Charlene came in from her dressing room. Thirty years married, and she still looked like the best lady in town. Five six, long, light brown hair in formal chignon, a diamond-and-emerald necklace around her throat, with a matching bracelet on her left wrist, the simple gold wedding ring she had worn at their marriage on her finger, and on her other hand a large twenty-five-carat pure white diamond. She looked down at him. “We better start going down to the party. About a hundred of our guests are already here.”
“How many are we expecting?” he asked in a hoarse voice.
“Close to five hundred,” she answered.
“Shit,” he exclaimed.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, her eyes searching the lines on his face.
“How much money have you stashed in the kitchen box?” he asked.
She knew what he meant. When they were first married and had very little, they used to hide the money in a box on a shelf behind the dishes in the kitchen. “About twenty million,” she said quietly. “Is it that bad?”
“Worse,” he said. “The roof is falling down. Where do you have it?”
“Chase Manhattan in New York,” she said.
“I’ll need ten million of it tomorrow,” he said.
She didn’t ask any questions. “You can have it all if you want.”
He managed a wry smile. “I’ll try to manage with that, Mama.”
“It’s our money,” she said. “I always said that.”
“I know, Mama, but I was hoping to make it better for you,” he said, and rose from the desk and kissed her on the cheek. “Thank you, Mama,” he said. “Now we can go down to the fucking party.”
* * *
THE LONG DRIVEWAY leading to the expansive veranda entrance to the house was jammed with limousines—Rollses and occasionally a Mercedes. The press and the photographers were exploding the flashes on their cameras and screaming to their favorite stars and actors to get answers to their unheard questions as they swept through the double doors and handed their guest cards to the burly tuxedoed security guards standing there.
Reed Jarvis and Sherman Siddely, his personal attorney, attempted to walk by the guards without turning in guest cards. One of the guards stopped them. “Can’t enter without a card, gentlemen,” he said politely.
“This gentleman is Reed Jarvis,” Sherman explained. “We don’t have any cards.”
“Sorry,” the guard said with half a smile. “No tickee, no shirtee. Out.”
“This is stupid,” Sherman said angrily. “Mr. Jarvis is Shepherd’s partner.”
“I have my orders,” the guard said. “No one without the fancy gold card can enter.”
Jarvis was relaxed. Suddenly in his hand appeared a thousand-dollar bill. “If I can have a word with Mr. Shepherd, I’m sure you’ll find everything in order.”
The guard glanced at the bill. Quickly it disappeared into his own hand. “Wait a moment, sir,” he said. “I’ll find Mr. Shepherd for you.”
“That was a thousand-dollar bill you gave him,” Sherman said.
“That will be the most expensive dollar that prick ever made,” Jarvis said softly. “He’s going to be out of a job tomorrow morning.”
The guard earned his money. Bradley was right behind him. He held out his hand. “Reed, I’m so glad you could make it. Come on in.”
He led Jarvis and Sherman into the giant party room. At the far end was an orchestra; along the side of the inside room was a long table covered with a massive display of hors d’oeuvres and hot food. On the other side, the large French doors opened onto a tented area completely covering the Olympic-size swimming pool, with beautiful tables decorated with gold and silver arranged on either side of the pool. Bradley smiled. “Nobody would believe a redneck from Oklahoma can throw a party like this. It’s putting them all away.”
“It’s big,” Reed replied without enthusiasm.
Bradley stared at him. “Something’s bothering you,” he said shrewdly.
“We have the directors’ meeting tomorrow,” Reed said.
“I know that,” Bradley said.
“I’ve heard some rumors that your oil companies are going down the tube. No money,” Jarvis said.
“Where did you hear that?” Bradley asked.
“Reliable sources.”
Bradley stared at him. “What are you getting at?”
“You have to come up with eighty-five million tomorrow for the new production fund,” Reed answered.
“I haven’t got it, I need time,” Bradley said.
