Thrill

by Jackie Collins

  This totally freaked Christel, who imagined it might go off one night and pierce one of her very expensive silicone breasts. She got on my case so often that I used to take the gun out and point it at her simply to piss her off.

  Hey—when you’re stoned out of your head, you do strange things.

  Eventually, Christel left me. Bitch! When you get right down to it, they’re all bitches.

  So there I was, a drugged-out beach bum with no money, and boy, I needed money badly, because I couldn’t get through the day without a little help from my pharmaceutical friends.

  Then I remembered Hadley. She owed me, because she was the cunt who’d gotten me fired.

  Hadley lived in a mansion at the top of Angelo Drive, bought for her by her gangster boyfriend who resided in New York with his plump Sicilian wife.

  I drove up there one night with good intentions. All I wanted was to borrow a couple of thousand until I got it together again.

  There was nobody home except Hadley. Her boyfriend wouldn’t let her have live-in servants on account of the fact that he didn’t want anybody proving he stayed there when he was in town.

  She answered the door herself, staring at me like she was seeing a ghost.

  “Yeah, I know,” I said. “It’s been a coupla years. I don’t look so hot, right?”

  “You look like dog shit,” she said flatly. “What do you want?”

  “Missed you, too,” I said, not pleased with her snotty attitude.

  “You’re stoned,” she said in a disgusted voice.

  “Does that mean you won’t lend me money?”

  “Get the fuck out of here,” she snapped.

  A woman telling me to get the fuck out. Me! I couldn’t believe it. Usually they were begging me to stay.

  “Do you wanna repeat that?” I said belligerently.

  “You heard me,” she said.

  Enough was enough. I took out my gun, pointing it straight at her.

  She went very pale and stepped back into the house, reaching for a conveniently placed panic button.

  Not convenient enough. Quick as a flash I slapped her arm away and burst into the house.

  She began to kick and struggle, somehow or other jogging my trigger finger. Anyway, I think that’s what happened. The gun went off, blowing a gaping hole in her chest that seemed bigger than China. She fell like a fucking stone.

  Jesus! Whatever else happens to me I’ll never forget that moment. I was totally high, but even through the fog, I realized what I’d done.

  I turned and ran from the house like a maniac, sweat pouring down my face.

  Halfway along the driveway I remembered I’d touched the door handle, so I raced back, taking off my shirt and wiping off the handle—the only thing I could recall touching. Then I made it to my car and somehow or other drove to the beach.

  Hadley’s murder made the second page of the L.A. Times. Even in death she wasn’t a star.

  There was nothing to connect me to her, but just in case, I took off for Mexico, where I spent the next couple of years drying out.

  It was the start of a new beginning.

  CHAPTER

  41

  KIMBERLY HAD TO GO. SHE was becoming a total whiner, and Richard didn’t care to be reminded of his cheating nature every time he glanced in her direction. He’d slept with her no more than four or five times; now she wanted more. “When are you telling Nikki?” she kept asking.

  Telling Nikki? Was she insane!

  Why did women have to place so much importance on sex? Casual sex was exactly that, and they should get with the program and understand.

  But how to get rid of her without a sexual harassment suit? Kimberly was the type who wouldn’t think twice about trying to ruin a man’s career.

  The truth was he should have stayed married to Lara. She was beautiful, undemanding and, most of all, truly nice. But no, he’d had to screw that up too, systematically fucking his way through each year of marriage with a variety of different women.

  What a jerk he’d been. He would never forget the look on Lara’s face when she’d caught the makeup girl giving him head in his trailer. Her face had turned to stone. “I want a divorce,” she’d said, and after that there was no going back.

  With Nikki he’d managed to stay faithful for almost two years. Now Kimberly and her chewable nipples were giving him a hard time.

  “I’d love to visit your house again,” Kimberly said, sneaking up behind him as he stood by the window in his office. “Can I?”

  “It’s not possible,” he said, furious she would even ask. “Nikki’s in town.”

  “When are you telling her?” Kimberly demanded, like she had a right to know.

  “I’ll get around to it,” he lied.

  And so the dance continued.

