'What does he think I am - a frigging charity case?' Jerry thundered.
Bobby took Jordanna's arm, steering her over to the door. 'Think about it. I need a fast answer.'
'Why should I frigging think about it?' Jerry roared.
Bobby paused at the door. 'You know what?' he said. 'Jordanna's right. It's no big deal. Take it or leave it. Your choice.'
Darla followed them down the driveway. 'Ignore him,' she said. 'He's been drinking all day. This is exactly what he needs, send over the script and I'll talk him into it.'
'I don't want him doing me any favours, Darla.'
'No, Bobby, I understand. You're the one doing him the favour.'
He reached the car and handed her a copy of the script. 'Give it to him, Darla, I'll call you later for a decision.'
They got into the car and Jordanna couldn't help laughing.
'Do you want to tell me what you're laughing at?' Bobby demanded, failing to see the humour in the situation.
'You're so funny. You let him get to you, didn't you?'
'No, I didn't,' he said defensively.
'Yes, you did. He pushed your buttons big time.'
'Can't you see what a pain in the ass he is?'
'Sure, but you've got to let go, Bobby. Understand what I'm saying. Simply let go.'
He contemplated her remark. 'It's as easy as that, huh?'
'Think about it. If he wasn't your father he'd be just another old actor with a drinking problem. But he is your father, so you've got to view him in a different way. I know I'm not explaining it very well, but, believe me, it works.'
'How did you get so clever?'
'Practice.'
'Yeah?'
'Yeah.'
There was another long silent moment as their eyes met. Jordanna felt like she'd been jolted with a shot of electricity. Bobby's eyes were so impossibly blue, and she loved the way his hair fell on his forehead, and his body was -
'Dinner?' he said casually.
'Where's Barbara tonight?'
'What's Barbara got to do with anything?'
'I thought you two were an item.'
'Who told you that?'
'I've got eyes, haven't I?'
He sighed. 'You know, Jordanna, I've had a bitch of a day. Are we having dinner or not?'
She grinned. 'It sure beats the hell out of pizza.'
'You're so gracious.'
Her grin broadened. 'So I've been told.'
Chapter Thirty-Five
Kennedy sat in front of her computer checking through her notes. She'd spent most of the day writing the piece on Charlie Dollar, and she was pleased with the way it had turned out, certain she'd captured some of his magic, for that's what Charlie had in abundance - a quirky magical quality that came across in every role he portrayed.
Tonight they'd made a plan to have dinner, and although she was looking forward to spending more time in his company, she'd sooner be seeing Michael Scorsini. It was unexpected and she couldn't quite explain it, but talking to Michael last night she'd felt a real connection.
God, wouldn't Rosa gloat if she knew!
The phone rang and she reached for it.
A woman's voice, 'Miss Chase?'
'Yes.'
'I'm Gerda Hemsley's mother. I got your message.'
'Oh, Mrs Hemsley, I was hoping you'd call. I'm so sorry about your daughter, it's a terrible tragedy. Please accept my deepest sympathy.'
'I know you've been doing everything you can, Miss Chase, I've seen you on television. It's comforting to realize someone cares.'
Kennedy reached for a pad and pen. 'The reason I needed to speak to you, Mrs Hemsley, is to find out what Gerda did before working in the bank?'
'Before the bank she was with a firm of accountants.'
Was she ever connected to the film industry by any chance?'
Why, yes, several years ago she worked on a few films. She was in the Production Accounts Department.'
'Really? Would you happen to know which movies they were?'
'I... I don't recall. Although of course there was the one...'
'The one?'
'The one where there was the trouble.'
'What trouble would that be?'
'She witnessed a murder.'
Kennedy shivered with anticipation. 'A murder? What happened?'
There was an actress in a film called The Contract. Gerda was in the production trailer when she saw this crime take place.'
Who was murdered?'
'A young actress, strangled by one of the actors.'
'What was his name?'
