Lovers and Gamblers

by Jackie Collins

  She covered her eyes with her arm. What a mess she had got herself in.

  ‘Do we have an agreement?’ Nino persisted.

  She took her arm away and stared at his handsome arrogant, hateful face. ‘All right,’ she muttered. What choice did she have?

  ‘Good. I will contact you by phone to give you further details – times and places, and I want a report from you twice a day in case any plans get changed.’ His mouth twisted into a thin smile. ‘Well, my little carioca, shall we make love before you go? Or are you still in a hurry?’

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  Dallas woke up slowly, stretched, spread her arms out, opened her eyes, and wondered where the hell she was.

  She felt hot, and kind of sweaty, and realized that she still had her jeans and T-shirt on.

  She tried to remember, but everything seemed to be a vague blur, the clearest memory being Palm Springs.

  She sat up, looked around the ornate hotel bedroom, located the bathroom, and locked herself in there. She stripped off her clothes and stepped under an icy shower. The cold water refreshed her. She grabbed some soap and washed herself thoroughly, including her hair. Then she wrapped herself in a towelling bathrobe which was hanging behind the door, and turbaned her hair in a towel. There was a tube of toothpaste lying on the side, and she squeezed some onto her fingers and rubbed it over her teeth, rinsing her mouth out with water.

  Things were becoming clearer. She could remember getting on a plane to Las Vegas and meeting a frizzy-haired girl who had fixed her up with a lot of good things. Wow – that was it. She had gotten good and stoned, and come to think of it a joint and some pills wouldn’t be such a bad idea now. She felt depressed and down. Al King… Al King… Hadn’t she been following up some wild idea of visiting him? Christ! She must have been stoned!

  She walked out of the bathroom looking for her bag. Then she noticed that there were men’s clothes around the room, and a suitcase that wasn’t hers.

  She tied the bathrobe tightly around herself and walked into the living room.

  Al King was sitting at a room service table drinking orange juice and reading a newspaper. He looked up when she came in. ‘Good morning. How did you sleep?’

  She stared at him, waiting for recollection of the previous evening to come flooding back. Nothing. She bit her lip. Now her goddamn head was beginning to throb.

  Al smiled pleasantly at her. ‘Want some breakfast?’

  She shook her head. Breakfast wasn’t what she wanted. ‘You seen my bag?’ she muttered, disgusted with herself for what obviously must have happened.

  ‘It’s over there.’

  She picked up the bag and headed back to the bedroom, emptying the contents out onto the bed. A bikini. A T-shirt, denim shirt, some shorts. Bottles of make-up, a hairbrush, small hair dryer, several packs of chewing gum, a hand mirror, box of Kleenex, tube of suntan cream, and a make-up bag. That was it. The entire contents.

  She turned the bag upside down and shook it. A few hairpins fell out. Where the hell were her pills? Her joints? Shit. She couldn’t have demolished them all.

  She went in the bathroom and picked her jeans up off the floor, rifling through the pockets. She pulled out a cheque and squinted at it in amazement. Thirty thousand dollars. Made out to her. She went back in the living room, waving it in the air. ‘Where did I get this?’ she demanded.

  ‘Don’t you remember?’ Al asked innocently.

  ‘If I remembered I wouldn’t be asking, would I?’ she snapped.

  ‘What do you remember?’

  She glared at him. ‘Nothing.’

  ‘I’m not surprised. You were flying without wings. Maybe you can tell me what happened to set you off.’

  She slumped into the chair opposite him and picked at a bread roll. ‘I feel like Doris Day,’ she said miserably. ‘Every old movie I ever see of hers she wakes up with some guy and doesn’t know whether they made it or not. You know – like she was drunk or something. So come on, Rock Hudson – fill me in.’

  ‘You won the money at roulette. We didn’t make it – oh, you wanted to – but I figured it might be more fun to wait until you knew who you were screwing. Old-fashioned of me, I know, but I’m like that.’

  She laughed suddenly, clutched her head and said, ‘Ouch! That hurts. You mean I won thirty thousand bucks? Wowee!!’

  ‘I thought you were going to say “you mean you didn’t screw me? Thank you, Al, I always knew you were a first class gentleman”!’

