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Authors: Jackie Collins

Rock Star

Rock Star
Collins, Jackie
Simon Schuster UK (2012)

Rock Star International bestselling sensation Jackie Collins, "the queen of glamour fiction" (San Antonio Express-News) captures the raw, electric thrill of life in the spotlight in this pulse-pounding novel. Three talented, ambitious dreamers have struggled for super-stardom - and lived hard and fast in a mind-bending whirl of parties, drugs, and sex. Now their fates collide at the plush Los Angeles estate of a powerful music industry magnate, where one man's secret vendetta will trap them in its sudden, murderous heat…
Rock Star blows the lid off the hard-driving lifestyles of today's music superstars. Kris Phoneix - the legendary and wildly sexy guitar hero. Bobby Mondella - black soul superstar with a past. Rafaella - an exotically beautiful girl who comes between them with a vengeance. Rock Star takes you on a dangerous trip through the jungle of broken dreams and blackmail, hit records and hit men... a jungle of sex, drugs and rock'n'roll. Rock Star is a story that burns. Feel the heat... 

 

Praise for Jackie Collins

‘Sex, power and intrigue – no one does it better than Jackie.’
heat

‘A tantalising novel packed with power struggles, greed and sex. This is Collins at her finest.’
Closer

‘Bold, brash, whiplash fast – with a cast of venal rich kids, this is classic Jackie Collins’
Marie Claire

‘Sex, money, power, murder, betrayal, true love – it’s all here in vintage Collins style. Collins’s plots are always a fabulously involved, intricate affair, and this does not disappoint.’
Daily Mail

‘Her style is pure escapism, her heroine’s strong and ambitious and her men, well, like the book, they’ll keep you up all night!’
Company

‘A generation of women have learnt more about how to handle their men from Jackie’s books than from any kind of manual . . . Jackie is very much her own person: a total one off’
Daily Mail

‘Jackie is still the queen of sexy stories. Perfect’
OK!

‘Cancel all engagements, take the phone off the hook and indulge yourself’
Mirror

 

Also by Jackie Collins

The Power Trip

Married Lovers

Lovers & Players

Deadly Embrace

Hollywood Wives – The New Generation

Lethal Seduction

Thrill!

L.A. Connections – Power, Obsession, Murder, Revenge

Hollywood Kids

American Star

Hollywood Husbands

Lovers & Gamblers

Hollywood Wives

The World Is Full Of Divorced Women

The Love Killers

Sinners

The Bitch

The Stud

The World Is Full Of Married Men

Hollywood Divorces

THE SANTANGELO NOVELS

Goddess of Vengeance

Poor Little Bitch Girl

Drop Dead Beautiful

Dangerous Kiss

Vendetta: Lucky’s Revenge

Lady Boss

Lucky

Chances

 

First published in Great Britain by William Heinemann, 1988

This edition published by Simon & Schuster UK Ltd, 2012
A CBS COMPANY

Copyright © Chances, Inc. 1988

This book is copyright under the Berne Convention.
No reproduction without permission.
® and © 1997 Simon & Schuster, Inc. All rights reserved.

The right of Jackie Collins to be identified as author of this work has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.

‘I Fall in Love Too Easily’ © 1944 (renewed 1972) Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer Inc.

‘Yesterday’ © Northern Songs under licence to SBK Songs Ltd,
3/5 Rathbone Place,
London W1P 1DA

Simon & Schuster UK Ltd
1st Floor
222 Gray’s Inn Road
London WC1X 8HB

Simon & Schuster Australia, Sydney
Simon & Schuster India, New Delhi

www.simonandschuster.co.uk

A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

ISBN 978-1-84983-637-1
eBook ISBN 978-1-84983-638-8

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, events or locales, is entirely coincidental.

Typeset by Hewer Text UK Ltd, Edinburgh
Printed and bound in Great Britain by CPI Group (UK) Ltd,
Croydon, CR0 4YY

 

For my Brother, Bill Collins,
Who has always been there for me

 

