Hollywood Kids (24 page)

He should know. He'd seen the things that went on.

Seven years ago he could have become a star if things had gone as planned. He could have been as big as Steven Seagal.

But no, it wasn't meant to be. The Girl had ruined everything, and the traitors surrounding her had helped.

But they were paying for their bad behaviour.

One by one they were paying.

'There's a case I want you to come in on,' Quincy said as they jogged through the park.

'I got things to do,' Michael replied restlessly. 'People to talk to.'

'Yeah, things to do. Meanwhile, how you gonna pay your rent? Listen, Mike, if
you
don't join me, I gotta hire somebody else.'

He knew Quincy was right, he had to work - if just to occupy his thoughts with something other than Bella. 'So what are you offering, a partnership?'

Quincy threw up his arms. 'Don't let's get carried away. First you'll work with me a couple of weeks, see if you like it. Then we can talk partnership.'

'I won't like anything until I find my kid.'

'I know that,' Quincy said, already out of breath. We'll keep doing our best.' He almost tripped. 'Jeez, can we stop? I'm bustin' a gut here.'

'You're out of shape, Q.'

'I'm older than you.'

'No excuse.'

'I'm gonna be fuckin' fifty!'

'All the more reason to stay fit.'

They rested by a tree. Quincy doubled over, groaning and catching his breath.

'OK, so I'm in,' Michael said, making a fast decision.

Quincy straightened up. 'Jeez! It's about time you said yes.'

Tell me about the case.'

There's this daughter of big-shot billionaire, Franklyn Sanderson. He owns TV stations across the country. You've probably heard of him.'

'I know who he is.'

'Anyway, the girl - Marjory - she's been receiving a series of letters threatening to slit her throat or kill her in some godawful way.'

'How many?'

'One or two a week for the last few months.'

'Has Franklyn contacted the police?'

'No publicity. This is strictly low-key. That's why he brought me in.'

What do you have?'

'Not much. The letters are postmarked from all over the city. The girl's frightened.'

'How specific are the letters?'

'Look, I gotta go see her later today. She moved back home with her old man. Come with me, I'd like your take on it.'

Michael agreed. He had to do something to keep himself busy.

The Sanderson estate, set way back off Sunset Boulevard, was impressive. Two guards manned the heavy ornate gates, while three fierce-looking Rottweilers patrolled the grounds. Quincy stopped his car and produced identification before they gained entry.

This is like fucking Fort Knox,' Michael remarked as they drove up a long winding driveway, passing an elegant fountain in the forecourt, and acres of immaculately kept grounds. The house up ahead resembled a slightly smaller version of a stately European palace.

A valet ushered them from the car while a formally dressed butler waited at the front door.

'This way, sir,' said the butler in a clipped and very precise English accent.

Michael tried to appear at ease as he entered the magnificent mansion, but he couldn't help thinking to himself,
Holy shit! If the guys from the neighbourhood could see me now. How people live in California
!

They followed the butler into an enormous living room tastefully furnished with French period furniture and ornate antiques.

'Kindly take a seat,' the butler said, looking down his nose at them.

Michael roamed around, taking in his surroundings, marvelling at the opulence of it all. He whistled softly. 'Some place!'

'Yeah,' Quincy replied. 'You get used to it after a time - most of the big shots live this way.'

They do?'

'It's one of the perks of bein' in the movie and TV biz.'

'I couldn't imagine living like this.'

'Fortunately, my friend, you'll never have to.'

'Yeah, remind me.'

A thin plain girl entered the room dressed all in white. She had long fair hair and downcast eyes.

Quincy got up and went over to greet her. 'Marjory, how you feeling today?'

'I received another letter,' she said, in a barely audible voice.

'Do you have it with you?'

She glanced nervously at Michael. 'Who's he?'

'My colleague. Michael Scorsini. He's helping out.'

Her pale-blue eyes stayed fixed on Michael. 'Does Daddy know?'

'I spoke to him, told him I was bringing somebody in. Michael and me were partners in New York.'

