American Star

by Jackie Collins

  Vichyssoise followed by rib-sticking chicken casserole with creamy

  mashed potatoes, lightly sauteed carrots and creamed spinach, all

  accompanied by a healthful chopped salad.

  "I love it when you serve those kinds of meals," Jessie told her. "It

  makes people feel comfortable and relaxed, and when they're in that

  sort of mood the conversation really sparkles. Oh, dear. Lauren, what

  am I going to do when Oliver takes you away from all this?"

  "I'll still keep the business," she said. "I'll cook occasionally."

  "Shall we bet on this?" Jessie suggested.

  Lauren grinned. "Only if it's cash."

  Later Oliver called her at the Georges'. "Remember how you said the

  other day you loved surprises?"

  "Did I say that?"

  "Yes. Well, I have a surprise for you."

  "What is it?"

  "If I told you, it wouldn't be a surprise. When I come by later I'll

  bring it."

  "Does it have four legs?" she asked, remembering her recent request

  for a puppy.

  "Be patient, my dear. I'll show you later." arlysle Mann was pretty

  beyond belief. She had one of those etched faces with alabaster skin,

  huge blue eyes, a snub nose and a beguiling overbite. She was petite,

  with baby-fine blond hair curling around her face, and a perfect

  figure.

  For the first time in his life Nick felt intimidated meeting

  somebody.

  He'd seen her in a couple of movies, but actually meeting her was

  something else.

  "Hi," he said, almost shyly.

  "Congrats," she replied, pretty blue eyes gazing into his. "This is

  some great break for you."

  Yeah, congratulations were definitely in order. He had not been

  canned. Instead he had gotten the chance of a lifetime. While Charlie

  Geary was being rushed off to a drug rehab center, he, Nick Angelo

  -excuse me, Nick Angel-had been presented with the big break.

  He'd been given the lead in the movie, and it was a career-making

  role-that of a young hood who reforms, finds true love and ends up as

  the hero.

  "You've got the look," the woman producer had said, crossing and

  uncrossing her elegant legs.

  Yeah, I've got the look, all right. A look you didn't even recognize

  when I bulled alonside you in my car in L.A. "We're giving you this

  chance," the director had said, "in the hope you'll deliver."

  "We've spoken to your agent," the male producer had added.

  "You'll probably want to give her a call."

  Want to give her a call? Holy shit! He couldn't believe this was

  happening. Charlie was dumped and he was in.

  "I can do it," he'd blurted. "I've studied the script-I can do this

  good."

  "That's exactly why you're getting this opportunity," the woman had

  said.

  The truth was they didn't have much choice. Charlie Geary was out of

  action and they couldn't afford to shut down production while they

  waited to negotiate for another star. They were prepared to take a

  chance on Nick.

  The next few days were crazy time. His main worry was Cyndra and

  Annie. Could he trust them alone in L.A.? Would they be all right

  without him? Or would Annie go running to the cops, ruining

  everything? It was a chance he had to take.

  He called them both. Annie sounded sulky as usual. She didn't even

  rustle up any enthusiasm when he told her about his lucky break.

  "Tell you what," he suggested. "Give me a few days, then maybe you can

  fly to New York for a weekend. I'll spring for your ticket and room.

  I talked to my agent, I'm making okay money."

  "I don't think so," she said coolly.

  "C'mon," he persuaded. "You want to see New York, don't you?

  You've never been here."

  "I'll let you know."

  Cyndra was genuinely thrilled. "You'll be sensational, Nick," she

  assured him.

  "I'll do my best. Can't do more than that."

  His agent had been suitably businesslike. "It's an excellent

  opportunity for you to show them how good you are. Of course, you're

  still very inexperienced. It may not work out-don't get your hopes

  up."

  "How come they went with me?" he asked.

  She told him the truth. "This is not a big-budget movie. If they wait

  for a name replacement for Charlie it'll hold them up and cost them

  money they can't afford. You're there, and as far as they're concerned

  you seem capable of doing the job. Carlysle's name will carry the

  film.

  Oh, and Nick, remember what I told you. Don't screw her-it'll get in

  the way of your performance."

  "You told me not to screw her before because it would get in the way of

  Charlie Geary. Now he ain't around."

  "Nick, you're new to this business-don't screw her."

  Frances expressed the same sentiments. "Save everything you've got.

  Getting laid takes time and energy. Put all that sexual juice into

  your performance."

