Husband and wife both tilted their heads at the same angle, thinking it over. Their marriage was entirely one of convenience, arranged by their management teams as efficiently as a matchmaker bringing two clients together, linking their hands and giving them a gentle nudge down the aisle. However, it had been pleasant for the happy couple to discover that they had more in common than an unquenchable craving for fame. In fact, they shared three major interests: they both loved spending money, watching basketball (which was lucky for Silantra, as the fact that her husband’s boyfriend was a basketball player meant that she was contractually obliged to attend a considerable amount of games) and dressing Silantra up in ever more extravagant outfits.
Lil’ Biscuit liked to see Silantra looking as sluttish as possible. As he had put it to Silantra: if he were a woman, he’d dress like a hooker every day of the week. And now that Silantra was married, she could wear clothes that Sondra, her momager (both mother and manager) would have ruled out when she was a single woman. After Silantra had rocketed to fame with a scandalous sex tape, Sondra’s strategy had been to present her daughter as a nice girl who got her freak on in private but was relatively ladylike in public.
Now, however, Silantra was free to totter out of the house in seven-inch heels, spilling out of a bandage dress bought two sizes too small to show off her latest implants, ten thousand dollars’ worth of Russian hair extensions tumbling down her back. In interviews, she explained in a manner as demure as her outfit was revealing that, as a loving wife, she was dressing to please her husband, who liked to see her looking ‘feminine’. She and Lil’ Biscuit – and his boyfriend Gray, when he was around – spent many happy hours assembling outfits for her that made her look, as Gray put it, like Russian Hooker Barbie.
‘She’s like our own RealDoll,’ he said to Lil’ Biscuit once. ‘Only we don’t want to fuck her.’
‘Or maybe we get a diamond bikini made for you to wear for the video,’ Lil’ Biscuit eventually said, still staring at the photograph. ‘Like one of those Vicky’s Secret catwalk shows. That kinda thing always gets tons of press. You know, like that actress who wore that dress made of pearls to the Oscars a couple of years ago? Thousands and thousands of pearls, worth, they said, maybe a million. Hell knows how she was supposed to sit down in it, but that’s not the point, right?’
But Silantra, who only ever looked at photographs of herself, shook her head at this. Her expression was blank, but that was par for the course: her face was so full of Botox and fillers that it could barely register anything. Even when she had an orgasm, pretty much all that happened was that her eyes and mouth got wider.
‘I’d love a diamond bikini,’ she said. ‘But not when I’m wearing this. It would be, like, too much. Like, the choker would get so much attention, and so would the diamond bikini. So why do them both together, when we could get two episodes of the show and two sets of magazine covers instead of one?’
‘Great point, babe!’ her husband agreed, grinning in pleasure at the fact that, as always, he and his RealDoll Russian Hooker Barbie were so happily synchronized. As far as he was concerned, he and Silantra would be mated for life, one of the few happy Hollywood couples that would go the distance. What better beard could he possibly find?
He leaned back, spreading his arms along the back of the gigantic sofa and flashing a dazzling white smile at Nicole, who was sitting quietly on the opposite sofa, waiting until he chose to address her. Diamonds sparkled in his ears, bright as spotlights against his deep chocolate skin, which was moisturized so thoroughly that it gleamed as richly as the leather sofa. More baguette-cut diamonds flashed at both wrists: stacked rubber bracelets, prototypes made to his own design, each set with a pair of one-carat gems. Lil’ Biscuit loved jewellery and was always looking for more ways to incorporate it into his outfits; he was planning to roll out the commercial sale of the bracelets later that year.
‘Hey,’ he drawled to his wife, looking over at one wrist complacently, turning it a little to see the precious stones glitter against the black rubber settings. ‘The guy who did these for me told me they make these diamond dresses for runway shows and value them at a cool mil for the publicity, but the diamonds they use are so tiny they ain’t worth nothing. It’s all a con. There’s a hell of a lot of work that goes into sewing all the tiny bitty things onto the dress, but they get it all sweatshopped so they don’t pay anything for it.’
‘I’d love a diamond dress,’ Silantra said enthusiastically.
