by Lynn Forth
‘Oh, I gathered that, but of course I wouldn’t betray anything personal about him. And besides, no matter what everyone thinks, there are no “kisses” to tell about.’
She fixed him with her candid eyes, and Jack could see it was important to her that he should know her relationship with Scott was strictly platonic.
He couldn’t reveal that he had overheard her rejection of Scott’s advances, so he just nodded. ‘I know you wouldn’t say anything that would harm Scott, but I hope you didn’t mind me warning you. There are some sneaky people out there.’
There was a pause and he could see her thinking. Suddenly, Jane turned her megawatt eyes on him. Unconsciously, he braced himself for some piercing questions.
‘Will you be honest with me and tell me what’s going on?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘At the party, I’d a strong feeling everyone knows something I don’t.’
‘Such as?’ Jack prevaricated. There was a lot Jane didn’t know, and he wasn’t sure what he should tell her.
But she clearly wasn’t to be fobbed off. ‘I’ve overheard gossip and I’ve tried to decipher some of the things Scott has said, so I’m putting two and two together. Tell me the truth: is, or was, Scott going out with Savannah?’
‘Yes, he was,’ Jack said carefully. He wanted to avoid hurting her; she was sharp enough to realise she was a pawn in Scott’s jealousy tactics.
‘Was it serious?’
‘Relatively. Scott spent a lot of time round at Savannah’s, but he hadn’t totally moved in with her.’
Jane nodded. ‘That explains why his house looks so unlived-in. Why he didn’t eat there.’
Another pause.
‘Did the relationship finish when I came on the scene?’
‘No, it’s not quite like that. I think it was in a bit of trouble,’ Jack explained. ‘I know they had just had a massive row.’
‘So, do you think he is only having me to stay, and parading me around, to make her jealous?’
With that steady honest gaze fixed upon him, what could he say? He took a deep breath, then nodded.
‘But I’m sure it’s not the only reason,’ he added hastily, not daring to mention Scott’s seduction ambitions, ‘but I think it is one of the factors.’
To his surprise, instead of being upset, Jane’s face lit up in a radiant smile of relief.
‘That explains it.’
‘What?’
‘He‘s been making advances towards me, and I really couldn’t understand why a superstar like him was bothering with someone like me. Especially when there are gazillions of gorgeous girls out there who would kill for a night with him. I’ve been desperately trying to puzzle it out, but I don’t know why he just won’t take no for an answer.’
‘Possibly because he’s never heard it before,’ said Jack dryly. ‘Anyway, I thought you were a big fan. I’m quite surprised you didn’t succumb.’
Jane flushed, clearly remembering her initial starstruck adoration of Scott. But then grimaced. ‘Let’s just say, he’s not my type.’
Inwardly delighted by her response, Jack grinned. ‘You could have fooled me. He certainly knocked you out when you first saw him.’
Laughing, her hand automatically went to touch the slight bump on the back of her head.
‘True. But I realise now that it’s all the characters he played that I fancied. He’s brilliant in a role. It’s just as himself, he‘s not very…um…interesting.’
Jack’s lips twitched. They were his thoughts exactly.
Jane sank back against the soft leather, seemingly pleased to have got to the bottom of the mystery of Scott’s behaviour. The distant sounds of the party drifted in through the window.
Jack resisted the urge to go and sit next to her. He was only too aware of where he was, and the thought of anyone interrupting them made him pause.
Now he knew her true feelings about Scott, he felt the tightness in his chest ease. He ached to hold her, but not here.
Jane suddenly sat up with a small frown.
‘What am I going to do now?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘It means, at last, I can leave Scott’s, can’t I?’
‘Why?’ Jack asked, but he could already see where this was heading.
‘Well, I’ll just tell him I know about Savannah and that I don’t want to be part of his schemes.’
‘Oh, whoa there, girl. And how do you think he will take that?’
Jane thought for a moment. ‘Not well?’ she ventured.
‘Precisely.’
She slapped the leather sofa in her frustration.
‘If only I had known all this. You don’t know how much I wish I had never accepted his invitation to stay. Apart from anything else, I hate feeling so beholden. Usually, I can pay people back or return favours. Normally, I would thank them by buying tickets to a show or theatre, or by cooking them a meal. But there’s nothing I can do to thank him for all his generosity, this dress, his hospitality. I hate the thought of living in his debt.’
She sank back defeated. ‘And I can’t think of any way of thanking him…’
‘I’m sure he can,’ said Jack dryly.
‘Oh, apart from that.’ She blushed. ‘But I don’t think sex is something you do for gratitude. I’ve always believed…well, you have to be in love. Or is that too romantic?’
Jack’s lips twisted. ‘Surprisingly in Hollywood, the birthplace of the great romantic movies, I suspect that very little sex here is done for love. Apart from money, it is the most transactable commodity around here.’
Jane looked shocked by his cynicism.
‘But talking of Hollywood, your father… Sorry, I know you probably don’t want to talk about it, but—’
‘That’s right. I don’t.’
The silence thickened around them.
He could see Jane was not going to let the conversation go.
‘It’s just that you told him we were working on a script together…and if it’s not too cheeky, I would like to do that.’
