Cheryl was not in the mood for a lecture. 'How's Marjory?' she asked, briskly switching subjects.
'She's got a crush on the detective who's looking after her. It's pretty sad, really.'
'Maybe not. Patty Hearst married hers.'
'You know how needy Marjory is. And this is a great-looking guy who's not into her at all.'
Cheryl sipped her drink. 'It must be depressing staying up there.'
'I'm getting my own apartment.'
'How is it - working for Bobby Rush?'
'Sensational!' Jordanna said, dying to reveal her news, but keeping quiet because Bobby had warned her not to tell anyone.
'From what I read about him in Style Wars he sounds like an asshole.'
'No way. That writer didn't get him at all.'
'And how's Jordan? Did you ever tell him his wife used to be a call girl?'
'Why hurt him? If he finds out, that's his business. Besides, she's pregnant. So let's just forget we know about her past. OK?'
'Jordy,' Cheryl said hesitantly, 'there's something I need to talk about.'
'Go ahead.'
Well... the other night I did something crazy.'
'So what else is new?'
'No, this was really crazy. Grant talked me into it, but... the wild thing is I ended up enjoying it.'
'Oh, God,' Jordanna groaned. 'What did you do now?'
'I went out on a job.'
'What does that mean?'
'We were short of a redhead, and Grant thought it would be a good idea. They were paying so much money that I... I did it for a kick. I visited a customer.'
'What, you mean you screwed him?'
'Not exactly. I paraded around his hotel suite naked, gave him a blow job and indulged in a little hooker dialogue. The scary thing is, I actually enjoyed it.'
'This is not good,' Jordanna said sternly. 'You'd better get your ass back to your shrink quick.'
'He enjoyed it, too.'
'Who? Your shrink?'
'No, stupid! The customer.'
'Who was he?'
'Some old guy from New York. But he was sort of sweet.' She toyed with her drink. 'He wants to see me again.'
'Back by popular demand, huh?'
'I guess that's where it's at.'
'Look, I'd be the last person to tell you what to do, but surely you know you're treading on dangerous territory?'
'I guess so.'
'You guess so? Get real, Cheryl, and stop this dumb behaviour or you'll really be fucked up.'
'I'll think about it.'
'You'd better do that. And you'd better do it fast.'
* * *
Quincy was angry that Michael had run out on him. He had enough going on, and he hadn't expected his friend and partner to take off without any warning. On the other hand, if - as Amber said - it was something to do with Bella, he could understand why. Michael had been through a lot, and it was to his credit that he'd managed to stay sober and not fallen totally to pieces.
Quincy drove towards the studio. He had an appointment to see Mac Brooks on the set.
He'd heard that any moment there'd be an APB out on Zane Ricca. If that was so, the cops would take care of putting a watch on Jordanna Levitt and Cheryl Landers and everyone could relax.
In the meantime, the studio was reaming him out over Barbara Barr. They wanted to know why he'd allowed her to end up on the front page of The Enquirer. Because it was inevitable, he'd told them. Because she is an uncontrollable crazed white woman.
When he arrived at the studio he explained everything to Mac, who seemed relieved. 'At least we don't have to worry about the girls any more,' Mac said.
'Right,' Quincy agreed. 'The cops will be talking to them.'
'I'd prefer to keep my name out of this,' Mac added.
'The Contract was your movie,' Quincy pointed out. 'It's possible your name will come up.'
Goddamn it, Mac thought, why did he have to get dragged into this? 'See if you can prevent it,' he said, wondering how smart Quincy was and where the other detective was.
'I'll try.'
Mac nodded. He was seriously worried that eventually somebody was going to dig deep enough and put together the connection. It wasn't an encouraging thought. Although when he'd revealed the truth to Sharleen, she hadn't been that shocked. Instead she'd been understanding and wise. 'You've got nothing to be ashamed of,' she'd said soothingly. 'So Luca Carlotti is your father. I know what a shock it must be, but always remember, you're a big success, Mac, if this comes out in the newspapers it won't reflect on you in any way.'