  She laughed again. ‘Doesn’t really matter one way or another, does it? I’m not a virgin like Doris Day – or didn’t you realize?’

  ‘I realized.’

  ‘Never mind. For one me, there’s always hundreds of others. What am I doing here anyway?’

  ‘You tell me.’

  She shrugged. ‘Don’t know. Guess I had this stupid idea of you and me finally getting together. I’ll be honest with you, Al. I find sex no great turn-on – I thought maybe with you…’ She trailed off.

  ‘I could have had you doing cartwheels last night. In LA you didn’t want to know about me. Why the sudden change of mind?’

  ‘Can I have some orange juice and coffee? And maybe some eggs. I feel like I haven’t eaten for six years. Hey – I had some joints in my bag – you seen them?’

  He shook his head. ‘I’ll order you breakfast. How do you want your eggs?’

  ‘Scrambled. Oh, and some toast and jelly – and some crispy bacon.’

  He phoned room service, glanced at his watch. Time was running tight.

  ‘I should call Cody,’ she mused. ‘He’s probably going out of his head.’

  ‘I thought you were working.’

  ‘I have taken a week off, courtesy of Mr. Margolis. Do you know him? Such a charming man. He and his lovely wife.’

  ‘I think I might do a movie for him.’

  ‘Lots of luck!’

  ‘You still haven’t told me how you managed to appear in Las Vegas stoned out of your head.’

  She made a face. ‘It wasn’t easy.’

  ‘I’m glad you’re here though. I wanted to explain about Karmen…’

  She held up a hand. ‘Nothing to explain, I don’t care.’

  ‘But that’s it. I want you to care…’

  ‘Oh, Al, please. Don’t get corny with me. I understand. I’m a very understanding lady. You can screw who you want.’

  ‘Then why wouldn’t you talk to me in LA?’

  ‘I could really appreciate some grass. With your influence couldn’t we summon some up?’

  ‘You’re changing the subject.’

  ‘What subject?’

  ‘Look, I have to be on my plane in an hour. We’re stopping in LA to pick up my son… Then I have a couple of gigs in South America and I’ll be back in a few days. Why don’t we plan on getting together when I get back?’

  ‘Just like that, you’re flying to South America today?’

  ‘I can drop you in LA.’

  ‘Terrific. What makes you think I want to go back there?’

  ‘Don’t you?’

  She reached over and drained his orange juice. ‘Where’s the food? I’m getting desperate.’

  An idea was forming in his head. ‘I said don’t you?’

  ‘As a matter of fact I don’t.’

  ‘So why not come to Rio with me? No strings – I won’t touch you – or I’ll touch you. Whichever you want.’

  ‘Why do you want me to come?’ she asked suspiciously.

  ‘Because I like you. I think we understand each other. I think we could have some laughs.’

  ‘I have to be back in LA next week.’

  ‘We will be.’

  She smiled, dazzling him. ‘Why not?’

  * * *

  Paul nudged the girl who was asleep beside him. He had been nudging her on and off since six a.m. in the hope that she would wake up and leave. It wasn’t that he didn’t like her. She was an attractive girl of twenty-nine, intelligent, articulate,
good in bed. She was one of the producers on the telethon, not some little nothing groupie. They had made love once, quite satisfactorily as far as he was concerned. But he had been unable to rise to the occasion a second time, and far from being put out, she had produced a life-sized penis substitute from her purse, and requested most politely that he use it on her. He had done as she asked, albeit reluctantly, and he had been somewhat put out by the amount of orgasms she had proceeded to achieve. With his cock – one. With a plastic substitute – multiple. It didn’t seem right somehow.

  She obviously had no intention of ever waking up, so he got out of bed and stamped his way around the room a lot before going in to shower and shave.

  He was halfway through shaving when she strolled into the bathroom, squatted on the john and peed noisily.

  ‘How are you this morning?’ she asked amiably.

  ‘Rushed.’

  ‘Shame. I thought we might…’

  ‘No time.’

  ‘That’s cool. I have a lot to do myself. If you want to reach me in LA you can call me at the network.’

  ‘I will.’ He knew he wouldn’t.

