Hollywood Husbands (38 page)

Wes nodded, and they headed for the door.

‘Let’s take a walk, it’s hot in here,’ Chuck suggested.

They went down the stairs and out to the street, where Chuck lit up a joint, drew deeply, and handed it over.

Wes did not wish to look unappreciative, so he took a drag, then passed it back.

‘This is grade A shit,’ Chuck stated proudly.

‘Yeah,’ Wes agreed. He’d had better, but what did a permanently stoned, out-of-work movie actor know?

‘Zeppo White’s a fucking bore,’ Chuck remarked sourly.

‘What does he do?’ Wes asked.

Chuck turned on him in surprise. ‘Are you shittin’ me, man?’

He shrugged. ‘I’m not in the business.’

‘Yeah, well Zeppo would have a cardiac arrest if he thought there was someone around who’s never heard of him.’

‘I’m that someone.’

Chuck began to laugh. ‘He’s an agent. He’s
the
agent, or at least he thinks he is.’

‘Is he
your
agent?’

‘I wish. But Zeppo only wants ’em when they’re ridin’ high. Right now he’s Whitney’s agent. An’ don’t think the little turd hasn’t tried to fuck her, because he has.’

Wes couldn’t conceal his surprise. ‘Zeppo White has fucked Whitney Valentine Cable?’

‘Naw… just tried to. Bad enough.’

‘He must be at least
seventy
.’

‘So? You think it stops poppin’ when you pass sixty-five?’

* * *

‘I wish you’d leave me alone.’ Silver’s voice was tightly coiled.

‘What are you doing here anyway?’

‘I told you,’ Zachary replied patiently. ‘It’s been sixteen years and I’ve never forgotten you. Now that I’m free, I want you back.’

She snorted with laughter. ‘How flattering!’ And then she added sarcastically, ‘But I thought I was too
old
for you, Zachary. And you’re
certainly
too old for me.’

Ignoring her sarcasm he said, ‘I want you, Silver. This time for keeps.’

She could not believe the nerve of the man. Not to mention the conceit. ‘It may have escaped your notice,’ she said coldly, ‘but this is my
wedding
dinner. I just got married.’

‘And how much do you think it will cost me to get him out of your life? He looks like he comes cheap.’

‘You
bastard!
As far as you’re concerned money buys everyone, doesn’t it? You always thought that.’

‘Shall we put it to the test?’ he asked mildly.

With an exasperated sigh she got up from the table. Wes was nowhere in sight, which infuriated her. She swept off to the ladies’ room.

Poppy, who was not completely insensitive to atmosphere, jumped up and followed her.

* * *

Mannon noticed Chuck was on the missing list and took the opportunity to stop by the next table and greet his ex-wife.

‘Hello, Mannon,’ Whitney said guardedly.

‘You’re looking well,’ he replied, equally guarded.

‘So are you.’

They hadn’t spoken in months. It made the situation awkward, but Mannon plunged in anyway, although he was sure half the people at the table were trying to overhear, especially Zeppo, who never liked to miss a thing.

‘There’s something I want to talk to you about.’

She played with the base of her wine glass. ‘What?’

‘I can’t go into it here.’

‘Why not?’

He indicated the rest of the table. ‘Why do you think not?’

‘Hello, Mannon,’ said Ida White, catching his eye.

‘Mannon, my boy,’ greeted Zeppo. ‘I hear you’re considering the role Reynolds turned down.’ He wagged a warning finger. ‘You shouldn’t do it. No way.’

‘I’m not planning to.’

‘Good, good.’

In the distance Mannon saw Chuck. His fist itched to connect with the slimy creep’s jaw.

Whitney sensed trouble and quickly said, ‘It was nice seeing you.’ She turned away in the hope that he would leave.

Chuck approached the table. He looked good until you put him next to Mannon, and then you realized he was just a poor copy.

‘Hey – it’s my ole buddy,’ he exclaimed. ‘How’re ya doin’?’

Mannon did not consider them friends, although they had once been close. He did not even consider that he had to be civilized to the prick, so he ignored him.

Chuck took this as an insult. ‘What the fuck’s the matter with
you
?’ he demanded belligerently. ‘Don’t come sniffin’ around Whitney if y’can’t even say hello t ’me.’

Mannon began to walk away.

