The two men in her life – Raf and Paulo – had never given her any real satisfaction.
Thinking about it, she felt her body become warm. Angrily she got into bed. She knew only too well what frustration meant. When the Steve Magnum affair was over she would go out like other girls, and have an affair with the first man she liked well enough.
She couldn’t sleep. Thoughts kept crowding in on her. After an hour of tossing and turning she took two of the sleeping pills that had been given to her in Rome after Paulo’s death. This was the first time since then that she had had cause to take them. She disliked taking medicines after seeing what drugs had done to Paulo, but she needed sleep desperately.
At last she slept, a deep heavy sleep, because the pills were strong and she was unused to them. She dreamt of Steve. He was in bed with her, pulling her nightdress off and moulding her breasts with rough hands. She moaned in her sleep. He was pinning her arms down and entering her roughly, and she was gasping and curling her legs around him, and raking her nails down his back. Then she was on a roller-coaster of sensation, her whole body taut, nerve-ends ready to explode in a fantastic climax. Nothing mattered any more except reaching the top of the mountain, and as she hit the peak she started to laugh, and the relief and the joy of it was incredible.
Then she opened her eyes in time to watch Claude Hussan roll off her.
She lay there for a moment, her mind in a fog.
Calmly, he was lighting a cigarette. Puffing on it once, he handed it to her.
She brushed it away, the truth of what had just happened dawning on her. He had somehow or other got into her room and raped her, and she hadn’t even woken up – or had she?
‘What are you doing here?’ she asked in a low voice, realizing how ridiculous the question was even as she asked it. ‘How did you get in?’
‘I have my ways. I was merely answering your invitation on the plane.’
‘What invitation?’
He laughed. ‘My dear lady, I knew what you wanted, even if you may not have known yourself.’
She was ashamed. Had it been so obvious that she needed a man?
Her body was in a soft state of abandon and fulfilment.
His hands started to use her again. ‘If I was wrong I’ll go,’ he said.
She sat up quickly. ‘Get out of here!’
He wound his hand in her hair and pulled her back beside him. Then he kissed her long and hard. ‘It’s better this way,’ he said. ‘Now we can have an honest relationship without going through all the merde of dating, and juvenile things like that.’
She moaned, responding to his body. What did she have to lose? It was too late for outrage and cries of rape, and since their first meeting in Acapulco she had been attracted to him. ‘All right,’ she muttered, surprising herself.
‘You’re a clever woman, Sunday,’ Claude said, only a trace of a French accent in his voice. ‘Now I shall make love to you while you’re awake, and tomorrow we will get to know each other.’
* * *
By the time Steve Magnum’s detectives tracked Sunday down, she and Claude Hussan were inseparable. Steve was furious. He was sure that the reason Sunday had run out on him in Acapulco was because of the French director. He snarled at Carey to release the statement to the press, which she did at once, sparking off much speculation and gossip.
Steve immediately started dating every available girl in town. He even stopped blaming Dindi, and saw her too. She attached herself like a leech, gradually getting rid of rivals and moving in on him as his constant companion.
Carey shuddered at Sunday’s latest choice in men. Claude Hussan had the reputation of being a mean, cynical, bastard, who enoyed great success with the ladies. His wife was a lesbian, and he had two mistresses in Paris who had both borne him children. He was a brilliant director, but apparently murderous to work with, and completely ruthless when it came to other people’s feelings. Rumour also had it that he was prepared to indulge in any sexual deviation, especially orgies.
Carey shook her head. He didn’t sound like Sunday’s sort of man at all. She wished that Sunday would at least telephone her. She hadn’t heard one word and although she left messages at the hotel in Rio her calls were not returned.
Marshall said, ‘Don’t worry. As long as she’s back in time for her next movie it’s not your business. She’s your client, that’s all.’
‘She’s also my friend,’ Carey replied, and continued to worry.
* * *
Claude Hussan was in Rio to interview two actors he wanted for his film. As it was to be his first American film he wanted every part perfectly cast.
