Lovers & Players (18 page)

‘Damon says jump, everyone jumps,’ Beverly replied, stepping back for a minute and studying Liberty’s face with a critical eye. ‘Guess you made
some
impression. Did they tell you how much they’re payin’ you?’

‘We didn’t get into that. Should I ask for the same as Cindi?’

‘Forget it,’ Beverly said, beginning to apply a creamy make-up base to Liberty’s face with a damp sponge. ‘Tell ’em you want a thousand bucks ’cause you’re a feature player.’

‘A thousand?’ Liberty gasped. ‘They’ll never pay that! It’s a fortune.’

‘You want
me
to tell ’em?’ Beverly said, working away. ‘I’m tight with those guys.’

‘Could you do that?’

‘Sure, an’ when you’re a big singin’ star you can hire me as your personal make-up artist. Oh, an’ if anyone asks–you’re a member of the union.’

‘Is that okay to say?’

‘Man,’ Beverly said, shaking her head, ‘somebody’s gotta teach you how to deal. How old
are
you?’

‘Nineteen. I can deal. I’ve been around.’

‘Nineteen, huh? You’re still a baby. An’ big bad Damon’s shinin’ his light on you, so watch out–you gotta be
real
careful.’

‘Of what?’

‘I told you once, I’ll tell you again. Damon is a major player,’ Beverly said, applying pale copper eye shadow to Liberty’s eyelids with her finger. ‘A big fat
major
player.’

‘As long as he likes my demo.’

‘An’ if he does, what you gonna do?’ Beverly asked, standing back to survey her work. ‘You gonna fuck him an’ hope that lands you a recording contract? ’Cause if
that
’s your game, you’d better remember to make him wait until
after
you sign a contract.’

Liberty shrugged. ‘I have no plans in that direction.’

‘Maybe
you
don’t, but you can bet your ass Damon does.’

‘Like you said, he’s married.’

‘In the hip-hop world being married means nothing,’ Beverly announced, producing a soft beige lip gloss. ‘Those guys are like athletes–screwin’ around is their national pastime. Man,’ she added, rolling her eyes, ‘I could tell you stories.’

‘You sound so jaded.’ Liberty sighed. ‘I’m sure they’re not
all
like that.’

‘Sure, babe, believe what you like, but I’m givin’ you the
real
truth.’

‘If that’s the truth, then it’s sad.’

‘Allow me to tell you what those guys do,’ Beverly said. ‘They nail a beautiful girl, use her for as long as it amuses them, then the fuckers move on. Oh, yeah–an’ if the wife finds out, they zip down to the jewellery store an’ buy wifey-pie another ten-carat diamond ring. What the fuck? It’s only money.’

‘Why are you telling me this?’

‘’Cause you’re new,
and
you’re a genuine beauty–especially now I’ve dealt with your damn eyebrows!’

‘Oh, thanks, this is all happening because of my eyebrows, right?’

‘Listen t’me an’ learn. Damon
always
goes for the beauties. Like Prince, his bag is to score the prize. An’ right now you’re it.’

‘Y’ know, Bev, in spite of what you think, I
have
been around. Working as a waitress you get to know
exactly
what most guys want. Besides, I have a boyfriend. I promise you–I
can
look after myself.’

‘I’m sure you can, hon, only you’re movin’ into a whole different league now, so all I’m sayin’ is, watch it.’

‘I will.’

‘Do
not
believe the hype an’ the promises, an’ make
sure
, whatever they promise, see your own lawyer an’ get it in writing.’

‘Thanks, that’s good advice. I think.’

‘Free, too,’ Beverly said, applying a dark contouring blush to Liberty’s cheekbones.

‘Trouble is, I don’t
have
a lawyer,’ Liberty said ruefully.

‘Hmm…’ Beverly responded, with the hint of a smile. ‘Now
why
am I so not surprised?’

W
hen Jett arrived at the video shoot, Beverly was still busy working on Liberty’s face. ‘Hang around if you want,’ Beverly said, stopping to give him a quick peck on the cheek. ‘I’ll be through soon.’

