Lovers & Players (26 page)

S
onja Sivarious studied the gold Rolex she’d stolen from Chris Diamond. Usually when she acquired a new piece of jewellery she sold it to her friendly neighbourhood fence, but there was something about the gold Rolex she coveted. It was masculine and heavy, which made her wrist appear delicate and girlish.

She was standing in the bathroom of Red Diamond’s apartment on 59th Street. Red Diamond, the billionaire. He was so old it was a shock that he could still get it up.

Her girlfriend and sometime partner in sex shows, Famka, had called her over on Saturday night, telling her there was money flying. Now it was late Sunday and the old man was
still
going strong. Viagra. What a drug! It made worn-out old cocks strong again.

Sonja sighed and felt sorry for all the tired old wives who were suddenly forced to deal with their husband’s raging libidos.

She sucked in her cheeks as she admired herself in the bathroom mirror. Little Sonja Sivarious from Slovakia. Somebody should write a poem about her. She’d done well for herself. A tall, skinny stick at school, the boys had taunted her and the girls had avoided her because of her impoverished background. She’d compensated by giving the boys what they wanted–the kind of things they couldn’t get from so-called nice girls. The result was that the boys chased after her, and the girls avoided her even more.

At sixteen she’d run away from home and taken a train to Prague with her cousin Igor, and a car salesman twenty years her senior. The car salesman had introduced her to other men, and soon she was making money. After a while, she’d hooked up with an older girl from the Ukraine, Famka, who, at nineteen, had seemed very worldly. They hit it off, and began putting on girl-on-girl shows–which were a big success until Famka took off for America with a rich businessman.

Two years later Famka sent for her. She went willingly, paying for Igor to come too.

Famka had solid connections to whom she introduced Sonja, and it wasn’t long before they were known around New York as an extremely versatile and obliging team.

Now, three years later, Sonja lived in a nice apartment. She had furs and jewels, and made plenty of money. She had her own connections, and when anyone required a special girl in New York, she was top of the recommended list. Which was how she’d come to do the job for Roth Giagante. It was a simple job–all she’d had to do was fuck the man Roth told her to, and pass on a message. She’d been unable to resist adding her own PS to the message she’d left scrawled on his bathroom mirror. Actually the guy was very attractive
and
excellent in the sack. But Sonja had a rule: she never told men they were accomplished in bed, better to let them worry.

Famka started knocking on the bathroom door. ‘He wants you,’ Famka called out. ‘Hurry!’

Of course he wants me
, Sonja thought, still admiring herself in the mirror.
I am the best
.

She strolled back into the bedroom, naked except for five-inch hooker heels and a low-slung belt of rhinestones round her waist, her flame-coloured hair reaching below her waist, matching her public hair–dyed and groomed into a neat landing-strip.

Famka had tied up the old man at his request. He was naked and decrepit, yet still unbelievably horny.

It occurred to Sonja that he’d taken too many of those stupid blue pills. He could suffer a stroke or a heart-attack, and if he did, she was out of there.

The old man didn’t look sick. He looked happy, with a shit-eating grin on his leathery face. ‘Come on, girlies,’ he said encouragingly. ‘Let’s see what you can do.’

‘Oh,
I
can do anything you want,’ Sonja boasted, standing with her legs astride, hands on her hips. ‘
Anything
.’

Chris was woken at three a.m. by the phone. He’d forgotten to leave a ‘Do Not Disturb’ on his line, which really pissed him off.

Inez was long gone. Once the sex was over, so was she. ‘A girl has to get her beauty sleep,’ she’d said, quite coyly for a girl who, a few minutes earlier, had been screaming like a banshee. Then she’d left his suite, which pleased him–he hated it when he had to persuade them to leave.

It was Roth on the phone.

‘Been thinkin’ about your idea,’ Roth said, in his raspy voice. ‘I talked to my PR like you suggested, and since I ain’t got my fuckin’ money yet, we may as well make the most of this opportunity. We’re gonna throw the fuckin’ wedding for Birdy Marvel.’