He gave Sunday the script to read. She was excited about it. If only he would consider her for the woman’s role; it was a wonderful part.
‘Who do you have in mind for Stefanie?’ she asked casually one night.
‘An actress of great strength,’ Claude replied. ‘A woman like Bancroft or Woodward. An American Moreau.’
She was silent. He would obviously never consider her, although she was sure she could play the part. Stefanie, a rich Beverly Hills wife who lives in a mansion with her husband, an ageing voyeuristic banker. One day their house is broken into by two boys, who make love to Stefanie, forcing her husband to watch. They stay, keeping the couple prisoners, until gradually Stefanie’s loyalties switch from her husband to the boys and she becomes like them.
‘I have to get back to L.A. soon,’ she remarked later that evening, ‘I really should let Carey know I’m on my way.’
‘I’m not stopping you,’ he said brusquely. ‘Our arrangement is to do what we want when we want to.’
‘But I don’t want to go. You know I signed for a film.’
‘A film? Is that what you call those flimsy pieces of garbage you make?’
They had been together only two weeks. She knew she must be in love because it didn’t seem to matter what he did, she just wanted to be with him. He was incredibly rude to everyone – waiters, maids, the hotel receptionists, he treated them all like dirt. He had a contemptuous attitude towards everyone.
One day she asked him, ‘How can you talk to people that way?’
‘If they have no more ambition in life than being a servant, they deserve whatever treatment they get,’ he snapped.
She was embarrassed by his behaviour. She smiled at the waiter he had recently screamed at, tipped the maid he threw out of the room, chatted amiably to the temporary nurse he had hired to take care of his son.
Jean-Pierre was a lovable little boy, although rather quiet for a five-year-old. Claude hardly seemed to notice his existence, but Sunday spent a lot of time with him. She took him to play on the beach, for walks, and started to teach him English.
‘Why is he with you?’ she asked Claude one day. ‘You never give him any attention. Where is his mother?’
He ignored her, a habit he had when he did not wish to answer a question.
She sighed. He was an impossible, difficult, spoilt man. But when he made love to her every night it was so thrilling and beautiful that she chose to ignore his faults.
She knew she couldn’t put off contacting Carey any longer. She had been reluctant to phone her, knowing she would criticize, but it had to be done as she had to get back to Los Angeles. It wouldn’t be so bad. Claude was flying to Paris for a week and then he too would be in L.A.
‘Are you bringing Jean-Pierre back with you,’ she asked. ‘Or will he stay in Paris with his mother?’
‘His mother does not want him with her,’ Claude replied shortly. ‘Usually he stays with his grandmother, but she is sick, so I suppose I shall have to keep him with me.’
‘It makes me very sad the way you treat him,’ she said. ‘You take no notice of him. Don’t you care?’
‘He is with me, isn’t he? That should mean that I care, shouldn’t it?’ He was angry. ‘I could have arranged to leave him, but I bring him with me.’
‘Shall I take him back to L.A. with me tomorrow
?’ she asked on impulse. ‘We get along very well. I think he likes me, and after all, you will be with us in a week.’
He turned away from her. They were lying in bed, resting before a dinner engagement.
She touched his back gently. ‘Please let him come with me, Claude, it would be like having a little piece of you near me. I’m going to miss you so much. We could phone the nurse now and tell her to prepare his things. I don’t leave until the afternoon, there’s plenty of time.’
He kicked the covers off and lay on his back. ‘Make love to me the way I like it, and if it’s good, we’ll see.’
Chapter Thirty-Five
Charlie’s lawyer telephoned him on the set. ‘She’s agreed to an outright payment,’ he announced. ‘Her lawyers advised her to stick out for alimony, but she decided to accept your offer.’
‘Natural greed got the better of her,’ Charlie said, relieved. ‘I knew it would. Finalize the whole thing as soon as possible.’
He hung up, delighted. The money he would have to pay was worth it – anything to cut Dindi Sydne completely out of his life.