Sometimes Sharleen could be smarter than the image she projected.
He hadn't told her about Zane and their connection. One thing at a time.
* * *
Standing outside The Ivy, impatiently waiting for her Porsche, Jordanna wondered why it always took for ever for the valet parkers to bring the cars to the front. Cheryl was in the ladies' room, and quite frankly she was worried about her. It was one thing supplying the talent, but becoming a working girl herself was obviously not a good scene. It was definitely Grant's bad influence. Cheryl had always had a thing about him, not that she'd ever admit it, but Jordanna knew.
An acquaintance strolled out of the restaurant and waved at her. She waved back, then turned around to see if her car was there. As she did so, a Cherokee jeep raced by, and Barbara Barr - sitting in the passenger seat - leaned out of the window and flung the contents of a can of paint at her. It hit Jordanna straight on, almost knocking her to the ground.
The jeep shot away, and she could hear Barbara screaming with laughter. What a screwed-up psycho maniac!
People were staring at her in amazement as she stood there dripping red paint.
Cheryl hurried down the front steps to see what all the fuss was about. 'Oh my God!' she exclaimed. 'What in hell happened to you?'
* * *
She stood in the shower for fifteen minutes before grabbing a towel and calling Bobby on the set. 'Your girlfriend threw a can of paint over me,' she announced, fairly calm considering what had taken place.
'Excuse me?' Bobby said, thinking he'd misheard.
'Barbara Barr drove past the restaurant while I was waiting for my car, and tossed a can of red paint at me. Right now I'm at home trying to scrub it off - it's not easy. And you can pay for my dry-cleaning bill. Believe me, she'll pay in another way.'
'Jesus, Jordanna, I'm sorry.'
'It's not your fault. But I wish you'd be more careful who you take to bed.'
'I'll come right over.'
'No, don't,' she said quickly. 'I'll be there as soon as I can.'
We have a meeting with Freddie at four o'clock.'
'Oh, goody,' she said drily. 'I do hope he goes for the Red Indian look.'
* * *
Grant was lying on the couch switching TV channels and nursing a glass of vodka when Cheryl arrived home. 'Your boyfriend called,' he said, lowering the volume on the remote.
Which boyfriend is that?' she asked, kicking off her shoes.
'Mr Nanni wants you at his hotel at seven.' He jumped off the couch. 'Are you going?' he asked, not looking at her.
'Do you think I should?' she said, placing the decision in his hands.
He slouched over to the bar for a refill looking dishevelled and not too happy. 'S'up to you,' he said casually.
'Maybe I will,' she said, waiting for him to ask her not to.
'Please yourself,' he said, pouring more vodka into his glass.
'That's exactly what I intend to do,' she said crisply.
'How was your lunch with Jordanna?' he said, returning to the couch with his drink clutched firmly in his hand.
'Fine. Apart from the fact she got a bucket load of paint thrown over her outside the restaurant.'
'No way.'
'It was quite a scene.'
'Who did it?'
'Barbara Barr. Our local resident psycho.'
'I took her out once. She's a nut.'
; Cheryl favoured him with an amused look. 'I thought you only went for the blonde-cheerleader, big-tits look.'
He did not appreciate her comment. 'You don't know everything about me,' he said bad-temperedly.
'Yes, I do,' she snapped back.
'No, you don't?'
'I know that you drink too much, use too much coke, and that you're totally screwed up.'
'Like you're so together.'
They exchanged a heavy glare. He infuriated her. Why didn't he see that she really cared about him?
'I'm going out again,' she said, furious that he didn't seem to give a damn.
'Where now?' he asked, swigging vodka.
Let's see if this would get to him. 'I have to buy a nurse's uniform for my appointment,' she said, hoping he'd tell her not to. 'And a lacy black garterbelt.'
