* * *
'Why don't you come to any of my parties?' Charlie Dollar asked, watching her closely. 'I know Arnie's offered to bring you up to my house.'
'That's exactly why,' Jordanna replied, sipping a Jack Daniel's to keep him company, although she really didn't like the taste.
Charlie chuckled. 'Don't like Arnie, huh?'
'Would you like him if he was hitting on you?'
'Kiddo, you got a great look,' Charlie said, still watching her with a half-lidded stare.
'Thank you.'
'You got a touch of your mother mixed up with the ballsiness of your father. Lethal combination, kiddo. Plus you're beautiful - an' that ain't bad.'
'Is this a job offer or a come-on?'
He chuckled. 'What d'you think?'
'Hmm... perhaps a come-on?'
'You an actress?'
She glanced restlessly around the club, wondering where Shep was. 'I wanted to be, but my father didn't go for the idea.'
'Jordan's right. You don't wanna be an actress, it's a shitty profession.'
'You're an actor,' she pointed out. 'And you've done pretty good.'
Running his tongue across his teeth he eyed her contemplatively. 'Like I said, it's a shitty profession. I happen to be in the fortunate position of being able to choose what I do, but most actors and actresses gotta eat crap, deal with asshole executives, not to mention the jerks, pricks and mother-fucking know-nothings who call themselves agents an' managers. There's times even I have to kiss ass.'
'Oh, I can't imagine you doing that, Charlie,' she murmured sarcastically.
Grinning slyly, he said, 'I do it when I have to.'
'And how often is that?'
He leaned back in the booth and his grin broadened. 'Not very often, kiddo. Not very often.'
'I bet.'
'So,' he said slowly, 'I hear you're a wild one.'
'Who told you that?'
Word's on the street, kiddo.'
'Your image is not exactly Mister Clean.'
'I'm an old guy, I can do anything I want an' just about get away with it.'
'How nice.'
He was giving her that stare again, that half-lidded insouciant stare.
'Wanna go back to my house tonight, Jordanna?' he drawled.
'Are you having a party?'
'Yeah, for two.'
She didn't have to think about it, she knew what she was going to do. 'Two, huh?' she said coolly.
'That's what I said.'
'I think I can manage that.'
'I'm sure you can.'
* * *
Just as he thought he was lost for ever, Bobby spotted a discreet sign saying Homebase Central.
He pulled his car up to the valet and got out. Thought I'd never find this place,' he grumbled.
'Some people have a problem,' the valet replied, handing him a ticket. 'This your first time here?'
Bobby nodded.
'Hope you got connections,' the valet said, obviously not recognizing him. 'They're pretty tough on who they let in.'
'I have a feeling I'll make it,' Bobby said drily.
The bouncer outside recognized him, and by the time he got through the front entrance Arnie Isaak had been summoned and was duly standing there waiting to greet him. 'Bobby!' he exclaimed, as if they were old friends.
'Do I know you?'
'Arnie. Arnie Isaak.'
'Oh, yeah - right,' Bobby said, vaguely recalling the man's name but not his face.
'Welcome to Homebase,' Arnie said, full of genial host attitude. 'Perhaps you'd care to join me at my table?'
'Uh...' Bobby glanced around, the place was jammed, the music blasting, and he couldn't see Gary anywhere. 'I'm meeting Gary Mann.'
Arnie frowned. 'Gary Mann, Gary Mann... not sure I know him. Why don't I show you to a booth, fix you up with a drink?' He sidled closer, bringing his voice down to a suggestive whisper, 'An' anything else you'd like.' A quick wink. 'Know what I mean?'
'Hey, I'm cool,' Bobby said, knowing exactly what he meant. 'Find Gary for me, that'll be enough.'
Arnie liked having stars in his debt. 'You sure, Bobby?'
'Positive.'
At that moment Charlie walked by with Jordanna. This stopped Arnie in his tracks. 'Where're you going, Charlie?' he asked, his voice a petulant whine.
Charlie ignored him, focusing on Bobby. 'Hey, Bobby, haven't seen you in a long time.'
