Hollywood Kids

by Jackie Collins

  The hooker was pregnant? No fucking way.

  Jordanna caught her breath, desperately trying to stay in control. 'Does Jordan know?' she blurted foolishly.

  Kim threw her a withering look as she fiddled with her blonde curls. 'Of course he does.'

  'I wasn't talking about the pregnancy,' Jordanna retorted sharply, determined to gain the upper hand.

  'What were you talking about?'

  She played her ace card. 'Remember Donna?'

  'Donna who?' Kim said, her pretty face mask-like.

  In for the kill. 'Donna Lacey.'

  Kim didn't take a beat. 'I met her once or twice. Why?'

  'Because she sure remembers you.' Jordanna paused briefly before continuing. 'Tell me, Kim, is Jordan aware of your past?'

  Not a flicker. 'I don't know what you're talking about.'

  She pressed on. 'I think you do.'

  Kim's tone turned low and angry. 'Why don't you leave us alone? Isn't it enough you're still taking money from him at your age?'

  That's none of your business,' Jordanna said angrily.

  'I'm making it my business.'

  They glared at each other.

  'Your father's had a very difficult life,' Kim said at last. 'He doesn't need to listen to your lies about me.'

  'A difficult life indeed!' Jordanna snorted. 'Like you would know.'

  'I know everything about Jordan - including how disappointed he is in you.'

  Kim's words stung. Was he really disappointed in her, or was Kim simply making it up to hurt her?

  'The only thing you know is that you love every moment of being Mrs Jordan Levitt,' she fired back. 'You sure moved in on him big time, didn't you?'

  'Yes, I did,' Kim replied defiantly. 'And you're not spoiling it for me.'

  'I can try.'

  Where's your proof? He'll never believe you.'

  'I'll get proof.'

  'I'm having his baby,' Kim said triumphantly. 'You don't have a chance.'

  'We'll see.'

  'Do what you have to do,' Kim said with an exasperated sigh. 'Because, frankly, if it's a choice between you and me, I know who he'll choose.' She turned around and marched down the path towards the big house.

  'Don't bet on it!' Jordanna yelled after her.

  Kim didn't look back.

  Jordanna rushed into the guest house. Two Spanish maids were busy loading up boxes with her possessions. 'What are you doing?' she asked, grabbing a stack of tapes out of one of the women's hands.

  'Mrs Levitt - she told us to pack everything,' the shortest woman said, her broad face expressionless.

  'Please get out of here,' Jordanna said wearily, 'I'll take care of it myself.'

  The women exchanged glances and left.

  So Daddy really wanted her out permanently. Well, that was fine with her, she certainly wasn't staying where she wasn't welcome, and there was no way she'd accept any more money from him either.

  Grabbing the phone, she dialled information and got the number of a moving firm. They promised to have a van there within the hour.

  By five o'clock she was packed and ready to split. There was no word from Jordan. Surprise, surprise. Should she go say goodbye, and casually throw into the conversation she was living with Charlie Dollar?

  Why not? May as well piss him off all the way.

  She headed for the main house and was disappointed to find nobody around except Kim, who emerged from the kitchen and said a curt, 'Yes?'

  'Where's my father?'

  'Oh, didn't I mention he's away on a location scout,' Kim said sweetly. 'So... I guess your little talk with him will have to wait.'

  'It can wait, Kim. When you see him, tell him he can call me at Charlie Dollar's.'

  Kim raised an eyebrow. 'Really?'

  'Yes, really.'

  Licking her pink lips Kim gave a small venomous smile. 'Do give Charlie my love,' she said. 'We're old friends.'

  * * *

  Driving back to Charlie's with the moving van following closely behind her Porsche, Jordanna couldn't help wondering about Kim's expression of triumph. Give him my love. Ha! Was Kim one of the blondes that Cheryl had mentioned Charlie enjoyed getting it on with?

  Easy enough to find out. She called Cheryl on the car phone.

  'Where have you been?' Cheryl asked. 'I haven't heard from you in days.'

  'I'll tell you later. Right now I'm after information.'

  'What information?'