'I thought you were going to tell me the details.'
The truth was that he simply didn't care. 'Too personal,' she said, swallowing her disappointment. 'See ya.'
* * *
The five hours spent sitting on the plane were the longest five hours of Michael's life. The whole focus of his life had changed and he had no idea what was important any more. One moment he was a father searching for his daughter, and the next... he had nothing. He was overwhelmed with sadness, mixed in with the relief that at least little Bella was safe. She might not be his daughter, but he would always love her whatever happened.
There was only one thing he was sure of, and that was that he had to have a confrontation with Sal if he was to put it behind him.
Had Sal honestly thought that he'd get away with it for ever? What kind of a dumb schmuck was he? Surely his brother knew that one day he'd come back to New York and find out the truth?
And what the hell was his mother thinking? Was she so uncaring about his feelings that she didn't give a damn?
Yes. Fact of life. She didn't care. She never had.
A pretty stewardess stopped by his seat. She'd been coming on to him ever since they'd left LA and now she was making another attempt. 'How about a drink?' she suggested brightly.
Yeah, how about a drink? A double Scotch on the rocks would be nice. Two double Scotches. Or maybe three. He could get blasted if he wanted - it was his life.
The temptation was too much. 'I'll have a Scotch,' he said, the dangerous words mirroring his thoughts.
'Coming right up,' she said, bright smile fixed firmly in place.
Oh yes, coming right up.
He could fucking taste it.
-=O=---=O=-
Once, when he was very young, his mother had kissed him in a strange fashion - the way he'd always seen her kiss his father.
The Man had never forgotten it. It represented a closeness between him and his mother he'd never thought possible.
After that he'd regarded his father as the enemy and treated him as such.
His father was a big tough-looking man who'd walked with a limp. He'd overshadowed his son in every way and treated him like an inferior being.
Then there was Uncle Luca, who didn't visit often, but when he did it was always an occasion. His mother would fuss around the house, making sure everything was perfect.
When he was sixteen, he'd questioned his mother about Uncle Luca. 'What does he do?' he'd asked.
'Your uncle is famous.'
'How come we never go to his house?'
'Because he comes to see us once in a while, and that's all right.'
He suspected his mother had more than a sisterly interest in Uncle Luca.
'When you're old enough he'll give you a job in one of his businesses.'
'What business is that?'
'Commodities,' his mother had said vaguely.
He'd stared at her, he wasn't a fool, he'd known perfectly well that his uncle was a big-time mobster.
By the time he got out of high school his father had been sent to jail for armed robbery and racketeering. His father was a low-rent version of Uncle Luca, so it didn't bother him he was no longer around.
With his father absent, his mother labelled him the man of the family, turning to him for support.
Their relationship intensified, and he was relieved to finally escape to college, where Uncle Luca paid his tuition.
When he graduated his mother had insisted he go to work for his uncle.
He'd refused, informing her he wished to be an actor.
She'd objected strongly when he'd told her he intended to go to Hollywood and star in movies.
In spite of her objections he'd remained adamant - studying with an acting coach, landing a small role in an off-Broadway play, eventually persuading her that this is what he was born to do. Finally she'd gone to Uncle Luca and requested his assistance.
After a while it came to pass that with his uncle's help he'd flown to Hollywood, gotten a role in The Contract and met The Girl.
He'd strangled the bitch because she'd wanted nothing to do with him.
He'd strangled her because she represented all the bad things about women.
Now that all seemed such a long time ago.
In a way Shelley had reminded him of The Girl. He'd felt sorry for her. Even when he'd tied her up, stripped her clothes off and had sex with her, he'd felt a certain amount of regret.
When he'd put his hands around her skinny white neck and squeezed the life out of her, he'd made sure it was quick. She'd been too frightened to scream. She'd stared at him with petrified eyes and remained totally silent.
He didn't like that. It wasn't normal. Killing her was not as satisfactory as he'd expected.