Chuck went to stop him with an angry hand on his shoulder.

‘Oh, no,’ sighed Whitney. She knew what was going to happen, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

Mannon spun around, removed Chuck’s hand and shoved him hard.

Chuck kept his balance and automatically struck out. A punch which Mannon countered with style and grace, while his right fist did just what it had been wanting to do all night, and smashed into Chuck’s jaw.

* * *

‘I’ve made a boo-boo, haven’t I?’ asked Poppy.

Silver, busy applying a liberal amount of lip gloss as she peered in the mirror, said, ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘Zachary,’ persisted Poppy. ‘I shouldn’t have put him next to you.’

Silver thought about her reply. It was unlikely anyone knew about her affair with Zachary. Sixteen years was a long time, and they had been very discreet because of his marriage. Obviously she had misjudged Poppy. Seating Zachary beside her was probably supposed to be an honour – he
was
the most influential man in the room.

‘Don’t worry about it,’ she said dismissively.

Poppy confirmed what she was thinking. ‘I had no idea you two even
knew
each other.’

‘Oh, we’re old adversaries,’ Silver said vaguely. And then, realizing she should tread carefully, she added, ‘I’ve always found men like Zachary Klinger to be ego-inflated bores.’

‘I agree,’ said Poppy, patting her elaborate upswept hairstyle. ‘I can’t stand him. He’s so pompous. I should have given him to Howard’s table, they deserve him.’

‘Quite!’ agreed Silver.

‘Maybe he’ll leave soon,’ Poppy said hopefully.

‘If he doesn’t,
I
shall.’

Poppy saw her entire evening falling to pieces. ‘You can’t do that,’ she said in an alarmed voice. ‘You’re the guest of honour.’

Silver licked her lips, squinted slightly, and took a step backwards to admire the overall effect of her makeup repairs. ‘Yes I can, Poppy,’ she said sweetly. ‘And I will.’

Before Poppy could plead and beg, which she was fully prepared to do –
anything
to save her party – Melanie-Shanna came rushing into the ladies’ room, tears streaking her pretty face. ‘I hate her!’ she shrieked. ‘I hate that woman!’

‘What woman?’ Silver and Poppy chorused as one.

‘That bitch – Whitney Valentine. She’s
ruining
my life!’

Poppy had never perceived Melanie-Shanna as anything but a docile little mouse. The anger she was exhibiting was a revelation. Not such a quiet one after all.

‘What has Whitney done?’ inquired Silver, only mildly interested in gossip unless it was directly related to her.

Before Melanie-Shanna could reply, Ida White and Carmel Gooseberger barged through the door, both talking at once.

‘Poppy!’ Carmel boomed excitedly. ‘Don’t you know there’s a
fight
going on?’

‘Blood!’ exclaimed Ida in her deep, flat voice. ‘Everywhere!’

It was getting too crowded for Silver; she edged her way towards the door.

‘A fight?’ wailed Poppy. ‘At
my
party.’

‘It’s that bitch’s fault,’ yelled Melanie-Shanna. ‘That
fucking bitch
! I’d like to break every bone in her body!’

Chapter Fifty-Four

Regrets were immediate:

Ms. Jade Johnson regrets. Making love with the English asshole one more time was a grave mistake.

She stared at him, asleep in her bed. He lay on his back with his mouth slightly open, a whispery snore escaping from between his lips.

It was seven o’clock in the morning and she was awake and alert, already reviewing the activities of the night before.

Why had she called him?

Because it seemed like a good idea at the time.

Naturally he’d been delighted to hear from her, and arrived at her apartment in what seemed like minutes, although half an hour probably elapsed.

She had turned off all the lights and decorated the place with small votive candles. Springsteen made beautiful background on the stereo. A bottle of chilled Russian vodka and two shot glasses stood on a table by the bed. She greeted him in an oversize black tee-shirt and nothing else except Opium scent.

He started to talk the moment he walked through the door.

She wasn’t after conversation. Silencing him with a finger to his lips, she drew him towards the bedroom.

It didn’t take long for him to get the message.

The sex was okay. It was not sensational. If she wanted to be
really
truthful it was pretty damned ordinary. What were the words of that old song?
The thrill is gone. The thrill is gone. I can feel it in your arms, see it in your eyes – the thrill is gone.

