Lovers and Gamblers

by Jackie Collins

  She waved. She couldn’t hear him.

  Dallas sat down on the sand. Why – when he kissed her – had she not shoved him away immediately? Why had she dissolved into soft mushy pieces? Why had she wanted him with a passion she had never felt in her life before? It had taken every bit of will power she possessed to push him away. How come he was invading her feelings?

  In the distance she watched him swimming back to the beach, and come staggering out of the sea. He ran towards her. ‘It’s freezing when you get out,’ he laughed: ‘Real brass monkey time! Hey – can you run up to the car and see if Luke’s got a towel or blanket or something I can dry myself with.’

  She did as he asked, and the impassive Luke gave her a large rug which she carried back to Al. He wrapped himself in it. ‘You missed a treat.’

  ‘Yeah. Why are you shivering then?’

  ‘Smartass.’

  ‘Get dressed, we’ll be late for Paul and Linda.’

  He tried to put his arms around her.

  ‘You’re all wet!’ she complained.

  ‘So help me get dry.’

  Laughingly she pushed him away. ‘I’ll see you in the car. Hurry up!’ She didn’t trust herself with him.

  Waiting at Pips, the Beverly Hills discotheque, they found a disconsolate Paul. ‘Your friend,’ he complained to Dallas, ‘what does she want from me? I said I was sorry. Does she want it written in my blood? Why is you hair wet, Al?’

  ‘Went swimming.’

  Paul shook his head in amazement.

  ‘Where’s Linda?’ inquired Dallas.

  Paul said, ‘You may well ask. I tried to talk to her but she doesn’t want to know. Maybe you could talk to her for me.’

  ‘Yes – you talk to her for him,’ interrupted Al, ‘just like he called you for me.’

  Paul glared. ‘I was only doing what I thought was—’

  ‘Shut up,’ said Al amiably. ‘Order champagne. Dallas and I are going to dance.’

  They pressed together on the crowded dance floor, and once again Dallas could feel his insistent hardness.

  ‘Having a good time?’ he asked.

  ‘Not bad.’

  ‘That’s what I like – enthusiasm!’ He hugged her tightly, unaware of the fact they were getting a lot of attention and stares. ‘You’re going to come to my concert tomorrow. Then after, Karmen Rush is giving a big party for me. Yes?’

  ‘I don’t know…’

  ‘Stop giving me a hard time. I’ve got the message you’re not an easy lay. I’m asking you to a concert and a party, not a twenty-handed orgy. Right?’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘I still want you…’ he whispered in her ear. ‘Don’t tell me you aren’t feeling the same way…’

  She was saved from answering by Cody Hills. Cody in a suit and tie, dancing with the definitive dumb blonde.

  ‘Cody!’ she exclaimed, surprised to see him. ‘What are you doing here?’

  * * *

  It was obvious to Cody that to get through the whole traumatic experience with Dallas he was going to need outside help.

  Carol Cameron was ready, willing, and available. She was also very pretty. And if you had an ego that needed repairing – well, she was the best sexual mechanic around – and where better a place to starting restoring a shattered ego than in bed?

  Of course after a few days her conversation did begin to pall. It was always about herself. Her new photos. Her acting classes. Her clothes. Her hair. Her face. Her career.

  Because he felt it was only fair to do a trade – she wasn’t giving him her body for nothing – he took her on his books and got her the small but interesting part of a hooker in a double-part Kojak. She was delighted, and dragged him to Pips to celebrate. Whereupon who was the first person he bumped into? Dallas of course. Dallas nuzzled on the dance floor with Al (goddamn English sex maniac) King. And why did she stare at him in a state of surprise and say, ‘What are you doing here?’ As if he was some kind of freak who should only be seen during business hours.

  He managed to give her a cool smile and mumble something about he came here often.

  Meanwhile Carol was freaking out over Al King, and digging Cody in the ribs muttering, ‘Introduce me! Introduce me!’

  Cody did as she asked, and Al dismissed her with hardly a glance, and who could blame him when he was dancing with Dallas.

  When they were out of earshot Cody said, ‘Let’s go home.’

  ‘Let’s stay,’ enthused Carol, jiggling about in her tighter than tight gold pants and lurex sweater.

