Hollywood Kids (9 page)

Poring over Bobby Rush's clipping file, Kennedy soon reached the conclusion he was a driven workaholic mightily striving to overcome the handicap of having a famous father. One of the things she took note of was that every time Jerry Rush's name came up Bobby went on automatic response. Exactly the same answers kept on appearing.

My father is a wonderful actor.

We're very different.

Jerry never helped me.

Yes, I've seen all of his films. Growing up in the Rush household they were required viewing.

We are not alike at all.

I don't know whether Jerry has seen
Hard Tears
or not
.

No. We have no plans to work together.

Hmm, Kennedy thought, I wonder what a psychiatrist would make of Bobby's telling remarks. In fact, it wasn't such a bad idea to write the interview and intersperse Bobby's answers with a top psychiatrist's comments, that could be interesting.

Just as she was about to pick up the phone to contact Bobby's publicist, Rosa called. 'Honey, you've got to do me a big favour,' Rosa pleaded, sounding breathless.

Kennedy groaned. 'Beware of friends asking favours,' she said, wondering what Rosa wanted this time.

Rosa was at her most persuasive. 'Don't be like that, sweetie. I really
need
you.'

'For what?'

'Dinner.'

'Why?' she asked suspiciously.

'Because Ferdy's best friend from Atlanta is visiting, and we want you to have dinner with us.'

'Rosa,' Kennedy said patiently. 'Ferdy is a black, twenty-five-year-old basketball star, and much as I love you, I refuse to have dinner with his best friend. Cradle-snatching is not my thing.'

'I already promised Ferdy you'd come.'

'That was foolish of you.'

'He's going to think you're prejudiced if you don't show.'

'That's ridiculous.'

'So prove it.'

'No, Rosa. I don't want to do this.'

'
Pleeease!! I
never ask you for anything!'

A lie, but Kennedy weakened. 'Oh, all right,' she said, knowing she was making a mistake.

'You're the best!' Rosa exclaimed. 'The Ivy. Eight o'clock. Look sexy - it's his first visit to LA.'

'Rosa -'

Too late, Rosa was long gone. Oh, God! Why had she agreed to go?

Just lonely I guess.

Lonely, ha! She was never lonely. She loved spending time by herself taking long walks on the beach, reading, driving along the Pacific Coast Highway in her 1986 Corvette. In fact she didn't even mind dining alone in a restaurant - something most people wouldn't consider under any circumstances.

Oh well, dinner at eight and out.

She called Bobby Rush's publicist. The magazine had already set the interview. Elspeth, his publicist, had set the ground rules. Now all she had to do was arrange a time and a place.

Elspeth spoke in short sharp bursts. 'Breakfast. The Four Seasons. Friday. He can only spare an hour.'

'No,' Kennedy replied pleasantly. This is a major piece - a cover story. I need to spend a day with him. A couple of hours for the interview and the rest of the time I'll follow him around and blend into the background.'

'It won't fly,' Elspeth said snappishly.

'I think you'll find it will,' Kennedy replied, remaining calm. 'I'm sure we all have the same goal in mind - plenty of coverage for your client, and I can't do that unless I spend time with him. Call me back.'

Click. She was gone before the woman could argue.

Ferdys friend, Nix, was six feet four inches of sinewy chocolate-coloured muscle. He had tight curly hair, puppy-dog eyes and a sweet smile. He spoke eloquently and intelligently. He was polite and charming. They had a terrific evening with Rosa and Ferdy, and when dinner was over Nix overruled Ferdy's objections and picked up the cheque. Kennedy was impressed. Even more so when he insisted on following her home in his rented car to be sure she made it safely.

On impulse she invited him up for coffee, and they talked for two hours before ending up in bed. She hadn't expected it. Certainly hadn't wanted it. He was ten years younger than her and probably the most considerate lover, apart from her husband, she'd ever experienced. He left her totally breathless with his expertise.

'I'm a basketball player,' he explained with a wide grin, when she questioned him on his prowess. We have outstanding mind-body co-ordination.'

