Hollywood Kids (51 page)

He'd strangled the bitch because she'd wanted nothing to do with him.

He'd strangled her because she represented all the bad things about women.

Now that all seemed such a long time ago.

In a way Shelley had reminded him of The Girl. He'd felt sorry for her. Even when he'd tied her up, stripped her clothes off and had sex with her, he'd felt a certain amount of regret.

When he'd put his hands around her skinny white neck and squeezed the life out of her, he'd made sure it was quick. She'd been too frightened to scream. She'd stared at him with petrified eyes and remained totally silent.

He didn't like that. It wasn't normal. Killing her was not as satisfactory as he'd expected.

He'd spent the afternoon digging a shallow grave in the backyard, and when he was done he'd carried her outside and laid her to rest, folding her hands carefully across her chest, so that she appeared quite peaceful when he'd covered her in earth.

Now he had the house to himself.

He had his privacy.

He had a safe haven where he could bring anyone he wanted.

And he wanted Cheryl and Jordanna.

It was time to punish them both.

The meeting with Freddie Leon was going well, at least Jordanna thought it was, although she couldn't really tell because Freddie did not show much emotion with his poker face, cordial features and quick bland smile. His nickname was 'The Snake' because it was said he could slither in and out of any deal. However, nobody ever called him 'The Snake' to his face.

'You won't regret this, Freddie,' Bobby said, acting as her biggest booster. 'Jordanna's going to be the next Julia Roberts.'

'I don't intend to be the next anybody,' she interrupted hotly. 'The original Jordanna Levitt will do nicely, thank you.'

Freddie liked that. He smiled his quick little smile. 'The original, huh?'

'You got it.'

'Well, Jordanna... how about we take a test run together?'

'Drive with me, Freddie, and we're going all the way,' she said boldly. She was not intimidated by men with power, after all, she'd grown up with the best.

'When I consider signing a client I have them thoroughly checked out,' Freddie said, stroking his chin.

'And what did you find out about me?' she asked, prowling around his expensively decorated office.

'That you like to go to clubs, that you haven't really focused on anything in your life, and that you're not exactly close to your father.'

'Bullshit,' she said, fiercely defensive. 'Jordan and I are extremely close.'

Freddie laughed. 'Bobby, you're right - she's a beautiful challenge, and she'd better be talented too, because I'm taking her on.'

Bobby was pleased. 'You won't regret it.'

'
You
might,' Freddie remarked. 'Now that I'm representing her, we're going for a killer deal.'

'Hey,' Bobby objected. 'Squeeze our balls the second time around.'

Freddie responded with a short sharp laugh. 'The first time suits me nicely.' He turned to Jordanna. 'Looks like we're in business,' he said. 'I'll have agency contracts drawn up and over to your house by the end of the day. Where do you live?'

'I'm staying at Marjory Sanderson's,' she said. 'But I plan on getting my own apartment.' She grinned slyly. 'If you make me a
really
good deal, I can get a
really
nice apartment.'

He stood up, indicating the meeting was over. 'You'll get a
really
good deal. That's a promise,' he said, walking them to the door.

'He liked you,' Bobby said, in the car on their way back to the studio.

Impulsively she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. 'Thanks, Bobby,' she said happily.

'For what?'

'Everything.'

He concentrated on his driving, staring straight ahead. There was no way he should start anything with this girl. They were just friends, that's all. 'I'll drop you off at wardrobe. Make sure Sienna looks sensational.'

'I'll do my best.'

'And you'll come over tonight, right?'

'Bobby,' she said, meaning every word, 'I know I keep on saying this, but I'm really grateful.'

'Hey,' he said casually. 'If I wasn't sure you'd cut it, I wouldn't want you in the movie.'

'I know.' She glanced out the window, then back at him. 'Do you ever feel we have so much in common that maybe we've met before? Like in another lifetime?'

'Nope.'

He wasn't responding the way she'd hoped. 'I do,' she said surely. 'I think we've got a soulmate thing going big time.'

