Hollywood Husbands (50 page)

‘How’s your love life?’ Norman asked boldly.

‘Extremely dull,’ she replied matter-of-factly. Since her break-up with Mark no one had come along to pique her interest. And unlike her friend Beverly, she never slept with guys just for the hell of it. There
had
been a time when she was twenty-two that she remembered with mixed feelings. Her wild period she called it. She hadn’t counted, but a lot of guys passed through her life then. Enough for her to realize that sex and nothing else was never enough. The sex was only important if it included a relationship.

‘Aren’t you seeing anybody?’ Norman persisted.

‘I’ve got a lot of friends.’

‘We’ll have to find you a winner.’

Laughingly she said, ‘Thanks, but I’m not looking.’ Driving home that night, Norman was full of how great she was. Corey had heard it so many times – he didn’t need to hear it from Norman too.

They ended up arguing over something inconsequential, and Corey slept on the couch.

* * *

Two days later Jade and Norman lunched alone. It was a business lunch: Norman had a promotional plan he wished to present to her.

She went over his ideas carefully, and liked what he had in mind. ‘You know I can’t do anything without Cloud’s approval,’ she said. ‘Not until my contract with them is up.’

‘I think you’ll find that everything I’m suggesting will more than please them. It’s all publicity for the product. Let’s face it, you
are
the product.’

She made a face. ‘Thanks a lot!’

‘I mean the product is
you
.’

‘I’m not sure I like that either.’

He had the blackest, curliest hair she had ever seen, and a most appealing smile. She found herself wondering if he had always been gay.

‘How’s Corey getting on?’ she asked briskly.

‘Fine. He’s happy.’ A meaningful pause, ‘I make him happy.’

‘I’m sure you do,’ she responded quickly. Discussing their relationship still made her feel vaguely uncomfortable.

‘When are you coming by the house?’ he asked.

She had been avoiding it. Somehow she wasn’t quite ready to see them at home together.

‘Soon.’

‘Promise?’

‘Absolutely.’

After lunch she went straight to her apartment, changed into a bikini, and lay out by the pool for an hour. There was nobody around – the building was half full, and most of the tenants only used the pool on weekends.

As she re-entered her apartment the phone was ringing. Hurrying inside, she grabbed it.

‘Yes?’

‘Miz Johnson?’

‘Yes.’

‘My name is Aretha Stolley. I’m calling on behalf of
Face to Face with Python
– you know, the Jack Python show?’

‘Yes?’

‘We’d be honoured to have you on as a guest, and Mr Python suggested I contact you directly. He always feels it’s much simpler than going through agents and managers, etcetera.’

‘
Does
he?’

‘He sure does. And I must say I agree with him. At least this way we get a direct yes or no. Usually a yes.
Very
few no’s.’

Jade remembered Jack Python with a taste of anticipation. Lord Mark Rand was not only dead, he was now buried.

‘Tell Mr Python,’ she said slowly, ‘to call me himself.’ She paused. ‘And tell him… to do it soon.’

Chapter Seventy

Aretha hung up and squawked with mirth. She put on a low, sexy voice and did a lively imitation. ‘Tell Mr Python,’ she said huskily, ‘to call me himself. And tell the randy sonofabitch to do it soon!’

‘
Whaaat?
’ said her secretary.

Aretha laughed. ‘I think our Jack just got lucky – yet
again
!’

‘Who with this time?’

‘The usual. A beautiful, stacked,
famous
lady. Are there
any
he’s missed?’

Her secretary shrugged. ‘Don’t ask me.’

Aretha sailed into the production meeting with a big smile plastered across her face. She was enjoying Jack’s freedom more than he was. Every week there was a different romance going on – it sure kept life interesting. Since his break-up with old sourpuss – as Aretha had nicknamed Clarissa Browning – he was back in action with a bullet.

‘I called Jade Johnson,’ she told him.

He rubbed his unshaven chin. ‘And?’

‘
And,
she would like to hear from you personally.’

He tried not to show any particular interest. ‘Why’s that?’

‘How should I know? Maybe she wants to jump on your decrepit old bones. I’m paid to
do
– not
ask.
’

Casually he shuffled some papers. ‘Does she want to appear on the show?’

