This woman could drive a man crazy. 'Sharleen,' he said patiently. 'How do I know they've called a dozen times if you don't tell me?'
Chip stretched her leg even higher. 'I'm telling you now, sweetheart,' she said, sharing her attention between him and Chip.
'Thank you,' he said tightly. 'I'll find out what they want right now.'
He went into his study and slammed the door, trying to drown out the relentless din of Guns 'N' Roses. Then he fixed himself a large Scotch on the rocks and sat down at his desk. His hand - still wrapped in a napkin - was beginning to throb. Nobody seemed to have noticed that he'd been hurt. Nobody gave a shit about anything any more, including his own family. What did they care as long as he was around to pay the bills?
He was not inclined to call the production office back, but the phone rang and he snatched it up anyway.
'Mac?'
'Yes.'
'It's Bobby. Where have you been?'
'You want I should fill in a report card?'
'I'm not trying to make this difficult,' Bobby said, ignoring his sarcasm. 'But I've been trying to reach you for three hours. We've got big problems.' There was always a fucking problem. His life was turning into one major problem after another. 'What is it now?' he asked shortly.
'Cedric Farrell died.'
'Oh, Jesus!'
'Heart attack.'
'I'm sorry to hear that. He was a nice man.'
'Look, Mac, our immediate problem is recasting Cedric's role. While you've been out we've been trying to figure out what to do. There's an idea floating around I wanted to run by you. Can you drive in? Or shall I come to you?'
'I've got a bitch of a headache, Bobby. Tell me your idea and I'll let you know what I think.'
'It's not exactly my idea. The studio came up with it, and everybody else seems to like it. I figured it could be a good way for us to dump Barbara. If we can get away with paying her off it might be the smartest way to go.'
'So you're telling me you want to lose our leading lady and that you don't have a replacement for Cedric, is that it?'
'No, that's not it, Mac. We might have a replacement.' He took a beat. 'They're after me to hire Jerry.'
'Jerry?'
'Jerry Rush. They've already got the publicity campaign mapped out.'
'How do you feel about that?'
'I'm not sure. I figured if you went for it, we'd give it a shot.'
'If it doesn't bother you, I'll agree.'
'In that case maybe I'll drop by the house and talk to him. If we go through his agent it'll take six months to make a deal.'
'Good idea.'
'I'll check with you later.'
'Do that,' Mac said, putting down the phone. He took two hearty gulps of Scotch and slumped over with his head on the desk, which is exactly how Sharleen found him when she entered his study a few minutes later. 'What's the matter, sweetheart?' she asked, rushing over. 'Something's wrong - what is it?'
He looked up at her with bloodshot eyes. 'You ever had something happen to you where your whole world falls apart?'
She was alarmed, her eyes widened. 'What?'
'Sharleen...' He shook his head. 'There's so much to tell you...'
Now she was genuinely concerned. 'Baby, you know you can tell me anything.'
Before he could answer, his son, Kyle, burst into the study - all lanky six feet three inches of him. 'Dad, can we talk? Like we really gotta have a car conversation. Like, I'm really bummed by that major piece of crap you're forcing me to drive.'
Sharleen glared at him. 'Can't you see we're in the middle of a conversation. Haven't you heard of knocking?'
'All I wanna do is speak to my dad,' Kyle mumbled sulkily. 'Big deal.'
'We'll talk about your car tomorrow,' Mac said, sitting up straight.
'I gotta leave the house early tomorrow,' Kyle whined.
'Sorry I can't fit into your busy schedule,' Mac said sarcastically.
'Don't get pissed, Dad. When I was in Hawaii, Mom told me my car's not safe to drive. She said I should get a new one like right now.'
'I don't give a horse's ass what your mother said!' Mac said, pulling himself together. 'Now vanish. And next time you want to talk to me, knock before you barge in.'
Kyle backed out. 'You're in a pissy mood,' he muttered, slamming the door behind him.
'I've got to get out of here tonight, Sharleen,' Mac said urgently, shaking his head. 'Let's book into a hotel.'
Her face lit up. There was nothing she'd like better.