  Once he met Carlysle he knew exactly where all his sexual juice was

  going. They'd hit it off immediately. He asked around and found out

  her story. She'd been a child star since the age of eight, now she was

  twenty-two, recently divorced from a rock n roll drummer and very

  career-oriented. She had a mother who usually accompanied her on

  shoots, but so far had not arrived in New York.

  "Watch out for the mother," Waldo warned. "The woman is a complete

  nightmare."

  "Why are you telling me?" he asked.

  "Because we all know what's about to happen between you two," Waldo

  replied, with an evil chuckle.

  Nick laughed. "How about fillin' me in?"

  Their second day on the set Carlysle invited him out. "I have to go to

  this dinner party tomorrow night," she said. "My mother was coming

  with me, but since she's not here . . . will you take me?"

  She gazed up at him with her big blue eyes and he wasn't about to say

  no. "Yeah, sure. Should we go from the set?"

  "No, I'll have to go home and change first. Pick me up at my

  apartment."

  "I thought you lived in L.A."

  "I do. I've got a house in L.A. and an apartment here."

  Wow! This girl really had it all together. "What time?" he asked.

  "The dinner starts at seven-thirty, but they probably won't sit down to

  eat until nine. Get me at eight-thirty and we'll make a late

  entrance."

  "Uh, what do I wear?"

  She smiled. "Whatever you like. I'm sure you look fine in

  anything."

  Cyndra was determined the incident in Vegas was not going to drag her

  down. She'd come so far and she was not allowing it to pull her

  under.

  It was unfortunate, but it was her past-just like Mr. Browning, her

  abortion and all the other bad things she'd gone through.

  Annie, on the other hand, kept insisting they had to do something about

  it. If Nick knew, he'd throw a fit. "You'd better shut up about

  this," Cyndra warned her." Cause the only thing you can do is get us

  all into big trouble."

  "You agreed with me at first," Annie reminded her.

  "I was upset then. I wasn't thinking clearly. Understand, Annie, Nick

 
; is right, it's our secret, and if none of us blow it we'll keep it that

  way.

  "How can you forget what happened?" Annie demanded. "That poor

  man-what about his family? Don't you care?"

  "Stop giving me that poor man crap," Cyndra said angrily. "He was in a

  motel room with me, wasn't he? He thought I was a hooker. You should

  have heard the names he called me."

  "He didn't deserve to die for it."

  "It was an accident, Annie. Reece didn't shoot him purposely, it was

  just one of those things. Like when you get on a plane you don't

  expect it to crash. When you go for a ride in a car you don't expect

  it to be totaled. These things happen."

  "I still think-" "Will you shut up!" Cyndra said, finally losing her

  temper, her dark eyes blazing. "Shut up about it, Annie."

  She went through her apartment and packed all of Reece's clothes into

  two suitcases, stacking them in a closet by the front door. Nick had

  suggested that as he was going to be in New York for at least six weeks

  she should give up her apartment and move into his. Since she didn't

  have any money, it struck her as an excellent idea. He'd also left her

  his rented car to drive, so at least she was mobile.

  Searching through Reece's papers she found the name of the producer

  he'd been dealing with at Reno Records. Marik Lee. She called him on

  the phone.

  "Where's your manager?" Marik Lee asked, sounding guarded.

  "You mean Reece Webster?"

  "That's the guy."

  "He's no longer my manager."

  "Good," he said.

  "Good? How come?"

  "Drop by and we'll discuss it."

  She didn't need a second invitation. Within the hour she was at his

  office-dressed to make an impression in a tight red dress which showed

  off her figure and flattered her glowing skin. Her hair, dark and

  lustrous, fell almost to her waist.

  Marik Lee did a double take when she walked in. "You're Cyndra?" he

  said, standing up.

  She nodded, checking him out. He was black, a little overweight and

  kind of homely-looking, but he had nice eyes and a big friendly

  smile.

  "Why do you sound so surprised?" she asked, sitting in a chair across

  from his desk and crossing her legs.

  His eyes wandered. "I had no idea you were so . . . so pretty."

  "Thank you," she said demurely, accepting the compliment.

  "Now tell me," he continued. "That guy you were hitched up with -that,

  uh, Reece Webster. He definitely out the picture?"

  "Yes," she replied. "Very definitely."

  "Between you and me, he was a bad case. We don't like to get involved

  in those situations."

  "What situations?"

  "You know what I'm saying. He talked about you like you were a slab of

  meat, like you'd do anything he wanted. We expect our talent to be

  able to talk for themselves."

  She sat up very straight. "Oh, I can talk for myself all right."