She thrust a piece of paper at Quincy. 'This is the latest.'

Michael watched her closely. Boy, she was agitated. She couldn't keep still, her hands in constant motion pulling at her hair, her dress, anything she could get hold of.

Quincy read the letter, scrawled in red ink on a lined page torn out of a school notebook. The handwriting was barely legible. He handed it to Michael, who scanned it quickly.

'Where's the envelope?' Quincy said.

'I have it,' she replied, her eyes darting around the room. Fishing in the pocket of her dress she passed a crumpled envelope to him.

Quincy took it, weighing it in his hands. 'Your father here today?'

She shook her head. 'No, Daddy's out of town.'

'So you're by yourself?'

There's eight servants and two guards on the premises,' she stated blankly.

What a way to live, Michael thought, staring at the skinny little thing. No wonder she was scared, obviously she had not grown up in the real world, and the letters came as a rude shock.

'When do you think you'll find this man?' Marjory asked with a frightened expression.

'I'm working on it,' Quincy said confidently. 'Building up a profile. You know, handwriting analysis - putting together where the letters were sent from, all that stuff. It takes time, but we'll nail the sonofab - er - I mean the perpetrator eventually. The good thing is you're safe as long as you're here. And if you need anything at all I'm only a phone call away.'

'Thank you, Mr Robbins. That's very reassuring.'

Later that day Michael met with Rosa. She'd called and invited him down to the television station to sort through some of the letters they'd received after his interview.

This is it, Michael,' she said, leading him into her office and indicating a huge sackful of letters. 'Your fan mail. I thought you'd want to take a look through it.'

'Fan mail?' he asked with a note of surprise.

'I told you we had a fantastic response to the programme.'

'Any information that could help me?'

'I really don't know. A couple of kids in the office read them, whether there's anything pertinent is up to you to find out.'

He was daunted by the big sackload of letters. 'I'll take 'em home,' he decided.

'You know, I've been thinking,' she said, moving around her desk. 'Isn't it about time you got out and had some fun?'

He laughed drily. 'You sound like my best friends. They're always after me to do just that.'

'I have a suggestion. My girlfriend, Kennedy Chase, is smart, attractive and available. She writes for a magazine, and it occurred to me you might make an interesting couple. How about I fix the two of you up?'

'How about
not.'

'Huh?'

'I'm not into blind dates. In fact, right now I'm not into dating at all.'

'It wouldn't exactly be a blind date. I've told you what she looks like.'

'Thanks, but I'm not going out right now.'

'Hmm,' Rosa said thoughtfully. That makes two of you.'

'What do you mean?'

'I told her about you - she doesn't want to go out either.'

He laughed. 'So what are you trying to promote here?'

She smiled back. 'Apparently nothing.'

'Listen,' he said, thinking she was a very attractive woman. 'I appreciate your concern.'

'Ah,' she said wistfully. 'If I was single, Michael, I'd be more than concerned.'

'You're married?' he asked lightly.

'Taken,' she replied, wishing for a moment that she wasn't.

'Sounds serious.'

'I'm hoping.'

They smiled at each other and Rosa decided that Kennedy had made a big mistake turning this one down. He was a great-looking guy with a very sexy edge. Not to mention his mouth - full lips, sensual lips...

'Michael,' she said, pulling herself together, 'it's time to do a follow-up piece on you before people forget. This is my suggestion, take the letters home, read through them, then give me a call by the end of the week and we'll set up another appearance.'

He was unconvinced. 'If you think it'll help.'

'I'm sure it will,' she said, very positively. 'People love watching real-life dramas, and your story is extremely appealing. The more attention we can bring to it the better. You should feel fortunate you've got this opportunity to be on television. Actually,' she added playfully, 'you should be kissing my ass.'

'Rosa, if I was in a better mood, I'm sure there's nothing I'd like better.'

She laughed flirtatiously. God! She must be crazy to let this one go. 'Ohhh, Michael, I bet you can be a bad one.'

