Lethal Seduction

by Jackie Collins

  “Maybe.”

  “I have to find out the truth, Jake.”

  “You will. In your own time.”

  “Where are you going next?”

  “Wherever you go, I shall follow,” he said lightly.

  “Jake,” she answered seriously, “you don’t have to follow me around. We can keep in touch and get together when it suits both of us. I’m not a clingy person, you know.”

  “You’re not clingy at all. And believe me—I can tell you about clingy women.”

  “Can you now?” she said, amused.

  “There have been other women.”

  “No!”

  “Bitch!”

  “What happened to that blonde you were seeing? The call girl?”

  “You have to remind me.”

  “She was very beautiful.”

  “I told you before: you’re beautiful—she was pretty.”

  “And he has a way with words.”

  “And you—have the most kissable lips I’ve ever had the pleasure of getting close to.”

  •

  Martha decided that cruising the Marigiano Hotel in Las Vegas was the most amazing thing she’d ever experienced. She had already spotted a Latin singing star, three movie stars and Al King, one of her all-time favorites. Her level of excitement was in overdrive as they left the Marigiano and walked along the strip toward Caesar’s Palace for lunch at Spago.

  “The women in my book club will never believe me,” she babbled, repeating herself. “It was exciting enough when Dickie landed on a daytime soap. Now this!” She hung onto Chas’ arm. “I’m so grateful to you, Chas. You are such a wonderful man, and very generous if I may say so.”

  “It’s the least I can do,” Chas said, enjoying his role as the purveyor of good times.

  Varoomba followed a few steps behind them. She had chosen to wear a tight red tank top with no bra, and everything was on show, including, to Matt’s delight, her very prominent nipples. He’d spent the morning imagining what it would be like to chew on them, and wondering if there was any chance of visiting a strip club. He knew Vegas was famous for its lap dancing, but he also knew there was not much hope of him sneaking off to visit a club by himself. Dexter wasn’t the kind of son who’d arrange it, and why would Chas be interested, considering he had a piece like Varoomba at his disposal?

  Martha oohed and aahed all the way to Caesar’s Palace. “The hotels here are out of this world,” she exclaimed. “I’ve never seen anything like this place. Everything is magnificent!”

  Varoomba was hoping that Renee would be on time. Grams had a habit of always being late, and even though Varoomba had called her as soon as they’d arrived, Renee was never a sure thing. “Meet us for lunch at Spago,” Varoomba had said. “And don’t be late.”

  “Christ!” Renee had complained. “Do I have to?”

  “Yes,” Varoomba had insisted. “I told you—this one’s likely to propose. Wouldn’t you like to see your little granddaughter happily married to a rich man?”

  “Did you bring money?”

  “I brought a coupla hundred.”

  “Is that all?” Renee said scornfully. “You, who make a fortune shakin’ your boobies. Shame on you.”

  “A few hundred is better than nothing, isn’t it?” Varoomba said. “If I can get this guy to marry me, you’ll get more.”

  “Okay, I’ll see you there.”

  Now, as they headed toward Spago, Varoomba wondered if it was such a good idea. She hadn’t seen Renee in a couple of years, and her grams was hardly the grandmotherly type. If Renee wore one of her outfits and managed to knock back a few drinks . . .

  Oh no . . . it didn’t bear thinking about.

  •

  Jamie was mortified. Not that she’d been caught with her pants down, but Kris certainly had. Although she had to admit, Amber was quite cool and collected.

  “Hello,” the young actress said, walking into the suite as if she hadn’t noticed Kris standing there with his dick hanging out.

  “Uh . . . ’ello, luv,” Kris said, hurriedly closing his bathrobe and knotting the belt. “What’s up?”

  “My horse was temperamental, so I decided to come back,” Amber said, helping herself to a glass of orange juice.

  “I can see that,” he said.

  She glanced over at Jamie. “Hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

  “Not at all,” Jamie said, completely flustered. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to visit the powder room.”

  She raced into the sanctuary of the guest bathroom and quickly fastened her bra. This whole incident was so stupid. She’d come all the way to Vegas to sleep with Kris Phoenix and now, when she might have succeeded, she’d gotten caught—by his girlfriend of all people. This was like a bad joke.