‘You got any idea what time it is?’ Chris mumbled, staring in disbelief at the illuminated clock-radio by the bed.

‘Who gives a fuck? You’re lucky I’m talkin’ to you.’

‘Yeah, lucky me,’ he said, covering a yawn.

‘Lucky you is right,’ Roth growled. ‘This don’t mean you’re off the hook with your debt. It buys you more time, that’s the deal.’

‘Okay,’ Chris said, still half asleep. ‘Have your PR call me tomorrow. Birdy expects it to be special, and the media has to be strictly controlled.’

‘Thought I’d give you the word before you went runnin’ to Peter Morton.’

‘Yeah, yeah,’ Chris said, and slammed down the phone.

After that, he couldn’t get back to sleep.

Should he call Inez? No. Even she wouldn’t come back at three a.m. Or maybe she would.

Then he started thinking. Why was sex so important in his life? Why had he always depended on it?

He knew why. Sex was his sleeping pill, his comfort zone. Jett had chosen drugs and booze, Max had thrown himself into work, while
his
vice was sex, although gambling had recently come a close second.

After a while he got out of bed and began pacing around the suite, finally settling in front of one of the huge windows. He gazed out at the view, admiring the city. New York was so beautiful at night, the sparkling lights and the streams of traffic looking like toys as they negotiated their way up and down the narrow streets.

Before long his mind was buzzing. Tomorrow, breakfast with Jett, then the meeting with Red, and after that he’d get on a plane and fly home.

Yeah–fly home. To
what?
No house, that was for sure. How depressing was
that?

He’d lost everything, and the kicker was he couldn’t even afford to rebuild until Roth was paid off.

No more gambling. The call of the tables had lost its lure.

It was almost four a.m. by the time Jett finally persuaded Gianna to leave the party.

‘I
love
New York,’ Gianna cried, throwing herself into a cab, bracelets jangling. ‘We spend more time here,
si
?’

‘Yeah, New York’s great,’ Jett agreed, yawning. ‘Especially when a person can get some sleep. Don’t you have to work tomorrow?’

‘Not until the afternoon.
We
go for fittings–you come too.’

‘Can’t wait!’ he said, yawning again.

‘Is
bene, carino
. They insist big name, but I say no,
you
.’

‘I’m big in Italy,’ he pointed out.

‘Italy one thing, America another,’ Gianna said sagely. ‘The ad campaign will be in all magazines. Is good for you,
sì
?’

‘It can’t hurt.’

‘This Slick Jimmy,’ Gianna mused. ‘I like his music. Is heavy beat, but good, huh?’

Everything was good, as far as Gianna was concerned. She was getting on his nerves. All he wanted to do was crawl into bed and get some sleep. Then he realized he’d only manage a few hours because he’d promised Chris he would join him for breakfast.

Gianna’s hand began moving up his thigh.

Christ! The woman was insatiable.

He removed her hand. His energy was spent. Mentally and physically he needed time out.

‘Something the matter,
carino
?’ she asked, looking hurt.

‘If I told you,’ he said wearily. ‘You’d never understand.’

Lady Jane Bentley did not sleep, she was too disturbed even to contemplate closing her eyes. She stayed up, waiting for Red to come home, determined to confront him.

Sometime in the early hours she realized he was staying out all night again.

She suspected he was
still
cavorting with whores.

To think she’d wasted six years with a despicable human being, a selfish billionaire incapable of loving anyone except himself. It was a travesty.

And the truth was that he probably did
not
love himself. How could he, when his lifelong focus had always been ruining other people’s lives?

‘Y
ou’re like a guy,’ Jett complained, as Gianna straddled him before he even had a chance to open his eyes.

It was Monday morning and he’d had, like, three hours’ sleep and now his so-called girlfriend was taking advantage of his piss hard-on and crawling all over him.

Gianna was perpetually horny. Sleep, no sleep, she was always in the mood.

