Hollywood Husbands

by Jackie Collins

  Dino nodded understandingly.

  * * *

  ‘Don’t we know each other?’ Jack asked.

  Jade, sitting on the edge of the diving board, sighed with annoyance. She’d had it with the never-ending pick-up factor. ‘Go away.’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘You heard.’

  She hadn’t even looked at him. He persisted. ‘Hey – I’m not trying to hit on you. I remember you from… uh… Silver Anderson’s party. My name’s Jack Python.’

  She didn’t exactly jump, more a slow turn. She knew who he was all right.

  He decided maybe Vegas wasn’t such a dead loss after all. He’d been watching her for ten minutes, and he recalled her leaving Silver’s party very well. She had been with Antonio’s group.

  ‘We never met,’ she said, recognizing him immediately.

  ‘You were there,’ he stated.

  ‘So was half of Hollywood,’ she pointed out.

  ‘Can we have a drink and discuss it?’

  She began to laugh. ‘Mr Python. Have you any idea how many times I’ve been asked that tonight? I’m surprised at you. Couldn’t you have come up with a more original approach?’

  Smiling the Python killer-smile, he said, ‘Tell me an original approach and I’ll use it.’

  ‘How about… what’s a nice girl like you doing in a sleazy city like this?’

  He nodded. ‘That’s good. It’s got impact. Let me try it.’ He took three steps away from her and then strode briskly back. ‘Excuse me – Miss?’

  She played the game. ‘Ms., if you don’t mind.’

  ‘Uh… Ms.?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘What’s a nice girl like you—’

  ‘Woman,’ she interrupted.

  ‘Woman?’

  ‘Girl is a patronizing term.’

  ‘Come on – you told me what to say.’

  ‘Just checking to see if you’re smart enough to change it.’

  ‘Hey – watch the insults!’

  Getting up, she said, ‘Don’t sweat it, Mr Python. I can’t have a drink with you anyway.’ She took the sting off her words with a dazzling smile. ‘I do enjoy your show, only my mother warned me never to talk to strangers, and let’s face it, you may be famous, but you’re still a stranger.’

  She walked briskly away before he could answer, and vanished into the hotel.

  Once inside she stopped to think. What was a man like Jack Python doing picking up girls – women – out by the pool of the Forum Hotel at ten-thirty at night? He was dangerously good-looking. Too dangerous for her. She had enough involvements right now, and certainly did not need a one-night stand with a man who had a stud reputation. Besides, she had made a strict rule to always steer clear of well-known men – they had egos the size of Atlanta. And that’s the last thing she needed.

  * * *

  ‘Take it off, Howard,’ crooned the woman.

  ‘What off?’ gasped Howard. He was marooned among her long legs and big breasts and mass of hair, naked as a bare-assed baby, and just as happy.

  ‘Take off the rug, it’s inhibiting you.’

  ‘What rug?’ he asked indignantly.

  ‘This rug!’ she said with a triumphant tug at his prize thatch of hair. She whirled it in the air and threw it on the floor.

  ‘Shit!’ he exploded.

  She bounced on the bed, large breasts jiggling. ‘I get off on bald men,’ she explained. ‘It’s sexy. Let’s do sixty-nine.’

  ‘I’m not bald.’

  ‘Gettin’ there.’

  ‘Thank you very much.’

  ‘Let’s do sixty-nine.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because…’

  ‘What? You don’t like to eat pussy?’

  He didn’t answer.

  She shrugged, and her large breasts heaved. ‘Your loss,’ she said, thinking of the female lover she would get it on with later.

  * * *

  Mannon Cable won fifty thousand dollars. The party was going strong. He shook the women off like aggravating bugs, and retired to the suite – alone. Jack was in the living room fixing a drink. The door to Howard’s bedroom was firmly closed.

  ‘You know something?’ Mannon said, ‘I think I’m getting too old for catting around.’

  ‘Want a shot?’ Jack asked, pouring himself a scotch.

  ‘Brandy.’

  ‘Coming up.’

  ‘This place is loaded with hookers. Who did Howard end up with?’

  Jack found a bottle of Courvoisier. ‘I never made the party. I took a walk instead.’