* * *
Grant took the call from Bosco Nanni and jotted down his requests. A buxom blonde and a short redhead with big tits.
'This is a late order,' Grant said, enjoying his new role as super pimp. 'I'm afraid it'll cost you.'
'What are we talkin' here?' Bosco demanded. 'A grand? Two?'
'We only have the best available. Five thousand apiece.'
Bosco let out a long low whistle. 'Five fuckin' thou'!'
'Believe me,' Grant assured him. 'They're worth it.'
'Sheeit!'
But Grant noticed he didn't cancel the order. They made arrangements and Grant replaced the receiver, then he quickly checked through Cheryl's files to see who wasn't busy.
Sissy would do for the blonde, he'd taught her well - for an amateur she certainly knew her stuff. Of course, she wasn't exactly buxom, but they'd never had any complaints about her.
The redhead was more difficult to come up with - they only had three on their books and all three were booked for the night. Goddamn it! He'd just scored them a record price and now he had no redhead to fill the order.
Cheryl was at the beauty parlour. He called her there, but the receptionist informed him she'd already left.
He waited impatiently, thinking about the consequences if his famous father ever found out what he was doing now - movie stars hated scandal unless it was good for their careers.
What did their parents care anyway? Sometimes Grant thought he'd been brought into this world to be used as nothing more than a good photo opportunity. Childhood memories. His mother's dulcet tones.
Daddy's being photographed for Life.
Daddy's going to be on the cover of Time.
Daddy's being photographed for Newsweek.
And every so often they'd required little Grant to be in the pictures with Daddy, showing what a wonderful, caring family man Grant Lennon, Senior, was. This was to counteract the gossip magazines who were constantly exposing him as the biggest cocksman in town.
Being a celebrity in Hollywood meant creating an illusion, and the public liked that illusion to remain intact. Grant Lennon, Senior, gave great illusion.
Bullshit. It was all bullshit. That's why Grant had hung out with Cheryl, Jordanna and Shep. Because they'd all shared the same bullshit. They'd all grown up experiencing identical lifestyles. And it wasn't the most secure lifestyle in the world, although Grant had done a pretty good job of pretending it was.
It wasn't easy having Grant Lennon, Senior, as a father. It wasn't easy carrying the same name. Booze and recreational drugs had soothed the way most of his life, but sometimes it was impossible to avoid reality. And the reality was that he was a mere shadow of his famous father, and had achieved exactly nothing on his own.
When Cheryl arrived home, he took one look at her, and with a sudden blinding flash of inspiration came up with the answer to his problem.
Her red hair was striking, definitely her most valuable asset. In fact, Cheryl - since her new-found success - was looking decidedly attractive.
'You'll never guess -' he began.
'What?' she interrupted, throwing down her purse.
'Have a drink.'
'Will I need one?'
'Maybe,' he said, going over to the bar.
She flopped into a chair and kicked off her shoes, wiggling her toes. 'It's nice having you around, Grant. I can't imagine how I managed without you.'
'How's your sense of adventure?' he asked, pouring
her a stiff shot of vodka.
'Fine. How's yours?'
He handed her the glass. 'Wanna do a line?'
'Why not,' she said, wanting to do whatever he wanted to do.
'How tall are you?' he questioned, tipping a phial of coke on to the glass-topped coffee table.
'Five four. Why?'
'Some people might consider that short, right?'
She took a gulp of vodka and got ready to snort some coke. Thanks a lot.'
'No offence.'
'None taken.'
Grant arranged the white powder in neat lines, rolled a twenty-dollar bill and handed it to her.
She bent over the table, put the bill to her left nostril and inhaled deeply. Almost immediately she felt peaceful and powerful and sensual - all the good things. Having Grant around to share with was fun.
'Any action while I was out?' she asked, leaning lazily back in her chair.
Grant's mind circled her like a predatory vulture. She had red hair. She was almost short. Her tits weren't enormous, but in the right outfit they could fake that. He knew it would work. All he had to do was convince her.
'Cheryl,' he said, crouching down beside her.
'Yes, Grant?'
'Uh... no, it doesn't matter.'
'What doesn't matter?'
'You wouldn't do it...'
