Hollywood Kids

by Jackie Collins

  His secretary visited the set every day, so did his publicist. Jordanna couldn't help noticing how both women fussed around him. It aggravated her - the way they hung on to his every word as if they didn't have anything better to do. So he was Bobby Rush, movie star. Big fucking deal.

  Three days into the shoot he said to her, 'You know, Jordanna, I'm kind of surprised.'

  'Why's that, Bobby?'

  'Cause I figured I'd have to fire you after one day.'

  'Thanks a lot!'

  'Hey, this is a demanding job. But I gotta tell you, you're doing real good.'

  'Is that a compliment?'

  He smiled lazily. 'I guess so.'

  He had the bluest eyes she'd ever seen, and a sensational body. Not a Midnight Cowboy body, but a great one all the same.

  The one area Jordanna had always had complete confidence in were her relationships with men. Sex was easy. She'd known from an early age she could have anybody she wanted.

  Bobby was different. Whenever she thought of him in a sexual way she got a strange shy feeling. This so confused her that she couldn't even bring herself to flirt. It was ridiculous. And yet... why did she find herself thinking about him all the time?

  Well, of course, I think about him. I'm working for him. I'm with him seventeen hours a day. Why wouldn't I think about him?

  Could this be love?

  No way.

  Neither Mac nor Bobby ate with the crew. They took their meals in their respective trailers, sometimes together so they could get into one of their heated discussions.

  Bobby was a vegetarian, although he sometimes ate chicken.

  'Don't you ever feel like a great big juicy steak?' she asked him.

  'No.'

  She rolled her eyes. 'I couldn't go without it.'

  'I'll take you to a slaughterhouse one day - that might change your mind.'

  'Oh, come on, Bobby, you wear leather shoes, don't you? And jackets and gloves?'

  'But I don't eat it - there's a big difference.'

  Usually she had the caterer prepare him a plate of vegetables or pasta, but Saturday night he decided to have dinner with the cast and crew. He strolled over to the catering truck, getting into line behind a couple of the grips. She stood next to him.

  'How's Charlie?' he asked.

  'Charlie?' she answered blankly.

  'Charlie Dollar.'

  'Oh, Charlie... um, I'm sure he's fine. I haven't seen him for a while.'

  'You haven't?'

  'We were hanging out on a temporary basis.'

  'Really?'

  'Yes, really.'

  'Hmm...'

  'What does that mean?'

  'I got the impression -'

  'That we were fucking?' she said boldly, wanting to shock him. 'Yes, that's right, we were, until he moved his ex-girlfriend back in. Satisfied, Bobby? Is that what you wanted to know?'

  He began to laugh, which infuriated her. 'Slow down,' he said, still laughing. 'I'm not The Enquirer. I don't care what you do.'

  Now she felt really foolish. Why had she come out with all that stuff? It wasn't his business.

  'If you don't need anything, I'll take my break,' she said tightly.

  'Go right ahead.'

  She skipped out of the line of fire, thought about visiting Mac in his trailer, but he'd been in a strange mood all day and she didn't feel like bothering him.

  Just as she was turning the corner to hang out in the make-up trailer, she bumped into Tyrone.

  He grabbed her arm. 'Hey -' he said. 'You're working so hard I never got a chance to tell you how great your test was. If it had been my call I'd have hired you right then.'

  'You would?'

  'Oh, yeah.'

  'Thanks,' she said, smiling broadly. There was nothing like praise to put her in a good mood.

  'You eating from the truck? Or you want to catch a bite at this little Chinese place I know around the corner?'

  'You're tempting me,' she said, thinking he looked like Denzel Washington with a Magic Johnson build - not a bad combination.

  'Let's go.'

  'Hmm... maybe I should tell Bobby, just in case he needs anything.'

  'And she's diligent, too. I like that in a woman.'

  They found Bobby sitting at one of the trestle-tables surrounded by admiring females.

  'I'm kidnapping Jordanna,' Tyrone said. 'I'll have her back within the hour.'

  Bobby barely glanced up. 'See that you do,' he said, 'or I'll dock her pay.'