  She peered in the mirror, brushed her hair, applied some lipstick and hurried back into the room, anxious to make a fast getaway.

  “Well, uh, Kris, I guess we’ve covered everything,” she said, calm as it was possible to be under the circumstances.

  “Yeah, luv, we did.”

  “So I’ll hear from you in New York.”

  “Look forward to it,” he said awkwardly.

  “Amber—nice to see you again.”

  “You too . . . um, Jamie, isn’t it?”

  “That’s right.”

  “I won’t forget your name again,” Amber said with a vague smile.

  “I’m sure you won’t,” Jamie said. “Don’t worry—I’ll let myself out.”

  She traveled down in the elevator feeling totally humiliated. This was all Peter’s fault. Why hadn’t he come to her and confessed? Why hadn’t he said, “You know what, we’d better get a divorce because I’ve discovered I like men.” That would’ve been the civilized thing to do.

  But oh no, Peter couldn’t do that, he’d had to let her find out the hard way. Bastard!

  She got out her cell phone and tried to call Madison at the hotel. No answer. Then she attempted to reach Natalie. The same there.

  She needed to talk to Natalie about Madison’s birthday dinner. Hopefully, Natalie had already taken care of ordering a cake.

  She sighed and got into a cab. The driver was talkative. She gave him monosyllabic answers, hoping he’d get the hint. He didn’t.

  She was paying off the cab outside her hotel when she noticed Joel Blaine walking out.

  “Hey,” he said, seeing her at the same time. “And still no husband?”

  “I told you, he’s in New York.”

  “What kind of a man lets you run around Vegas by yourself?”

  “A dumb one.”

  “Whoa . . . somebody’s angry.”

  “Where’s your girlfriend, Joel? Aren’t you with Carrie Hanlon?”

  “She’s kind of boring. You know what those models are like, nothin’ much to say. Where’s your friend Madison?”

  “I haven’t seen her today.”

  “She’s different. I like her.”

  “You do?”

  “Yeah, she’s a smart cookie.”

  “You should ask her out.”

  “You think she’d go out with me?”

  “No. But you may as well ask.”

  “Why wouldn’t she go out with me?”

  “She thinks you’re a player.”

  “Is that a bad thing?”

  “Madison’s not into serial daters.”

  “Maybe I’d change for a woman like her.”

  “Meanwhile you’re here with Carrie Hanlon.”

  “Wanna go play blackjack?”

  “Why not?” Jamie said with a weary little sigh. “I have nothing else to do.”

  •

  “Charlie?” Renee shrieked.

  “Ren?” Chas bellowed.

  The two of them fell upon each other with loud whoops and hugs.

  Varoomba’s mouth fell open. Her grandmother and Chas knew each other! How could this be?

  “How many years has it been?” Renee said, taking a step back.
<
br />   “Too goddamn many,” Chas said, beaming. “Ya look senfuckinsational!”

  And she did. Renee was a tall, statuesque ex-showgirl with a strong resemblance to Raquel Welch. At fifty-two she had lost none of her in-your-face good looks, and she knew it.

  “Jesus Christ!” Chas exclaimed. “What’re you doin’ here?”

  “Looks like I’m meeting you, doesn’t it?” Renee said, smoothing down her black, fake-leather microskirt.

  “It sure does. Ya gonna join us for lunch?”

  “I think that’s the whole idea.”

  “Huh?”

  She laughed loudly. “Don’t you get it, Chas. I’m Varoomba’s grandma.”

  CHAPTER

  54

  PEOPLE STARED AT LEON BLAINE. They stared even harder when they realized that Carrie Hanlon was in his party. It was the kind of group that made people step back. Of course, they were surrounded by several not-so-discreet bodyguards as they headed for a limo to take them from the Mirage to Caesar’s Palace for lunch.

  Carrie was dressed for attention in a man’s-style pale-blue pinstripe suit with a low-cut vest. She looked stunning.

  “Marty promised to drop by,” Joel informed her.