He half smiled, not taking her seriously. 'You do, huh?'

'We've both had to go through all that children of celebrities crap. You had Jerry for a father. I was stuck with Jordan. I feel such a bond between us. It's hard to explain, but I know it's there.'

'I don't get close to people,' he said, a touch too quickly.

Why was he making it difficult for her when she was only trying to be truthful and up-front? 'That should be
my
line,' she said, pressing on. 'I was close to my mother - she killed herself. I was close to my brother - he checked out. It's only recently I've begun to realize it wasn't my fault, that I'm not responsible for their deaths.'

He regarded her seriously for a moment. 'We
should
talk about this, Jordanna, but now's not the time. When you come by later we can get into it all you want.'

'I'd like that,' she said, staring at him intently. 'I'd like that a lot.'

Their eyes locked.

They both knew they were on a collision course and neither wished to stop the inevitable.

'You're really doing it a second time?' Grant asked, when Cheryl returned home.

'You keep on asking me that and the answer is yes,' she said, opening her coat and flashing him. 'How about
this
for an outfit?'

He took a long look. She had on a black half bra, sheer black stockings, a risque garterbelt, black panties and a starched white nurse's apron.

'I didn't think you'd go through with it twice,' he muttered sourly, turning his head away.

She continued, desperate to get his full attention. 'You like the money, don't you? I'm being paid more than any of our girls, so I must be delivering pretty damn good if he wants me back a second time.'

'Christ, don't talk like that, you're starting to sound like a hooker.'

'Isn't that what you want me to sound like, Grant? After all, you got me into it.'

'I asked you to do it once for a kick. Didn't think you'd make a habit of it.'

She allowed herself a moment of vulnerability. 'If you tell me not to, I won't go,' she said, silently begging him to stop her.

'Not my choice,' he muttered.

'Oh, now it's not your choice? Make up your mind.'

'Get off my case, Cheryl.'

'You'd better drive me to the hotel.'

'I'm not driving you to the fucking hotel.'

'Fine, I'll take my car.'

'Do that.'

They glared at each other once more. She hated him, oh how she hated him! How could he let her do this?

Belting her coat she hurried from the house.

'You haven't touched your drink,' the stewardess said, hovering next to Michael's seat.

He glanced up at her. 'No, I haven't,' he agreed.

She licked her lips. Pink frosted lipstick and a pointed tongue. 'Too much ice?'

'I wasn't as thirsty as I thought.'

'We're landing soon, I have to take your glass.'

'Go right ahead,' he said calmly, feeling an overwhelming sense of achievement. For the last forty-five minutes he'd sat with the glass of Scotch in front of him and not touched it. Victory was his. It might be temporary, but for now it was enormously satisfying. As soon as he got back to LA he'd go to a meeting.

Fastening his seatbelt he stared out the window. According to the pilot it was snowing in New York and freezing cold. In his head he began formulating a plan of action. Grab a cab at the airport and head straight for Sal's. Confront the scumbag and see Bella for the last time.

There was a sadness within him that he didn't know how to deal with. It was gradually sinking in that he was not a father and never had been. The loss was devastating - the truth hard to accept.

He remembered the night of Bella's birth - a midnight dash to the hospital with Rita yelling and screaming all the way. He'd tried to be there for her in the delivery room, but she'd shoved him away, shouting language that no soon-to-be mother should ever use.

The first day of Bella's life he'd held her in his arms and marvelled that he could have created such a delicate perfect little being. It was a memorable experience, one he'd never forgotten.

When Rita came home from the hospital she'd fallen into a deep depression, and after three sleepless nights she'd refused to continue breast-feeding. He'd learned how to mix the formula and give the baby a bottle. After that - if he wasn't out on a case - he'd taken over the middle-of-the-night feed while Rita slept. He didn't mind, in fact, he'd looked forward to it. The moments alone with the child he'd thought was his daughter were the most special he'd ever experienced.