‘You’ve got to call her and find out for yourself.’

‘Who are we talking about?’ Aldrich, his producer, joined in.

‘Jade Johnson,’ Aretha replied, with a wink.

‘We don’t need another Clarissa Browning fiasco,’ Aldrich warned. ‘Are you sure she can hold a conversation, let alone one hour of prime-time television?’

‘What is this?’ Jack said shortly. ‘I don’t pick duds. She’ll be just fine.’

He had no idea whether she would be a good guest or not. Somehow it didn’t matter. He wanted to see her again. For the last few months her image had haunted him. Everywhere he looked, there she was. Beautiful. Challenging. Direct.

And yet he hadn’t called her. He couldn’t explain why. Perhaps it was because he needed space between Clarissa and his next serious relationship.

When the production meeting was over he shut himself in his office and stared at the phone for a while. Tonight he was taking out Kellie Sidney, a blonde, smart, divorced film star, who produced her own movies which made mega-bucks, and yet she still looked like a fresh-faced cheerleader.

The night before he had been with a slinky, dark-haired singer, who gave ‘sleek’ new meaning.

Tomorrow night was the French actress with inviting eyes and smoky voice.

He was certainly occupied – if that was the appropriate word.

All this occupation… all these different bodies… and yet no one seemed to satisfy him. He felt restless and hemmed in. What he really needed was someone to fly with.

He picked up the phone and went for it.

‘Jade Johnson?’

‘Yes.’

‘This is Jack Python.’

She sounded politely friendly. ‘Well… hi. How are you?’

‘It’s been a long time.’

‘Quite a while.’

‘Las Vegas, wasn’t it?’

‘Right.’

Silence.

Long silence.

Christ! He felt like some schmuck about to request a date.

‘Hey… uh… my assistant called you about doing the show, didn’t she?’ he asked.

‘That’s right, she phoned today.’

‘So all I need is a simple yes or no, and we can start working out schedules.’

‘The thing is…’ She paused. ‘The thing is, I love your show. I always watch it—’

‘I’m pleased to hear
that
.’

‘But… uh… I don’t think I’d be the kind of guest you’re… uh… looking for.’

He was taken aback. ‘Why not?’

She hesitated before plunging ahead. ‘I just don’t know what I can talk about for an hour. I guess I’m a well-known face, but I’m sure the public really doesn’t know who I am. And what’s more, I shouldn’t think they care.’

‘Very modest.’

‘Very truthful.’

‘Listen,
I
want you on the show. I think you’ll be great. Can you do it for me?’

‘Why? So you can watch me make a fool of myself?’

‘Sure. Let’s all have a good laugh at your expense,’ he teased.

‘No, thank you.’

‘I refuse to take no for an answer. Will you at least think about it?’

‘Hmm… maybe…’

‘And what can I do to help you come to the right decision?’

She could think of a lot of things he could do. Only she wasn’t about to make the first move.

‘Call me next week.’

The moment was right to ask her out.
Are you still involved?
he could say casually.
I’m not,
and I’d like to see you
.

‘Fine, I’ll call you next week. It was really nice speaking to you again.’

‘You too.’

He replaced the receiver and could have kicked himself. He was a forty-year-old adult male with a certain reputation, and he couldn’t even ask her out! He was behaving like fourteen not forty. ‘
Shit!
’ he said loudly.

Aretha put her smiling face around the door. ‘What’s up? Is she doin’ it?’

‘Were you listening?’

‘No way.’

‘She’s thinking about it.’

‘Big frigadoon deal!’

‘Aretha.’

‘Yes, boss?’

‘Piss off.’

* * *

She could have sworn he was going to ask her out. Jack Python, with the dangerous green eyes and killer smile. Jack Python, who every day was pictured somewhere or other with a beautiful woman attached to his arm.

How about dinner?
she had expected him to say.

No
, she would have replied.

Jade Johnson had never considered herself to be one of the pack. She didn’t want to be added to his ever-lengthening list.

Still… he could at least have asked.

There was only so much work one could bury oneself in. Beverly kept on fixing her up with likely candidates, and she felt no click with any of them. ‘Please stop,’ she had told her after the last one – a skinny lizard of a man with dull conversation and several billion dollars.