'Wouldn't do what? she asked, exasperated.
'It was just that I had this insane idea, but it's too way out there, I'm not even going to say it.'
'Grant,' she said patiently. 'How long have we known each other?'
'For ever.'
'Exactly. So since when can't you tell me your insane ideas?'
He snorted a line and poured more vodka into her glass. 'Have I ever mentioned you're very sexy?'
'No, you've never mentioned that,' she said slowly.
'I should've.'
Was this the moment she'd waited for all these years? Was Grant actually coming on to her?
'You're not so bad yourself,' she managed.
He moved closer to her, sliding his arm around her shoulder. 'I got a proposition,' he said. 'And if you're half the girl I know you are, you're really going to go for it.'
* * *
'Why are we doing this?' Bobby asked, as he drove down Sunset.
'Cause you want him for your movie,' Jordanna replied logically.
'Yeah, but why are we doing this together?' he asked, genuinely puzzled. 'How come I've got you tagging along?'
'You need moral support,' she said crisply. 'And that's me. Don't forget I'm your personal assistant. I'm supposed to be here.'
He narrowed his blue eyes. 'You are, huh?'
'I am.'
He decided she was a good kid, and in spite of his early misgivings he was really beginning to like her. 'There's something I'd better warn you about,' he said, thinking of Jerry and his lecherous attitude.
'What's that?'
'Uh... Jerry may be an old guy, but he's a horny old guy. He's likely to hit on you.'
This amused her. 'Oh? He's likely to hit on me, is he?'
'Can you handle it?'
'Bobby, if there's one thing I've been handling all my life it's old guys hitting on me.'
'Your father's friends, huh?'
'Since I was twelve.'
'And let's not forget Charlie Dollar.'
'I can forget him - how about you?'
'That's another conversation.'
'It is?' She wondered why he was always bringing up Charlie. Could it be that he was the tiniest bit jealous? 'Anyway,' she added, 'I hope Jerry does come on to me.'
'Why's that?'
'Cause I'll enjoy playing his game.'
'Don't piss him off. As you just reminded me we're here to get him to do my movie.'
'Bobby, listen to me, he'll scale the Empire State Building to get in your movie. Realize your own strength.' She paused for a moment before adding, 'You're a very special person.'
He glanced at her quickly to see if she really meant it. Nobody had ever told him he was special before. Oh, sure, since becoming a movie star he'd received plenty of fan mail from women telling him he was handsome, sexy, gorgeous, fantastic, all of those things. But nobody had ever told him he was special.
'Hey, I'm not so special,' he said, waiting for her to take it back.
She fixed him with a look. 'Yes, you are.'
'Why's that?'
'Because I say so.'
There was a strong moment of silence between them, then he pulled his car up in front of the house on Bedford and the moment passed.
They got out and walked up the driveway. He'd called Darla earlier and told her he was coming over to discuss something with Jerry. Now they were here and there was no backing out.
He rang the bell and Darla answered the door not looking her usual soigne self. Her face was puffy, her hair not as well coiffed as usual, and her outfit was hardly up to her designer duds standard.
'Bobby!' She seemed almost relieved to see him.
'Hi, Darla.' And on automatic pilot. 'You look well.'
'Thank you, Bobby. So do you.'
'Uh... this is Jordanna Levitt.'
Darla was not slow. 'Jordan Levitt's daughter?'
'Actually, Jordan's my father,' Jordanna said pointedly.
Darla frowned, not quite getting the twist. 'Jerry's so looking forward to seeing you,' she said, taking Bobby's arm. 'He hasn't been feeling well lately.'
'He's not sick, is he?'
'No, it's just that things have been a little slow, and you know how your father is, he likes to be surrounded by action.' She lowered her voice to a whisper. 'The truth is, he's been drinking too much.'
'So what else is new?' Bobby said with a bitter twist. 'Jerry's been drinking too much all his life.'
Darla looked distressed. 'Don't be like that, Bobby. He needs your support.'
'That's why I'm here.'
They followed her through the hallway into the living room where Jerry was sitting in exactly the same chair that Bobby had last seen him in, nursing exactly the same glass of Scotch - only this time he didn't bother getting up.