This was unexpected. Jack just managed to stop himself reminding her of her low opinion of scriptwriters. This was a genuine request, and it would be too churlish to rake up the past. But Jane seemed to read his mind.
‘I know I was, well, less than complimentary about it when we first met, but I‘ve seen the error of my ways. I had lots of reading time today during my treatments, so I read even more of your script that Scott had left lying about. It’s all so much better than I expected. Oh no, does that sound horribly patronising? What I mean is…’
She collapsed into embarrassed silence.
Jack was thoughtful. ‘I hate collaborating with anyone, so I usually work alone,’ he said. ‘But perhaps—’
He stopped as the study door was suddenly forcibly flung open.
‘Ah, I thought you would be in here.’ Bruno peered eagerly into the softly lit room. His face fell with disappointment as he saw them sitting separately chatting, and not in a scandalous embrace.
Seeing his look of chagrin, Jack silently congratulated himself on deliberately sitting away from Jane.
‘Yes, of course, where else would I bring her? After all, Jane and I are both book lovers.’ Jack intentionally accented the word ‘lovers’.
‘Jane?’ Bruno was puzzled. ‘I thought this was Arabella.’
‘No, the person I’m talking to is definitely called Jane.’
She nodded.
Clearly irritated by her escape from his clutches and by the presence of his hated son, Bruno said impatiently, ‘Well, Scott is looking for the girl he brought to the party, who he is calling Arabella.’
Jane jumped guiltily, but remained silent when Jack gave her a warning look.
‘What a solicitous host you are.’ Jack’s voice deliberately dripped sarcasm, hoping to provoke Bruno.
It worked. His father flushed angrily and strode towards him, raising his fists. But Jack swiftly uncoiled himself from the cha
ir and stood unflinchingly before him.
The atmosphere was electric. Jane looked horror-struck, as if waiting for Bruno to lash out.
Jack hoped he would. This time, he would be ready for him; and this time, he was old enough and big enough to give as good as he got.
But then the older man seemed to shrink, and suddenly turned and abruptly left the room.
Jack’s lips curled. He should have realised that a leopard doesn’t change his spots. Bruno only ever lashed out at the young and vulnerable.
Jane found her voice. ‘Jack, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to cause any bother. I‘d better get back to Scott straight away.’
‘No, you won’t. You will stay right there.’
‘But Bruno said—’
‘Bruno’s sole intention in coming in here was to find us in flagrante, as I believe it’s called in novels.’
‘But Scott will be looking—’
‘The last time I saw Scott, he was surrounded by a coterie of adoring fans and, despite your wonderfully attractive appearance tonight, I suspect he has now taken one, or more, of them to a room to avail himself of what you have so clearly failed to provide.’
Jane gasped.
‘Since I no longer need to spare your feelings about Scott, the one thing I am certain of is that he is not missing Arabella. Furthermore, if he saw you being enticed away by Bruno, he will assume that you would be trapped in his clutches for quite some time yet. And not in a nice way. I happen to know that my father can be very overpowering. What he wants, he usually gets. By force, if necessary. In fact, the more force he has to use, the bigger the thrill for him.’ Disgust dripped from his voice.
Jane shuddered, and looked appalled at the implications of what he was saying.
Jack was certain that Jane’s English accent, her freshness and lack of protection in the world of Tinseltown, would have made her a perfect target for his father. It had been a risk coming to the party, but he had been right.
Unfortunately, he had been wrong to let his anger get the better of him. In provoking Bruno, he had poked the viper in his nest.
But surely his father wouldn’t try anything with all these people around? He wouldn’t risk the scandal.
As long as the party continued, they were safe.
Chapter Fourteen
‘I thought he was going to hit you.’ Jane was still shaken by the venomous look on Bruno’s face.
‘Yes, I was rather hoping he would.’
‘Really?’
‘Oh yes. It wouldn’t be the first time, but this time I would have made sure it was the last.’
‘He used to hit you?’
‘Not just me,’ Jack said through clenched teeth.
‘Your mum?’ Jane was appalled.
The question was left hanging in the air. Jack was plainly still too angry to talk.
But Jane had to get to the bottom of the toxic battle she had just witnessed. Clearly, what she had just seen was just the tip of the iceberg. But how could she get this tight-lipped man to open up?
‘Did I hear Bruno call you Jackson?’
There was an imperceptible nod from the grim-looking man sitting opposite her.
‘So, who are you, Jack Clancy or Jackson Vittori?’
‘I’m Jack Clancy. Even though for a while I was called Jackson Vittori, I have never felt like him. A bit like you have never felt like an Arabella.’
‘Yes, but Arabella is in fact one of my real names.’
‘And Jackson Vittori is one of mine.’
There was a silence.
When nothing more was forthcoming, Jane was stumped. She looked round the study and wondered with a shock if it had once been Jack’s. After all, this was his father’s house and he had unerringly steered her to this small remote room.
As if he could read her thoughts, Jack suddenly stood up and examined the magazine-laden book shelves.
‘Yes, this was once my room. I used to look out over these gardens and wonder how I had ended up here and what the future held for me.’ He gestured round the room. ‘There’s nothing of mine left in here. All my stuff was thrown out soon after I was.’