'I don't remember, but Gerda saw everything. She was a witness for the prosecution.'
'Was she the only one?'
'No, there were others.'
'Can you remember who?'
'Not offhand. If I went through Gerda's papers I might be able to tell you more.'
'Do you remember anybody called Pamela March or Margarita Lynda?'
'Those names sound familiar, but I can't be sure.'
'Mrs Hemsley, can you tell me exactly when this took place?'
'Let me see... sometime early in 1988.'
'Thank you. You've been a great help.'
Her mind was buzzing. This was it! This was definitely it!
She had a number for an uncle of Margarita Lynda's. She tried it immediately. 'Kennedy Chase,' she said briskly. 'We chatted a few weeks ago about Margarita.'
'Yes, I remember,' the man said.
'Perhaps you can help me with more information. Do you recall if Margarita worked on a film called The Contract? Was she a witness for a murder case?'
'Yes, now that you mention it I believe she was. Nasty business. It upset her a lot.'
Bingo! 'Thank you,' Kennedy said gratefully. That's all I needed to know.'
Now her mind was really on red alert. She had to find out if Stephanie Wolff and Pamela March had also worked on The Contract. Instinct told her there wasn't much doubt about it, she was certain she'd discovered the link.
The phone rang again and she grabbed it impatiently.
'Hi, Kennedy? Michael Scorsini - remember, your could-have-been date if Rosa had gotten her way?'
He distracted her for only a moment. 'Michael, I'm right in the middle of something, can I call you back?'
'Is that a polite way of brushing me off?' he said wryly.
'Not at all,' she reassured him.
'OK, I believe you. Uh... listen, I'm out right now, but let me give you my beeper number.' He gave her both his home and beeper numbers.
'Ten minutes, you'll hear from me,' she promised, jotting the information down.
'I hope so.'
'Honestly.'
He felt like he was back in grade school, but he pressed on anyway. 'So... are you still busy for dinner?'
'I told you - I have a prior engagement.'
'How about tomorrow night?'
'I think I'd like that,' she said softly.
'Good. That's definite. Call me back anyway, but we're on for tomorrow night.'
'Absolutely,' she promised, happy to hear from him. She replaced the receiver and began searching through her notes for contacts on Stephanie Wolff and Pamela March. The doorbell rang, interrupting her thoughts. 'Who is it?' she called out impatiently.
'Rosa. Open up. Quick.'
'OK, OK, I'm coming.'
Rosa burst in waving a bottle of champagne. 'Guess what?' she announced triumphantly.
'Tell me.'
This is so great, you'll love it.'
She'd never seen Rosa so excited. 'What?'
The Chief of Police and the Mayor are holding a press conference tomorrow morning. They made a move, and it's all thanks to our news station and you. We'll attend the press conference together, and right after that my producer would like you to do a live remote. Is that OK with you?'
'OK with me? It's fantastic!' she exclaimed.
Rosa nodded. 'Yes, isn't it great? They're gonna get this sicko, and when th
ey do, it'll be thanks in part to us!'
* * *
An hour later Michael was disappointed Kennedy hadn't bothered calling him back. But then again he wasn't surprised, he'd known she was different. Kennedy Chase didn't jump, and in a way that was exciting, although the last thing he was into was playing games.
Well, at least he had a definite date with her for tomorrow night, and that was something to look forward to.
He drove by the production office and found out Jordanna had left to go somewhere with Bobby Rush. After that he made his way back to his apartment, stripped off his clothes and stood under the shower for ten minutes.
Bella. Where was Bella? When was he going to find her?
Suddenly he had that feeling again. That dry-mouthed desperate so-what-if-I-had-one-shot-of-Scotch feeling. It frightened him, because he knew that one of these days he might succumb, and if he did it would be all over.
Had to get to an AA meeting. Had to get back into the discipline of knowing that every day was a struggle, but he could beat it if he stayed focused.
