Lovers & Players (10 page)

‘Aretha never told me you sent money.’

‘Surely you didn’t imagine I’d abandoned you altogether? Who do you think paid for your singing and dancing lessons?’

‘I…I didn’t think. Aretha never mentioned it.’

‘She wouldn’t. Aretha liked being your mama instead of me.’ A long pause. ‘You got any idea how I
felt
all those Sundays when I came to visit and you all treated me as if I was an intruder?’

‘I suppose it must’ve been hard,’ Liberty said, reluctant to give her mom any credit.

‘Believe me, it was.’

‘So,’ Liberty ventured, ‘about my dad…was
he
one of your losers? Is
that
why you’ve never told me about him?’

‘No,’ Diahann said. ‘He wasn’t a loser.’

‘Then
who
was he?’ Liberty asked, her voice rising. ‘Why won’t you tell me?’

‘The truth is I hardly knew him.’

‘What does
that
mean?’

‘I was eighteen, touring in Europe, singing back-up for Isaac Hayes.’

‘You never told me you were in Europe,’ Liberty said accusingly.

‘I can remember thinkin’, this is it–my career is finally takin’ off,’ Diahann said. She hesitated a moment, then continued: ‘One night in Berlin I met a drummer at a studio session. He was a handsome guy–German mother, black father. He was funny an’ nice, an’ we ended up spending the night together.’

‘Yes?’ Liberty asked, hanging on every word.

‘The next day the tour left Berlin,’ Diahann said, turning away. ‘A few weeks later I discovered I was pregnant.’

‘With me,’ Liberty stated.

‘Yes, with you.’ Another long, deep sigh. ‘I was so scared. I tried to contact him, but it was too late.’

‘Too late for what?’

‘There’s a reason I never wanted to tell you, Libby.’

‘Tell me
what
?’

‘I…I found out he was killed in a car crash the day after I left Germany.’

‘You–you mean he’s dead?’ Liberty stammered, her head spinning. ‘My father’s
dead
? Is that what you’ve been hiding from me all these years? He’s
dead!
’

‘I’m so sorry, baby,’ Diahann said, attempting to take her daughter’s hand.

‘Oh, my
God
, Mama!’ Liberty said, snatching her hand away. ‘How come you kept it from me all these years?’

‘Do you think it’s easy telling you you’re the result of a one-night stand? I wanted more for you, baby. I honestly believed it was better if you
didn’t
know.’

Liberty’s green eyes blazed with anger. ‘That was
my
choice, not yours,’ she cried.

‘You’re right,’ Diahann said quietly, bowing her head.

‘What was his name?’

‘It’s not important.’

‘Maybe not to you,’ Liberty fired back.

Another long pause. ‘Mervyn.’

‘Mervyn
what?
’

‘Brown.’

Mervyn Brown. At least she now knew the name of the man who’d fathered her. And Mama had kept it a secret all this time. It wasn’t fair, she should have been told years ago.

‘What did he look like?’ she asked, forcing herself not to cry.

‘I told you, he was a good-lookin’ man.’

Liberty was silent for a while, trying to digest all this unexpected information. Yes, she had a father. A
dead
father.

‘I want to see a photo of him,’ she said at last.

‘I’m sorry…’

‘C’
mon
,’ Liberty said, suddenly more angry than anything else. ‘No photo,
nothing.
’

‘Sorry.’

‘Stop
saying
that.’

Diahann shrugged helplessly.

‘He must’ve had a family,’ Liberty said, stomach churning. ‘Did you even
tell
them about me?’

‘No.’

‘Why not?’

‘The man was married, Libby.
Married.
’

‘Oh, this is just getting better and better.’

‘I felt his family had enough grief to deal with. How could I add to it?’

‘Jesus, Mama, they’re
my
family too,’ Liberty cried, holding back tears of frustration and longing. ‘This means I have
grandparents.
I should try to reach them.’

‘Don’t even think about it.’

‘Why not?’ she asked angrily. ‘Why the
hell
not?’

‘Cause if you want to know the whole story I
did
phone them.’

‘And?’

‘They called me a black American whore and warned me never to contact them again.’

‘Oh, God!’

‘So now you know. There’s nothing more I can tell you.’

Liberty shook her head in disbelief. She felt empty inside. Somehow she’d always believed in the fairy-tale that somewhere out there was a man who would claim her as his, a man who would love her and nurture her and be proud to call her his daughter.

Now that dream was truly shattered.

Damnit, she was
not
going to let it get her down. One way or another, she would make a success of her life. Nothing and nobody was going to stop her.

T
hey stood on the sidewalk outside Red Diamond’s house, three brothers wondering what kind of game their father was playing now.

‘I have to go,’ Max said impatiently, cracking his knuckles. ‘Call my assistant, she’ll give you the details for tonight.’

‘Wanna do lunch?’ Jett asked Chris, as soon as Max had taken off.