  • •

  As Nikki drew up outside the house in Malibu, she noticed that Richard’s Mercedes was not in his parking space, even though it was nearly nine. He’d probably gotten fed up with waiting for her and popped out for something to eat. She knew she should’ve called, but quite frankly, he was the last person on her mind at the moment.

  All the way home she’d been thinking about Aiden and the things he’d said. It didn’t seem possible Summer could behave in such a way, and yet, why not? She’s my daughter, Nikki thought, and I was just as adventurous at her age. In fact, I married Sheldon at sixteen because he knocked me up.

  Like mother, like daughter.

  Oh, God! What was she going to do?

  Send her back to Chicago, that’s what. But first—even though she was dreading it—she had to accept her responsibility and talk to her. A mother-daughter talk was way overdue.

  • •

  Summer was to rendezvous with Tina at the same open-air restaurant on Sunset Plaza they’d met at before. Earlier in the day they’d gone shopping on Melrose, and Tina had loaned her the money to buy a short purple tank dress—very sexy—and some high wedgie sandals. After their shopping jaunt she’d rushed back to the beach to work on her tan.

  Things were looking up. As long as she could avoid going back to Chicago and the all-encompassing arms of her father, she’d be happy.

  Just before she left to meet Tina again, Richard arrived home. “Where are you going all dressed up?” he asked with an indulgent smile.

  “Another party,” she replied, surreptitiously tugging at her short dress, which barely covered the top of her golden thighs.

  “I thought you’d be partied out by now,” he remarked, fixing himself a vodka on the rocks.

  “Oh, Richard,” she said, gazing at him wistfully, big blue eyes drawing him in. “I wish I could stay here forever. You promised to talk Mom into letting me stay. Please do it, Richard. Please.”

  “I’m trying,” he said, digging into his pants pocket and handing her fifty dollars. “You’ll need this for cabs.”

  “Thanks!” she said gratefully.

  Richard was so easy, especially now she had something on him. Of course, she didn’t blame him for making out with his assistant while Nikki was away. She’d often wondered what he saw in her stupid mother anyway. Okay, so Nikki was pretty, but she was also dumb. She must’ve been dumb to have left her daughter with Sheldon in Chicago. Didn’t she realize what a sicko pervert he was?

  Whenever Summer thought about her mother, she conveniently forgot the screaming fits she’d thrown, insisting she was happier with her father and would kill herself if Nikki didn’t let her live with him. Those were distant memories she didn’t care to revisit.

  At the restaurant, Tina was already sitting at a table, looking pleased with herself. “Park your butt,” she said, patting the chair next to her. “I’ve a shitload of stuff to tell you.”

  “What?” Summer asked, adjusting her Guess sunglasses, which she’d purchased that afternoon.

  “Darlene told me this movie-star dude wants to meet both of us,” Tina said excitedly. “How way out is that?”

  “Both of us?” Summer quest
ioned.

  “You know,” Tina said, giggling knowingly. “For fun. We’re on our way to making megabucks, sister!”

  The waiter came over. Summer couldn’t help checking him out. He was typical L.A., with long, blond hair and a surfer’s body. Another out-of-work actor waiting to be discovered, she thought. L.A. was full of them. That’s what made it such an awesome place!

  She ordered pizza and a milkshake—she hadn’t eaten all day and felt quite light-headed—while Tina went for an iced coffee.

  “Will he take us out?” she asked, imagining a night at the Viper Room or some other happening club.

  Tina screwed up her nose. “You’re a bit naive, aren’t you?”

  “I’m not naive,” she said flatly. “I’ve done things you wouldn’t even dream about.”

  “Then there’s no problem,” Tina said, waving at a guy in a passing Ferrari. “It’ll be the two of us and him.”

  Summer frowned. “I don’t get it.”

  “Oh, c’mon,” said Tina, a touch scornful. “Haven’t you ever done it with a girl before? That’s what all these guys are into—watching two girls together. Especially two young innocents like us. Ha! If they only knew!”’

  “You mean like . . . sex?” Summer asked hesitantly.