‘But he’s rich rich,’ Beverly insisted. ‘Almost as rich as Zachary.’

‘Who cares?’ replied Jade.

She loved Beverly, but lately all her friend seemed to think about was money. Zachary K. Klinger was not the greatest influence in the world. She couldn’t warm to him, and she sensed that he was uncomfortable with women. Especially strong, independent ones.

Beverly would not hear one word against him. ‘You don’t understand Zachary,’ she informed Jade crossly.

‘Yes I do.’

Shane Dickson, the director of her Cloud commercials, was the only man she thought about getting involved with. Since his divorce he’d become quite persistent. He wasn’t perfect, but he was available.

That evening she was dining with him at Spago, so she dressed accordingly. White pants tucked into boots, and a loosely belted oversized white cashmere sweater.

When he picked her up at a quarter to eight she was ready.

* * *

At five to eight, Jack Python arrived at Kellie Sidney’s house on Sunset Plaza Drive. She wasn’t ready. Kellie always ran late.

The house was filled with dogs and children. Kellie’s three-year-old son had two friends over. And the dogs were a Labrador, an Alsatian and a golden cocker spaniel. A cheerful maid cooked up a storm in the huge open-plan kitchen, and televisions blared in every room. Domesticity ruled.

Jack wondered if he’d ever fit into a scene like this. It had been difficult enough keeping an eye on Heaven during the couple of months she had spent at the beach with him. He hated to admit it, but when she returned to the Valley and George, he had been relieved.

What really pissed him off was that the entire time Heaven had been his responsibility her dear and caring mother, Silver, had not called once. The woman was unbelievable.

Kellie greeted him half dressed, with rollers in her hair. She gave him a distracted wave. ‘I’ll be two minutes,’ she promised. The beaming cook poured him a tumbler of scotch, and he reflected further on Silver’s coldness towards her only child. Like everyone else he had often wondered who Heaven’s father was. It seemed extremely callous of Silver not to at least tell her daughter. He had no respect for her because of it.

Half an hour later Kellie appeared, wholesomely pretty in a pale blue dress and dangly earrings. Word had it that she was a tough businesswoman when she got involved in producing her own movies. You would never have guessed it from her carefree appearance.

‘Where are we going?’ she asked, petting the dogs, kissing the children and issuing instructions to the maid – all at the same time.

Obviously she’d forgotten that when he made the date she had requested Spago, ‘Because I
adore
their smoked salmon pizza,’ she’d said.

He jogged her memory. ‘Spago.’

She smiled happily. ‘
Perfect
choice. I
adore
their smoked salmon pizza!’

* * *

Shane had just signed a contract to direct his first feature film. He was in a celebratory mood, ordering champagne – which always left Jade with a ferocious hangover – and talking excitedly about his future. A former New Yorker, he had a certain street-smart sexuality. He looked like Al Pacino. And like Al Pacino, he was short. It was a minor turn-off as far as she was concerned. Because she was so tall, she liked men of at least equal stature. Shane was several inches shorter than she, and up until now it had put her off getting involved with him, although he kept trying.

Tonight, maybe she would change her mind. All work and no play… And he
was
an attractive man, although he
did
talk about himself a lot. He had just completed two years of psycho-analysis, and now thought he could cure the mental ills of the world.

She glanced idly around the noisy restaurant as he described a meeting he’d just had with his recent ex-wife – a waspy Bostonian whom he should never have married in the first place.

‘You know something?’ he said eagerly. ‘For once I didn’t want to slap her.’

‘How civilized of you,’ she remarked dryly.

‘No. You don’t understand. For me that’s a major breakthrough. We are talking
major
here.’

‘Are
we
?’

‘Yes. I can look straight into the bitch’s eyes, and
not want to go for her throat
.’

‘Amazing.’

‘Damn right.’

He kept talking and she kept on glancing around the celebrity-filled restaurant. Johnny Carson over here. John Travolta over there. Elizabeth Taylor and George Hamilton making a grand entrance.

She wondered if Shane would talk about his ex-wife in bed. Or even if he would talk at all.