‘No,’ he said. ‘Rap’s not my thing. I gotta get moving.’

‘At least say hello to Liberty while you’re here.’

‘Who’s Liberty?’

‘The new girl on the block,’ Beverly said, winking at Liberty. ‘An’ she’s sittin’ right here, babe.’

‘Hey,’ he said, giving Liberty a quick look through the mirror.

‘Hey,’ Liberty responded, equally casual.

The fact that they barely exchanged glances surprised Beverly, because she’d thought Jett would be all over the exotically beautiful girl. Hmm…perhaps he
was
in love.

‘Did you call that number?’ she asked, still working on Liberty’s face.

‘Tried it a few times, no answer,’ he said, cracking his knuckles. ‘Guess I’ll havta wait until Monday.’

Then it occurred to him that on Monday Gianna would be in New York. Man! Nothing was ever easy.

‘You want a coffee, anything?’ Beverly offered.

‘No, thanks, Bev. You’re busy, so I’m takin’ off. I’ll call you later.’

He left the studio, and on the way to Sam’s apartment he started to feel guilty that he hadn’t contacted his mother. As soon as he got to Sam’s, he picked up the phone before he changed his mind. ‘Mom?’ he said, when Edie answered.

‘Now
that
’s a word I haven’t heard in a long time,’ Edie responded, sounding relatively sober.

‘It’s Jett,’ he said, immediately groping for a cigarette.

‘I guessed it was, since you’re the only person who calls me
Mom
and you
are
my son. Not that I’ve heard from you in a long time,’ she added reproachfully.

‘I’ve been living in Italy,’ he said, wishing she could sound a little happier to hear from him. ‘You knew that.’

‘Where are you now?’

‘Back in New York. I, uh…flew in for a few days.’

‘What for?’

‘To meet with Red,’ he said, knowing
that
piece of information would not go down well.

‘That
bastard
,’ she said bitterly. ‘Why would you want to meet with
him
?’

‘He kind of summoned me. Sent me a ticket.’

‘Oh,’ she said, pouncing. ‘
He
summons and
you
jump.’

‘Yeah, Mom,’ he admitted. ‘I guess I jumped. But he
is
my dad, and Lady Jane insisted it was important.’

‘You spoke to
her
? That phoney witch.’

‘She’s the one who called,’ he explained. ‘And when they arranged for the ticket, I thought I’d take advantage of a free trip. Y’ know, get to see you an’ all.’

‘No such thing as a free trip, Jett,’ Edie said ominously. ‘You’ll end up paying, one way or the other.’

‘Maybe,’ he said, inhaling poisonous smoke.

‘Your father’s never going to change,’ Edie said flatly.

‘I know that.’

‘When do
I
get to see you?’

‘Do you want to?’ he replied, remembering that the last time he’d seen her they’d had a huge fight. He couldn’t even remember what it had been about.

‘You could drive out to the house tomorrow,’ she suggested. ‘I’m here. I never go anywhere.’

‘I dunno, Mom,’ he said. ‘I gotta meet someone at the airport, then I promised Max I’d drop by his rehearsal dinner tomorrow night.’

‘Max?’ she said. ‘Since when are you close to
him?
’

‘He invited me, I thought I’d go.’

‘Why?’

‘Hey,’ Jett said, getting off the subject of family, ‘any chance of you coming into the city?’

‘For what?’ she snapped. ‘I
hate
the city. I
hate
being any place where I’m forced to breathe the same air as Red Diamond.’

‘Then we should try to get together next week.’

There was a long silence, finally broken by Edie. ‘Have you seen him yet?’ she asked.

‘Who?’ he said, playing dumb, although he knew exactly whom she meant.

‘Who do you
think?
’ she said, sounding peeved. ‘That
son-of-a-bitch
I was married to.’

‘Uh, yeah, I saw him,’ Jett replied, trying to keep it light. ‘He turned up at Max’s bachelor party.’

