Rock Star (39 page)

It wasn’t until Rafealla began to lose her breath that she realized they should go back. When she looked around for Odile, she couldn’t find her.

‘Damn!’ she muttered, knowing there was no way she could return without her, Rupert would be furious.

Now she tried to ignore the samba beat and the oscillating mass of bodies as her eyes began to search for Odile. An impossible task. Should she turn around? Continue forward?

Oh God! What to do?

A creature in an orange satin bikini, a trailing ruffled skirt, and exaggerated makeup pounced upon her. ‘Dahling!’ the creature shrieked in a distinctly male voice, even though it had jutting breasts. ‘Dahling! Dahling! Dahling!’

Breaking away she tripped and almost fell. The creature pursued her.

‘Go away!’ she yelled.

‘Be . . . ooo . . . tiful!
Sooo
be . . . oo . . . tiful.’

She didn’t feel beautiful, she felt nervous. Suddenly all of Jorge’s warnings came back to her.

The Carnival is dangerous . . .

Murders . . .

Assaults . . .

Pickpockets everywhere . . .

The thieves wait all year for these few days . . .

And most chilling of all –
Lepers walk the streets during Carnival . . .

With a sudden shiver she twisted the huge diamond on her finger so it didn’t show, clenching her hand shut.

The creature waved gaily and danced off. Was she being paranoid? How could anything happen to her with all these people around? Resolutely she pressed on, furious with Odile for getting lost, and just as furious with herself for allowing it to happen.

An hour later she had no idea where she was. All she could do was wander the crowded streets like a zombie, hot, tired, despairing. If only she could get a cab, she would throw herself in it and go home. Odile had probably found her way back to the box ages ago, and Jorge – no doubt – had bodyguards combing the city for her. She felt like a fool as all around her the big street party went on, getting louder and wilder and more out of control.

Men were hitting on her from all sides, she was hearing everything from obscenely suggestive whispers to outright, bold come-ons.

Hands reached out to touch as she hurried by.

Stay calm
, she told herself.
Don’t panic.

Two men slammed into her, pushing her up against a wall as their rough hands roamed her body.

‘Leave me alone,’ she shouted, bringing her knee up and kicking out as hard as she could.

Right on target. One of the men howled with pain as the other snatched the gold beads from around her neck and dragged off her gold hoop earrings.

The man she had kicked suddenly went crazy, his ugly face contorted with rage. ‘Amerikain feelth!’ he roared, just before smashing her in the face with his beringed fist.

She slid to the ground, unconscious.

Bobby Mondella

1983

Hiya, Bobby.’

‘Hey, Sharleen baby, you are lookin’ great!’

His words were strictly automatic. She looked terrible, overweight with bloated features.

Touching her hair she laughed self-consciously. ‘Never bullshit a bullshitter. I
know
what I look like – an’ Diana Ross it ain’t. I gotta lose a pound or two.’

‘Hey – she’s nothin’ but a skinny little thing,’ he joked, trying to warm her up. ‘I like a woman with some
flesh
on her bones.’

‘I heard you just like women – period.’

‘That’s my lifestyle, baby.’

‘I also heard you like one special woman a
whole
lot. An’ honey, I am here to tell you, it ain’t exactly peachy for your health.’

They faced each other in his suite at the Helmsley Palace Hotel in New York. Sharleen had called and asked if she could come over. He hadn’t seen her for two years, and since she was an old friend he’d said yes. Usually it wasn’t that easy to get an audience with Bobby Mondella.

‘How about some champagne?’ he asked, cradling his glass of bourbon – the constant soothing companion.

‘Why not?’ she said, throwing off her fur coat.

With a gesture he summoned one of his bodyguards lurking at the back of the large living room.

‘Champagne for Sharleen.’

An impassive nod.

‘And I’ll have another bourbon.’

‘Bobby, Bobby, Bobby,’ she sing-songed. ‘You
really
made it, didn’t you?’

‘That’s kind of an
old
story,’ he remarked. There was nothing he hated more than being reminded of his humble beginnings. Nichols was always trying to pull that garbage, until one day he’d told him if he ever mentioned the Chainsaw and how he was a men’s room attendant one more time, he would seriously think about switching record companies again.

‘You don’t wanna discuss old times?’ she asked, smoothing her dress down over generous curves.