'Six years,' Bobby said. 'I had seven lines and one close-up in your movie Broad Street.'
'I remember. Knew you were goin' places.'
Bobby laughed wryly. 'I didn't.'
Charlie patted him on the shoulder. 'Congrats, you done good. I liked your movie.'
'That's quite a compliment coming from you.'
'I only hand 'em out when they're deserved. Call me, Bobby, let's have lunch.'
'I'll do that.'
Charlie put his arm around Jordanna's waist and pulled her forward. 'You two know each other?'
Bobby stared at the girl with the long black hair and wild look. She was unusually beautiful in an off-beat way. 'No, I don't think we do.'
'Bet you know her father,' Charlie said with a wicked wink. 'Jordan Levitt.'
'Of course I know Jordan,' Bobby said quickly.
'And I know Jerry Rush,' Jordanna interjected, furious that Charlie was giving her billing.
Bobby sensed her anger and attempted to put things right. 'Now wait a minute -' he began.
'How do you like it?' she interrupted. 'Bobby Rush, Jerry's son. Got a ring to it?'
'I wasn't trying to piss you off.'
Charlie chuckled. What is this, a "who has the most famous father" contest? Nobody gives a shit.'
'Apparently you do,' Jordanna said angrily.
'Get over it, sweetheart,' Charlie said, tightening his grip on her waist. 'Nice seein' you, Bobby. Don't forget to give me a buzz. C'mon, kiddo, we're outta here.'
Arnie could not believe Charlie was leaving with the love of his life. 'Is there a party tonight, Charlie?' he asked hopefully.
'Nothing I'm inviting you to, Arnie.'
'Should I stop by later?'
'Nope.'
'I don't believe it,' Arnie mumbled, watching them leave.
'What?' Bobby asked.
'Charlie and Jordanna.'
'She seems a little young for him.'
'Nobody's too young for Charlie,' Arnie said bitterly, his mouth twitching with frustration.
'She's great looking,' Bobby remarked.
'Great looking and out of her head,' Arnie said sourly. 'The last thing she needs is Charlie.'
'Bobby!' Gary appeared, pulling a pretty girl behind him. 'Thought you'd never make it. How was dinner?'
'Torture,' Bobby replied, moving away from Arnie. 'Pure and simple torture.'
* * *
Charlie lived at the top of Miller Drive in an enormous house with sprawling grounds, a vast swimming-pool and a professional tennis court. Jordanna had insisted on taking her own car - a clean getaway was her thing, she didn't like feeling trapped with no escape route. She followed his Rolls up the winding driveway in her Porsche.
'This doesn't seem like your image,' she said, as they got out of their cars and stood side by side in the middle of his massive courtyard.
'What image is that?' he asked, amused.
'You know, you're kind of like the wild man of Hollywood. I didn't expect to see you behind the wheel of a Rolls.'
'Comfort is everything, kiddo. When you grow up you'll find out.'
'I can see that,' she said, as they entered his house.
Two large dogs raced over to greet him, a chocolate Labrador and a black Doberman. 'Scared?' Charlie asked, as if secretly hoping she was.
Me? Jordanna replied scornfully. 'I'm not scared of anything.' She bent to pet the dogs, rubbing their necks the way dogs enjoyed.
'You know what? I'm beginning to like you more and more,' Charlie said, leading her into his large living room, comf
ortably furnished with oversized brown leather couches and colourful paintings on every wall. Going straight to the bar he poured them both a healthy shot of Jack Daniel's, adding ice. 'Whaddaya say? Wanna share a joint?'
'Just what I had in mind,' she replied, noticing his two Oscars casually placed on a bookshelf. 'I wasn't around in the sixties, but I'm so glad pot has made a comeback.'
He chuckled. 'Well, kiddo, I was, and as far as I'm concerned, it never went away.' Opening a silver box he extracted an already rolled joint. Then he picked up a packet of book matches, lit it, drew deeply and handed it to her. 'This is primo stuff. Enjoy.'
'I'm really surprised,' she said, with a hint of sarcasm. 'I thought you'd have lousy shit,'
'Ha! Funny.'