  Tyrone laughed. Jordanna didn't, she was too busy trying to figure out who all the women were. A couple of them were part of the production, but there were at least three others she couldn't place.

  'Who's the cast of female talent?' she asked casually, once they were in Tyrone's car.

  'Huh?

  'The women all around Bobby. It seems like he has a travelling fan club.'

  'He does. They trail him everywhere, slipping him their phone number, telling him how much they loved his last movie - or hated it. Anything to grab his attention.'

  Tyrone seemed like a pleasant enough guy. But Jordanna made a conscientious effort not to come on too strong. There was no way she was about to jump into bed with him. The new Jordanna reigned supreme. No more one-night adventures. Although a joint would have been nice, she kind of missed running the clubs and getting high.

  No. That was the old Jordanna. Now she had this whole new image to live up to. Jordanna Levitt - working girl. Could've been an actress, but it didn't work out.

  When they arrived back at the location, Bobby was in deep conversation with Barbara Barr.

  'What's she doing here?' Jordanna asked Tyrone, irritated that Barbara was on the set. 'She doesn't start until the end of next week.'

  Tyrone shrugged. 'She's probably dropping by to meet everyone. Bobby encourages a family atmosphere.'

  'It's not the crew she's meeting,' Jordanna pointed out, unable to hide her displeasure.

  Tyrone threw her a quizzical look. 'You're not interested in Bobby, are you? 'Cause if you are, let me know and I'll back off.'

  'Who me?' she said indignantly. 'Interested in Bobby? Oh, please?'

  'Just asking. I don't like to run second.'

  'Ask away, because it's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard. I am working for him, and I respect his work, but as far as going out with Bobby Rush - me? C'mon, give me a break.'

  'OK, so you don't want to go out with him, how about me?'

  'How about you what?'

  'How about you and me going out?'

  'We just did - that Chinese meal was great.'

  'I can offer you more than a Chinese meal.'

  'Yeah? What?'

  A smile spread across his face. 'Probably not anything you haven't seen before.'

  'Ooh!' she said flirtatiously. 'I don't know about that.'

  'Let me see,' he said. We're working all weekend, and then Tuesday's a day off. Dinner Tuesday night?'

  'A deal.'

  Barbara Barr stayed far too long, which really pissed Jordanna off as she watched from afar. No way was Barbara Barr right for Sienna, her doll-like prettiness didn't work for the role. Her long raven hair was obviously dyed and did not suit her sallow complexion. She was too short and her eyes were too close together.

  Bobby, however, seemed quite taken - typical male - just because Barbara was giving him her full attention as if he was the only man on earth. Corny shit. Jordanna had given up doing that at sixteen. Bobby let Barbara sit in his director's chair, chatted to her between takes, and generally took no notice of anybody else.

  Jordanna was there when he needed her, running and fetching and doing. Suddenly the glow was off the job. She felt like she was nothing more than a glorified errand girl.

  Barbara ignored her. That was OK, she ignored her back.

  Mac was in a vile mood. It was unlike him to be testy with the actors, but he was short with everyone.

  All in all it wasn't a scintillating night, and she was
delighted when they packed up at one a.m. Jumping into her Porsche she drove back to Bel Air playing Shabba Ranks full volume on her car stereo. Shooting by the guards at Marjory's, she pulled up behind a grey Ford, entered the house, and was surprised to find the butler standing in the front hall. 'Isn't it past your bedtime?' she asked.

  'Miss Marjory is in the screening room with a... friend,' he said disapprovingly.

  'What friend is that?'

  'The detective gentleman.'

  'Are they watching a movie?'

  'I'm not sure, Miss Levitt. May I get you a drink, or something to eat?'

  God, living at Marjory's was just like being in a luxury hotel with twenty-four-hour room service. 'No, thanks. I'll wander in and say good-night.'

  'Yes, Miss Levitt.'

  She opened the door to the screening room and stood at the back watching the final scene of The Godfather play out. She was silently transfixed until the credits began to roll, and then she exclaimed, 'I love this movie! I try to see it at least once a year.'

  Michael turned around as Marjory switched on the lights. He saw a beautiful young woman with long tousled dark hair and a devastating smile, wearing a battered leather jacket, faded jeans and combat boots.

