘I don’t understand,’ she said, well aware that he was not in a mood to be pushed, but pushing anyway.

‘Yes, I can imagine it must be difficult for you to understand something so simple,’ he replied. ‘You’re not exactly a brain.’

‘I told your sons you couldn’t meet them this morning because you were feeling unwell,’ she said, refusing to go away.

‘So?’ Red cackled. ‘As you can see, I’ve made a rapid recovery.’

‘Surely it will seem odd if you turn up uninvited.’

‘Why are you so interested in my business?’

‘You
are
my business, Red. I’ve lived with you for six years, and even though we don’t share a bedroom, everything you do concerns me.’

‘What does not sharing a bedroom have to do with anything?’

‘Sharing a bedroom is true intimacy.’

‘To you it is,’ he said disdainfully. ‘To me it’s shit. If I want to fart all night I don’t care to listen to your complaints.’

‘Is it necessary to be so crude?’

‘What’s crude about farting? Too rough for your delicate ears?’

‘Sometimes I fail to understand you,’ she said, her mouth tightening.

‘You don’t understand much today, do you?’ he said, attempting to ignore her.

She decided to stay silent. It was no good arguing with Red when he was in one of his cantankerous moods. However, going to a bachelor party, especially for one of his sons, was so out of character. She didn’t like it.

Lately she’d felt that what little control she had over him was slipping away. Red never listened to her anyway. The only reason she stayed was because he was almost eighty, and how much longer did he have? She presumed that since she’d invested six good years she would be well taken care of. Red Diamond was one of the richest men in the world, and
she
was the person closest to him. He hated everyone else, as he never tired of telling her, so she was quite confident that she would inherit the bulk of his fortune, and that was why she stayed and put up with his uncouth behaviour and rudeness.

‘Very well.’ She sighed. ‘If you’re going out, I might go out also and have dinner with a friend.’

‘You have friends?’ Red said, a sarcastic tinge to his voice.

‘Is that such a surprise?’ she answered, determined not to allow him to get the better of her. ‘I realize you never make the effort to meet them, but I have many friends in New York.’

‘After you divorced your husband, do you think he was sorry to see you go?’ Red inquired, selecting a four-hundred-dollar silk tie, and holding it up to the mirror.

‘Why do you ask?’

‘’Cause you’re not the greatest cocksucker in the world,’ Red said, with a crude chuckle, knowing she’d be offended by his language and not caring.

‘How
dare
you speak to me like that?’ Lady Jane said, her face flushing a dull red. ‘I’ve told you before, I will not put up with your crass vulgarities.’

‘If you don’t like it, you know what you can do,’ Red muttered, hoping she might take the hint. ‘And right now you can get out while I finish dressing.’

She stared at him for a moment, prepared to do battle if she had to. Then she realized that letting go was the smart move for now.

He would pay for his lack of civility. Oh, yes, he would definitely pay.

After leaving Mariska’s apartment, Max went home, took a shower, had another couple of drinks, tried to call Amy–who did not answer her phone–dressed, and finally set off.

‘Make sure I’m out of here by eleven,’ he ordered his driver tersely as they pulled up outside the private gentlemen’s club where his bachelor party was to take place.

‘Yes, sir, Mr Diamond.’

‘Christ!’ Max muttered, under his breath. ‘I wish I didn’t have to do this.’

His driver said nothing.

Max made his way into the club, a venue chosen by two of his younger executives, both married, both new fathers, both out to have a raucous good time.

The club was closed for the night so the private party could take place without any gawkers. In the main room three tables were set out in front of a circular stage, each table seated ten people.

Max looked around and groaned inwardly, suspecting what he was about to endure.

He was greeted by Clive Barnaby, his chief executive, a tall, thin man with pointed features and caterpillar eyebrows. ‘Max!’ Clive said, clapping him on the shoulders. ‘This is going to be
some
night.’

A young topless waitress sidled over, seeming completely oblivious that her breasts were on show. ‘What would the bachelor boy like to drink?’ she asked, with a wide and somewhat phoney smile.