  Mannon clicked the television on and ruminated. ‘I’ve got a beautiful wife, and a beautiful ex-wife. I came here to get laid, but quite frankly – who needs it?’

  ‘You’re asking me?’ Jack said, handing him his brandy. ‘Let’s take the plane back tomorrow.’

  ‘What about Howard?’

  ‘What about him? He’s over twenty-one. I think he’ll make out.’

  Mannon held the brandy glass between his hands and swirled the amber liquid. ‘It’s strange, isn’t it? Once we would have given our right arms for this kind of set-up. Now we’ve got it, who wants it? Who needs it?’

  Jack laughed. ‘Howard.’

  ‘Yeah. You can take a kid out of Colorado—’

  ‘But you can never take Colorado out of a kid!’ Jack finished Mannon’s sentence, and as he did so Jade’s coffee commercial appeared on television. ‘Hey—’ he exclaimed. ‘That’s where I know her from.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘The girl on television.’

  They both stared at the set. Jade in a supermarket, buying a jar of coffee. She wore shorts and a tee-shirt and looked like every man’s fantasy of the girl next door with her hair piled on top of her head. Next shot. Jade at home – drinking the coffee. Dissolve… She’s dreaming… Jade on a Caribbean beach swaying from the sea in a white bikini, her body tanned and supple, her copper hair long, tangled and wild. She strides from the sea, an Amazon princess. What a body! The camera pans in for a close-up of her face. What a face! ‘My place or yours?’ she asks with a long and challenging look straight at the camera. Fade out.

  Jack was mesmerized by the commercial. ‘I think I’m in lust,’ he dead-panned. ‘Have you any idea who she is?’

  ‘I thought you knew,’ Mannon said.

  ‘I want to know. She’s here in the hotel – I just saw her.’

  Mannon was amused. ‘Is this love at first commercial? Should we alert Clarissa?’

  ‘Aw… get lost!’

  Howard emerged from his bedroom and staggered in, hairpiece in hand. He wore a white hotel bathrobe and looked like a beaten man. Two prominent love bites decorated his neck. ‘Drink,’ he requested hoarsely.

  Jack handed him the bottle of scotch.

  ‘Cigarette,’ he mumbled.

  Mannon handed him a half-full pack of Marlboros.

  Howard took a deep breath. ‘I think I’m having a wonderful time,’ he said, his voice heavy with exhaustion. ‘She’s got a pussy like a vacuum cleaner. Wake me if I’m not dead in the morning.’

  And with that he reeled off.

  ‘Viva Las Vegas,’ said Jack dryly.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Reba turned up at noon. She let herself in with her pass key, and stood, arms akimbo, a furious expression on her heavily made-up face, at the end of the bed where Wes lay snoring.

  He did not stir, in spite of her malevolent glare, which could have cracked paint.

  She kicked the end of the bed. ‘You shithead!’ she shrieked. He opened one eye and smelled trouble. Best to face it head on. Sitting up quickly he said, ‘Jesus! Am I glad to see you. I couldn’t figure out what happened last night. Once I got Silver Anderson home I came racing back to find you, but you’d gone.’ He stared accusingly. ‘Why did you leave without me?’

  She opened her mouth like a surprised fish. This was not what she’d expected to hear at all.

  ‘
Reba, Reba,’ he continued, warming to his theme. ‘You ran out on me. I was stranded. I had to stay at a friend’s house, and get the bus back this morning.’

  Frowning, she tapped extremely long fingernails on the end of the bed. ‘I didn’t know you were comin’ back,’ she said. ‘I thought you’d run off an’ dumped me.’

  He managed to look hurt. ‘You thought that?’

  ‘That’s what it looked like, didn’t it?’ she answered defensively.

  ‘It may have looked that way, only surely you know me better? I had your car keys, the claim check for your jacket. I broke my neck gettin’ back.’ He paused, careful not to lay it on too thick. ‘How did you get home?’

  ‘I always carry a spare set of keys for the car,’ she admitted.

  He stretched out and yawned. ‘I’m just glad you’re okay. That mob scene was a joke. I had to get the poor bitch out of there before things got out of control.’

  Reba sat on the end of the bed. ‘I guess I owe you an apology,’ she said lamely. ‘I didn’t believe you even knew Silver Anderson.’