  “Why are you even thinking about it?” Tina said irritably. “You would’ve done it for nothing with that sleazy dog Aiden Sean, so what’s the big deal?”

  “At least I knew him.”

  “So you’ll know this other guy soon.”

  “Who is he anyway?”

  “Dunno, but Darlene said he’s a major babe. And trust me, she knows major babes.”

  The waiter delivered their order.

  “The guys are gonna love us!” Tina said, giggling again. “And it’s not like you’ll be doing anything you wouldn’t do with a date. ’Cept this way you get paid, and you get a lot more respect.”

  “How come?” Summer asked, slurping her milkshake.

  “ ’Cause they’re paying for it, dummy. They know you’re a pro.”

  For a moment, Summer thought about the road she was about to embark on. Sex with a stranger for money. Wouldn’t that make her a prostitute?

  No. Prostitutes cruised Sunset giving blow jobs to people like Hugh Grant in the back of cars. Prostitutes were cheap bimbos in vinyl boots and fake leopard miniskirts, with bad hair.

  “What time are we meeting him?” she asked, feeling excited and apprehensive all at the same time.

  “Chill,” Tina said, sipping her iced coffee. “We don’t have to be at his hotel until nine. I’m psyched, aren’t you?”

  “You bet!” said Summer, not quite sure how she felt.

  • •

  No Richard to aggravate her. No Summer to drive her crazy. Neither of them were home.

  Nikki didn’t know what to do. Should she call Sheldon? It was just before midnight in Chicago, and he probably wouldn’t appreciate a late-night phone call. Anyway, she could just imagine the conversation. Hi, Sheldon. I’m sorry to tell you that your little golden girl has been going around giving out blow jobs. What shall we do about it?

  Of course Sheldon would blame her. Why do you think I never allowed her to live with you? he’d say. It’s your bad influence, Nikki. She learns from you.

  No, telling him about this problem would only complicate matters.

  Why did this have to happen just as she was about to commence the biggest career move of her life? Producing a movie was not an easy job. She’d need every ounce of concentration she could muster to make sure it didn’t get away from her—especially with a wild card like Mick Stefan directing, and an even wilder card like Aiden Sean starring.

  Another thought occurred to her. Should she fire Mick before it was too late? Because once they started shooting it would be impossible.

  No. Firing him now would create problems too big to contemplate. Much as she dreaded facing him, the movie had to go on. After all, it wasn’t as if he’d known Summer was her daughter.

  Oh, God! Decisions, decisions. Maybe she should dump the whole thing on Richard and see what solution he came up with.

  But Richard wasn’t around. He hadn’t even left a note saying where he’d gone.

  She thought about calling Lara, then changed her mind. Now that Lara was with Joey, she wasn’t as available as she used to be. Anyway, it wasn’t fair to burden her with this.

  Making her way into Summer’s room, Nikki stood in the doorway observing chaos. Obviously the maid had given up, because all she could see was a messy jumble of clothes, CDs, spilled makeup, magazines, Seven-Up cans, dirty dishes and several dried up slices of pizza. What a mess!

  She realized it probably was her fault. She’d been sixteen when she’d given birth to Summer, and had never quite reconciled herself to the fact that she had the responsibility of a young child to raise. The truth was, she’d been happy to leave Summer with Sheldon in Chicago, enabling her to go off and have a life.

  And yet, deep down, she’d always wanted to be there for her daughter.

  Unfortunately, Sheldon had never given her the opportunity.

  She found a yellow legal pad and wrote on it in large bold letters with a felt-tip pen.

  MEET ME IN THE KITCHEN AT 8:00 A.M.

  DO NOT LEAVE THE HOUSE UNTIL WE TALK.

  Then she placed the pad in the center of Summer’s unmade bed, went into the living room and fixed herself a much-needed drink.

  • •

  Two hours later, Richard arrived home.

  “Hi,” Nikki said, now on her third vodka.

  “Hi,” he replied, brushing off her hug.

  “Everything okay?” she said, following him into the bedroom.

  “Why wouldn’t it be?” he said, removing his jacket and throwing it on the bed.

  “Where did you go?” she asked.