  “As in Scorsese?” she replied.

  “You got it, babe.”

  Although he didn’t fancy Carrie Hanlon, it was definitely a kick to be seen with her. The way people gaped! It was like she was a movie star or something.

  Joel had only dated one movie star, and that had been a miserable experience. He’d always thought models were the ego queens, but he was wrong—movie stars were way ahead in that field. All the girl had talked about was her next movie, her costar, her director and every producer in town. Also, he soon found out that if someone more important entered the room, she was away and running.

  No, movie stars were not for him.

  He’d noticed Amber Rowe lurking around the casino. Skinny piece of ass. Not his style at all. Although he had to admit that, actresswise, she was the real deal.

  After breakfast with Carrie, he’d spent the morning flitting from one casino to another. The Marigiano was on his case. He owed money. Big.

  So what? His credit line was good anywhere.

  Eventually he’d run into Jamie Nova and played a couple of games of blackjack with her. When it came to gambling, she didn’t know shit. But she was his entree to Madison, so he kept on her good side.

  Leon had an entourage of friends join them for lunch. A Bolivian tin billionaire, with his decades-younger wife. A jockey and his stately black girlfriend. Two financiers and an Internet mogul.

  They were settled at a prime table, whereupon dishes of food were laid out for them to sample.

  Joel nibbled on a piece of duck pizza and considered returning to the strip club to while away the afternoon before the big fight.

  Why not? Maybe he’d discover a stripper he fancied fucking.

  •

  From across the room, Rosarita spotted Joel walking in with Carrie Hanlon and was rendered totally speechless. How could this be happening? Joel—in Vegas, with the most famous supermodel of all. This was a bad joke.

  She slid down in her seat, unwilling for him to see her with this group.

  Chas and Varoomba’s grandma were apparently old friends, and boy, were they making up for lost time. Varoomba was livid. She sat at the table, silicone tits sticking out, mouth slightly open as she listened to Chas and Renee reminisce.

  “Hey, Charlie—remember that time in Atlanta when you couldn’t find your pants?” Renee said loudly, trying to break his balls.

  “The racetrack thing?” he said, chuckling at the memory.

  “Yeah, remember that? An’ I thought you were such a winner. Little did I know you were busy cheating.”

  “Watch it!” Chas said, roaring with raucous laughter. “I don’t cheat, get that into your pea-sized brain.”

  “Pea-sized brain, huh?” Renee shrieked. “Better than havin’ a pea-sized dick like someone I know.”

  “Stop it,” Chas said, still laughing. “I got a daughter sittin’ here.”

  “I’m sure she’s heard the word ‘dick’ before,” Renee said. “Haven’t you, dear?”

  Rosarita jumped. She wasn’t really listening, she was too busy watching Joel. “Excuse me?” she said.

  “Nothing, honey—forget it.” Renee turned her attention back to Chas. “What a blast!” she exclaimed. “Who would’ve thought?”

  “Ya got that right,” Chas agreed.

  Varoomba was confused. It seemed, from what she was gleaning from their conversation, that Chas and her grams had once had a serious affair. And now it appeared that they were all set to light the fire again, because Varoomba hadn’t seen Chas this turned on in the entire time she’d known him. Renee had always had a way with men. She might be fifty-two, but she was a looker. Unfortunately, she was also a drinker, and Varoomba noticed she was knocking back the wine with a complete disregard for the fact that it was only one o’clock in the afternoon.

  Just my luck, Varoomba thought. I get a guy who I think might marry me, and what happens? It turns out he’s got a hot nut for my grandma. Too damn much!

  She turned to Matt, who’d been ogling her tits all through lunch. “Life’s a bitch, isn’t it?” she said with a sour expression.

  “Sure is,” Matt replied.

  “Sometimes I don’t understand anything,” she said mournfully.

  “I know what you mean,” Matt agreed, happy she was paying him some attention.

  Martha gave him a swift kick under the table. “Stop encouraging her,” she whispered.

  “What are you talking about?” he whispered back.

  “You don’t want to upset Chas. Can’t you see what’s going on? His old flame turns out to be his girlfriend’s grandma. Now you’re talking to the girl, and she’s trying to make him jealous. So stop it. Right now!”