  ‘I told you I knew her. We’re old friends.’

  She perked up. ‘I’d love to meet her.’

  He dodged that one. ‘So would half the world.’

  ‘Maybe we could all have dinner,’ she suggested hopefully.

  Reaching for a cigarette he said, ‘Maybe.’ He threw her a stern look. ‘What was the welcoming note on my door when I got back this morning? What kind of crap was that?’

  ‘Oh.’ She looked embarrassed. ‘You do owe me, Wesley.’

  ‘And I’m gonna pay you. Next week. I don’t appreciate being threatened with eviction.’

  She licked her scarlet lips flirtatiously. ‘Would I do that to you?’

  He played along – after all, he didn’t want to find himself out on the street, did he? ‘I don’t know what you’d do to me, given half the chance.’

  Laughing lasciviously, she edged along the bed. ‘Wanna find out, Wesley?’

  ‘I can’t, darlin’,’ he said, quickly. ‘I gotta see a man about a job. Y’want your rent, don’t you?’

  She stood up. ‘It’s not that I’m pushin’ you, Wesley. Only now that I’m about to be a single woman, I can’t let my finances lag behind.’

  ‘I quite understand,’ he said gravely.

  Pursing her lips she said, ‘Well, next time there’s some sort of an event—’

  ‘You’ll ask me.’

  She preened coquettishly. ‘I’ll have to see.’

  ‘Yours truly will be waitin’.’

  Her voice took on a businesslike tone as she prepared to leave. ‘Please telephone me as soon as you get my money.’

  ‘I don’t have your number. You want to give it to me?’

  She thought about that one – and decided against it. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll drop by next week.’

  ‘Can’t wait,’ he said, with a friendly wink.

  As soon as she left he reached for the Yellow Pages and called up the nearest locksmith. There was no way Reba Winogratsky was going to come and go as she pleased in his house. Who the hell did she think she was, letting herself in and standing over him while he slept, like a wronged wife?

  Screw her.

  It was over.

  * * *

  ‘Your behaviour was quite reprehensible,’ Nora said sternly. ‘However, after a day of thought, Miss Anderson has decided to keep you on.’ Dragging on her cigarette she added, ‘Why, I don’t know.’

  Vladimir, head bowed, allowed relief to flush his cheeks. ‘Madame Silver is very kind,’ he murmured.

  ‘She sure is,’ agreed Nora. ‘I hope you appreciate it.’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘You’d better.’

  ‘I do, I do.’ He backed gratefully out of the room.

  ‘You’re on parole,’ Nora called after him. ‘So watch it, sonny!’

  He didn’t reply.

  Nora buzzed the bedroom. ‘All done,’ she said.

  ‘Thank God!’ replied Silver. ‘I do so hate scenes.’

  ‘Are you coming down, or shall I come up?’

  ‘Neither, Nora dear. I’m going to soak in a long hot bubble bath. Wes will be here at eight. Thanks for doing the dirty work. I’ll see you at the studio.’

  ‘Don’t you want me to stick around and meet the new Boy Wonder?’

  ‘Not necessary,’ Silver replied crisply. ‘And he is not a boy, Nora. He is a man.’

  ‘How old?’

  ‘I haven’t asked him.’

  ‘Fifty? Sixty?’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

  ‘Nineteen? Twenty?’

  ‘Cradle snatching is hardly my style.’

  ‘Give me a clue.’

  ‘Goodnight, Nora.’

  Talk about being dismissed! Nora gathered her purse, and a stack of photographs Silver had autographed. She was tired after a long day. How come Silver never got tired? With a shake of her head she set off to her apartment in West Hollywood and a quiet TV dinner.

  Upstairs, Silver relaxed in a Calèche-scented tub. A Frank Sinatra tape serenaded her. She loved Frank. He was a survivor, just as she was. He would be a performer until he dropped, and so would she.

  * * *

  Getting dressed was a problem. He couldn’t wear the same suit again, and it was his only suit. He couldn’t wear his one white shirt either, it didn’t smell too fresh.

  Wes inspected his closet. A depressing experience. He possessed two pairs of worn jeans, a pair of black gaberdine pants with a dodgy zipper, two blue shirts – both with frayed collars to match his white one – several unexciting sweaters, a leather bomber jacket and one sports jacket with old-fashioned large lapels. A fashion plate he wasn’t. Usually he just stuck anything on and didn’t give it a second thought.