Contents

Los Angeles

Kris Phoenix: London

Bobby Mondella: New York

Rafealla: Paris

Kris Phoenix

Bobby Mondella

Los Angeles

Kris Phoenix

Bobby Mondella

Rafealla

Kris Phoenix

Bobby Mondella

Los Angeles

Kris Phoenix

Rafealla

Bobby Mondella

Kris Phoenix

Rafealla

Bobby Mondella

Los Angeles

Kris Phoenix

Rafealla

Bobby Mondella

Kris Phoenix

Rafealla

Bobby Mondella

Los Angeles

Kris Phoenix

Rafealla

Bobby Mondella

Kris Phoneix

Rafealla

Bobby Mondella

Los Angeles

Kris Phoenix

Rafealla

Bobby Mondella

Kris Phoenix

Rafealla

Bobby Mondella

Los Angeles

Kris Phoenix

Rafealla

Bobby Mondella

Kris Phoneix

Rafealla

Bobby Mondella

Los Angeles

Kris Phoenix

Rafealla

Bobby Mondella

Kris Phoenix

Rafealla

Bobby Mondella

Los Angeles

Kris Phoenix

Rafealla

Bobby Mondella

Kris Phoenix

Rafealla

Bobby Mondella

The Dinner

The Concert

The Scam

The Confrontation

The Conclusion

Epilogue

 

Los Angeles

Saturday, July 11, 1987

It was a perfect, cloudless Los Angeles day. The Santa Ana winds had driven off the smog, and Saturday, the eleventh of July, dawned crisp and clean, settling into a seductively lazy heat.

Kris Phoenix awoke early. Unusual for him, but he had flown in from London the previous afternoon and gone straight to bed. Fourteen hours later he surfaced in his oversized California King bed, in his oversized palatial Bel Air mansion, and rolled over to find that his Los Angeles girlfriend, Cybil Wilde, had joined him sometime during the night. Fortunately for her, she had not tried to wake him. Sex was great, but woe betide anyone who came between Kris and his jet-lag.

Cybil slept on, her nineteen-year-old body smooth and naked. Long, honey-blonde hair fanning out around her wholesomely pretty face.

Cybil Wilde was a highly paid, extremely visible commercial model. Not quite Christie Brinkley, but on her way. Recently she had appeared on the cover of
Sports Illustrated
in a revealing one-piece swimsuit. Now the offers were pouring in, but Cybil never accepted anything without deferring to Kris’s superior judgement. And he preferred having her at home – whether he was there or not.

He debated waking her – after all, it was several weeks since they’d seen each other. Then he remembered the concert tonight; and decided he could wait. Astrid, his London live-in, had not exactly let his motor idle. In fact, Astrid was a maniac in the sack, she never left him alone.

Astrid, the clothes designer. They’d met four years ago in Paris, when his manager hired her to design some leather pants for him, and she’d ended up feeling a lot more than the material. At twenty-eight, Astrid was nine years older than Cybil, but she had the requisite long blonde hair and knockout body, plus she was Danish, and everyone knew about Scandinavian women.

He liked his women blonde and long-legged, with big bosoms and an amiable disposition. What more could any man ask?

Silently Kris stepped from bed, making his way into his black-mirrored bathroom. Fortunately he’d managed to stay sober on the flight from London. It was amazing the difference it made – he actually felt like a human being. And on close inspection in the mirror above his marble sink, he actually looked like one.

Kris Phoenix was thirty-eight years old. He had intense, ice-blue eyes, longish, dirty-blond hair subtly streaked by the sun (and if the sun wasn’t around, an English hairdresser called Spud took care of it), and rakish good looks. Neither tall nor short, he hit a comfortable five feet ten inches – and since taking up weight training he was all dynamic body power and rippling muscles. Hardly Arnold Schwarzenegger – more Bruce Springsteen fused with Mick Jagger.

Kris Phoenix was a rock star. A very famous rock star indeed.

In fact, some said, Kris Phoenix was a rock legend.

All that talk never bothered him. As far as he was concerned he made music, sang songs and played a mean guitar. So did a lot of other guys. Kris reckoned he had a hold on reality. Just because he divided his life between two fantastic mansions, made millions of dollars a year, owned seven cars, and kept two beautiful live-in females, it didn’t make him any different inside. He would always – deep down – be plain Chris Pierce from Maida Vale, London. There was no getting away from the fact that his mother once scrubbed other people’s floors, and his stepfather drove a bus.

‘Ohh . . . my . . . God! You . . . are . . .
sooo . . .
sexy!’ Cybil barefooted her way into the bathroom, and it wasn’t only her feet that lacked coverage. ‘I’ve really
missed
you, Kris!’ she sighed, throwing her arms around him.

Suddenly, Astrid the maniac began to fade from his thoughts.

‘You too, kiddo,’ he replied, kissing her warm, inviting lips.

She rubbed her full breasts against his bare chest, knowing full well what
that
would do to him.

One snag. Sex was
out
on the day of a performance. Only somebody should tell the massive hard-on growing in his pyjama pants.

Regretfully he pushed her away. ‘Leave it out, Cyb. Y’know the rules, and tonight’s that goddamn private gig for Marcus Citroen.’

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