Now, because of his lying brother, those moments meant nothing.

Goddamn Sal. He was the lowest of the low. A subhuman with no fucking conscience.

Michael knew if he was to get through this he had to stay in control. It was going to be difficult with no Quincy beside him to keep a check on his volatile temper, but fuck it, he could do it.

The airport was crowded as usual. Since he had no baggage he made it out of there fast, hailed a cab and jumped in.

'Where to, bud?' asked the driver, a gum-chewing Arab with an American accent.

He considered his answer. Should he go to his mother's first and drag her along for the ride? No. He had nothing to gain by involving her. He gave the driver Sal's address and sat back. Soon it would all be taken care of.

The Man watched as Cheryl left her house. He could have taken her then and there, but the timing wasn't right. Everything in life was timing. He'd learned that as an actor.

Steven Seagal had good timing. He'd built his career with a steady succession of films - each one more successful than the last. That's what The Man called perfect timing.

Cheryl drove fast down the winding hillside. The Man slipped into the traffic behind her. He was in no particular hurry. He had all night. He knew the moment would come when he could pounce and take her, and she would be his. Why rush?

She hit Sunset and made a sharp left, eventually drawing into the forecourt of the St James's Hotel. Climbing out of her car she handed the keys to a parking valet.

The Man parked on the street. He could wait. He could wait as long as he had to.

Sitting in his car he began thinking about his mother and her new husband. She'd gotten married again when he was in jail. He couldn't believe it. Not that he was any great supporter of his father, but she'd chosen as her new mate a man not worthy to shine her shoes. A man fifteen years younger than her. And, according to friends of the family, a worse villain than her first husband, whom she'd divorced.

All his life she'd caused him nothing but problems and spoiled him for other women. His mother was a true bitch goddess.

He loved her.

He hated her.

Sometimes he couldn't make up his mind which was the truth.

It didn't matter, because soon, when he was finished in California, he would squeeze her white neck between his hands, and when he choked the life out of her he would celebrate.

The Man knew one thing for sure, he was entitled to commit this act, it was justice really.

She'd given birth to him.

He would give death to her.

A fair exchange.

Jordanna spent an exhilarating afternoon picking out clothes for the movie with the costume designer. Then she went back to the Sanderson house where Marjory was in a deep sulk. 'What's the matter?' she asked.

'Michael Scorsini is the matter,' Marjory complained. 'I lent him money and now he's vanished.'

'What do you mean, vanished?'

'He was supposed to come back here for dinner. Have
you
seen him?'

'No.'

'That's how
I've
seen him.'

'He'll be back,' Jordanna said. 'Why did you lend him money anyway?'

'Because he needed it.'

Jordanna decided the sooner she moved out of the Sanderson estate the better, Marjory's moods were getting boring.

She wondered if Bobby would ask her to stay the night. Just in case, she popped a toothbrush into her bag, then immediately took it out again. Too obvious. Maybe he wouldn't want her to stay. Maybe he wasn't even attracted to her.

Oh shit! How about treating him to a little of that seductive come-on she was usually so good at.

No, it wouldn't work with Bobby. He was different from her Midnight Cowboys, he was special.

On the way over to his house she thought about Cheryl. Her friend was not in good shape, she was definitely doing coke, and God knew what else. It was obvious Grant wasn't the greatest influence in the world.

Bobby greeted her at the door of his house clad in jeans and a denim work shirt, looking great.

She entered the house, checking it out. 'Hmm,' she said. 'It looks like everything cleaned up nicely.'

'So did you.'

'Huh?'

'The paint job Barbara did on you. Not a trace.'

'I was thinking of suing the psycho, but why give her the publicity? Her bad karma will do her in eventually.'

'And Miss Levitt is wise, too,' he said, taking her hand. 'Come with me, I'm fixing us dinner.'

'You really think I'm wise?' she asked eagerly, allowing him to lead her into the kitchen.

'As a matter of fact I do.'

'Hmm... you should've seen me in my wild days.'