  ‘You’re better-looking than your brother,’ she remarked, getting off the toilet and running the shower. ‘Not that I’m into looks – but you are.’

  He wasn’t flattered. He didn’t enjoy being compared to his brother in any way.

  He finished shaving, hurried in the bedroom and dressed. He wanted to call Linda. He wanted to tell her that he loved her. He wanted her to tell him.

  Instead he booked a call to London. He was worried about his children being all alone in the house with just the nanny. He wanted to assure them that he would be home soon.

  The girl producer strolled nakedly into the room and started to dress. He watched her, willing her to hurry. She retrieved pantyhose from the floor, sat on the bed and slid them on. Then a skirt from a chair, high-heeled shoes, and lastly a shirt which showed off her perky nipples.

  She collected her purse, picked up the penis substitute which sat lewdly on the bedside table.

  He wondered why she carried it. In case nothing better came along?

  ‘I’ll see you around, Paul,’ she said casually. ‘Give me a buzz when you get back.’

  ‘Yes,’ he said. No – he thought.

  He waited until she closed the door, then he placed a call to Linda.

  He paced the room, expecting both calls to come through at once. They didn’t. The operator informed him that there was no answer at the number he had given her for Linda. And he had to wait half an hour before he got a line to England.

  Nanny was most huffy. ‘This isn’t good enough, Mr. King,’ she informed him. ‘I haven’t had my day off for weeks.’

  ‘I’ll pay you double,’ he promised her. ‘Just wait another week and I’ll be back.’

  ‘I think it’s disgusting,’ she sniffed, ‘absolutely disgusting!’

  ‘Yes,’ agreed Paul. ‘We’ll discuss it when I get back, Nanny.’

  ‘We certainly will!’

  He checked his watch. Better call Al to make sure he was awake. It was a long trip, he could always sleep on the plane if he had been up all night. He wondered how much money he had managed to lose at the tables. The sooner he got Al away from Vegas, the better.

  * * *

  Evan waited impatiently at the airport in Los Angeles for his father’s plane to pick him up. He felt a lot better, the few days in a private clinic had not been too bad. Everyone had been very nice to him, one young Puerto Rican nurse in particular – of course she had known he was Al King’s son, which was probably why.

  He had watched a lot of television, and the time had passed quite quickly. They had treated him with a course of injections, and apparently all he needed now was some follow-up shots and everything would be fine. No sex until after your checkup, the doctor had warned him sternly. Chance would be a fine thing. Now that Glory and Plum were out of his life, who would look at him? He missed them, in spite of the fact that they had given him the dreaded disease. After all, they hadn’t known. He kept on wondering what they had done when they realized that he had just walked out on them. Did they miss him? He had no way of contacting them. His only friends. He had thought that maybe he would run into them in Los Angeles. After all that’s where they had been heading. But no such luck. His father had dumped him straight into the clinic – to get him out of the way no doubt. There was no reason for him to stay in a clinic, he could have received the treatment as an outpatient. But no – the famous Al King didn’t want his horrible spotty son around – so he had hidden him away.

  At least he was going to Brazil. That was something. And to be fair to his father, at least he hadn’t been sent home.

  He flicked through the bunch of magazines he had purchased. Playboy, Penthouse, Macho. Idly he wondered if the doctor’s no sex instructions had included masturbation. After all – you couldn’t give a magazine centrefold a dose of the clap, could you?

  * * *

  On the plane Dallas said, ‘I must call Cody. Really – otherwise he’ll be contacting missing persons.’

  ‘I’ll have Bernie get in touch with him when we land at LA. Does that suit you?’ Al replied.

  ‘Yeah, that’s fine. Have him say I’ll be reporting back for work on Monday. Oh, and Al – I know I keep on asking you – but can’t we have Bernie score a few joints for us? I’m in the mood to get stoned.’

  ‘Where is he going to score at the airport?’

  ‘He can make a call, can’t he?’

  ‘By the time they get out to the airport we’ll be long gone.’

  She made a face. ‘Big fuckin’ star and I can’t even get high.’

  He laughed. ‘You need to be high to travel with me?’