  Jordanna saw an incredibly good-looking man in his thirties with thick jet hair, intense eyes, an athletic body and a dangerous edge.

  'Hi,' she said, with a friendly smile. 'You must be Mister Detective.'

  'Michael Scorsini,' he said, getting to his feet.

  'A nice Italian boy, huh?' she said, still smiling.

  'You got the Italian right,' he replied. 'Nice and boy, hey, I'm not so sure.'

  She laughed.

  Marjory was agitated. 'Why are you back so early?' she questioned. 'I thought you were night shooting.'

  Jordanna glanced at her watch. 'It's nearly two, isn't that late enough for you?'

  Marjory edged closer to Michael. 'I'm fine,' she said, placing a possessive hand on his arm. 'Michael's taking excellent care of me.'

  'Good,' Jordanna said, getting the message that Marjory did not want her around. 'I'll... uh... leave you two alone then.'

  'Hey,' Michael said quickly, turning to Marjory, 'since your friend is home, perhaps it's not necessary for me to stay over.'

  'You promised,' Marjory said, fixing him with a hurt expression.

  'What's going on?' Jordanna asked, looking from one to the other.

  'I had a phone call from the psycho,' Marjory said, 'the one who's been sending me letters. He threatened to kill me tonight.'

  'Oh, great. Now I'll really sleep well,' Jordanna said, only half joking.

  'If it'll make everyone feel better I'll stay,' Michael said.

  'Do you pack a big gun?' Jordanna asked teasingly.

  'Big enough.'

  'Then definitely stay over.'

  'You got it,' he replied, thinking that Jordanna was quite something, but had TROUBLE emblazoned on her forehead in big red letters.

  She tilted her head. 'Is that a New York accent I detect?'

  'Brooklyn.'

  'And what's Brooklyn doing in Bel Air?'

  He shrugged and made a face. 'Beats me.'

  Marjory was getting even more agitated. 'Excuse me, Jordanna,' she said. 'Can I have a word with you?'

  'Yeah, sure. What's up?'

  Marjory steered her into the corridor outside the screening room. 'He's mine!' she hissed, red in the face.

  'Excuse me?' Jordanna said blankly.

  'He's mine,' Marjory repeated. 'He's here for me not you.'

  'What are you talking about?'

  'Michael - I'm talking about Michael. You're flirting with him. You flirt with everybody. You think you can have anybody you want, but this one is mine.'

  Jordanna threw her hands up. 'Oh, sorry - I didn't realize I was stepping on your territory. I thought he was your detective, not your lover. By the way, what is that you're wearing? Are you aware it's see-through?'

  Marjory blushed an even darker shade of red, the colour rising in her cheeks. 'Michael likes me this way.'

  'I didn't realize it had progressed this far. How come you haven't mentioned him before?'

  'You don't know everything about me.'

  This was true, Jordanna reasoned, even though they'd grown up together, Marjory had always been a loner, keeping to herself, never joining in the outrageous things that Cheryl and Jordanna got up to. Grant used to call her sexless, and Shep claimed she was quietly crazy, but somehow she'd always been part of the Hollywood five.

  'Look,' Jordanna said, yawning. 'I'm tired. I've had a tough day, and I can assure you I'm not trying to put a move on your guy. I'm going to bed, I'll see you in the morning.'

  'Thank you,' Marjory said tightly.

  Jordanna turned at the end of the corridor. 'Hey, I hope you are getting laid - it's about time.'

  Before Marjory could reply she was out of sight.

  Marjory returned to the screening room.

  Michael feigned a yawn. 'I'm beat. We should call it a night.'

  'Oh,' Marjory said, disappointed. 'I thought we could watch Godfather Two.'

  'Tempting offer, but I gotta get some sleep. And so should you.'

  'I suppose so,' she said, reluctantly.

  'Don't worry, I'll be right next door if you need anything.'

  'Yes... Michael.'

  Gotta keep this on a very impersonal level, he thought to himself. This girl could go way over the edge - and he did not want to be the dumb schmuck at the receiving end of her obsession.