Dindi was also delighted. Charlie Brick had served her purpose, and to get rid of him plus receiving a large cash settlement was more than she had hoped for.
Everything was going her way. All the World Loves a Stripper was well into production. She was receiving a great deal of publicity, and not only from the film. In the columns her name was constantly mentioned as the girl who was consoling Steve Magnum after his broken engagement. And it was true, she was consoling him; nothing consoled him more than a long raunchy session with the whip. She didn’t mind that, though. In fact, she really quite enjoyed it, and on the side she was banging a beautiful pale blond pool boy who came to her house three mornings a week, serviced her, and then serviced the pool.
It was really very convenient the way everything had worked out – Sunday getting hooked up with Claude Hussan, and Steve blaming him for Sunday’s behaviour. Of course Dindi was smart enough to know that Steve was carrying one big torch, but that was only because he hadn’t had an affair with Sunday, a fact he had admitted to Dindi one drunken night.
Secretly Dindi admired Sunday. Miss Simmons certainly knew how to grab a guy by the balls.
She wondered how she was making out with darling Claude. Once, in Rome, Dindi had had a scene with his wife while he sat fully dressed on a couch, watching. He had never spoken to her, just paid her the money she had been promised by the agent who had taken her there. Sunday certainly believed in getting mixed up with weirdos!
When her film was finished Dindi planned to visit Las Vegas with Steve on his once-a-year gambling stint. At the same time she could get a quick divorce from Charlie. She was just as anxious to be rid of him as he was of her, and if she played her cards right, maybe – hopefully – there might be a chance that Dindi Brick – née Sydne – might just possibly become Mrs Steve Magnum.
* * *
‘I hear you’re all going up to that rock festival,’ Charlie said to Laurel casually.
‘Yes,’ she agreed, ‘it’s going to be so great. We’ve hired a bus to take us, and we’re going to sleep out in tents. Floss says it’s going to be a beautiful experience. Hey, why don’t you come?’
‘No, you don’t want me along, it’s going to be all you kids—’
‘Charlie, please come. You know we’d love to have you with us. Floss will be knocked out if I tell him you’re coming.’
‘Perhaps I could drive there, maybe follow your bus in my car.’
She grimaced. ‘That would look sort of funny. Can’t you come in the bus with us? Mick’s coming, and Tina, Rex and Janie, Phillipa—’
‘Well, if you’re sure there’s room.’
‘I’m sure. We’ll have a great time. We’ll leave Friday straight after shooting.’
He nodded. Why shouldn’t he go? He was one of the crowd; they had accepted him. Besides which, he wanted to see Philippa again, to prove to her that he wasn’t as old as she seemed to think.
When they finished work that night he had George drive him to the latest psychedelic shop, where he browsed among the ponchos, army jackets and T-shirts, emblazoned with ‘Don’t go to pot – take it’. He finally chose a white canvas Indian-style shirt and a fringed suede jacket, similar to one Floss was always wearing.
Outside in the Mercedes, George wondered how long this phase would last.
Charlie decided against going to Laurel and Floss’s house that night. He had George drive him straight back to his hotel. There were several scripts he wanted to read. He just felt like relaxing and being on his own.
There were a lot of messages from people who wanted him to contact them. Natalie Allen had left her name several times over the past week, and Marshall K. Marshall requested that he telephone him at home as soon as possible. They were the only two calls Charlie felt obliged to make.
He phoned Natalie first, feeling guilty because he hadn’t spoken to either of them since his night out with Clay.
‘Well, well, stranger,’ she said, ‘what have you been doing with yourself ? I’ve been trying to ring you for days.’
‘I’m sorry, love,’ he replied warmly. ‘Been so busy on the film, just haven’t had a minute.’
‘You certainly had a minute for Clay the other night. He came staggering home at four a.m., smelling like a brewery. What were the two of you up to?’
He changed the subject. ‘Why don’t you visit the set one day, have a spot of lunch? I’ll send George to fetch you.’