When he was finished in the shower he tied a towel around his waist, walked into the living room and pressed on the answering machine. The first message was from Amber inviting him for dinner the following night and suggesting he might like her to invite Shelia.
No way, Amber.
The second message was from the woman with the muffled voice who'd called him at the studio. 'Got the money?' she said in the same flat voice. 'Time's running out.'
He played the message back several times, wondering how she'd gotten his home phone number, and if she really knew anything at all.
The sound of Bella yelling, 'Daddy! Daddy!' kept echoing in his head.
Or was it Bella?
Who knew?
'Fuck!' Slamming the machine off he went and got dressed.
Had to find his kid. There was no way he could go on like this.
Out there somewhere was an answer, and it was up to him to discover what it was.
* * *
'This is ridiculous,' Cheryl said, staring at herself in a full-length mirror, mesmerized by her new glamorous image.
'No, it's not, it's a game,' Grant observed, standing behind her. He was stoned and it showed, although he was still good-looking in spite of his dissolute appearance. 'Remember how we used to play games in school?' he said. 'Taking chances, that's what got us through those crummy years.'
'How could I ever forget?' she said, wondering why she'd agreed to take part in this particular game. It was crazy, and yet if she backed out now Grant would think she was chicken, and that would never do.
Once, when they were both fifteen, they'd gone on a shoplifting spree at Sak's. The winner had to score over five hundred bucks worth of merchandise. Cheryl had gotten up to four hundred and fifty when the store detective had pounced.
Her father had been furious. 'If you needed more money all you had to do was ask,' he'd yelled, and promptly increased her allowance.
Money meant nothing. Showing Grant that she could do this meant everything. How many other women he knew would be up to the challenge?
Fortunately she was also a little bit stoned. She wasn't sure she could go through with it if she wasn't.
'Gotta admit, you look pretty out there,' Grant said, putting his arms around her waist from behind and playfully squeezing.
Then how come you don't take me to bed? Why are you sending me out to sleep with a stranger?
'Do I?' she said coolly, knowing that she'd gotten herself together. For once in her life she looked positively svelte. Everything worked. Sheer black pantihose and very high heels - her legs, along with her hair, were her best asset. A Victoria's Secret bra and skimpy Azzedine Alai'a dress. Her hair, freshly done and gleaming red. And more make-up than usual.
'Very sexy,' Grant said, squeezing her even tighter. 'I'm beginning to think I should have given you the test run.'
She assumed he was joking, wished fervently that he wasn't. Never let him see you care.
'Oh, please, Grant,' she said dismissively. 'Don't talk to me like I'm one of your half-baked all-American cheerleaders.'
'Aren't you getting turned on by this?' he asked, hugging her from behind. 'I know I am.'
'Perhaps you'd like to come and watch,' she suggested brusquely, waiting for his reaction.
'Ha! I'm sure the client would get off on that.'
'Who is the client anyway?' she asked for the third time.
'I told you. Some high roller from out of town. You're perfectly safe.'
'Fine for you to say.'
'Go to the front desk of the hotel, ask for Mr Nanni. Use a condom and don't kiss him on the lips.'
'Thanks for the advice,' she said, turning away from the mirror and his arms. 'OK, I'm ready. Let's go.'
'You're sure?'
No. I am not sure. Why the hell don't you stop me?
'Yes, of course I'm sure.'
'Then let's get this party on the road.'
* * *
'I love hotels,' Sharleen said, bouncing up and down on the king-size bed.
'I had to get out of the house,' Mac said tensely. Those kids are enough to drive a person insane. They're always in my face asking for something.'
Sharleen stretched luxuriously. 'You give them too much.'
'No more than you give your daughter.'
'At least she appreciates it.'
'Sharleen, you've got a short memory. Darling innocent little Suzy brought a drug dealer into our house.'
'She didn't know.'
'Bullshit.'
'We're not going to fight, are we?' Sharleen asked, stroking his cheek.
'Not after the day I've had,' he said grimly.