  A date with Silver Anderson required second thoughts.

  He checked the time. It was a quarter to seven, and she had told him to be at her house by eight. She had also said they were staying in, which meant tonight he didn’t have to sweat it. Tonight the jeans would pass muster, and maybe a blue shirt (if he could only hide either the missing button on one, or the gravy stain on the other) and his well-worn leather jacket. Of course, tomorrow was another matter. If indeed there was a tomorrow.

  He showered, found a small shaker of Jean Nate talcum a girlfriend had left behind, and liberally tossed the powder over his body. Underwear presented no problem because he never wore it.

  A quick shave, on with the chosen outfit, and he was ready.

  * * *

  Silver could not make up her mind what to wear. Should she be casual? Dressy? A cross between the two? Finally, after discarding several outfits, she settled for black silk jersey floppy pants, and a black sweater with Joan Crawford shoulders. She doused herself with scent, and wore her dark hair drawn tightly back.

  When she was satisfied with her appearance, she swept downstairs and surprised Vladimir in the kitchen.

  He jumped to attention. ‘Yes, madame. Vas there something you needed?’ Her visits to the kitchen were not a frequent occurrence.

  She tried to forget she had seen him naked, in all his Russian glory. Oh God, banish the very thought! ‘Yes, Vladimir. I’d like a glass of Cristal. And I’d like you to set the dining room table for two – use the best cutlery and china. Then I want you to phone Trader Vic’s and order dinner for two. Have them deliver it, and when it arrives lay out the dishes on the hotplate in the dining room, and go to your apartment. In other words – get out until the morning. I don’t want you hanging around.’

  ‘Not even to clear up, madame?’

  ‘Didn’t you hear me, Vladimir?’

  ‘Yes, madame.’

  She left him to organize everything while she selected more Sinatra to put on the elaborate stereo system, and lowered the lights – all the better to flatter her complexion.

  It had been a long while since she’d felt like this about a man. Wes Money had her juices flowing. She couldn’t wai
t to see him.

  * * *

  Just as he was leaving there was a knock at his front door. He hoped it wasn’t Reba – he wouldn’t put it past her to return.

  ‘Yeah?’ he called out.

  The lock was safely changed, so at least there was no way she could come marching in.

  ‘Are you busy?’

  He recognized his neighbour’s voice. Don’t tell me she’s going to drive me crazy too, he thought.

  ‘I’m just on my way out,’ he shouted back.

  Silence. She must have taken the hint. He turned off the television in the bedroom, grabbed the keys of Silver’s Mercedes from the dresser, and set off.

  Leaning against the wall outside was Unity with their newly acquired dog. ‘Hi,’ she said.

  ‘Hello,’ he replied.

  She had let her hair down. It was soft and brown, and curled around her heart-shaped face. She was getting prettier every visit.

  ‘I took Mutt to the vet,’ she said.

  ‘That’s nice.’

  ‘Don’t you want to know what he said?’

  ‘What did he say?’

  ‘He looked at his paw, cleaned it, and put another bandage on.’

  ‘Is that all?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Great. You’d already done that, hadn’t you?’

  ‘Yes, but we had to make sure.’

  ‘How much?’

  ‘Your half comes out to nine dollars.’

  ‘You mean he charged you eighteen bucks just to look at the dog’s paw?’

  ‘And a flea bath.’

  ‘What’s with the flea bath? I never agreed to that.’

  ‘He had to have it. The poor dog was crawling.’

  Wes shook his head. He was down to about fifty bucks, and now he had to shell out nine of them because the dumb dog had fleas. Jesus! If there was an award for sucker of the year he’d win it for sure.

  Reluctantly he dug into his bankroll, peeled off a five, and four grubby one-dollar bills.

  She accepted the money before springing the next bombshell. ‘I bought him a collar and lead,’ she announced.

  ‘You’re a generous little thing, aren’t you?’

  ‘I guess you don’t want to pay half?’

  ‘Look,’ he said patiently. ‘I am broke. Busted out. I would like to help you, but nine bucks for a dog is about as far as I’m prepared to go.’