She drew the smoke deeply into her lungs inhaling slowly. Getting stoned wasn't as bad as doing coke, although if he'd suggested coke she probably would have done that too.
What the hell happened to all my good resolutions?
Tomorrow, tomorrow.
'Wanna see the rest of the house?' he drawled lazily.
'Tours are my thing,' she replied.
He reached out, gently touching her long black hair. 'I do like you,' he said.
'I'm so flattered,' she murmured, determined not to act like some dim-witted star fuck.
He took her hand and they walked up a curved staircase to his bedroom, an untidy room with an insane view dominated by an enormous circular bed covered in fir throws.
'Very luxurious,' she said, in spite of the fact that the room was incredibly messy, with newspapers scattered on the floor and stacks of magazines on every surface. 'Do you have music?'
'You want music?'
That's why I asked.'
He opened a closet revealing a bank of expensive stereo equipment. After pressing a few buttons Mozart flooded the room.
'I'm not into classical,' she said.
He touched her hair again. 'What are you into?'
'Madonna. Prince. Bobby Brown. John Coltrane.'
'That's quite a mixture.'
'How about Madonna's Bad Girl?'
'Remind you of yourself?'
'Of course.'
He looked at her quizzically. 'You're cute.'
'I've never been called cute before.'
'There's always a first time.'
'Yes, Charlie, there's always a first time,' she said, shrugging off her Harley jacket.
'How old are you?'
'Young enough to be your daughter.'
'Twenty?'
'Twenty-four.'
'An old broad, right?'
'Right.'
Picking up the phone he spoke into an internal intercom. 'Anyone in the house got Madonna, Prince or Bobby Brown CDs? Make it snappy.'
'What do you have, a staff of invisible popular music fans who stay up all night?' she enquired, imagining the help scrambling like crazy to accommodate their famous boss.
He smiled faintly. 'Something like that.'
'How about Coltrane?'
Indicating a Lucite box stacked with CDs over in the corner, he said, 'Check it out, maybe we'll get lucky.'
Oh, you'll definitely get lucky, she thought, feeling decidedly horny.
She rifled through his collection of CDs, finding nothing she liked. Then she started wondering what his body was like. He was old, fifty something at least, and older men were not into working out and keeping it all together.
'Do you have a gym?' she asked casually.
He knew exactly what she was getting at. 'Nope,' he said, 'but I do have a few rolls of middle-aged spread you might be interested in.'
She couldn't help smiling. 'Oh, boy, you sure know how to turn a girl on.'
That same crazed grin. 'The truth is, kiddo, I've never found it to be a problem.'
'I bet you haven't.'
He sat down on the edge of the bed and patted the space beside him. 'Come over here.'
She strolled over, cool to the end, and stood in front of him.
He put his hands around her waist and pulled her close, then he unbuttoned her shirt and began licking her bare stomach, eventually sticking his tongue into her navel. It was strangely incredibly sexy.
She shrugged her shirt off, letting it fall to the floor.
'You taste like honey,' he said, pausing for a moment. 'Sweet, sweet honey.'
It was a nice compliment to which she had no flip reply. The combination of Jack Daniel's, pot and Charlie Dollar was making her very mellow indeed.
He touched her breasts, fingering her nipples with stubby fingers.
A disembodied voice boomed through the room. 'Mr D, Madonna and Prince are outside your door.'
'Holy shit!' Jordanna exclaimed, jumping back startled.
'Calm down,' Charlie soothed. 'It's only the intercom. I guess you got your music.'
Wow! That's really service.'
'Kiddo, you ain't seen nothin' yet.'
By the time Madonna was on the stereo singing 'Bad Girl' Jordanna was ready to rock 'n' roll. Charlie was lighting another joint. She was already stoned - who needed more?
She wandered around the room half-naked, and began swaying to the music, mouthing the words. Madonna was a hell of a songwriter, how come she was never acknowledged for that part of her talent?
'You really like this stuff?' Charlie asked.
She wasn't sure whether he was referring to the grass or Madonna. 'I love it all,' she said, cleverly covering every base.
He stared at her long and hard, drawing deeply on the joint. 'Take the rest of your clothes off.'