  -=O=---=O=-

  Since leaving prison he'd killed four women. Five if he counted The Girl who'd started it all. She was totally responsible for the deaths of these four women. It was her fault. He refused to take the blame.

  Although he had to admit there was something extraordinarily pleasurable about doing away with these women.

  He thought about their necks a lot, their soft white necks. Squeezing the life out of them was a very civilized way to kill.

  There were two more women on his list. Two more females who had to be punished. Cheryl Landers and Jordanna Levitt. He'd purposely left them for last because they might not be as easy as the other four. They lived different lives.

  When he was working on The Contract Cheryl and Jordanna had been regarded as nothing more than a joke. Two teenage girls with rich fathers and no experience. Yet they'd managed to stand up with the others and accuse him. They'd managed to say that they'd seen him kill The Girl.

  Fortunate for him his uncle had connections. The best lawyers were hired to defend him and he'd gotten away with manslaughter. If it had been up to those six women who'd testified against him, he would have been jailed for life - he might even have drawn the death penalty.

  Tracking each of the women had been easy. He still had in his possession the original crew and cast list from The Contract. Margarita Lynda and Stephanie Wolff had both lived at the same addresses. Gerda Hemsley had been a little more difficult to find, but he'd tracked her. The Post Office had supplied him with Pamela March's new address.

  He had home addresses for Jordanna Levitt and Cheryl Landers, and over the next few days he planned on making sure they were both still in residence.

  The only problem was he could not decide which one to deal with first. He remembered Cheryl as a sour-faced girl, always complaining. And Jordanna was the restless one - marching around the set as though she owned the world.

  He hated them both. He hated them so much more than the other four women, because Jordanna and Cheryl came from the kind of privilege he would have liked to have had. And for that they would be punished.

  Today he would begin the tracking. Watching a victim days before the event was almost as exciting as the moment of finality.

  He had plans for both Cheryl and Jordanna. Strangling them was too easy, they deserved to suffer as he had suffered.

  Yes, he had big plans.

  He spread the cast and crew sheet on the table studying
it carefully. Cheryl Landers lived in Bel Air. Jordanna Levitt's home was in Beverly Hills.

  Bel Air or Beverly Hills - where to start'?

  He realized this was not going to be so simple. Those big fancy mansions had security systems and guards. He was not naive about the fact that people who lived in large expensive houses took more precautions.

  But nobody could outsmart him. He'd done his time in prison. He'd endured countless acts of vile degradation and hadn't complained - the humiliations he'd put up with had made him strong. Stronger than most.

  He tossed a coin to see where he would start.

  Bel Air or Beverly Hills. Which would it be?

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Michael escaped from the Sanderson estate on Sunday morning by saying he had work to do - which was no lie.

  When she saw he was leaving, Marjory acted distressed. 'But what if I receive another call?' she asked plaintively.

  'Soon as I get hold of the tape equipment I'll be back,' he promised. 'On the way out I'll stop an' speak to the guards, tell 'em what's going on.'

  'No,' she said vehemently. 'Daddy doesn't want anyone to know. If this got into the press it could be very harmful.'

  'How's that?'

  'Daddy shuns publicity, especially about me. He's always been nervous about kidnapping.'

  'The guards should be alerted, Marjory.'

  They're always alert.'

  Then you have nothing to worry about,' he said, silently reminding himself to ask Quincy if he'd met the father, because in his opinion it was crazy if the guards weren't appraised of the situation.

  Back at Quincy's house there were several messages. He punched on the machine and listened while he fixed himself a cup of coffee.

  The first message was from the bodyguard of the young TV star. Trouble,' the bodyguard said. 'She punched out another girl in front of Club Sirocco a few nights ago. I got her out of there in time, but somebody should pay a visit to the bouncer 'cause I've heard he's tryin' to sell his story.'

  The second message was from Quincy's mother, inquiring after her grandchildren.

  The third was a long complaint from Amber's girlfriend, Shelia. Michael listened to her message with amusement. 'Hi, this is Shelia. Just thought I'd touch base. I dated that friend of yours... Michael. Haven't heard from him since. Men are such bastards, they take you out, lure you into bed and that's the last you hear. Anyway, I wouldn't mind going out with him again -he was cute. Give me a call.'