At least he didn’t have a hangover. Back in the day he would’ve been wrecked, incapable of speech, unable to move. His head would’ve been pounding, his body quivering with misuse. Now he was merely tired.

Gianna, who’d spent the night imbibing everything from margaritas to champagne, seemed to be suffering no ill-effects. She was chirpy and horny–even her breath was sweet.

‘What the fuck?’ Jett groaned. ‘Can’t you wait until I hit the john?’

‘Why waste a good thing,
carino?
’ Gianna replied, lowering herself onto him, so that he slid inside her with no chance of escape.

Once he was on board, nature took its course, and before long he was as into it as she was. They rode the wave for at least ten minutes, both adept at holding back. When it was time, they came together in perfect unison.

‘
Fantastico!
’ Gianna exclaimed. ‘My Yankee boyfriend is
buono!
’

‘Don’t
say
that.’

‘Scusa?’

‘“Yankee boyfriend”, it sounds dumb.’

Gianna shrugged and got out of bed. ‘I take shower,’ she announced, stretching like a cat.

‘D’you mind if I take one first?’ he said quickly. ‘Gotta meet my brother for breakfast.’

‘We shower together,’ Gianna decided, striding toward the bathroom. ‘
Bene, carino
?’

Oh yeah, sure–
bene
. Given half a chance, this woman would be quite happy to fuck him to death.

Once more Chris was awoken by the phone. This time it was morning, and on the line was a tearful Birdy Marvel, informing him that she was finished with Rocky and he should immediately cancel their Las Vegas wedding.

This woke him up with a vengeance. Cancel the freaking wedding just when he’d got Roth Giagante all fired up about having it at his hotel? No way. ‘What’s the problem?’ he asked.

‘You were right about Rocky,’ Birdy sobbed. ‘He’s a pig.’

‘I never said he was a pig,’ Chris said patiently. ‘I merely said you should be sure you’re making the right decision.’

‘Well, I am,’ Birdy said, sounding like a truculent little girl. ‘I’m making the decision to, like,
never
see him again!’

‘What did he do?’

‘I can’t tell you,’ she wailed.

‘You’d better,’ he responded, wondering how he was going to break the news to Roth.

‘Can’t!’

Oh, shit. It was obviously something bad that she would expect him to take care of. ‘You can tell me, Birdy,’ he said, in a low, comforting voice. ‘You know you can tell me anything.’

A long pause while she thought about it. ‘Okay,’ she said at last. ‘Only it’s gotta stay between us, Chris. Promise?’

‘What?’ he coaxed.

‘He called me ugly.’

‘
Ugly
?’

‘Yes, ugly,’ she said indignantly. ‘Don’t you
dare
laugh at me, Chris.’

‘Who’s laughing?’

‘He said I was a spoiled ugly little girl, and he was leaving. So then he, like,
left
, and I
never
wanna see him
again
.’

‘Hmm…Well, you
know
you’re not ugly.
People
magazine just picked you as one of their fifty most beautiful. You’re on the cover of
W
and
Rolling Stone.
The guy is delusional if he called you ugly.’

‘I know. And I’m not even
pregnant
anymore.’

At least there was
some
good news. ‘Ignore him,’ Chris said. ‘He’s obviously a moron.’

‘You bet he
is,
’ she said fiercely. ‘A big
fat
horny moron.’

‘Do you want me to come over later?’

‘Hang on,’ Birdy whispered excitedly. ‘I think he just walked in. I’ll have to call you back.’

So much for never wanting to see the big fat horny moron again.

Chris got up and stretched. His body was screaming for a workout, and not the sexual kind. He decided to hit the gym and relieve some of the stress he knew was building up inside him.

Max’s housekeeper, Mrs Conner, a middle-aged stout woman, originally from Scotland, set a second batch of pancakes on Lulu’s plate.

‘Me
like
pancakes,’ Lulu said, licking maple syrup off her fingers.

‘I know you do, dear,’ said Mrs Conner.