  “For crissakes,” Matt muttered, scowling.

  Dexter, meanwhile, was oblivious to everything. He’d jogged in the morning, then he’d taken a swim in the hotel pool. After that he’d called Gem.

  Bad news! A man had answered the phone. Dexter was so thrown that he hadn’t uttered a word.

  “Hello?” the male voice had said. “Hello? Who’s there?”

  Dexter had quickly replaced the receiver. Was Gem living with someone? Did she have a boyfriend? A husband? Jesus! He hadn’t bothered to ask, and now that he came to think of it—why would a girl like Gem be on her own?

  He had to find out. He decided to get away from the table on the pretext of going to the men’s room, then he could try phoning her again. It was imperative that he find out the truth.

  •

  “I’m glad I caught you,” Jamie said, as she sat with Natalie on the patio at Spago.

  “Me too,” Natalie said. “If I don’t eat lunch, I am one bad interviewer. Food is on my mind most of the time.”

  “Not when you’re talking to someone like Brad Pitt,” Jamie said.

  “Whoever. I gotta have that meal before I deal with them.”

  Jamie laughed and waved at Joel across the room.

  “He’s a jerk,” Natalie remarked.

  “No, he’s not, he’s sweet,” Jamie responded. “He taught me how to play blackjack.”

  “So,” Natalie said, “what else did you do this morning? Anything I shouldn’t know about?”

  “Not what I threatened to do,” Jamie said glumly.

  “You mean you didn’t run over to see Kris?”

  “Well . . . he called me, and I did run over. Only the moment we were about to get into it, in walked Amber.”

  “No way!” Natalie said, bursting out laughing. “You mean you and Kris were busy gettin’ it on, and the girlfriend walks in on you?”

  Jamie nodded. “How embarrassing is that?”

  “Hmm . . . I guess it means you are not destined to fuck Kris Phoenix.”

  “I have to do something before I see Peter and tell h
im it’s over,” Jamie said, frowning. “I can’t sit there and say, ‘Oh Peter, I found out you’re screwing another guy, and that’s fine—let’s get a divorce.’ I have to make him feel like shit. Can you understand that?”

  “Sure, honey,” Natalie said soothingly. “I’m into revenge big time.”

  “It’s not revenge. It’s more like getting even.”

  “Revenge,” Natalie said, rolling the word across her tongue. “Call it what it is.”

  •

  Varoomba left the table to visit the upstairs ladies’ room. As she undulated through the restaurant, every male eye was upon her, including Joel’s.

  Holy shit! he thought. There goes my favorite stripper—the one who never came to my office. What the hell is she doing in Vegas?

  “Excuse me,” he said, getting up from the table, determined to get an explanation.

  As he began following her, he recognized Dexter Falcon, also on his way upstairs. They’d never actually met, but Joel knew who he was—Rosarita’s husband, the dumb schmuck soap actor.

  Wasn’t this something. Maybe Dexter was with the stripper. Now he’d have something to tell Rosarita when he returned to New York.

  He glanced back in the direction Dexter had come from, and to his shock, sitting there at a large table filled with people, was Rosarita.

  He quickly looked away, wondering if she’d spotted him.

  So what if she had? Rosarita made him happier than any of these other bitches. As a matter of fact, he wouldn’t mind a session with her right now. She was sexier than all his models put together.

  He continued following Dexter up the stairs, noticing that the soap star was a tall motherfucker, and handsome in a bland way.

  Once upstairs, Dexter didn’t go into the men’s room, he headed straight for the pay phone. Joel hovered. Interesting, he thought.

  Dexter dialed a number and waited. Joel lit up a cigarette and continued to hover.

  “Hey,” Dexter said into the receiver. “Gem? It’s me. Where were you last night? I phoned, and there was no answer.”

  A pause as whoever was on the other end of the line gave him some kind of explanation. Then Dexter said, “I called this morning and a guy answered. Who was he?” Another pause—then a relieved, “Oh, your brother.”

  Joel knew he was onto something.