‘We could glue it on to you, and let the paps go crazy trying to catch a shot of you flashing ’em something by accident,’ Lil’ Biscuit mused.
‘I could unstick it a little, right at the end,’ Silantra suggested. ‘Do a little wiggle and flash a bit of nipple. Then I could, like, pretend to be shocked, and you could be all, Oh honey, are you okay? and maybe take your jacket off and lend it to me to cover up. And then we could film us coming home, like I’m upset and you’re hugging me and saying No, it’s cool, I like to see you dress up all sexy, honey. Mom says those scenes rate really high. And afterwards it could be an in-joke between us. Like, I could say Oh honey, isn’t this too revealing? when I’m, like, trying something on in a store, and you could say Hey, at least it isn’t that diamond dress! and we could laugh.’
The show was the only subject on which Silantra spoke for any length of time, and Lil’ Biscuit, respecting her long experience with constructing and parcelling out her life for the TV cameras, was nodding seriously as he listened to her.
‘Great idea,’ he said. ‘I like it.’
Silantra smiled, one of the few gestures her face was able to perform. It came slower than usual, however, as she had recently had extra collagen injected into her lips and she was still getting used to how they moved.
‘I know Mom decides what scenes we’ll do,’ she said. ‘But I’ve been, like, watching her for years now, and you get a sense of what’s gonna work, you know? When I watch TV I’ll see a scene and think “Oh yeah, we should totally copy that.” Like that jacket thing. I saw it in an old movie. Old movies are my favourite.’
She paused to consider why, her eyelashes flickering.
‘They’re slower,’ she eventually concluded. ‘And everyone speaks real clear, so you can hear everything they say. I like that.’
It was so normal for husband and wife to not only have other people present as they talked, but TV cameras running too, that neither of them demonstrated the slightest trace of self-consciousness or embarrassment at having ignored Nicole. Lil’ Biscuit looked down once more at the glossy photographs scattered on the coffee table, and then, finally, at Nicole, saying, ‘So we need to talk about the bottom line here.’
Nicole nodded. She was quite aware of how A-list celebrities functioned: everyone else was a satellite around their sun, a bit player who could be summoned and dismissed like a servant. For Biscuit and Silantra to break off a discussion about which of Vivienne Winter’s jewels they wanted to acquire, to engage in a conversation about diamond dresses, publicity stunts and future scenes for their reality show, was entirely typical.
She had been occupying her time quietly sipping from a glass of mint-infused Fiji water, which she now set back down on the leather coaster, monogrammed with Biscuit and Silantra’s initials, that the maid had placed on the glass coffee table in front of her. The table, too, was decorated with the initials L, B and S, etched into the centre. Pretty much everything in Biscuit and Silantra’s Atlanta mansion was similarly adorned.
‘I understand that you want to secure some of Ms Winter’s pieces ahead of the auction,’ she said to Biscuit. ‘So we need to discuss the protocol for how this works. As I’m sure you’re aware, it’s standard at this kind of high-level auction to negotiate private sales for pieces, especially ones that we’ll package together. Like the choker, for instance – it’s being sold as a lot with the “baby” one.’
Silantra nodded eagerly at the mention of a baby. She was already imagining the stream of selfies she could gene
rate from the image of her and a future daughter – they had decided to do gender selection, as in market research surveys of their fans, Silantra and Biscuit having a girl had polled much higher than a boy – wearing their matching pearl and diamond chokers. Having a baby or two was definitely the next step in her career. Silantra had been envious for a long time of the magazine covers her sister Shanté could snag simply by stepping out in public with one of her photogenic little children, not to mention the endorsements and freebies Shanté was constantly offered.
Silantra speculated on how much she would be able to ask for a magazine cover holding her little girl in her arms. She’d been told that Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt got four million dollars for their People pictorial of the first view of their baby Shiloh Nouvel, and almost the same from Hello! in the UK. Surely she and Biscuit would score at least that much?
‘No one knows how high the bidding will go, of course,’ Nicole continued. ‘The only comparable auction of this magnitude was Elizabeth Taylor’s jewellery sale in 2011, and prices in the art and precious gemstone markets have definitely increased across the board since then. The chokers are one of the highlights of Vivienne’s collection. They have everything: the history of the Italian pearl, the fact that they were gifts from Randon Cliffe to Vivienne at the height of their love affair . . .’