He'd spent the afternoon digging a shallow grave in the backyard, and when he was done he'd carried her outside and laid her to rest, folding her hands carefully across her chest, so that she appeared quite peaceful when he'd covered her in earth.
Now he had the house to himself.
He had his privacy.
He had a safe haven where he could bring anyone he wanted.
And he wanted Cheryl and Jordanna.
It was time to punish them both.
Chapter Forty-One
The meeting with Freddie Leon was going well, at least Jordanna thought it was, although she couldn't really tell because Freddie did not show much emotion with his poker face, cordial features and quick bland smile. His nickname was 'The Snake' because it was said he could slither in and out of any deal. However, nobody ever called him 'The Snake' to his face.
'You won't regret this, Freddie,' Bobby said, acting as her biggest booster. 'Jordanna's going to be the next Julia Roberts.'
'I don't intend to be the next anybody,' she interrupted hotly. 'The original Jordanna Levitt will do nicely, thank you.'
Freddie liked that. He smiled his quick little smile. 'The original, huh?'
'You got it.'
'Well, Jordanna... how about we take a test run together?'
'Drive with me, Freddie, and we're going all the way,' she said boldly. She was not intimidated by men with power, after all, she'd grown up with the best.
'When I consider signing a client I have them thoroughly checked out,' Freddie said, stroking his chin.
'And what did you find out about me?' she asked, prowling around his expensively decorated office.
'That you like to go to clubs, that you haven't really focused on anything in your life, and that you're not exactly close to your father.'
'Bullshit,' she said, fiercely defensive. 'Jordan and I are extremely close.'
Freddie laughed. 'Bobby, you're right - she's a beautiful challenge, and she'd better be talented too, because I'm taking her on.'
Bobby was pleased. 'You won't regret it.'
'You might,' Freddie remarked. 'Now that I'm representing her, we're going for a killer deal.'
'Hey,' Bobby objected. 'Squeeze our balls the second time around.'
Freddie responded with a short sharp laugh. 'The first time suits me nicely.' He turned to Jordanna. 'Looks like we're in business,' he said. 'I'll have agency contracts d
rawn up and over to your house by the end of the day. Where do you live?'
'I'm staying at Marjory Sanderson's,' she said. 'But I plan on getting my own apartment.' She grinned slyly. 'If you make me a really good deal, I can get a really nice apartment.'
He stood up, indicating the meeting was over. 'You'll get a really good deal. That's a promise,' he said, walking them to the door.
'He liked you,' Bobby said, in the car on their way back to the studio.
Impulsively she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. 'Thanks, Bobby,' she said happily.
'For what?'
'Everything.'
He concentrated on his driving, staring straight ahead. There was no way he should start anything with this girl. They were just friends, that's all. 'I'll drop you off at wardrobe. Make sure Sienna looks sensational.'
'I'll do my best.'
'And you'll come over tonight, right?'
'Bobby,' she said, meaning every word, 'I know I keep on saying this, but I'm really grateful.'
'Hey,' he said casually. 'If I wasn't sure you'd cut it, I wouldn't want you in the movie.'
'I know.' She glanced out the window, then back at him. 'Do you ever feel we have so much in common that maybe we've met before? Like in another lifetime?'
'Nope.'
He wasn't responding the way she'd hoped. 'I do,' she said surely. 'I think we've got a soulmate thing going big time.'
He half smiled, not taking her seriously. 'You do, huh?'
'We've both had to go through all that children of celebrities crap. You had Jerry for a father. I was stuck with Jordan. I feel such a bond between us. It's hard to explain, but I know it's there.'
'I don't get close to people,' he said, a touch too quickly.
Why was he making it difficult for her when she was only trying to be truthful and up-front? 'That should be my line,' she said, pressing on. 'I was close to my mother - she killed herself. I was close to my brother - he checked out. It's only recently I've begun to realize it wasn't my fault, that I'm not responsible for their deaths.'
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