“Sorry,” Jarvis said smoothly. “We made a deal. But I don’t want to embarrass you in front of the other directors. You simply sell your share of the controlling stock for four hundred million. Then you can go back to your own business and straighten out your oil company.”
“And if I don’t want to do that?” Bradley asked.
“You don’t have any choice that I can see.” Jarvis’s voice was cold.
Bradley’s face was impassive. “Let me think on it a bit, Reed,” he said. “I’ll let you know before the party is over.”
“Fair enough,” Jarvis said.
Bradley waved his hand to the now crowded room. “Enjoy yourselves. I have some other guests I have to greet.”
* * *
THE LONG BAR at the far end of the ballroom was five deep with people getting a drink. Reed stared at it distastefully. “I hate that. There has to be somewhere we can find a table with service.”
“From what I see, all the tables are already taken up,” Sherman said.
Daniel Peachtree came up behind them. “I heard you.” He smiled. “Follow me, I know about these affairs. If you don’t get a table, you’re screwed.”
Silently they followed him through the large French doors leading outside to the pool area which was covered by a giant circus tent. Daniel had a large table overlooking the stage built at one end of the pool, on which a sixteen-piece orchestra was playing; a dance floor was built across half the pool, leaving the remainder open for the inevitable plunge by a starlet. Colored lights and Japanese lanterns hung from wires strung tautly from tent pole to tent pole, making a strangely pleasant light.
Daniel made the introductions. “You know Neal.” He gestured to the others. “Reed Jarvis, Sherman Siddely. This is Thyme and Methanie.” He waited until the two men were seated. “We have scotch, vodka, and champagne, ice is on the table. If there is anything more you need, I’ll call a waiter.”
“Scotch will do for me,” Reed said, sitting next to Thyme. “You look very familiar to me,” he said. “Have we met before?”
“I don’t think so.” She poured a scotch on the rocks for him and lifted her champagne glass. “Cheers.”
“Cheers,” Reed said, sipping his drink. “You’re quite beautiful. Are you an actress?”
She laughed again, teasing him. “No.”
“What do you do then?” he asked.
“I make records,” she answered. “I also like to party. What do you do?”
“I make money.”
“That’s lovely,” she said. “I like money. Maybe we can party sometime.”
Reed turned to Daniel. “This girl is delicious. Where did you ever find her?”
Daniel smiled. “You really don’t know her?”
Reed shook his head.
“She has the number one MTV video and record in the country. Her album has just gone platinum.”
Reed turned back to her. “I apologize. I’m afraid I haven’t much time for radio and TV.”
“That’s okay,” Thyme replied. “You do the important thing. Make money.” She rose to her feet. “Could you all excuse me? I have to powder my nose.”
“You look perfect to me.” Reed nodded.
She kissed his cheek lightly. “Silly boy.” She laughed, then, turning to Methanie, “Want to join me?”
Reed watched the girls as they walked away, then said to Daniel, “I want to fuck her.”
Daniel shook his head. “She�
�s trouble. Completely crazy.”
“I like trouble. I can handle a woman like that,” Reed said.
“Besides she’s lez. That’s her girlfriend with her.”
“That makes it better,” Reed retorted. “I can take care of both of them. It’s only a matter of money.”
“Money doesn’t mean a damn to her. She’s in the two million a year class.”
“I’ll get her,” Reed said flatly. “I saw the glint in her eyes when I told her what I do. You just arrange for me to take her back to the city in my car after the party.”
“I’ll try, but I can’t guarantee anything,” he said.
“You’ll manage it,” Reed said. “After all, you’re going to be the CEO of the company when I take over.”
“I didn’t know that pimping is one of the duties of a CEO,” Daniel answered, trying to keep his temper in check.
“Your duties will be what I want you to do,” Reed said coldly, reading the anger beneath Daniel’s words. “For the three million a year plus stock and bonus I pay you, I have the right.”
Daniel was silent for a moment, then glanced at Neal. “Tell Reed and Sherman what we heard this weekend.”