Silantra sighed. This was such good stuff, her fans would love it! She was still pissed that Nicole wouldn’t let this scene be recorded for the show, even though Lil’ Biscuit had explained that they were cutting a deal, and that couldn’t be filmed. Silantra had observed that her mother would normally handle this by shooting a completely scripted scene that bore no relation to what was really going on; but Biscuit had reluctantly said that their entire meeting with Nicole needed to be top secret, to avoid jeopardizing the sale.
‘We’ve valued the two pieces at fourteen million,’ Nicole was saying. ‘Pounds, not dollars. And I’ve just heard that there are amazing, never-before-seen private photographs of Vivienne and her daughter Pearl wearing the chokers together – taken by Randon Cliffe.’
‘Wow,’ Biscuit said, his perfectly threaded eyebrows rising. ‘That’s quite something. So you’d be selling . . .’
‘Both the model rights and the photographer’s rights, bundled together,’ Nicole clarified, a smile of pure satisfaction on her face. ‘It’s a real coup. The legal situation has been checked. Vivienne was the residuary legatee under Randon Cliffe’s will, which means that everything he didn’t specifically name goes to her, and there’s no mention of his photographs in the will. So they’re hers to sell.’
‘We’d want some real classy, glamorous shots that Silantra can recreate,’ Lil’ Biscuit specified. ‘And some cute ones of her and the kid, for the future. With exclusive rights to use ’em, locked down tighter than –’ he reached over to pat Silantra’s hip – ‘my lovely wife’s butt.’
Nicole smiled at this quip with appropriate amusement.
‘I can arrange for photos to be scanned and sent over for you to choose from,’ she said. ‘But they’ll significantly add to the cost of the deal. And I must make it clear that if Ms Winter is going to consider side deals, rather than putting items into the main auction, there has to be a premium for that privilege.’
Lil’ Biscuit eyed her narrowly, an impressively intimidating stare he had honed on the streets and perfected in multiple music videos where he played a range of highly heterosexual bad-boy gangbangers, draped in nearly nude women.
‘What kinda premium we talking about?’ he asked.
‘Let’s say if you take the chokers and four photographs, eighteen million,’ Nicole said, keeping her voice as steady as if she were on a checkout counter at a supermarket pricing tinned tomatoes, not negotiating a multimillion-pound deal. ‘And two extra as a finder’s fee.’
‘Whoa,’ Biscuit said, but his expression did not alter; he was too experienced a negotiator for that to happen. ‘Pretty steep finder’s fee.’
‘I have a direct line to Vivienne’s grandson Angel, who’s working with the auction house involved,’ Nicole said. ‘No one else has that kind of clout. He’s her only surviving relative.’
‘And we can verify this how?’ Biscuit asked, steepling his fingers and contemplating the gigantic emerald ring he had bought himself on becoming engaged to Silantra, a twin to her own. As he had said nonchalantly in numerous interviews, he believed in equality, and that meant men being able to wear big-ass engagement rings as well as the ladies.
‘We can set up a Skype whenever you want,’ Nicole said. ‘Angel can also make himself available for a meeting here, if you’d like.’
‘And how do we know you’re not just setting me up for a bidding war?’ Biscuit continued. ‘Get an offer from me and go try to play that off against some other rich dude, or three?’
‘I’ve done business with Jamal plenty in the past,’ Nicole said. ‘I’m sure he’s vouched for me.’
‘You’ve fucked Jamal plenty in the past,’ Lil’ Biscuit said, his voice even.
‘I have,’ Nicole riposted, ‘and we both thoroughly enjoyed it.’
‘Oh, I’m sure,’ Lil’ Biscuit said, grinning.
‘You’re very sexy,’ Silantra said, nodding, in the manner of a high-class prostitute professionally approving the appearance of a work colleague.
‘Thank you!’ Nicole said, accepting the compliment in exactly the spirit in which it was meant. She was dressed in a sleek white pencil-skirted dress – sleeveless, to show off her Pilates Flow-sculpted arms – accessorized with a sleek gold necklace that had been an extremely costly present from her triad lover. The dress was figure-fitting but not tight, and its neckline was demure; it would have been a poor negotiating strategy to challenge Silantra for the title of sexiest woman in the room.