  ‘I must have been high to agree to come. What am I doing here? I don’t even have any clothes. Maybe I should get off in LA.’

  He took her hand. ‘I want you to stay. You can pick up some clothes in Rio, anything you need.’

  ‘I need some grass. Someone on this plane must have a joint.’

  ‘You’re really that desperate?’

  She shrugged, smiling. ‘Not desperate. But if I don’t get one I’m going.’

  He wondered how angry she would be if she knew that it had been he who had confiscated her supply.

  ‘Stay where you are,’ he warned. ‘Don’t move – I’ll see what I can do.’

  ‘Oh yeah?’

  ‘Oh yeah.’ He set off down the plane to where Bernie was playing gin rummy with some of the musicians. He sat down ostensibly to watch, but once out of Dallas’s sight he pulled her tin box out of his jacket pocket and extracted a joint.

  ‘Gonna join us for a game?’ Bernie wanted to know.

  ‘Not today,’ Al replied. ‘Got other things on my mind.’

  ‘I’m down three hundred bucks,’ Bernie complained. ‘If this goes on, by the time we make Rio I’ll be busted out.’

  ‘So learn to play,’ chided Al. He glanced over at Paul, sitting alone on an aisle seat studying some papers. ‘How’d the party go?’

  Paul nodded. ‘It was nice.’

  ‘You take my advice?’

  ‘What advice was that?’ Paul replied tightly.

  ‘To get laid, schmuck!’

  ‘We can’t all…’

  ‘I know, I know,’ Al interrupted. ‘We can’t all go through life with a stiff prick. But it beats the hell out of wanking!’ He laughed at his own humour, and made his way back to where Dallas was sitting. He could have suggested that they sat in the bedroom – but he didn’t want to rush things. She was with him of her own accord, let things happen nice and naturally. One joint wasn’t going to turn her into the stoned zombie she had been the previous day.

  He gave her the cigarette. She lit up, inhaling deeply, leaning her head back, finally allowing the smoke to drift lazily out of her nostrils. ‘Better!’ she sighed.

  ‘You like that?’

  ‘Why not? Don’t you?’<
br />
  ‘I can take it or leave it. Give me a healthy slug of scotch any day. Something that hits you in the gut with a punch you can feel all the way down to your balls!’

  ‘I don’t have balls.’

  ‘Oh no? You could have fooled me.’

  Playfully she punched him.

  ‘I like a ballsy woman,’ he objected. ‘I can’t get anything going with most of the doormats that come my way. I could shit all over some of ’em and they wouldn’t object.’

  ‘From what I hear you usually do,’ she remarked drily.

  ‘So what do you hear?’

  ‘That you are Mister Super Prick – in both senses of the word.’

  He groaned. ‘What a reputation! Is that why you wouldn’t go out with me?’

  She dragged on her cigarette. ‘Maybe.’ She studied him through slitted eyes. ‘Maybe not.’

  ‘You and I together…’ he began.

  She quietened him with a finger to his lips. ‘Let’s take it minute by minute. No promises. No crap. No commitments. I don’t want you to change for me.’

  ‘But you make me feel different.’

  ‘So be different – until the next Karmen Rush comes along…’

  ‘I didn’t…’

  ‘Goddammit, Al. I don’t care. Be Mister Super Prick, I really don’t care. We’ll have a few laughs – I won’t give you any heavies. We’ll have a good time, no strings on either side.’

  It wasn’t good enough. His stomach churned at the thought of her with another man. He hadn’t even had her yet, and he knew that she was all he would ever want. In the past, with other women – he had never given a monkey’s about what they did when they weren’t with him. They could have laid the entire team of the Harlem Globetrotters for all he cared. Even Edna. Of course Edna never would have… But if she had been that way inclined… Well, so what? Now here he sat next to a woman he hardly knew and he felt he could kill for her. He wondered how she felt. Surely she must feel something. Surely she must notice the electric current which surged between them? An invisible magnetic force that drew him closer and closer. He had never felt like this in his life.

  ‘Mr. King. Please can you fasten your seat belt.’ The stewardess interrupted his thoughts. ‘And extinguish all cigarettes. We are coming in to land at Los Angeles.’