‘I don’t get off on that. Do you?’

‘When I’m feelin’ blue I can get a real kick goin’ back over it. Y’know, thinkin’ ’bout how I’d change things, maybe do it differently.’

The bodyguard handed her a glass of champagne and she began to sip the cold bubbly liquid. Bobby noticed her hand was shaking. Ever so slightly, but it was still a shake. He’d heard her marriage had broken up and she was still involved with drugs.

Funny, once Sharleen had been the most important person in the world to him, and he would have done anything for her. Now she was just another face from his past – and who needed to be reminded?

‘So . . .’ he said, hoping she wouldn’t stay too long. ‘And what can I do for you, pretty lady?’

Glancing at the two bodyguards stationed at the back of the room she said, ‘Can we talk . . . privately?’

He gestured to the guards. ‘Come back in ten minutes.’

The two burly men left.

‘Wow!’ she exclaimed sarcastically. ‘Ten whole minutes. I’m honoured.’

Ignoring her sarcasm he said, ‘Gotta get a lot done before I fly back to L.A.’

Glancing around the luxurious suite she said, ‘They’re sure travellin’ you in style.’

‘Better than Blue Cadillac ever did.’

‘Blue Cadillac made you the star you are today.’

‘I could have done it without them,’ he replied evenly.

‘You really think that, huh? I guess you’re forgetting that after strugglin’ with Soul On Soul for all those years, you were still just another black singer. Marcus Citroen put you where you are today. He
made
you. Surely you gotta, admit that?’

‘What is this?’ he asked restlessly. ‘A pitch to get me back with Blue Cadillac?’

‘No, honey. It’s a pitch to get you to stop leanin’ on Marcus’s wife. He doesn’t like it an’, Bobby, I’m warnin’ you, you’d better quit, otherwise you’re in real trouble.’

Was she serious? How dare she come to him with this. ‘Still keepin’ the old man warm at night, huh?’ he asked with a mirthless laugh. ‘You haven’t had a hit in two years. I would’ve thought he’d dumped you by now. But I guess he figures he can still use you to run his dirty errands, huh?’

Carefully she placed her glass of champagne on the table, and reached for her fur coat. ‘I knew you’d be too stubborn to listen.’

‘You can tell your fine friend Mr C,’ Bobby said angrily, ‘to take his warnings an’ choke on ’em. You can tell your mother-fuckin’ friend to dance at his own funeral. Because I
DON
’
T CARE.
One of these days Nova’s goin’ to leave him. An’ when she does, I’ll be waitin’. An’ all the threats in the world ain’t gonna change
that.
So, woman, shift out of here with your man’s messages. I don’t like bein’ threatened. Especially by you.’

Brown eyes flashing angrily she said, ‘Thank you, Bobby. What a Prince! Only thing is – Marcus never sent me, I came on my own, because once, a very long time ago, we were friends, an’ I felt I owed you. But, honey, you are one changed person, an’ I don’t like what I see.’

‘Shove some more coke up your nose an’ tell me what you don’t like,’ he said harshly.

‘Hey, man, last night I shoved it all over your girlfriend’s pussy while Marcus eyeballed me licking it off. How does
that
grab you?’

‘You’re a
lying
bitch!’

‘No, I’m not. I may be a doper, but baby, I don’t make things up. Nova plays games with people. It’s her kick. You’d better remember that’s all you are to her – another kick. A big black stud she can control. So don’t go gettin’ no ideas ’bout how she loves you – ’cos, baby, you are on the
wrong
track. She’ll
never
leave Marcus, you can bet on it. Only I’m here to tell you – you’re pissin’ him off, man. So I’ve warned you, an’ that’s all I can do.’

She slammed her way from the suite.

Goddamn her! Why was she coming to him with her filthy lies?

Maybe Marcus forced her to do it. Yes. That was it. Marcus wanted to make Nova look bad, and what better way than to say she was rolling on the bed making out with Nova.

Angrily he picked up the phone and called Nova on her private line.

‘Hello.’ She sounded guarded.

‘It’s me,’ he said.

Her voice was brisk and to the point. ‘I can’t talk now. My dressmaker is here.’

‘One question.’

A testy ‘Yes?’

‘What did you do last night?’

‘I told you yesterday. We had a business dinner at Le Cirque.’

‘Who with?’