‘But whether I’ve fucked Jamal or not,’ Nicole continued, ‘I wouldn’t have got near this meeting with you if he hadn’t known I was legit. I hold up my end of a bargain, I don’t change the terms we’ve agreed upon. I may fuck dirty but I do business clean.’
‘Hah! That’s a really good line!’ Silantra exclaimed. ‘We should use that on the show!’
Lil’ Biscuit reached out and patted her thigh, a little absently.
‘Eighteen mil,’ he said, his eyes on Nicole. ‘In dollars.’
She shook her head.
‘Twenty. In sterling. I have no wriggle room on this one – they’re so iconic. The big Liz Taylor pieces all sold for millions more than their appraisal value. Your only other option is to take your chances at the auction.’
‘We don’t bid at auctions,’ Silantra said, with the air of repeating a line she had heard from her husband many times. ‘It looks weak.’
‘I’ve seen auctions on TV,’ Biscuit said. ‘Staff lined up sitting there on phones, talking to fuck knows who, taking bids. How’m I supposed to know that they’re not just running up the price I’m gonna end up paying?’
‘It is strictly supervised,’ Nicole said. ‘But of course, I take your point.’
‘I only make deals I can see the shape of,’ Biscuit said bluntly. ‘Auctions ain’t like that.’
Nicole’s heart raced as she sensed the deal was within her grasp.
‘And I want a tiara too! At least one!’ Silantra exclaimed, torpedoing her husband’s attempts to play the negotiation as coolly as possible.
She was wearing a cropped tube top that started an inch below her cleavage, and stopped an inch above the base of her breasts. Her stomach was a miracle of liposuction, and her spray-on silver leggings clung to her generous thighs. She was the definition of an hourglass figure, balanced on spike heels she had been trained to wear since the age of thirteen and on which (as the viewers of her sex video could testify) she could balance in an impressive variety of positions. Silantra looked exactly like an off-duty porn star, which, effectively, she was; but as she gathered up her thick mane of hair and held it on top of her head, staring at her reflection in the floor-to-ceiling
windows, picturing how she would look in one of Vivienne Winter’s iconic tiaras, her expression was as dreamy and beautiful as a Disney princess waiting for her prince to ride up and place a large and expensive crown on her head.
‘We’d need to meet Ms Winter as part of the deal,’ Lil’ Biscuit said firmly to Nicole, ‘and of course get some photos with her. Ideally, shoot the scene for the show.’
‘Photos will be fine,’ Nicole assured them. ‘The auction will be held in Geneva, at the end of this year. You’ll be invited to that, of course, and as major buyers, you’ll also have access to a private meet and greet with her, where you can take all the photographs you want. I’m really not sure about shooting it for the show, however. I very much doubt that would happen.’
Nicole could not have spoken more politely. But it took every ounce of self-control she had not to show, even by the roll of an eye or the raise of an eyebrow, how outrageously unlikely this request was. Are you joking? Never in a million years would Vivienne Winter appear on a reality show, let alone one whose star is most famous for her sex tape!
‘But we have to film it!’ Silantra exclaimed. ‘If it’s not on film, it didn’t happen! That’s what Mom always says.’
‘It’s just possible we could film the meet and greet, but I doubt there would be a release to use it on the show,’ Nicole said; she wouldn’t promise what she was sure she couldn’t deliver. To her relief, Lil’ Biscuit nodded and dropped the subject of filming, realistic enough to know how unlikely the request had been.
‘I’m assuming the two mil commission you mentioned is a flat fee?’ he asked.
Nicole allowed herself a little smile of irony at this hopeful question.
‘I’m afraid not. We’ve priced each item with a separate commission,’ she said. ‘Obviously if you’re planning to take more than one item, the figures are open to a degree of negotiation. And the fee is payable in quite a different manner to the price of the items, of course.’
‘Of course,’ he said with irony to match hers. ‘Cayman Islands account?’
Killer Diamonds Page 23