‘I got calls to make, people to see,’ Chris said, worrying about what he was going to tell Roth Giagante, who was waiting–not so patiently–in Vegas. Then, seeing the disappointed look on his brother’s face, he decided it wouldn’t kill him to spend time with the kid because the truth of the matter was that, as far as family was concerned, Max and Jett were about it. That’s if he didn’t count Red, and why would he? Red had never given a damn about anyone but himself. ‘Tell you what,’ he said, ‘meet me at The Four Seasons around one. We’ll grab a bite in the restaurant. Then I have to drop by Birdy Marvel’s.’

‘
The
Birdy Marvel?’ Jett said, impressed.

‘She’s a client.’

‘Man, she’s hot.’

‘I can tell
you
haven’t changed,’ Chris said, laughing. ‘It’s all about pussy.’

‘As a matter of fact I
have
changed,’ Jett said, suddenly serious. ‘Last night I met a girl—’

‘You can tell me about it later,’ Chris said, sprinting to the kerb and waving down a passing cab. ‘Right now I gotta go make some calls.’

Jett watched as Chris jumped into the cab and took off. It was good to see him again, Chris had always been the brother he was closest to, and now that he was back in New York maybe they could spend more time together. Yeah, two brothers hanging out. Why not?

As he started walking down the street his cell rang. He checked out the caller ID. It was Gianna.

Hmm…he’d all but forgotten about his Italian supermodel and her magnificent blow-jobs.

‘
Ciao, bello
!’ Gianna cooed, sounding her usual upbeat self. ‘Why you no phone yesterday when you arrive?’

Already he was in trouble, yet it hadn’t even crossed his mind that she expected him to check in.

‘How you doin’, baby?’ he said, reminding himself that she
was
kind of his steady girlfriend, although it was totally out of character for Gianna to act clingy.

‘
Perfectto
!’ Gianna purred.

‘Glad you’re having fun without me.’

‘Listen,
carino
,’ Gianna continued, in her low-down throaty voice, ‘I tell you something good.’

‘Hey,’ he said cheerfully. ‘I’m always into hearing something good.’

‘A big job. You and me. Together. My agent, he–how you say?–negotiate
bene
. I fly New York Sunday. Monday we do fittings. Tuesday we do print ads for the new Courtenelli collection. Sofia Courtenelli request
me
, and
I
suggest
you
. They ask for Mark Vanderloo or Brad Kroenig, but I say no,
you
.’ She paused triumphantly. ‘So you see, is
molto bene. Capische?
’

Oh, he understood all right. Gianna was coming to New York. And what was he supposed to do about
that
?

Max headed straight for his office where he was shocked and angry to discover Vladimir Bushkin lurking in the reception area. Didn’t he have enough problems? Now this low-life was there–for
what
? More money? He’d paid him
plenty
to keep his blackmailing mouth shut.

Ignoring the man, he stalked into his private domain, slamming the door behind him.

Mrs Barley buzzed him immediately. ‘There’s a Mr Bushkin waiting out here,’ she said, sounding flustered. ‘He doesn’t have an appointment, but he’s most insistent.’

‘I’m sure he is.’

‘Will you see him, Mr Diamond?’

Did he have a choice? ‘Send him in,’ he said gruffly.

A few seconds later Vladimir slunk into the room, like the slimy rat he was. Unshaven, with shifty eyes, the Russian man sat down uninvited.

Max was in no mood to put up with more greedy demands. ‘What do you want?’ he asked.

‘New York very expensive place to live,’ Vladimir announced, picking at a hangnail.

‘So move,’ Max said roughly.

‘Not nice attitude,’ Vladimir responded. ‘You and me, we have agreement, yes?’

‘The agreement was,
I
pay,
you
vanish. So what the hell are you doing sitting in my office?’

‘Not friendly, Mr Diamond.’

‘Listen to me, Vladimir, tell me what you want and get out.’

‘I want only what I am entitled to,’ Vladimir answered grandly.

Christ! The little shit wasn’t going away any time soon. ‘Entitled, my ass,’ Max snapped.

‘Silence expensive. But you rich man, you afford to buy. Yes?’

Immediately Max realized he’d handled the situation all wrong. Right from the start he should’ve got his lawyer involved, made the Russian prick sign an unbreakable legal agreement. Instead of which he’d been so panicked at the thought of anyone finding out the truth about his non-marriage and obviously illegitimate daughter that he’d paid Vladimir a goodly amount of money in cash. In return he’d expected the Russian to keep silent and vanish.

It seemed this was not to be.

‘How much this time?’ he asked harshly.

‘I am not greedy man—’ Vladimir started to say.

‘Cut the shit,’ Max interrupted. ‘How much?’

‘I need five hundred thousand for business venture I—’

‘Five hundred thousand!’ Max exploded. ‘That’s twice as much as I paid you last time. There’s no way I can—’

‘Problem none,’ Vladimir interrupted, unexpectedly standing. ‘I make discreet inquiries. Tabloid papers, they pay much for good story.
Juicy
story.’

‘You blackmailing son-of-a-
bitch!
’

Vladimir shuffled towards the door. ‘I read interview in magazine about you. You say business come first. I say same thing. This just…business.’