‘Me too,’ Max agreed, glancing up from the
New York Times.
‘You make ’em good, Mrs Conner.’

‘Thank you, Mr Diamond.’

‘Me
like
staying with my daddy,’ Lulu crooned, tilting her head on one side. ‘Daddy! Daddy!
My
daddy!’

‘You’re a lucky girl,’ Mrs Conner said, giving Lulu a pat on the head.

‘Lucky! Lucky!
Lucky!
’ Lulu shrieked.

‘When Daddy marries Amy and we move into a new apartment,’ Max said, lowering his newspaper, ‘we’re going to decorate your room any way you like. What do you think of
that
?’

‘Lulu
likes
Hello Kitty,’ Lulu crooned, clapping her hands together. ‘Hello Kitty
bed
, an’
sheets
, an’
floor
, an’
ceiling
, an’ all over my
face
.’ She burst into a fit of giggles. ‘All over Daddy’s face too!’

‘Thanks.’

‘And Daddy’s
butt
!’ she said, giggling even more.

‘Excuse me?’

‘Butt! Butt!
Butt!
’

‘That’s no way for a lady to speak,’ he said sternly.

‘Lulu’s not a
lady,
Daddy,’ she said, all wide-eyed and innocent. ‘Lulu’s a little girl.’

‘Who taught you to say “butt”?’

‘Dunno,’ she answered vaguely.

‘Don’t say it again. It’s not nice.’

Nanny Reece entered the breakfast room. ‘We should be on our way, Mr Diamond,’ she said, stiff English accent firmly in place. ‘I have to get Lulu changed for school.’

‘My driver’s downstairs,’ Max said. ‘I’ll come with you. I need to speak to Mrs Diamond.’

‘Very well,’ Nanny Reece said. ‘Come along, Lulu.’

‘Come along, Lulu,’ the little girl mimicked. ‘Come along! Come along!
Come along!
’

She raced over to Mrs Conner and gave her a big hug. ‘Lulu go school now. ’Bye.’

‘Be a good girl,’ Mrs Conner said. ‘Don’t be doing anything
I
wouldn’t do.’

Lulu giggled and dashed out of the room.

Max put down his newspaper and stood up. He’d been scanning the paper, searching for any stories of unidentified murder victims. Now he thought how foolish he was to have believed Mariska and her threats against Vladimir. He told himself once again that she was lying as usual, bluffing and lying, for that was her way.

Today he planned on clearing things up. First on his agenda was setting Mariska straight.

He was going to make
sure
that Vladimir was deported. It was the only answer.

‘Hi,’ Amy said. ‘How do you
feel?
’

Tina was sitting in her hospital bed, propped up by several pillows. The baby was lying in a crib next to her.

‘Like a truck zipped through my snatch,’ Tina said, making a face. ‘Other than that, I’m perfectly fine.’

‘Sounds painful.’

‘
Is
painful. Only every time I take a peek at Brad Junior, it’s definitely worth it.’

‘He’s
so
gorgeous,’ Amy said, bending down and peering into the crib. ‘Those eyelashes!’

‘Never mind the eyelashes, how about his thingy?’ Tina quipped. ‘It’s
all
Brad can talk about. My husband is obsessed!’

‘Typical,’ Amy said, smiling. ‘The proud papa.’

‘Oh, he’s proud all right. He can’t wait to tell anyone who’ll listen that size runs in the family!’

‘I think that’s rather sweet.’

‘I’ll let you know,’ Tina said, taking a sip of water. ‘You’re here early. Everything okay?’

‘I wanted to see you before I went to work.’

‘Because…?’

‘Because nothing. You just had a baby, so I thought you’d appreciate an early-morning visit.’

‘Sure,’ Tina said disbelievingly, moving around in search of a more comfortable position. ‘
You’
ve got something on your mind. You
know
you can never hide anything from me.’

‘Hmm…’ Amy murmured.

‘Hmm
what?
’

‘You
do
know me,’ Amy said, perching on the edge of the bed.