‘What is this–family-reunion time?’ she said, a familiar slur creeping into her voice. ‘All of a sudden it’s Max this and Max that.
I
’m your family, not those half-brothers.’

‘I know, Mom.’

‘Is Chris there too?’ she asked, taking off on a fact-finding mission.

‘Yeah, he’s around.’

‘I’m sure you’re aware it was
him
who paid for you to go to Italy, get into rehab and straighten yourself out.’

‘Who’d you hear
that
from?’

‘I have my sources. You should thank him. I’m positive Max didn’t put a hand in
his
pocket. Tight bastard,’ she added disdainfully, ‘exactly like his father.’

He heard the clinking of ice in a tumbler–another familiar sound from his childhood. Edie had always started the day drink in hand–it was among his earliest memories. ‘You doing okay, Mom?’ he asked, treading carefully. ‘You’re not drinking, are you?’

‘I had a glass of water,’ she said belligerently. ‘Is that all right with you, Mr
Reformed
Alcoholic?’

To avoid a fight he hurriedly dropped the subject. ‘So…are you with anybody now?’ he asked, keeping it casual. ‘Some handsome young stud?’

‘None of your damn business,’ she told him, her words definitely tripping. ‘And
you
’d better behave yourself around my gentleman friends ’cause, if I recall correctly, last time you got the bejesus beaten out of you.’

Oh, great. Fond memories. Stoned as he’d been, there was no forgetting the low-life she’d been supporting at the time.

Big fucking deal, so he’d thrown a few insults the loser’s way. How was
he
supposed to know the creep was a professional boxer?

‘I’ll call you tomorrow, Mom,’ he said, suddenly overcome with a desperate urge to get off the phone.

‘Do that,’ she said sourly. ‘If you can find the time.’

He put down the phone and stubbed out his cigarette. One thing for sure, she’d certainly managed to wipe the smile off
his
face.

Unfortunately, there was nothing new about
that
.

Max was seething. What kind of game was Mariska playing, and how could he find out?

It was all too suspicious. First Vladimir turning up at his office, then Mariska claiming she was
not
married to the Russian, when she knew perfectly well he’d seen the marriage papers.

Were
they forged? Should he call in an expert?

No, he couldn’t do that because it meant bringing in people who would then know his business.

Goddamn it! He was trapped in an impossible situation.

He called Amy. ‘You never made it to brunch,’ he said accusingly, ready to vent his bad mood on someone.

‘I’m so sorry,’ she said apologetically. ‘It wasn’t my fault. Grams was in one of her talkative moods and it was impossible to get away.’

‘How’s Grams doing?’ he asked, softening, because none of this was Amy’s fault and he shouldn’t be taking it out on her. The truth was that she and Lulu were the only two worthwhile people in his life.

‘Brilliant for ninety,’ Amy answered cheerfully. ‘She looks better than either of us.’

He didn’t laugh. He wasn’t in the mood for laughing. ‘So tonight we’ll have that quiet dinner, just the two of us.’

‘I was hoping to get an early night,’ Amy responded.

‘I’ll make sure you get home in good time,’ he promised.

There was a long silence. Amy broke it: ‘Is everything okay, Max?’ she asked.

‘I told you, I have a lot on my mind business-wise. We’ll talk later.’

‘Very well,’ she said reluctantly, because she still felt unbelievably guilty and she wasn’t looking forward to spending time alone with Max.

‘I’ll pick you up at eight,’ he said, still thinking about Mariska and the devious plan she was plotting. Fifty thousand to kill someone, and she was under the impression
he’d
come up with the money.

Oh, no, he was much too smart for that.

By the time Chris reached Jonathan’s Goode’s apartment, he’d made a decision. He was going to hop a plane to L.A., stay a few hours and fly right back for the Monday morning meeting with Red. Not only was he worried about his house but there was the matter of his safe, currently stuffed with two hundred and fifty thousand dollars in cash ready to be transported to Vegas and Roth Giagante. He could not afford to lose track of that money.