Chris called Roth Giagante in Vegas. Roth’s assistant informed him that Mr Giagante never rose before noon. Chris felt enormous relief that he didn’t have to speak to the man. Instead he left a message saying that due to a sickness in his family he had to stay in New York and would be unable to get to Vegas before the following weekend.

After making the call he felt a lot calmer. He’d given himself time to somehow come up with the balance of the money he owed, and maybe on Monday, when he finally met with Red, he’d receive a welcome surprise. He wasn’t thinking he’d inherit a lot, maybe a few million, but right now he’d settle for anything.

After he’d paid his debt to Roth Giagante, there would be no more gambling. He’d worked hard to make a lot of money, so where was the sense in pissing it all away chasing a lucky streak that never seemed to happen? Although Atlantic City was less than an hour away, and while he had time to kill, a whole weekend in fact…

No!
he told himself sternly.
No more gambling
.

After a few more phone calls back and forth to his office in L.A. he met Jett for lunch at his hotel.

As his brother walked into the restaurant, women’s heads turned. Jett had the look, the sexy bad-boy look that women always seemed to go for. Colin Farrell, Owen Wilson, Brad Pitt–Jett was better-looking than any of those guys. And the most endearing quality he possessed was that he didn’t seem to know it.

‘You shoulda been an actor,’ Chris remarked, only half joking. ‘Maybe I should hook you up with a Hollywood agent.’

‘Hey,’ Jett said, pulling up a chair, ‘anything that makes me money.’

‘You broke?’

‘Not exactly, but who doesn’t want big bucks?’

‘Yeah, tell me about it,’ Chris said, studying the menu.

‘My girlfriend drives a Lamborghini, and
I
didn’t buy it for her,’ Jett said, reaching for a bread roll.

‘You have a steady girlfriend?’

‘Not exactly. We kinda live together in her apartment.’

‘
Her
apartment?’

‘Gianna’s a big model in Italy. We, uh…have an arrangement.’

‘And that means?’

‘She gets to screw guys who buy her Lamborghinis, and I get to live rent free.’

‘Sounds like a deal.’

‘Yeah. Only that’s not what it’s all about, right?’

‘Whatever works for you, little bro’,’ Chris said, summoning the waiter and ordering a steak.

‘It did,’ Jett said, going for the salmon. ‘Up until last night.’

‘What happened last night?’

‘I met a girl. A very special girl.’

‘Listen to you!’ Chris said, laughing. ‘You’ve been in town all of twenty-four hours.’

‘Yeah, but shit happens, doesn’t it?’

‘To you, yes.’

‘My first night here I got together with this girl, and she’s so freakin’ special I gotta hunch everything changed for me.’

‘A one-night stand and everything changed,’ Chris said, raising a cynical eyebrow. ‘Sure it did.’

‘I’m not kidding, Chris,’ Jett said earnestly.

‘In that case, I have questions.’

‘Like what?’

‘Like, who is she? And does she drive a Lamborghini, ’cause the Lamborghini girl sure sounds like a keeper.’

‘Now you’ll
really
think I’ve lost it.’

‘Go ahead, I’m a lawyer, I can take it.’

‘Uh…here’s the thing. I don’t even know her name.’

‘Uh-huh.’

‘I met her in a club, we looked at each other and that was it. She came home with me.’

‘Difficult to nail, huh?’ Chris drawled sarcastically. ‘She must be from L.A.’

‘It wasn’t like that.’

‘Of course it wasn’t. Did you fuck her?’

‘That’s cold, man. It was more like making love. And…here’s the kicker. Turns out she’s a virgin.’

‘You mean
was
a virgin.’

‘Well…she wanted it as much as me. I even offered to stop, but she—’

‘Spare me the details,’ Chris said drily. ‘One roll with a virgin and you’re in love with a girl who kind of forgot to give you her name. Obviously a class act.’

‘I’m telling you, she’s special, Chris,’ Jett insisted. ‘Besides, I can easily track her down.’

‘Then how come you’re not onto it? Why are you sitting here with me talking about her instead of finding her?’

‘She needs time…’

‘Jesus, little bro’, are you
listening
to yourself?’ Chris said, shaking his head. ‘High school is
over
. Stick with the Lamborghini–she sounds more your style.’

‘You don’t get it.’

‘Oh yes, I do. Been there, done that.’

‘Not with this girl.’

‘Hey, if she’s so important to you, you’d better go find her.’

‘I will.’

‘Only do me one big favour.’

‘What?’

‘Do not propose until you’ve recovered your senses.’

‘Like, I’m crazy, but not
that
crazy,’ Jett said, cracking a grin. ‘I’ll see how it goes.’

‘You might not be drinking, but you’re
still
a nut,’ Chris said, shaking his head again.

‘And how’s
your
love life?’ Jett asked, switching the subject because, much as he wanted to continue talking about the girl, he figured he’d said enough, and the annoying thing was that Chris wasn’t taking him seriously.

‘I have two rules,’ Chris replied. ‘Work first. Pleasure second.’

‘That’s harsh, man.’

‘No, little bro’. That’s
smart
.’