  'Remember you told me that Charlie Dollar was into like kind of a watching thing with blondes?'

  'I knew you were jealous,' Cheryl shrieked.

  'Merely curious. Was Kim one of the blondes?'

  'I'll have to look up his records.'

  'Do that for me, will you.'

  'Are you still at Shep's?'

  'I'll call back.'

  'You're being so mysterious.'

  'All will be revealed later.'

  * * *

  Charlie's housekeeper took one quick look at the van loaded with Jordanna's possessions and scurried off to find her boss.

  Jordanna issued instructions to the moving men as they unloaded the truck.

  After a few minutes Charlie wandered out to the front of the house, tucking his shirt into his pants. He stood on the top step surveying the action. 'I see you're moving in,' he said at last.

  'You told me I could stay.'

  'I didn't know you were bringing a van full of stuff.'

  She hoped he wasn't going to be difficult. 'Is it a problem, Charlie?'

  'Nope. As a matter of fact I'm kind of pleased.'

  'You are?'

  'I said to make yourself at home.'

  'Thank you.'

  The thing is, kiddo, we'll have fun while it lasts, but eventually you'll have to find your own place. And like you said - get yourself a job. 'Cause the truth of the matter is, I ain't Daddy, and you gotta make your own spending money.'

  She narrowed her eyes, annoyed that he thought she was after his precious money. 'Did I ask you for money, Charlie?'

  'No, but I'm sure you're gonna want some, so I came up with a Charlie Dollar special-on-sale brilliant idea.'

  'What idea is that?'

  'I scored you a job, kiddo.'

  'A job?'

  'Yeah. I had lunch with Bobby Rush, an' whaddya know, he's looking for an assistant. I told him you'd fit right in.'

  Thanks a lot,' she said, not exactly thrilled at the prospect of working for Bobby Rush.

  'Anything wrong with that?'

  'I did that assistant thing once, it's boring.'

  'Correct me if I'm wrong, but wasn't it you who told me you wanted to act?'

  'What's that got to do with anything?'

  'It doesn't just fall into place, kiddo, you have to learn. It'll be good for you to be on a set watching what goes on.'

  'I've been on a set since I was born,' she said, exasperated that he was trying to fix her up without asking her.

  'So you'll do it again. I started off shifting scenery - got me an education before I went in front of the camera. It sure put me ahead of the game.'

  'Charlie - '

  Now he was challenging her, his eyes watchful and amused. 'Too tough a gig, huh?' he asked, staring her down.

  'I can do it,' she said defensively. 'I just don't want to.'

  'You'll make your own money for once.'

  Finally it was getting interesting. 'How much?'

  Charlie chuckled. 'I'll negotiate for you, kiddo. I'm a specialist when it comes to killer deals.'

  * * *

  Cheryl searched through the books. Donna had used a code for important men which she'd explained before leaving town. Movie stars were listed under special names. Cheryl checked for Charlie Dollar and found he was known as Big Money. She then looked over Big Money's preferences. It appeared he didn't indulge often, but when he did he had very particular requirements. Two big-breasted blondes with long hair and no inhibitions.

  Rapidly scanning the names of
girls he'd had, Cheryl ascertained that Kim was indeed one of them.

  She immediately called Shep. 'Where's Jordy?'

  'How would I know?'

  'Wasn't she staying with you?'

  'Left a few days ago.'

  'Why?'

  'Said she was moving in with Charlie Dollar. I haven't heard from her since.'

  'Charlie Dollar? Are you sure?'

  'That's what she told me.'

  'Hmm... giving it away for free again,' Cheryl said disapprovingly. 'I could make her a fortune.'

  'You're disgusting.'

  'Why's that, Shep, dear?'

  'Don't you realize what you're doing?'

  'Fulfilling a need. One that you obviously don't have.'

  'Excuse me?'

  'Oh, come off it, everyone knows your preference.'

  A long silent moment, then, 'Bitch?'

  'Likewise.'