  He looked at her appreciatively. "Yeah, I can see that."

  She thought about Nick in New York about to get his big chance.

  She wasn't planning on playing the little sister role, dragging along

  behind. She had every intention of making it just as big as he.

  "Mr. Lee-" "Call me Marik."

  "Marik. Tell me the truth-do Reno Records and I have a future

  together, or am I wasting my time?"

  Nick was in the wardrobe trailer trying on different clothes.

  "They're very happy with the dailies," Waldo confided sotto voce.

  "Dailies?" he said, zipping up a pair of tight black jeans.

  "Oh, Nick, please. Surely you know what I'm talking about? The

  dailies are the scenes from the previous day. My friend is the

  projectionist-I get a full report."

  He was pleased. "So they like me?"

  "Yes, they certainly do. Why do you think they hired you in place of

  Charlie? They took one look at your closeups and realized they had

  something with you. According to my friend the camera simply loves

  you." He reached for a pair of cowboy boots. "Try these, please."

  Nick grabbed the boots and sat down. "Yeah, well, I always knew I

  could do this," he said, pulling on the left boot.

  "You can do it, all right. Although, of course, there's no such thing

  as a sure thing. You might have what it takes and the audience can

  still hate you.

  "No way they'll hate me," he said confidently. "I'm putting everything

  I've got into this performance. They're gonna respond. You'll

  see-they're gonna respond big time."

  "I'm sure they will," Waldo said, selecting a denim jacket from the

  rack. "And what are we wearing tonight when we take little Miss Madam

  out?"

  He pulled on the other boot and stood up. "How come my date with

  Carlysle is public knowledge?"

  "This is a film set, Nick. If you fart in the privacy of your dressing

  room everyone knows about it."

  "Great!"

  "Just be careful with little Madam. She appears to be angelic, but

  watch out."

  He grinned. "Hey, Waldo, this may come as a big shock to you, but when

  it comes to women I know my way around the block an' back again."

  "Actresses are not women," Waldo murmured. "Oh, dear me, no."

  Nick burst out laughing. "You're a character, you know that?"

  "You have been warned," WaHo said primly. "Nobody can say you haven't

  been warned."

  "Thanks, but I guess I'll take my chances."

  Waldo rolled his eyes.

  "Hi," Carlysle said, greeting him at her apartment door wearing nothing

  but a welcoming smile and a skimpy bath towel wrapped sarong style

  around her body.

  "Uh . . . hi," he said, standing on the threshold.

  "Come on in," she said. "As you can see, I'm not quite ready."

  Oh, he could see, all right!

  She led him into a comfortable living room and waved him in the

  direction of a small bar. "Fix yourself a drink. I'll be quick-I prom

  "Take your time," he said, checking the place out.

  "Ooops!" Her towel slipped and she quickly hitched it up, but not

  before he caught a glimpse of her large, rosy, disturbingly erect

  nipples.

  She noticed him looking and giggled, her blue eyes widening. "Isn't it

  stupid the way we all try to hide ourselves? Wouldn't it be better to

  walk around without anything on? After all, we weren't born fully

  dressed, were we?"

  "Works for me," he said, opening the refrigerator behind the bar and

  extracting a beer.

  "Good," said Carlysle, dropping the towel.

  Instant erection. He didn't even have time to think about it.

  "Why don't you take your clothes off, too?" she said, with an innocent

  little smile.

  "Hey-" "You're not shy, are you?" she teased.

  No, baby, I'm not shy, but I am used to being the instigator and this

  is a different trip.

  He shrugged off his jacket and began unbuttoning his shirt.

  Carlysle was not a patient girl. She ran toward him and went right for

  his zipper, pulling down his pants and underwear. Before he knew what

  was happening she had him in her mouth giving him one of the finest

  blow jobs known to man! He came in
record time because it was so

  unexpected and so good, and the truth was he hadn't gotten laid in a

  while and he was beyond horny.

  "Ah . Jesus!" he groaned. "That was wonderful. "Yes?" she asked

  breathlessly, still on her knees.

  "Pretty . . . damn . . . good."

  "Good? Surely you mean sensational?"

  "That, too. C'mere," he said, reaching for her breasts.

  She jumped to her feet, skipping out of his range. "Later," she said

  in a little-girl voice. "Gotta get dressed. It wouldn't do to be late

  for the party, would it now?"

  The guests had all arrived, the hors d'oeuvres had been served and

  Lauren began her own private countdown to dinner. Her two assistants,