They exchanged smiles again and he left, stopping at a small Italian restaurant he frequented for dinner. He sat outside at a table for one and ordered a simple plate of pasta.

The pretty waitress was all over him. 'Alone again, Michael?' she asked, with a definite come-on in her voice.

'That's the way I like it,' he replied, thinking that there would be no women, his experience with Shelia had made him realize that unless it was meaningful it simply wasn't worth it. And how could anything be meaningful until he'd found Bella?

Or her body...

The thought that his daughter might be dead haunted him. It lurked in the shadows of his mind and refused to go away.

He ate his pasta and drove home to his apartment, stopping at the supermarket for a carton of milk and two bottles of fresh orange juice.

Once home he took the big sack of letters and tipped them out on to the floor, staring at them for a while before sorting them into neat stacks.

Somewhere in one of the piles of envelopes there might be valuable information. He could hope, couldn't he?

By seven o'clock he was reading.

Jordanna was in a state of shock. She could not believe that Mac Brooks and Bobby Rush were actually considering testing her for the role of Sienna in
Thriller Eyes
. It was like one of those insane dreams come true.

She would never forget the look on their faces when she walked back into the room. The three of them sitting there staring at her - Bobby, Mac and Nanette.

And then Mac came out with the famous words. 'Jordanna, have you ever thought about taking up an acting career?'

'Who, me? No way,' she replied, flip as ever, although of course she had.

'You're good,' Bobby said. 'You're really good.'

She barely glanced in his direction. 'Hey, I was just following the actors,' she said, gathering up photos and resumes, trying to appear disinterested.

'Here's the thing, Jordanna,' Mac said. 'We're searching for someone to play Sienna. It's a challenging role, and so far we haven't come up with the right actress. You could be her.'

'I could?' she gulped.

'Yes, you could.'

'What we thought,' Bobby said, joining in, 'is that we should run a test on you.'

'Test
me
?'

'I don't see anybody else in here.'

'Well, yeah, sure,' she said, attempting to sound nonchalant, although her stomach was jumping butterflies. Dammit, she was probably coming across like a total idiot. What was it about Bobby that made her completely lose it?

Mac nodded seriously. 'It's worth a shot, after all, you come from a talented family.'

That was the trouble - her talented family. Like Jordan said, how could she ever live up to the great Levitt reputation? On screen her mother, Lillianne, had been an incandescent presence, a beauty that made grown men drool. And a wonderful actress, too.

'Uh, let me think about it,' she mumbled.

'We'll do the same,' Mac said.

She left the office as fast as she could, full of mixed emotions. She almost forgot about Midnight Cowboy waiting across the street, but he hadn't forgotten her, he was right there when she drove out of the studio gates, waving anxiously.

What did they think of me?' he demanded.

They, uh... they liked you very much.'

'Did they think I was good? What did they say about my reading?'

They loved it,' she lied, not wanting to tell him it was her they were interested in.

His words were tripping over each other. 'Have I got the part? I know it's only a small role, but Mac Brooks is an ace director, and I'd sure get off on working with Bobby Rush. Who's set for the girl?'

'Beats me,' she said vaguely.

She had a coffee with him while she mulled things over. Should she tell Charlie? Or her father? What if her test was terrible and they hated her?

Oh, God, what had she got herself into? This was ridiculous.

Midnight Cowboy was on a roll talking about himself. He told her he'd come to California four years ago, done some modelling, then a few one-liners in movies. He stated that he wanted to be as big as Clint Eastwood. 'And I will be,' he said, actually believing it. 'One of these days.'

Sure, baby
, she thought,
and Clinton will grow flowers out his ass and boogie down Main Street
.

Eventually he made his pitch. Normally she would have said yes because he was real hot looking with the requisite tight butt. But wasn't she supposed to be improving her life?

Gotta stop sleeping with actors. Especially the tight butt brigade.

She jotted down his phone number, told him she'd call him later, and drove back to Charlie's.