Shutting the bedroom door behind her, she padded on bare feet into the kitchen, and switched the kettle on.

At least she knew. It was over. As far as she was concerned there were no doubts about
that
.

* * *

‘I’ve got to take a quick trip to New York,’ Jack informed Heaven. ‘Can you arrange for a girlfriend to stay here with you?’

‘When?’

‘As soon as possible.’

She thought about who she could invite, and rejected every possibility. Some of the girls at school were okay, but she really didn’t have much in common with any of them. Eddie was her best friend, only since Silver’s dumb party, where he had trailed after her mother like some moronic fan, she had gone right off him.

‘I’ll get someone over,’ she promised. ‘Just tell me when you’re going.’

‘How about tomorrow?’

She nodded. ‘Terrific.’ And she thought –
‘I’ll stay here alone, I don’t mind
.

‘Good, that’s settled. I’ll only be away for a couple of days.’

She rather liked the idea of being by herself. Maybe she
would
have Eddie down and they could do some rehearsing. Lately their gigs together were pure garbage. Either he’d lost his touch or she was just bored with screaming out rock and roll.

Uncle Jack had
still
not heard any of her tapes. It pissed her off. But… he was an okay dude – at least he
cared
about her, which was more than she could say for her mother.

One day, when she was rich and famous and no longer treated like a dumb kid, she was going to confront Silver Dearest, and ask her plenty.

Like –
Who is my father?

Like –
Why don’t you give a damn about me?

Like
– Why did you shove me out of your life
as if I didn’t matter?

Anger and frustration welled up inside her. What kind of crap was it not to know the identity of your own father?

* * *

Mark emerged from the bedroom at nine-fifteen, tousled charm on full wattage.

Jade sat in the kitchen, clad in jeans and a shirt, legs on the table, watching
A.M. Los
Angeles
on television. She had a cup of black coffee by her side, and a cigarette (her new favourite habit) smouldering in an ashtray. She was thinking about Corey. Their lunch had been an uncomfortable experience for both of them, and now that she’d had time to mull things over, she knew she had to call him.

‘Good morning, lovely lady,’ Mark said, bending to kiss her, clad only in a pink bath towel knotted tightly around his waist, a look not suited to his skinny physique. He had spindly arms.

‘Hi.’ She tried a friendly smile. It wasn’t going to work – she never
had
been able to hide her feelings.

‘What’s the matter?’ he asked, immediately sensitive to her restless mood.

Fixing him with a look, she said, ‘It’s over, Mark. This time it’s
really
over.’

He preferred not to deal with her statement. ‘Why are you smoking?’ he asked sternly. ‘You gave it up years ago.’

‘How’s Fiona?’ she asked. ‘Is
she
upset about the divorce?’

Mark considered her question. He was smart; he never liked to get himself caught in any traps. ‘She’s had an extremely bad case of the flu,’ he explained seriously. ‘It dragged on. Almost turned into pneumonia.’

‘Most unfortunate.’

‘Yes, very. Naturally, I wasn’t able to broach the subject of divorce.’

‘Naturally.’

He gave a deep sigh. ‘Is that why you’re cross with me?’

He was so English and refined.
Cross with me
. How quaint!

‘I had no idea Fiona wasn’t aware of your divorce plans,’ she said truthfully.

‘Ah, but I’m going to tell her on my next trip home.’

‘Will that be soon?’

‘Very.’

‘Not on my account, I hope.’

He sat down beside her, and as he did so the towel parted, and she couldn’t help noticing his aristocratic balls blowing in the wind.

‘I
am
going to tell her, Jade, darling. And you and I
are
going to be married.’

‘There’s only one small snag.’

‘What’s that, sweetheart?’

‘It’s
finito
, Mark. Last night was the proof.’

Tapping his fingers on the table, he was unsure of how to handle her. ‘You didn’t have an orgasm, did you?’ he asked at last.

Typical! Change the subject. He was so full of shit.

‘The sex was great,’ she lied. ‘Don’t you see? It makes no difference. We’re history.’

‘Never,’ he insisted adamantly.

‘Believe it.’ She was equally adamant.

‘When Fiona and I are divorced you’ll feel differently,’ he said confidently.

‘
No
, Mark.’

‘
Yes
, Jade.’