He turned to her and seemed to make his mind up about something.
Jack stared intently into her surprised eyes, wanting, needing, to see her reaction. With a jolt, he realised that although he didn’t usually give a toss what people thought of him, he did care about Jane’s opinion.
‘You will hear all sorts of gossip and stories around Hollywood about the animosity between me and that man. I’d rather you heard the truth. And heard it from me.’ Looking into her face, he wondered how much he should, could reveal to her.
Jane nodded slowly. ‘Yes, I have heard a few hints from people. In fact, Hank said you would definitely never come here.’
‘Hank?’
‘He’s here as part of the security team.’
‘That’s good to know, if things get too hairy.’
‘Why? What do you think will happen?’ Jane’s eyes widened with alarm.
‘Don’t worry. Bruno won’t start anything with all these people around. But just in case, I need to work out how we will get out of here.’
‘What? Look, Jack, what is going on here?’
‘As you could see, Bruno hates me, and everything about me. That’s OK,’ he said, as Jane was about to protest. ‘I can assure you, the feeling is mutual.’
Jane just shook her head in bewilderment.
‘I suppose, given your family background, you must find it hard to believe that two members of the same family could feel like that, but in my case it’s true. I hate to think we are related, that some of his genes are running around in my blood.’
He sat down heavily. ‘I do look like him, don’t I?’
Jane couldn’t help but nod. He knew she would tell him the truth whether he liked it or not.
‘But…but your expressions are totally different,’ she assured him. ‘You can look a bit…well…cynical at times, but I have never seen you look as downright nasty as he looked just now.’
‘Well, thanks for that, at least.’
‘No, it’s true. When I first saw him, there was something vaguely familiar about him but you’re not the spitting image, by any means. You are…erm, you’re much better looking, for a start.’
He saw a blush creep up her neck and, in spite of himself, he grinned.
He wasn’t being fair. He knew Jane wanted to know his story and was resolutely restraining herself not to ask him outright.
Perhaps he could tell her some of it. Perhaps it was time to trust her.
Sensing the subtle change in Jack’s attitude, Jane held her breath and waited.
After a short pause while he seemed to weigh up where to start, he began, ‘One of the stories you will hear, is that Bruno kicked me out for taking drugs.’
There was a hollow laugh. ‘Anyone who knows Bruno knows just how unlikely that is. But he had to pass round some story that would save his face. I’ve always refused to get into the whole “countering his version with mine” fiasco so beloved of the gossip magazines.
‘Talking of which,’ he gave her a hard stare, ‘I’m not going to insult your integrity by asking you to keep everything I tell you to yourself, because I know I can count on you not to go blabbing it about.’
Jane nodded, aware of the effort it was taking for Jack to open up his box of secrets.
He got up and paced for a while. ‘I suppose, to give you the full picture, I’ll have to tell you about my mother and how she met that slime-ball of a father of mine.’ He gave a harsh laugh. ‘Not that I’m prejudiced at all.’
Looking out of the window with hooded eyes, he still hesitated. His voice was suffused with barely suppressed emotion. ‘Mum was from a good family in England – Yorkshire, like you. She was an only child and doted on by her older parents. She was a happy intelligent teenager, about to go to university, when a Hollywood film crew came to her village and she got a summer job as an extra.
I’ve seen photos and the film she was in then, and she was so glowingly young and beautiful, I’m not surprised my father made a beeline for her.
‘He was an up-and coming Hollywood agent, and was there promoting one of his clients. Of course, Mum had led a sheltered life and she didn’t stand a chance.’
Jack’s stance betrayed his bitter anger. ‘My father flattered her, charmed her, and used his influence to get her a small speaking part on the film. And it was obvious to everyone that she lit up the screen. My father could see her potential so, to cut a long story short, he stopped at nothing to get her back to Hollywood with him.
‘Her parents were dead against it. They could see Bruno was a handsome, charming scoundrel, but of course my mother was in love and took no notice. But they were respectable people, and managed to insist that at least he married her before they left for California.’
Jack paused, clearly imagining his mother as an excited newly-married young teenager entering this wonderfully glamorous world. Jane found herself nodding, remembering how thrilled she had been at the prospect of coming to Hollywood. She had bored her family and friends rigid with her anticipation and enthusiasm. How much more would a sheltered teenager have felt all those years ago?
With anguish etched on his face, Jack continued, ‘So my mum came to Hollywood and, give him his due, Bruno was right about her screen potential. She kept her own name and, as Rose Clancy, she began with small parts and quite quickly built up to some good starring roles.’
‘Yes,’ said Jane softly. ‘I’ve seen some of her films. She was very beautiful, but more than that she had a certain…’ Jane stopped herself before she said the word ‘fragility’. ‘There was definitely something special about her.’
‘Yes, and I think I know what you were going to say. A certain vulnerability.’ He closed his eyes as if in pain.
Jane nodded.
‘That’s because she was. Very vulnerable.’
Once again, a long pause. This story was clearly something he found difficult to recount. Jane silently willed him on. She knew if he stopped, the mood would be broken and he would clam up again.