Neal was nervous. He stammered, “I noticed that Donald Trump, Marvin Davis, and Jed Stevens are here at the party. And there is a friend of mine, a commercial real estate broker, told me that they’d like to buy the seventy acres that Millennium owns on the far end of the Marina Del Rey.”
“Were they here together tonight?” Sherman asked.
“I saw them separately,” Daniel said.
“Think they joined forces for this?” Reed asked.
“I don’t know,” Daniel answered. “But the one thing I do know, none of them likes having partners.”
“What’s the property worth?” Reed asked.
“Millennium bought the land just after the war for three million five. They were planning to move the studio there. But it never worked out. The latest idea that Shepherd has is to build a Fantasy Land there. Something like a Disneyland, and he’s already asked several amusement park builders to develop some plans and costs,” Daniel said. “He hasn’t brought me into it, so I don’t know in which stage the plans are. The latest figure I heard from Arthur Young is that the land is worth ninety million, even though it is still carried on the books at cost.”
“That means either of them would easily pay a hundred or more for it. They’re accustomed to buying high and selling for even more,” Sherman said knowingly.
“I’m not concerned about them. A hundred million isn’t enough to get Shepherd out of the bag. I hear he needs two hundred fifty million to get even. He also has problems at his oil companies,” Reed said quietly. “But I will still make contact with all of them, and let them know that I will protect them when I make the deal.”
“Have you spoken to Bradley yet?” Daniel asked.
“He’s still thinking about our offer, but I’m not worried,” Reed said confidently. “We’ll get it.” Then he turned to Daniel with a smile. “The only thing you have to worry about at this moment is that you get that black bitch in my car tonight.”
“I’d better get right after her,” Daniel said, rising to his feet. “Come on, Neal, I saw her heading to the garden. Let’s try to catch her.”
2
JED STEVENS LIFTED a flap of the tent over the pool area and stepped outside to the large, manicured garden. The fresh night air came up from the lawn. He breathed deeply, filling his lungs. All L.A. parties were the same, no matter how large or small. They all smelled the same, a mixture of perfume, sweat, cigarettes, and grass. He let the flap fall and walked down the pathway. He had heard the stables were down that way. Even horseshit would smell better than what he’d been breathing at the party. There was no light on the path, and he stumbled over a large bush and then tripped over two people kneeling in front of him. “Oh, shit,” he said.
Neal stood up in front of him. “What the hell are you doing over here?” he asked angrily.
“I’m sorry,” Jed answered. He could not see Neal’s face in the dark. “I didn’t know that anyone was here.”
Daniel stood up next to Neal. “Get your fucking ass out of here,” he said, “or I’ll break your goddamn neck.”
Then Jed recognized the two men—Daniel Peachtree and his boyfriend, Neal. He tried to make light of the incident. “Sorry, fellows,” he said. “I didn’t mean to disturb you. I’ll go back to the party and we’ll all forget about it.”
“You’re going to forget nothing,” Daniel said harshly. “I’m going to beat the shit out of you. I’m gonna make sure you keep your mouth shut.”
Jed felt his temper rising. “Before you do anything you two better zip up your pants before your little pricks shrivel up and break off from the cold night air.”
Neal moved toward him. “I wouldn’t try that if I were you,” Jed said quietly.
Neal’s voice was flat as he zipped his fly. “We’re both black belts.”
“Congratulations,” Jed said. “But I have something better. Two hundred million dollars in Jarvis’s deal.”
Both men stared at him in surprise. He stared back coldly for a moment before he spoke. “Just in case you two guys don’t know it, we’re all kind of partners,” he said as he turned and walked back up the path to the tent.
He lifted the tent flap and reentered the party. It wasn’t until then he regretted what he had done. “Damn,” he said to himself. Probably Uncle Rocco would be upset because he had opened his mouth.
* * *
BRADLEY WAS ON the private telephone in his own library. Quickly he punched in the telephone number on the computerized speed dialer on the desk. A moment later Chuck’s voice answered.