  ‘We’re going,’ Cody insisted. At least with this one he was going to be the boss.

  ‘If you’re going to force me…’ she pouted.

  ‘Yes,’ he said. She didn’t argue further.

  * * *

  Dallas and Al left Pips at two in the morning, Paul tagging along with them.

  News had leaked out that they were there, and several photographers sprung into action. Paul tried to shield his brother.

  ‘Forget it,’ said Al. ‘I’m not bothered.’

  He might not be bothered now, mused Paul, but he would not be too thrilled in the morning when his picture was flashed all over the newspapers. Especially when the news services flashed it all the way to England, and Edna got a load of it.

  They all got in the car. ‘Where to now?’ asked Al.

  ‘Drop me at the hotel,’ said Paul.

  ‘You’d better take me home first,’ suggested Dallas.

  ‘We haven’t finished our list,’ objected Al. He sneezed.

  ‘You’ve caught a cold,’ Paul accused. ‘You should get some sleep before tomorrow. All we need is for you to lose your voice.’

  ‘I can sleep all day.’

  ‘You’re taping the Johny Carson show in the afternoon.’

  ‘Anyway, I’m beat,’ interrupted Dallas. ‘Whacked out. So if you want me to come tomorrow…’

  ‘If I take you home now is that a promise?’

  ‘I suppose so.’

  ‘OK, we’ll drop Paul…’

  ‘We won’t drop Paul. You’re both at the Beverly Hills, aren’t you? So drop me first.’ She gave Luke the address. ‘I thought…’ began Al.

  ‘I know what you thought, and you thought wrong.’

  He grinned. It was good to be in on the chase once more – gave the whole game a little excitement. The big E had been missing from his life for far too long.

  They dropped Dallas at her house. ‘See you tomorrow,’ Al said.

  ‘Probably,’ she replied.

  ‘Don’t give me that – it’s a definitely.’

  ‘Well…’

  ‘Tomorrow,’ he said firmly.

  ‘If you say so…’ She walked in the house and they drove off.

  Al felt marvellous. Paul was glum.

  ‘Put on one of my tapes,’ Al instructed Luke. ‘No – don’t. Put on the Womack tape we were playing before.’ He sang along with it. ‘Isn’t she great?’ he asked Paul. ‘She’s the kind of girl I could really like – you know, she’s different, kind of ballsy. She’s there. Know what I mean? She’s not just standing around waiting to get humped. Makes a nice change.’

  For how long? Paul wanted to ask. None of them lasted more than five minutes. He only liked this one because she was giving him a hard time.

  At the hotel the red light was flashing on Al’s phone indicating there were messages. A memo pushed under his door read, ‘Contact the front desk – urgent.’

  Perhaps Dallas was calling him to tell him she had changed her mind.

  He picked up the phone. ‘Al King here,’ he snapped. ‘What’s the message?’

  ‘One moment please, Mr. King, I’ll put you through to the front desk.’

  There was a pause, then a man’s voice came on the line. ‘Mr. King. Sorry to bother you –but we have a young man here claiming to be your son. An Evan King. He has a passport from England verifying the fact. Shall we send him over? I didn’t want to do anything until I’d
checked with you.’

  ‘Send him over,’ said Al dully.

  What the fuck was Evan doing here?

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Linda saw no reason why she should hang around and watch Paul discuss business with revolting Lew Margolis.

  Paul had apologized to her. ‘I’m sorry my wife caught us in bed together but what was I supposed to do?’ If he didn’t know, she wasn’t going to be the one to tell him. Now he was saying Al wanted them to join him at Pips.

  Did he honestly expect one little apology to make everything all right? If he did, he was more of a fool than she had thought. And to add insult, he was already saying, ‘Al wants us to…’ Well, screw what Al wanted. She didn’t have to trip ass over elbow to do what Al wanted. Let them all run – Dallas too, if that was her scene. But she was free, white, and twenty-one… Well, maybe not exactly twenty-one – but free and white for sure.

  She slipped quietly away from the party, and she hadn’t given the parking boy a second thought until he gunned her rented Chevrolet up the drive for her, hopped out and said, ‘I’m getting off now. Could you drop me on the Strip?’