‘Several people.’

‘Was Sharleen one of them?’

A pause. ‘I think so.’

‘You
think
so. Either she was there or she wasn’t.’

‘Yes, she was there.’

Was she licking your pussy while Marcus watched?
He didn’t believe it. Not for a moment.

‘Why?’ Nova asked curiously.

‘Hey – it’s not important. I’ll see you at our usual place.’

‘Five o’clock?’

‘You got it.’

Hanging up the phone he wondered how he could ever have doubted her. Sure Sharleen was there. Why not? She was still a Blue Cadillac star – even if a slightly tarnished one.

As soon as the moment was right, Nova had promised she was going to leave Marcus. ‘Don’t force me into a corner,’ she’d said. ‘You have to let me do it my way.’

True, he was still waiting after giving her an ultimatum two years ago, but what choice did he have other than giving her up, and he couldn’t do that.

They still saw each other as often as possible. In Los Angeles they met at the secret beach house, and in New York at a small apartment he’d rented under an assumed name in a discreet building off Madison Avenue.

Arriving at the apartment ten minutes before five, he was there before her. Time to fix himself a drink, and put on some music. Today he chose Teddy Pendergrass.

Nova appeared promptly at five o’clock, wearing a belted mink coat, dark glasses and a headscarf.

‘I wish you wouldn’t call me at home,’ was her opening line. ‘Staff gossip, you know. I can’t trust anyone.’

He hadn’t seen her in six weeks – her greeting could have been warmer.

Walking into the bedroom she started unbelting her coat, throwing it onto the bed. And then she began unzipping her dress.

They did have a very sexual relationship. But was that all it was – sex?

‘Hey – hold it a minute,’ he said.

‘I have exactly one hour,’ she replied crisply.

Sharleen’s words taunted him –
That’s all you are to her – another kick. A big black stud she can control.
‘How’s the move going?’ he asked.

Stepping out of her dress, she said, ‘What move?’

‘Your move out of Marcus’s life an’ into mine,’ he said tightly.

‘I’m working on it.’

‘You’re always workin’ on it, babe. The thing is I can’t understand why it’s takin’ you so long. It’s not like you have kids to think about.’

‘Ah, but we do have property, and I want to make sure I walk away with my fair share.’

‘
I
can give you everything you’ll ever need. How many times do I have to tell you that?’

Reaching towards him she fiddled with his belt, softening her tone. ‘Let’s go to bed, Bobby, I’ve missed you.’

He moved away from her. ‘Nova, I’m not in the mood.’

She laughed disbelievingly. ‘You’re
always
in the mood.’

How come she sounded so sure of herself? Was he that easy? ‘I am?’ he asked coldly.

Confidently she tugged at his belt. ‘You certainly are.’

Drawing even further away from her he said, ‘Today I want to talk.’

About to argue, she changed her mind and sat down on the side of the bed, primly crossing her legs clad in stockings and a lace garter belt. ‘Go ahead,’ she said in a resigned voice.

‘I think,’ his words were measured, ‘that you’re givin’ me the run-around.’

She tapped her long, scarlet nails on the side of the bed. ‘Really?’

‘Yes, really. Because I can’t see why it’s takin’ you all this time to leave Marcus.’

‘Hmmm . . .’

‘What’s
that
supposed to mean?’

‘It means,’ she said with a slight pause, ‘I’ll do it when I can.’

Switching the subject, all the better to catch her off-guard, he said, ‘Were you in bed with Sharleen last night? Was Marcus watchin’ the two of you?’

The look of guilty surprise which swept across her face told him everything he needed to know.

‘Aw, shit,’ he said wearily. ‘You never had any intention of leavin’ him, did you?’

Recovering her composure she said, ‘There are things I do with Marcus that mean nothing. Last night was one of them.’ She paused. ‘With you, it’s different.’

Bitterly he said, ‘Sure.’

‘I told you once, and you refused to listen to me. If I ever left Marcus he’d have us both killed. He can do it, you know. He can arrange anything.’

This was all getting too much. ‘Nova, put your clothes on an’ go home. I’ve just about had it with you.’

For once in her life she looked vulnerable, the veneer of. sophistication stripped away. ‘I was only protecting us, Bobby.’

‘Yeah, I bet.’

‘One day perhaps you’ll understand.’