“I want you out here right away,” Bradley said.
“I’ll get the first plane in the morning,” Chuck said.
“I mean right away. That means tonight.”
“How can I get there?” Chuck asked. “You have the Lear in California with you.”
“An ordinary jet would never make it fast enough for me,” Bradley said. “You call my cousin, Brigadier General Shepherd, at the air base outside of town and tell him that I want him to lend us one of the new F-Zero-60s, four-passenger fighters, to bring you and Judge Gitlin over to me tout suite.”
“The judge is around seventy years old,” Chuck said. “He’s probably in bed.”
“Wake him up then,” Bradley said. “Besides his being my kin, you tell him that he needs to get out here now if he wants to see the twenty-five million he loaned me. Otherwise, he may never see a penny of it. That’ll wake him up.”
“And what do I tell the general?” Chuck asked.
“He’s got a half million shares of my oil stock, and that’ll go down into the shithouse too, if he doesn’t help us out. If you put everything together, the F-Zero-60 will bring you all here in a little less than four hours. That baby can go better than Mach Two.”
“I’ll try,” Chuck said.
“You’ll be here,” Bradley said and put down the phone. He glanced at the desk clock. It was nine-thirty. If all goes well they should make it here by two in the morning, he thought.
He left his library and ran into Daniel Peachtree and Neal Shifrin walking across the landing to the bathroom. He stared at them. Their tuxedos were rumpled. “What the hell happened to you guys?” he asked.
Peachtree looked back at him. “We were walking in the garden,” he said. “And we tripped over a low cypress hedge we didn’t see in the dark.”
“What were you doing out there?” he asked.
“I was on my way to the performers’ setup,” Daniel said. “I wanted to talk to Rainbeau. We have a problem with his new album.”
“Did you find him?” Bradley asked.
“No,” Daniel said angrily. “We were too busy trying to brush the grass off our clothes.”
“I saw you at the table with Jarvis and his lawyer. What were you talking about?” Bradley asked quie
tly.
Daniel was so surprised at Bradley’s having noticed them in the crowd that he blurted out the truth. “Jarvis is thinking of making me CEO over everything.”
“He can’t do that,” Bradley said calmly. “I still have something to say about it.”
Peachtree stared at him, then he backed off. “Maybe I didn’t understand.”
“Maybe,” Bradley said succinctly. “Meanwhile you two better get yourselves straightened up.”
Bradley watched them walk to the bathroom, then started down the staircase.
* * *
SENATOR PATRICK BEAUFORT of Louisiana was a little high. He reached for his fourth bourbon-and-water. “This is a hell of a party.”
Roxane Darrieux, a beautiful Creole girl, who was his executive assistant as well as his mistress, placed a calming hand on his wrist. “Slow down, Senator. It’s a strong drink.”
He looked at her. She shook her head. He put his drink back on the table. He had learned a long time ago in their relationship that she had good instincts. He smiled at her. “Do you have panties on?” he whispered.
“You know I never wear anything under my dress.”
“I want to dip my fingers in your pussy,” he said.
“Later,” she said, looking past him. “Bradley Shepherd’s coming to talk to you.”
Senator Beaufort turned and rose as Bradley greeted him. “My host,” he said warmly. “I have to say that you throw a hell of a party.” He gestured toward Roxane. “You know Ms. Darrieux?”
Bradley took Roxane’s hand. “Nice to see you again, Roxane. I’m glad you could make it.”
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world, Bradley,” she answered in a soft voice. “Please join us for a drink.”
“For just a quickie,” Bradley said and dropped into the chair next to the senator while Roxane quickly poured him a drink. “What’s the word from Washington, Senator?”
“Reagan’s second term is just starting to set in, but it will take a little while for them to get their bearings,” the senator replied.
“What’s the attitude on oil? Are the domestic producers going to get any relief?”
The Piranhas Page 10