  She looked him up and down. Surveyed him as she would a prime leg of lamb in the supermarket. He was young, but certainly experienced. That cocky grin – she tried not to laugh at her choice of adjectives – bulging jeans, muscle-bound T-shirt.

  ‘Sure,’ she said casually, ‘jump in.’

  He slouched in the passenger seat, chewing gum. ‘Where’s your friend?’ he asked.

  As if you don’t know – she thought. You saw her leave and planned your exit with me because I’m the only woman on my own and you probably do this all the time, you randy little stud. ‘She had to leave.’

  ‘Yeah?’ He blew a bubble with the gum.

  Bubble gum yet! She really was baby snatching!

  ‘You connected with the movie business?’ he asked.

  ‘I’m a photographer.’

  ‘Neat!’ he sat up very straight. ‘I’m an actor, you know.’

  ‘Oh, really?’

  ‘Yeah – I’m just parking cars for a friend – like helpin’ him out. I’ve been in a Marcus Welby and Bionic Woman.’

  ‘That’s exciting. How old are you?’ If he was over eighteen she would allow him to have her. She would even pay for the motel room. Younger, and he was on his own.

  ‘Nineteen, nearly twenty,’ he said.

  She smiled.

  Two hours later they lay on their backs, smoking pot that he had thoughtfully produced, in a Westwood motel.

  ‘Again?’ he asked.

  ‘Why not?’

  He rolled her onto her stomach, forcing her on all fours, entering her from behind. He performed like well-oiled machinery. In. Out. In. Out. All pistons working. He was bringing her to her fourth climax. She groaned. He mumbled what she took to be a few obscenities. ‘I’m gonna come,’ he announced.

  It was his first time. ‘Go ahead,’ she murmured, ‘you deserve it!’.

  He exploded inside her wiping out all thoughts of Paul. He didn’t collapse. He was still rock hard. She came a little after him. She had to force him off her. ‘Enough!’ she gasped, ‘I can’t take any more!’

  Why was it would-be actors were such amazing lays? And how come when their star rose their cocks diminished?

  She giggled softly. It was a problem she would probably never find the answer to.

  Dallas was asleep when Linda finally got back to the house at four a.m.

  She took her clothes off and swam in the invitingly warm pool. She had dropped her parking boy off on the Strip as she had promised him hours before.

  ‘I’ll call you,’ she had said.

  ‘I’m not on the phone, I’ll call you,’ he had countered.

  ‘Impossible,’ she had said. ‘You must have a number where I can reach you.’

  Reluctantly he had produced a number where she could leave a message for him. ‘Why can’t I have your number?’ he had complained.

  She hadn’t answered. She had blown him a kiss and driven off.

  The danger was in trying to make a relationship out of one night of lust. Men had learned that lesson long ago. Women were only just beginning to learn.

  In the morning the doorbell rang waking them both up at the same time.

  ‘Linda – you there – can you get it?’ yawned Dallas from the bedroom.

  ‘Got it,’ retorted Linda, inspecting an amazing array of flowers through the spyhole in the door.

  She signed for them, baskets and baskets of red roses. The card was addressed to Dallas. Paul wouldn’t know about displaying such unbridled generosity.

  ‘Here.’ She wandered in the bedroom handing Dallas the card. ‘There’s a flower shop outside.’

  Dallas opened up the card. ‘Al’ was typed neatly in the centre. Nothing else, just ‘Al’. She handed Linda the card to look at.

  ‘He really likes to commit himself, doesn’t he?’ mused Linda. ‘But you’re one up on everyone else, I’ve never heard of him sending any of his girls flowers.’

  ‘I’m not one of his girls,’ snapped Dallas irritably.

  ‘Don’t tell me the great A.K. struck out?’

  ‘I’m telling you.’

  Linda clapped her hands together, ‘Hurrah! The Master has finally failed.’

  Dallas stretched and yawned. ‘But I must admit I was tempted. If it hadn’t have been for what I knew about him…’

  ‘The original fuck-and-run merchant,’ interrupted Linda.

  ‘I know. But, Linda, you know me. I am never tempted. I don’t even like sex.’

  ‘So what makes you think things would be different with Al?’