  He gave her an uptight look. “Would you care for a written report?”

  “No,” she said, holding her temper. “That won’t be necessary. I merely wondered if you’d eaten.”

  “Yes,” he said, leaving the bedroom and going to his study. He’d taken Kimberly to a quiet restaurant farther along the beach, and she’d blown him in the car. Now he felt guilty.

  Nikki trailed behind him. He’d been drinking. She could smell it all over him. She could also make out the scent of another woman’s perfume.

  Suddenly she knew why he was being so distant. The sonofabitch was back to his old habits—he was screwing around on her!

  This was all she needed. Goddamn it! Why hadn’t she seen it coming? Why had she been so blindly self-confident that she’d thought he wouldn’t do to her what he’d done to Lara.

  She waited until he was settled at his computer. Then she went back into the bedroom and did something she’d sworn she’d never do—rifled through his jacket pockets.

  Bingo! A packet of condoms, one missing.

  Bingo! A credit card receipt, dinner for two at The Ivy.

  Bingo! A handkerchief with lipstick on it, not her color.

  How could she have been so stupid?

  Overcome with fury, she marched back into his study. “I want you to pack up and get out,” she said, angrily.

  He looked at her like she was totally insane. “What?”

  “Bad enough that you’re drinking again,” she continued, her voice rising. “But other women? Oh no, I don’t think so.”

  “Are you crazy?” he said irritably.

  Her heart was pounding like a sledgehammer. “Yes, I’m crazy,” she said vehemently. “Crazy to have imagined you’d ever change.”

  “Calm down.”

  “Fuck you, Richard,” she said, waving the packet of condoms in his face. “Fuck you for reverting to your cheating self.” And she threw the dinner receipt on his desk, hurled the incriminating handkerchief on the floor and marched to the door. “Get out, Richard. And don’t come back. It’s over.”

  CHAPTER

  42

  NORMAN BARTON OPE
NED THE DOOR of his hotel suite, wearing a rakish grin, holding a glass of champagne in one hand and clutching a joint in the other.

  Norman was puppy-dog handsome, with big brown eyes, a cowlick of muddy brown hair and a wide, toothy grin. He was in his mid-twenties and not very tall. “Evening, ladies,” he said with exaggerated politeness and a sweeping if somewhat drunken bow. “Enter the land of good times.”

  Summer recognized him immediately. He’d starred in a family TV series, then made it big in movies. He was constantly being written about in the tabloids and fan magazines. He’d been engaged three times, and when Heidi Fleiss got busted, his was one of the famous names mentioned in her little black book.

  Tina nudged her. “Told you!” she whispered triumphantly.

  Inside the hotel suite stood a small, skinny Hispanic man, somewhat older than Norman. Clinging to his arm was an exceptionally tall, sour-faced brunette, clad in slinky black leather.

  “Park your butts, girls,” said Norman, indicating the couch. “And tell me your pleasure? A joint, champagne? Or how about a little nose candy?”

  “I’ll take a joint,” Summer said boldly.

  Norman grabbed her hand. “Now that’s my kind of girl,” he said with a boyish grin. “And pretty, too. Veree pretty—just the way I like ’em.”

  Summer breathed a little easier. She could get through this if all she had to do was be nice to this guy. He was cuter than Aiden Sean any day, although Aiden had that dangerous edge she hankered after.

  She sat down on the couch next to Tina. The Hispanic man ignored them; so did his girlfriend.

  “Listen, Norman,” the Hispanic man said in a low, growly voice. “I gotta get outta here. You have my money?”

  “What’s your hurry?” Norman grumbled. “You’re always in such a freakin’ hurry. Whyn’t you stay an’ join the party?”

  “He don’ wanna join no party,” his girlfriend said, scowling. “We have places to go. Give him what you owe, an’ let us get the fuck outta here.”

  “Okay, okay,” Norman said, throwing up his hands. “Don’t get in a snit.” He winked at Tina and Summer. “You two sit tight while I go take care of business.” He beckoned to the Hispanic man and his bad-tempered girlfriend, and the three of them vanished into the bedroom, closing the door.