  She was about to call Arnie to find out Charlie's number when girl arrived for a pre-arranged interview. What a business! Pick the best prospects, send them out on a job and pocket forty per cent of the fee. There was no shortage of girls, they applied in droves, recommended by friends and acquaintances. And because this was Hollywood they were usually pretty, with good bodies - all of them, with few exceptions, would-be actresses, singers and models, out to pick up extra money.

  The girl today was a voluptuous nineteen-year-old brunette with a Cindy Crawford look. She was perfectly lovely except for her crooked front teeth which needed fixing big time. Cheryl loved being in a position of power. Criticizing the girls was a definite highlight of the job, plus making big bucks and enjoying the special relationship she was beginning to develop with the Johns,

  Ah... the Johns - what a mixed-up group they were. Donna had warned her about their idiosyncrasies, but, jeez, some of these guys were into major weird.

  One client requested girls dressed as nuns; another required every hair on their bodies to be shaved; and a certain Arab prince ordered up dozens of bottles of Cristal and endless cans of Beluga caviar so he could eat and drink off the girl of his choice. Cheryl's personal favourite was the big action star who got off on being scolded while three girls dressed in green leather elf uniforms led him around the room on a choke-chain leash.

  Cheryl felt true power for the first time in her life. In fact, she felt so in control that she'd stopped her twice-weekly visits to her shrink. Being a madam was better than therapy any day. She finally felt fulfilled.

  She often thought about what would happen if her illustrious and socially connected parents ever found out what she was doing now.

  They would hang themselves in the middle of Chasens, that's what would happen. Her mother - so proper and Nancy Reagan-like when she wasn't rolling around drunk. And her father, Ethan, Mister Big Studio Owner, with two mistresses he'd had for ten years stashed in matching apartments either end of town. What a hypocrite he was, she was surprised she hadn't found him listed in Donna's fat black book.

  Fortunately she didn't have to seek their approval any more, she'd made it on her own.

  Idly she wondered if Shep was right, and Jordanna had moved in with Charlie Dollar. Shacking up with a dissolute movie star old enough to be her father was pure Jordanna.

  'How much can I expect to make a week?'

  Cheryl was jolted back to reality by the lovely girl sitting in front of her with the crooked front teeth.

  'Uh... it all depends,' she said. 'If the client likes you - return engagements can be quite frequent.'

  'I'm only doing this because I need the money,' the girl said. 'And my friend told me I'll meet men who might help my career.'

  Cheryl nodded. How naive these girls were. Did they honestly believe anyone was going to help them? The truth was they'd get royally fucked for a year or two, make a lot of money, and hopefully go home to the little town they came from and marry the boy next door.

  'We'll have to get your teeth fixed,' Cheryl said bluntly.

  The girl's hand flew to cover her mouth. 'I can't afford it,' she muttered guiltily.

  'I'll give you an advance, it'll be deducted from your fees.'

  Another fifteen minutes of conversation and Cheryl sent the girl on her way with a dentist's appointment and a rendezvous with Grant that evening.

  Grant was her front man, sleeping with the girls on a trial basis and later giving her a full report so she was sure they knew what they were doing. He performed this service for free. Hardly a favour, since sex was the main thrust of his life as he strove to keep up with his father's legendary reputation. On one level it saddened Cheryl that Grant was prepared to do this. But at least it kept them close, and she'd always liked having him around.

  The phone rang. It was head of development at one of the major studios. They exchanged pleasantries for a few moments before he announced the real reason for his call. We got a French actor in town, totally crazed. He requires two girls - one Eurasian, one good old American white trash - he's into that Guess-girl look, the one with the big silicone tits and the straw in her hair. His hotel, eight o'clock tonight.' A slight pause. 'Oh, and, honey, have your girls bring the coke. My connection's taking a trip.'

  'No problem,' Cheryl replied calmly, although this was the first time she'd been asked to supply drugs, and it didn't give her much of an opportunity to decide whether she wanted to do so or not.

  After putting the phone down she called Grant and asked if he could help out. Grant didn't have to think about it, he offered to supply her with whatever she needed. 'My friendly neighbourhood dealer will be happy to oblige,' he said. 'Don't worry about it.'