'No,' she replied sharply, 'you take your clothes off.'
'It's not a pretty sight.'
'Turn off the lights.'
He offered her the joint. She took a long drag and threw herself on to the bed. 'I feel good,' she said, expelling a thin stream of smoke.
'You'll feel even better in a minute,' he said, moving on top of her.
She sighed, she'd heard it all before. 'Don't make promises you can't keep, Charlie.'
He was amused. 'Is that a challenge, kiddo?' he asked, fiddling with the buttons on her jeans. 'Cause I've never had any complaints.'
'Are you sure you're up to it?' she asked mockingly.
He grunted. 'Jesus, you got a smart mouth, show a little respect for the movie star.'
Rolling out from under him, she pulled off her boots and wriggled out of her jeans.
'No underwear, huh?' he said, raising extravagant eyebrows.
Too restricting,' she said, kneeling on the bed totally naked and staring at him. 'Your turn.'
He began to laugh. 'You got a great bod, kiddo.'
Thank you Mister Movie Star,' she said, reaching for his belt and expertly unbuckling. 'Can we get this train moving?'
'Got no reason to stall, babe.'
'How about a condom?'
'How about I don't take a shower with my boots on?'
'How about safe sex?'
'How about I just took a test and got the all clear.'
'How about I see the certificate?'
'How about shutting up?'
She acquiesced. She believed him. Besides, she was too stoned and too horny to argue.
Charlie Dollar was a terrific lover - surprisingly so. He wasn't in great shape, but he wasn't falling to pieces either. He knew all the moves and then some. He knew how to take her almost there and then stop seconds before the moment of no return. Timing. He had it down.
They made love a long time before either of them climaxed, and when they did it was a mutual release of such exquisite pleasure that Jordanna found herself crying out - unusual for her. Charlie let out a yell so loud she almost jumped out of bed.
The downside was he fell asleep almost immediately. And he snored. Loudly.
She got off the bed, gathered her clothes, and went into the bathroom. Charlie's bathroom resembled a busy pharmacy - there were rows of bottled pills to cure every ailment; jars of vitamins in all combinations; potions and powders and cream
s and solvents. She decided this would be a good place to be sick.
After taking a shower, she hurriedly dressed and emerged into the bedroom. Charlie was still snoring.
Without disturbing him she took off.
And so another one-night stand hit the freeway.
Chapter Twelve
Where are you?' Quincy asked, sounding annoyed.
'Across the street from Club Erotica on Hollywood Boulevard,' Michael replied, stubbing out his cigarette as he stood at a pay phone.
'So what's goin' on I should know about?'
'I got a lead,' Michael said. 'Rita left behind photos.'
What photos?'
'Stop asking questions, and move your ass over here.'
'I gotta do this?'
'For me, Q.'
'OK, OK - I'll be there.'
'Club Erotica.'
'Sounds like a nice classy place.'
'Meet me at the bar,' Michael said, hanging up the phone and crossing the street.
A burly man guarding the door to Club Erotica announced it would cost him thirty bucks to gain entry. He parted with the money reluctantly and entered the club.
Oh, yes, this was Rita's kind of place all right. Dark and intimate, with plenty of weird-looking people in strange outfits and throbbing music blaring forth from multiple speakers.
A woman approached him wearing a peacock's mask and little else. 'What's your pleasure tonight?' she asked in a deep sultry voice.
'Huh?'
Which room would you like to play in? Singles, group? Or perhaps the orgy room?'
It suddenly dawned on him that this was a sex club. Shit! He'd thought sex clubs were over in the seventies. 'Hey, I just wanna get a drink. Is there a bar around here?'
'There's the selection bar.'
'The selection bar?'
'Is this your first time here?'
'You got it.'
'OK, hon, you go sit in the selection bar, look around, and if there's anyone you care to be with, take them to the room of your choice.'
'How much does this cost?'
'Club Erotica is not a clip joint,' she said, quite indignant. 'You paid at the door, and unless you require special services, you're covered.'
'No special services.'
'Suit yourself. The bar's that way.'
Hollywood Kids Page 10