‘I’d love to but I’m absolutely exhausted, I just can’t be bothered to leave the house. Why don’t you fix up a night, now while I’ve got you on the phone, to come over to dinner. How about tomorrow?’
The next night was Thursday and he wanted to prepare himself for the weekend trip. ‘Can’t make that.’
‘Friday then, or better still come for the day Saturday and stay for dinner.’
‘No, I can’t, love, I’m off for the weekend.’
‘Oh! Off where?’
‘I’m going to that – er – big rock festival thing.’
Natalie laughed. ‘You’re doing what?’
Defensively Charlie said, ‘The rock festival out in the open. Should be great.’
‘Who on earth got you to go to that? It will be full of freaks. I saw the television show on the last one and it was unbelievable. All those filthy-looking kids, you’ll hate it, Charlie.
How did she know what he would hate and what he would not hate? The trouble with Natalie was that she didn’t move with the times.
‘Is Clay around?’ he asked.
Still laughing, she said, ‘Just a minute, I’ll get him.’ Then he heard muffled conversation and more laughter as she explained to Clay where he was going.
‘Off to the flower people, I hear,’ Clay said, joining in the fun. ‘Find me a little thirteen-year-old darling.’
‘Yes, and don’t you wish you were going with me?’
‘I do. Natalie wants to know about dinner Monday.’
‘Fine.’
‘Have a good time, see you then.’
Next Charlie phoned Marshall K. Marshall.
‘I’d like to have a meeting with you,’ Marshall said. ‘Bad news, I’m afraid.’
‘Bad news? What?’
‘I’d sooner meet with you, Charlie, have a proper discussion.’
‘What is it, for Chrissakes? If there’s one thing I can’t stand it’s suspense.’
‘Look, if you’re going to be free for lunch tomorrow I’ll come to the studio.’
‘What about now? Can’t you come over now?’
‘No, I can’t,’ Marshall snapped, ‘I’ve put in a heavy day and I’m in bed.’
‘Can I come over to see you? I mean if it’s that important.’
‘It’s not a matter of life and death, it’s just a business discussion I think we should have, and the sooner the better.’
Like all actors Charlic couldn’t wait. When i
t came to his career he was supersensitive. ‘If you don’t mind, I’ll be with you in half an hour.’
‘All right, you’re the client.’
Marshall hung up and studied the sleeping Carey, lying beside him. She had the most beautiful skin he had ever seen, a rich warm milk chocolate. He shook her awake. They had fallen into bed at five o’clock and it was now nearly eight.
She awoke smiling. ‘You’re never satisfied, are you? You’re worse than a nineteen-year-old high-school boy. If I marry you, you’re going to wear me out in no time flat, and—’
He brushed his chubby cigar-stained hands across her hard taut breasts. ‘Relax, I’ve got Charlie Brick coming over, so shift your sexy ass and go home and decide what day next week it’s going to be, and I mean next week. No more stalling.’
She smiled. ‘The thing I love about you is you still talk to me like I’m the little secretary you hired way back.’
It was his turn to smile. ‘What’s so different about you now?’
‘I’m making it with the boss – sorry – ex-boss.’ She dressed in the copy of a pink Cardin suit she had worn to the office that day. ‘I’m meeting Sunday at the airport in the morning, so I’ll call you when I’m back in the office.’
Downstairs the maid was just admitting Charlie Brick as Carey was about to leave.
Marshall came downstairs in a plain maroon dressing gown. Carey blew him an affectionate kiss and left. ‘That is one hell of a girl,’ he remarked.
‘She’s very attractive,’ Charlie agreed. He had heard rumours that Marshall was planning to marry her.
They went into the living room and Charlie accepted a brandy. ‘Well, come on,’ he said, hardly able to contain his annoyance, ‘what’s all this bad news then?’
‘I didn’t want to talk on the phone,’ Marshall said. ‘You never know who may be listening in, and in this town news travels fast enough without giving it a boot up the ass. The fact is, Charlie, your next picture has been cancelled.’
Sinners Page 20