‘Give me a Scotch on the rocks,’ he said, trying to avert his eyes from her perky nipples, randomly scattered with silver glitter.

‘Yes,
sir
,’ she said, with another fake smile.

‘You’re absolutely sure there are no photographers here?’ Max said, turning back to Clive.

‘Would I let anyone do that to you?’ Clive said. ‘The only camera on the premises is my digital. We’ll print out a few photos just for our own amusement.’

‘No pictures,’ Max said sternly. ‘Not with your camera or anyone else’s.’

‘You don’t want any souvenirs of tonight?’ Clive asked, disappointed.

‘I don’t even want to
be
here tonight.’

‘Your brothers are over there,’ Clive said, gesturing toward the centre table. ‘I didn’t even know you
had
brothers, Max. It’s quite a surprise they’re here.’

‘No surprise to me,’ Max said evenly. ‘I invited them.’

‘You forgot to mention it.’

‘I didn’t realize tonight was so formal.’

‘There’s a list of guests at the door. We wouldn’t want anyone from the gossip columns sneaking in.’

‘I’m hardly Donald Trump. Why would they be interested in anything
I
do?’

‘Mariska’s often in the columns. And now that you’re getting married to Amy Scott-Simon, it’s quite a story.’

‘For fuck’s sake!’ Max snapped. ‘I hate this!’

‘Calm down,’ Clive said quickly. ‘You’re not going to see anything tonight that you haven’t seen before.’

‘That’s comforting,’ Max said sarcastically.

‘The Japanese contingent are by the bar. Believe me, they’re
very
happy to be here. I’ll make sure they get a front-row view of all the action. If this doesn’t seal the deal I don’t know what will. Come over and say hello.’

Max followed Clive to the bar, where he made sure Mr Zagawaski and Mr Yamamoto felt suitably honoured.

After dealing with the two Japanese bankers, he strolled over to his brothers and sat down. ‘What’s going on?’ he said.

‘Well,’ Chris replied, downing a vodka on the rocks, ‘if you
really
want to know, my house in California is springing leaks, I’m breaking up with my girlfriend, I’m being chased by a guy to whom I owe money in Vegas, but, hey, apart from that I’m doing fine.’

‘You owe money?’ Max said disapprovingly.

‘A gambling debt.’

‘I’ve never gambled,’ Max said, drumming his fingers on the table. ‘It’s throwing money away.’

‘You got
any
vices?’ Jett asked curiously.

‘Mariska,’ Max answered drily. ‘She was vice enough. And, as you know, I dumped her.’

‘How’s Lulu?’ Jett asked.

‘Lulu’s a fantastic little girl, you
should
meet her.’

‘When?’

‘I suppose I could arrange a brunch tomorrow,’ Max said thoughtfully. ‘We usually spend Saturdays together.’

‘That’d be great.’

‘How about you?’ Max asked, turning to Chris. ‘Can you make it?’

‘Sorry, I have to see Birdy Marvel. She wants to get married, so it’s pre-nup time.’

‘The singer?’ Max said. ‘She’s Lulu’s favourite. Perhaps you can arrange to get her an autographed picture.’

‘How old is Lulu now?’

‘Five.’

‘Isn’t she a little young to be a fan of Birdy Marvel?’

‘Let me know when you meet her,’ Max said. ‘Five is yesterday’s ten. Lulu’s very grown-up.’

After drinks and mingling, everyone sat down. Dinner was served by six topless waitresses assisted by a dozen waiters. The waitresses wore nothing but high heels, sheer black stockings with lacy suspenders, and the mere whisper of a skirt. The waiters were fully dressed.

Caesar salad was the first course, followed by large portions of Kobe steak, with creamed horseradish potatoes and an assortment of steamed vegetables.

As Max chewed his steak, Red Diamond walked in. The shock was intense as the entire room fell into silence. Everyone knew who Red Diamond was.