Jonathan’s New York apartment, once featured on the cover of
Architectural Digest
with an eight-page spread inside, was a salute to sleek modern style. Jonathan was an avid student of architecture: he enjoyed clean lines, structural simplicity and stark furniture.

A barefoot Jonathan answered the door himself. Wearing rumpled chinos and a loose shirt, he looked worried. There was no sign of any entourage.

‘What’s up?’ Chris asked, walking in.

‘What’s up is extremely embarrassing,’ Jonathan replied, leading Chris through to the pristine kitchen.

‘Whenever I’m summoned to anyone’s apartment it’s
always
about something embarrassing,’ Chris replied, perching on a chrome stool. ‘Not to worry, Jon, I’ve heard it all and then some.’

‘Can I fix you a health drink?’ Jonathan inquired, busying himself chopping mangoes, bananas and papayas, then tossing them into a blender with some rice milk.

‘Not really,’ Chris said. ‘I kind of indulged myself last night and, now I’m suffering the consequences. I’ll have coffee–that’s if you’re making it.’

‘Coffee’s no good for you,’ Jonathan said. ‘I refuse to keep it in the apartment.’

‘Then I repeat,’ Chris said, ‘what’s up?’

Jonathan switched on the blender, and was silent for a long moment as the fruit tossed and turned. Then he switched it off, poured his drink into a tall glass and gave a long-drawn-out sigh. ‘Uh…I guess we all do things we prefer to keep quiet, especially when you’re an actor in the public eye.’

‘What’re you trying to tell me?’

‘It’s not that I’m ashamed,’ Jonathan said hesitantly, ‘but I realize that if this got out it could ruin my career.’

‘Keep going,’ Chris encouraged.

‘Well,’ Jonathan said, gulping down his health drink, ‘there are times I walk a dangerous street.’

‘And what street would that be?’ Chris asked, although he already suspected what the movie star was about to reveal.

‘Look, I’m not trying to hide anything from you, Chris,’ Jonathan said, speaking fast, ‘but, please, this is between you and me. Lawyer privileges, right?’

‘Of course.’

Jonathan set his glass on the counter. ‘I’m gay,’ he said, in a barely audible voice.

‘I gather there’s a problem?’

‘A
big
problem,’ Jonathan said. ‘Last night I met a man.’

‘Yes?’ Chris said, anticipating what he was about to hear.

‘He was nice-looking, clean-cut,’ Jonathan continued. ‘Rough trade isn’t my style. I invited him back here, and we, uh…had a good time—’

‘Can I interrupt?’ Chris asked, flexing his fingers.

‘Go ahead.’

‘Where was your girlfriend?’

‘We have an arrangement. She’s, uh…kinda into women, career-wise it suits both of us. So far we’ve managed to fool the media.’

‘This is getting more complicated by the minute,’ Chris commented.

Jonathan pushed a hand through his thick hair. ‘I realize you’re shocked,’ he said, his boy-next-door face serious.

‘Who,
me
?’ Chris replied. ‘I’m a liberal, Jonathan. Whatever you do is your business. I couldn’t care less.’

‘I always knew I liked you,’ Jonathan said, relieved that he wasn’t being judged.

‘Fill me in on what happened next.’

‘Well…the guy and I had our fun and, um, when he was leaving, I offered him money.’

‘Was he a professional?’

‘No, he wasn’t, and as soon as I tried to hand him the money, I realized I’d made a big mistake.’

‘How did he react?’ Chris asked, mentally picturing the scene.

‘He became extremely insulted and angry. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” he began screaming at me. “Big fuckin’ movie star hiding in the closet. You think you can buy everything and everyone. Well, I’ve got a news flash for you–you can’t. I can blow your image apart in a heartbeat.” ’

‘What happened then?’

‘He asked me if I knew what he did. I told him I had no idea.’

‘Give me the clincher.’

‘Turns out he’s a journalist for a prominent gay magazine and, believe me, I might’ve got fucked last night, but now I’m
really
fucked. What are we going to do, Chris? What the
hell
are we going to do?’