  ‘It’s just a sort of feeling – more a sensation. He held my hand, it was so goddamn exciting I wanted to faint!’

  ‘Oh Christ!’ exclaimed Linda. ‘You sound like you’re in love.’

  ‘In love! Are you kidding? I’ve never been in love. I wouldn’t even know what it felt like.’

  ‘Exactly. Did you get stomach cramps? Couldn’t eat? Sweaty armpits? A feeling of euphoria?’

  ‘Well, now that you mention it…’

  ‘Shit!’ Linda clapped herself on the forehead. ‘Why did you have to pick on a creep like Al? Couldn’t you propel those feelings in a nice guy like Cody’s direction?’

  ‘We bumped into Cody last night. He seems to have taken the whole thing very well. He was with a blonde who resembled that dragon he turned up at lunch with in no way whatsoever.’

  ‘What do you want him to do – sit at home and cry?’

  Dallas climbed out of bed. ‘I’m going to look at my flowers. By the way, what happened to you?’

  ‘San Jose.’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘The song – remember? Would-be actor pumping gas and parking cars. He was pumping all right!’

  ‘You didn’t?’

  ‘I did, and it was a truly beautiful experience – apart from which he’s a great lay!’

  Dallas screwed up her face in disgust. ‘I don’t know how you could do it.’

  ‘You did it for long enough.’

  ‘That was for money.’

  ‘Well, this is for like. I like screwing.’

  ‘But what about Paul?’

  ‘He’s different. I love him – correction, I loved him – I’m not sure how I feel any more. But while I’m finding out I’m certainly not going to give up my sex life. Coffee?’

  ‘If you’re making.’

  Dallas arranged her flowers around the house. They looked beautiful. She showered, washed her hair and dressed. She couldn’t stop thinking about Al. Aarron phoned.

  ‘Why did you leave so early?’ he wanted to know.

  ‘I didn’t feel good,’ she lied.

  ‘Why don’t you come to Palm Springs with me today? I’ll fly you back in time for the studio tomorrow morning.’

  ‘No, Aarron. It’s my only day off and I want to do a lot of things around the house.’

  ‘I�
�m going to New York tomorrow. Perhaps next weekend.’

  ‘Perhaps.’

  ‘I’ll telephone you on Wednesday.’

  She hung up. He had behaved like the perfect gentleman with her apart from hands that lingered too long on her knee. She knew if she wanted to she could get him to marry her. She could be Mrs. Aarron Mack. He was old. How many years did he have left? But the days of wanting to be married to a rich man were far behind her. She wasn’t sure what she wanted now – but it wasn’t that.

  Al phoned at four o’clock. He sounded different – edgy and cold. ‘I’ll send a car for you,’ he said, ‘there’s no room in the helicopter.’

  ‘Hey – listen,’ she replied, ‘maybe I shouldn’t go.’

  ‘I want you to be there.’

  ‘Well I’m not traipsing out there all alone in a car.’

  ‘Christ! Don’t you be difficult, I’ve got problems enough.’

  ‘I don’t want to add to your problems,’ she snapped icily, and hung up on him.

  He phoned back immediately. ‘What’s with you?’ he demanded.

  ‘What’s with me? What’s with you?’

  ‘Aw – shit. My son arrived out of the blue, just flew in and dumped himself on me.’

  ‘Why don’t you send him back?’

  ‘It’s not as simple as that – he’s got problems.’

  ‘What problems?’

  ‘If you’re really interested, he’s got a dose of the clap.’

  ‘Oh!’ She was silent. There wasn’t really much to say to that.

  ‘Did you get the flowers?’

  ‘They’re fantastic. Thank you.’

  He sighed. ‘Look, how about if you bring Linda to the show?’

  ‘I don’t think so…’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘She’s busy.’

  ‘Have you got any other friends could come with you? We could take them with us to the Rush party after.’

  She thought of Kiki and Chuck. They would probably love to go. ‘I’ll make a phone call. Can you call me back?’

  ‘Please understand if I can’t call you back – I’m right in the middle of an interview. Bernie or Paul will call you. Tell them how many tickets you want. The plan is we’ll meet back at my hotel after the show, we’ll go to the party from there. Does that suit you?’