‘So?’

‘Mystery Man.’

‘What about him?’ Tina asked eagerly.

‘He’s not a mystery anymore.’

‘Oh, no! You
didn’t
,’ Tina exclaimed. ‘You
bad
girl, you went to his apartment.’

‘Certainly not.’

‘What, then?’

‘At the party last night, did you happen to notice Max’s brother, the young one?’

‘The guy with the Italian model?’

‘That’s the one.’

‘What about him?’

‘Uh…did he look familiar to you?’

‘Now that you mention it…’ Then Tina got it. ‘No!’ she yelled, sitting up straight. ‘You are
kidding
me! That’s
impossible
!’

‘Unfortunately it’s true,’ Amy said, feeling better for sharing. ‘Mystery Man is a mystery no more. Mystery Man is Jett Diamond, Max’s brother.’

And before Tina could react further, Brad came bounding in laden with flowers, magazines and a big box of chocolates. ‘Hi, girls,’ he said. ‘What’s going on?’

Chris left a message at the desk for Jett to meet him at the hotel gym. He should’ve thought about working out before, he needed a boost of energy.

The first person he ran into at the gym was Inez. She was jogging on one of the treadmills clad in shorts and a stomach-baring red tank. ‘Hi,’ she said, waving at him as if they were no more than casual acquaintances.

And actually, he thought, that was
all
they were–casual acquaintances who’d enjoyed a vigorous late-night fuck.

‘Hey,’ he responded, making his way to the racks of weights.

There were a few other people in the gym, but no one he knew. He warmed up for a few minutes, then started lifting, enjoying the pull on his muscles, feeling the burst of strength that working out always gave him.

He couldn’t help wondering that if Red hadn’t summoned him to New York, would he still have lost his house? Had he stayed in L.A., was there
some
way he could’ve saved it?

Common sense told him no.

Fantasy told him yes.

Damn Red Diamond. Anything he touched turned to shit.

He shouldn’t have come running to New York. It had been a mistake. He didn’t want the old man’s money, after all. It wasn’t worth the price.

And there
would
be a price. Oh, yes, with Red Diamond there was
always
a price.

Jett did not believe in relationships. Relationships were crap. Strictly for people who wanted to spend the rest of their sorry lives tied to one person.

Then he’d met Amy.

Then he’d slept with Amy.

And suddenly he was a believer.

Only one problem. Amy, as it turned out, was his big brother’s fiancée. How lucky was
that
?

So what the hell did she see in Max?

Boring
Max, who put business before all else.

Dull Max, who only shone in the boardroom.

Uptight Max, who, no doubt, was a total dud in bed.

Striding down Park Avenue on his way to meet Chris, he still couldn’t get Amy off his mind. The wedding was coming up, and he felt totally helpless because there was nothing he could do to stop it. Absolutely nothing.

Unless, of course…he told Max the truth.

That was a thought. Tell big brother the truth and watch Amy’s world crumble.

No, he couldn’t do that to her. She was too special. She deserved better than him opening his big mouth.

He had to see her, that was for sure. He was determined to find out what was on her mind when she’d come back to his apartment and slept with him.

But how was he going to arrange to meet her without Max finding out?

Chris would have an answer. Chris was an expert at figuring things out.

Sitting in the back of Max’s car with Nanny Reece, Lulu chatted all the way to the apartment. She commented on everything as she gazed out of the window: ‘Look, Daddy, see the big dog’–‘Look, Daddy, funny man lying down on the sidewalk’–‘Look, Daddy, see the horsy go poop!’

‘Language!’ Max said, causing Lulu to dissolve into one of her giggling fits.

‘Poop! Poop!
Poop!
’ Lulu screamed, her face bright red with excitement. ‘Poop! Poopie! Poo
pie!
’

‘That’s enough,’ Max said, turning round to glare at Nanny Reece, who sat there like a stoic lump. He decided it was time to have a word with Mariska about her choice of nanny–this woman had zero personality, and no control over his child.