  Things were moving faster than she'd expected.

  Too fast, maybe?

  No. Never.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Weeks passed and nothing became clear except that he'd been set up. Michael couldn't find a lead of any kind and it was driving him insane. He had a daughter out there somewhere and nobody knew what had happened to her. It was almost like Bella had never existed.

  Rita was dead. Murdered. So was Daly Forrest. The lovers shot execution-style, and the kicker was - with his gun. The gun Quincy couldn't find when they'd checked out of the hospital had turned up in Daly's apartment, and Michael immediately became suspect number one. Now he was sure he'd been set up. They'd knocked him out, taken his gun, and used it for the double killing. And he had no idea who 'they' were. The cops had experienced no trouble tracking the gun to him, he'd purchased it as soon as he'd arrived in California, acquired a legal permit to carry - and now this.

  The detective on the case had hauled him in for questioning and he wasn't released until it was established he'd been with Quincy since leaving the hospital and therefore couldn't have done it.

  Within hours the media jumped on the case. It was a hot one. A good-looking redhead and a rich older man, discovered in bed together in a luxurious apartment. He'd produced porno movies. She'd starred in one. And her ex-husband had discovered the bodies. Juicy stuff. The TV news magazines went to town.

  The detective handling the case let out the information about the missing child and the father searching for her. Suddenly Michael was big news, and found himself pursued by the press. To Amber's fury they gathered outside the Robbins' house waiting to pounce.

  After forty-eight hours of this inconvenience, Michael moved out and went into hiding in a hotel. The press tracked him down. He moved to another hotel, and hours later they were staking a spot outside still begging for an interview.

  'Maybe you should do something,' Quincy suggested. 'Somebody out there watching might know where Bella is. Whyn't you talk to Rosa Alvarez on the local news? A friend of mine knows her boyfriend, so let's see if we can set it up an make sure she treats you right.'

  Michael nodded. He was getting desperate. 'Go ahead, arrange it.'

  After all, he had nothing to lose.

  The events of the last few weeks were a horrible blur. After dealing with the police and finally convincing them he'd had
nothing to do with the killings, he'd set off on a quest of his own to get to the truth. Nobody seemed to remember Bella, although they all remembered Rita - she'd cut quite a swath.

  The first thing he'd done was return to the house in Hancock Park where he'd followed Daly Forrest. The door was answered by an ancient caretaker who'd informed him the house was unoccupied and had been for several years. Michael didn't believe him, but what could he do?

  He'd checked out the back garden, peering through the kitchen window. From what he could see, the room looked dusty and unused - maybe the old man was telling the truth, and he'd gotten the wrong house. Since being hit on the head he'd been suffering from the occasional blinding headache - Christ, what if he was losing his fucking memory?

  His next move had been to go after Heron Jones, only to discover Heron had taken off, leaving no forwarding address.

  Quincy and Amber had somehow gotten him through it. We're gonna find your kid,' Quincy assured him daily. 'If she's out there we'll find her.'

  In the meantime he continued to pursue every lead, getting exactly nowhere. He talked to business acquaintances and employees of Daly's, he even tracked a scattering of the movie crew who'd worked with Rita on the one movie she'd performed in. And performed was the right word. He'd seen it - a soft porn exploitive piece of crap, with Rita in a small role making all the appropriate moves.

  It saddened him that she'd thought appearing in that kind of low-life film was going to get her anywhere.

  The police put out a Missing Persons Report on Bella, informing him that's all they could do.

  Meanwhile, the investigation of Daly and Rita's murder reached a dead end. There were suspects involved with the porn industry, but nobody they could pin anything on. It was frustrating, but Michael refused to give up.

  Rosa Alvarez arrived at his hotel with her crew. She was warm and sympathetic. 'I'm so sorry, Michael, to hear about your little girl,' she said, pressing her hand over his.

  'Look,' he informed her. 'I'm uncomfortable doing this, but I need to put out a message in case anybody knows anything. You'll show Bella's picture on camera, right?'

  'Just tell me your story,' Rosa said soothingly. 'And I'm sure we'll see results.'