Almost choking on his steak, Max stood up. ‘What’re
you
doing here?’

‘Surprising you,’ Red said, clicking his fingers at a waiter to pull up a chair for him next to Max.

‘Jesus, I–I thought you weren’t feeling well this morning. We came to the house for the meeting, and Jane told us—’

‘I recovered,’ Red interrupted, ‘so I thought I’d come visit my boys.’ He glanced over at Chris and Jett. ‘Hello, boys,’ he said sarcastically.

Jett froze. Red frightened the shit out of him. He never knew what to say in the presence of his father, even now, when there wasn’t a chance in hell the old man could take a stick to him.

Chris nodded, angry and resentful–the way Red always made him feel. And wasn’t the old man supposed to be on his deathbed? Why was he all dressed up in a suit and tie looking healthy as a fucking horse? ‘Hey, Dad,’ he managed.

‘Do
not
call me Dad,’ Red answered gruffly. ‘Sounds
old
. Call me Red. I’ve told you that since you were dumb little kids. Don’t any of you
ever
listen?’

‘Sure, Red,’ Chris mumbled, still in shock, and not too happy that he’d been forced to stay over–for
what
? Red Diamond did not look as if he was going anywhere soon.

‘Where’s the girlies?’ Red inquired, sitting down. ‘Where’s the cooze-fest?’

Red was the last person Max had expected to appear at his bachelor party. How the hell had the old man known about it anyway? Christ! As if the evening wasn’t uncomfortable enough.

Somehow or other he got through dinner, keeping a sharp eye on Red, who kept groping the half-naked waitresses. Chris and Jett weren’t any help: they spoke to each other in low voices, trying to pretend that the man who’d beaten the crap out of them when they were growing up wasn’t sitting a couple of feet away.

After dinner there was a series of ribald speeches, then finally the moment Max had been dreading–on came the strippers. Twelve nearly naked girls who couldn’t wait to get in everyone’s face, much to the delight of his other guests, especially Red.

The girls started off in clever little outfits, everything from school uniform to black-leather dominatrix gear, each girl more voluptuous than the next. The strippers were all shapes and sizes. The only thing they had in common was perfect bodies, and they sure knew how to use them. After a while a slippery pole sprang up in the middle of the stage, and each girl proceeded to caress and slide around it as if it were their greatest lover. They licked it, they rode up and down, they wrapped their long legs round it and simulated sex.

Max glanced around. The Japanese bankers seemed extremely happy. Chris was drinking too much. Jett was sitting back with a noncommittal expression, while Red was producing hundred-dollar bills and crudely sticking them into the girls’ crotches, his gnarly fingers copping a feel. Finally all twelve lined up, removed their G-strings, then proceeded to do a Rockettes-style high-kicking dance, giving every man in the place a bird’s eye view of their most private parts.

After that came the obligatory girl-on-girl show. Two spectacular women appeared on stage: a flame-haired beauty and a brunette, both with amazing bodies and plenty of enthusiasm.

Red was really into it. At one point he was almost on the stage with them, throwing money onto their undulating bodies, wheezing his appreciation.

The flame-haired woman was going down on the dark-haired one when Max decided he’d had enough. ‘Gotta get out of here,’ he mumbled to Chris, who was no help at all. ‘Can’t take another minute of this.’

‘Hey,’ Jett said. ‘I’ll come with you.’ He was anxious to distance himself from his father and get over to Gatsby’s. Besides, there was nothing more difficult than being in the company of drinkers when he couldn’t indulge, didn’t
want
to indulge. Even the girl-on-girl show was failing to turn him on: it was all so mechanical–‘You touch my left tit,’ ‘I’ll stick my tongue in your pussy,’ and so on.

‘Max, you can’t leave,’ Chris said, suddenly coming to life. ‘This is your damn party. There’s no way you can walk out on it.’

‘Yes, Mr
Diamond
, it’s
your
party,’ cooed one of the strippers, tossing a purple feather boa round his neck. ‘We have lots more fun coming up.’