'Was it a tough one, sweetheart?' she murmured, her hand moving down, creeping inside his shirt.
'You have no idea.'
She tweaked his nipples. 'How about telling me? Maybe I can help.'
Oh, God, this woman could turn him on whatever his mood. 'It's a long story,' he managed.
She undid his belt. 'And I'm an excellent listener.'
'When you want to be.'
'Ohh...' she said, groping inside his pants and finding gold. 'I want to be.'
He closed his eyes, shutting out the real world.
Sharleen's talented hands enclosed him, and then her even more talented mouth, and nothing seemed that important any more.
* * *
'You're distracted,' Charlie said.
'No, I'm not,' Kennedy replied defensively.
'Yes, you are.'
'OK, so I'm distracted.'
'Wanna tell me why?'
They were sitting in Georgia, a restaurant on Melrose. She'd not reached connections for either Stephanie Wolff or Pamela March, and Charlie was right, she was distracted, because she needed more information. Rosa was also trying. They'd arranged to speak later.
'I'm thinking about a story I'm working on,' she admitted.
'The murders?' Charlie asked.
'You know about them?'
He fixed her with a half-lidded stare, 'Hey, green eyes, whaddaya think I do all day when I'm not workin'? I watch TV. I'm a true addict. I saw you last night. You got attitude, strength of character. Seein' that really revs my libido.'
'Glad to hear it.'
The waiter brought their drinks to the table, two exotic peach daiquiris. Charlie had a shot of rum on the side which he downed in one quick gulp.
'You like this place?' he asked, looking at her sideways.
'Very much.'
Wait until you suck on a spare-rib. Heaven ain't got nothin' like it.'
'Can't wait,' she said, picking up her drink.
He did the same and clinked glasses with her. 'To you, green eyes,' he said. 'Whatever you want is yours for the taking.'
'Really?'
'That's my adage, lived by it every single day, and here I am - big freakin' movie star.'
'Is that all you want, Charlie?' she asked gravely. 'Fame?'
>
'It keeps a smile on my face.'
And buries the hurt inside, she wanted to say, but didn't. Charlie had secrets and demons. He covered his insecurities with a laid-back stoned demeanor. But Kennedy knew, she could feel his pain.
Did she want to get involved, that was the question.
No.
So why was she here?
Because it had seemed like a good idea at the time, and she hadn't met Michael Scorsini when she'd agreed to go out with Charlie. And Michael? Well... she couldn't help thinking about him. There was something about Michael that went way beyond his good looks. He had a vulnerability she'd immediately hooked into. Never mind the macho Italian thing, underneath the bravado she knew there lurked a sensitive man, and she wanted to get to know him in every way.
Or did she?
She hadn't called him back because of the fact that by the time Rosa left, Charlie was on her doorstep. It was probably just as well, because if she cared to face the truth she knew she was scared of getting involved. And yet she'd agreed to have dinner with him the following night, and who knew what that might lead to?
'Who're you thinking about?' Charlie asked, zeroing in on her. 'What's his name? An' what's he got that I can't give you more of?'
'Why, Charlie, I do believe you're coming on to me,' she said, mildly flirting.
'No way, green eyes, not unless you want me to. In fact,' he said, sitting back, 'not unless you ask me. I'm available, but I gotta feelin' you're not.'
* * *
'Where are we going?' Jordanna asked, as Bobby's car sped down Melrose.
'I feel an urge for southern fried chicken. Have you been to Georgia?'
'The place - no. The restaurant - yes.'
'OK with you?'
'Perfect,' she said contentedly. She was unused to somebody else making decisions for her - it made a nice change, because it was usually she who called the shots, and most of the time picked up the cheque. This was almost like a real date, although she was sure Bobby didn't consider it a date at all. He probably figured he was buying the kid dinner because she'd gone with him to his father's and he felt he owed her.
'What's your take on Jerry?' he asked, keeping his eyes on the road.
Hollywood Kids Page 33