'Hi, Dad,' Bobby said in an uptight voice.
'My son, the movie star,' Jerry said, slurring his words.
Why couldn't he be sober for once? Bobby thought. 'Meet Jordanna,' he said.
'Jordanna Levitt,' Darla added, making sure Jerry got it. 'Jordan's daughter.'
Bobby and Jordanna exchanged glances. She shook her head as if to say, who gives a shit?
Jerry perked up at the sight of Jordanna. Anything young, female and beautiful was cause for a lecherous leer. 'Welcome to my house, you pretty little thing,' he said, raising his glass in a toast.
'Mr Rush,' she said tartly. 'I'm not little, and I'm certainly not a thing.'
'I get it,' Jerry retorted, with a rude guffaw. 'You're one of those feminist broads I'm not supposed to compliment any more, is that right? Ever since Anita Hill found a pubic hair in her coke bottle-'
'Mr Rush,' she interrupted. 'You really are-'
'Jordanna,' Bobby said quickly, catching her eye with a warning glance. 'Remember why we're here?'
'OK, OK,' she muttered darkly, shutting up, although she would like nothing better than to ream into him.
Darla leaped into the fray. 'Would you care for a drink?' she asked, ever the perfect hostess.
'No, thanks,' Jordanna said.
'Not for me,' Bobby said.
Jerry burped loudly, his favourite habit. 'If you've come to borrow money you're outta luck,' he said. 'According to my lovely wife, we're busted out.'
'We are not busted out, Jerry,' Darla said, flushing with annoyance. 'Things are a tad difficult, but nothing we can't manage. And kindly do not discuss our financial affairs in front of Jordan Levitt's daughter.'
'Her name's Jordanna,' Bobby said.
'So, what's going on?' Jerry said, sloshing down more Scotch. 'You two an item? Jordan's got plenty of bucks, this little girl's a good catch
.'
'I work for Bobby,' Jordanna said, trying to control her temper. 'I'm his personal assistant.'
Jerry laughed in a nasty fashion. 'Sure, baby. A little personal assistance under the desk sure beats punching a time clock any day.' He roared with laughter at his own humour.
What a sexist pig! Jordanna thought. What an asshole! He and Bobby are totally different. Thank God!
'Mr Rush,' she said, glaring at him. 'If I had a male assistant I wouldn't expect him to crawl under my desk, and nobody expects a female to do so either. It's a sexist old-fashioned concept. Now you wouldn't want to be considered old-fashioned, would you?'
'What's that?' Jerry said, rudely cupping his ear as if he couldn't hear her.
'We'll come back tomorrow,' Bobby said, deciding this was a really bad idea. 'You're not in the mood to hear what I have to say.'
'Yes, he is,' Darla said anxiously. 'He's always like this.'
Bobby wondered why he was here. He'd come to offer this man a job, and yet he was staring at a person he could not stand. His strongest desire was to walk out.
Jordanna took one quick look at Bobby and knew he was close to losing it. 'How about fixing him coffee?' she suggested.
'Goddamn it!' Jerry shouted, contorting his face. 'You're talking about me like I'm not even here. Jesus!'
Jordanna shot another quick glance at Bobby. 'Tell him the deal and let's split,' she suggested.
He realized she was right, he'd come here for a purpose, not to make best friends with his father.
'OK,' he said, speaking fast. 'The actor playing my father died this morning. It puts us behind schedule and over budget if we don't replace him immediately.'
'Spoken like a true producer,' Jerry sneered. 'Replace the poor schmuck before he's cold.'
'Anyway,' Bobby continued, trying not to let Jerry get to him. 'I'm offering you the part, on condition you don't come to the set drunk. It's a five-day cameo role. There's no time to jerk around with agents arguing about billing and deals, I'll guarantee you'll get everything you need.'
'You want me to do a cameo in your frigging movie?' Jerry said contemptuously, like it was the most ridiculous suggestion he'd ever heard.
Darla hurried to his side. 'Jerry,' she said soothingly. 'Don't forget we need the money.'
Hollywood Kids Page 32