'I'll say you do,' she said, floating on air after two fantastic orgasms. It had been three months since her weatherman, and Nix was in the right place at the right time with the right attitude. He even carried his own supply of condoms.

He turned her over and began stroking her back with his long tongue, feathery strokes that immediately began driving her crazy.

'Not again,' she murmured lazily. 'I don't have your stamina.'

'Oh yes you do,' he laughed, straddling her so she could feel his hard cock pressing insistently against her back.

And he was right. Suddenly her stamina level was rising, and when his large hands cupped her breasts and played with her nipples she rolled over in a frenzy just as ready as he was.

Nix was a technician. Orgasm number three and she was purring.

Eventually they fell asleep, and when she awoke in the morning to the sound of the phone ringing, he was gone.

Groping for the receiver she mumbled a sleepy 'Hello.'

Well?' Rosa demanded, dying to hear everything.

Well,
what
? she said, stretching luxuriously.

'Details, Kennedy. I get off on details.'

'I gave up kissing and telling years ago.'

'You're no fun,' Rosa complained sulkily.

She laughed secretively. 'That's not what Nix says.'

'So he
did
stay,' Rosa said triumphantly. 'Is he still there?'

'I'll talk to you later,' she said, hanging up and wandering into the bathroom where she found Nix had stuck a note on the mirror above the sink.

THANKS FOR A MEMORABLE TRIP TO LA. CAN I CALL YOU NEXT TIME?

She couldn't help smiling. A memorable trip indeed - for both of them. But no, there would be no repeat performances. It was a one-nighter, nothing more, nothing less.

Fifteen minutes and a long warm shower later she phoned Bobby Rush's publicist.

'Friday,' Elspeth said, sounding as snappish as ever. 'We'll meet at his office at the studio at ten o'clock.'

'And do I get to spend the day?'

'He's very busy, but if you can assure me you'll stay in the background...'

'Once I've done the interview he won't even know I'm there.'

Sure, lady. Believe that and you'll believe anything!

The Man rented a black car under an assumed name. Nothing fancy. Nothing memorable. Just a plain black Ford that allowed him complete anonymity.

He stopped by Sears and paid cash for a pair of black slacks, a long-sleeved dark shirt and black running shoes. He needed shades, but vanity got the best of him - unable to settle for Sears sunglasses, he ended up buying expensive black-out Armani shades at the Fred Segal store in Santa Monica.

When he got home and was safely locked in his room he tried his new outfit on and was satisfied.

Since leaving prison his hair was getting longer. Carefully he slicked it back with gel, securing it with a rubber band. Then he stared at himself in the mirror for a long time, striking karate poses, taking his shades off and putting them on again several times, deciding that he bore more than a passing resemblance to his film idol
-
Steven Seagal. He'd watched all of Steven Seagal's movies over and over in prison, especially the one about vengeance
.

Steven Seagal was a man who understood about getting even.

Steven Seagal was someone to admire.

Not that The Man was into admiring people. It was weak to hero worship. Better to hate everyone and then there was no way anyone could ever get to you. He'd learned that important piece of information at a very early age. Unfortunately he hadn't always listened to his own counsel.

The Girl had been his downfall. The pretty Girl with the long silky yellow hair and the cornflower-blue eyes and the quirky little come-on smile.

The Girl had led him on. She'd encouraged him and tempted him in the thin see-through dresses she wore, her small tits beckoning him like beacons. She'd smiled and flirted and accepted his gifts - but when it came time to make the pay-off, she'd acted as if he was some sex-starved stranger.

Bitch.

Whore.

Weren't they all?

He didn't like to think about The Girl, because it was her fault he'd spent the last seven years of his life in jail.

Angrily he banished her from his thoughts. She'd got what she'd deserved.

Sometimes he awoke in the middle of the night and saw her face before him. Those night-time hours overpowered him, filled him with lustful memories until he was forced to relieve the tension by his own hand.

He hated her for what she'd done to him.

He loved her. He always would.

The Man left his room, locking the door behind him.

The black maid had a room on the premises. He suspected she spied on him. If she didn't stop he'd be forced to add her to his list.

His rented car was parked at the bottom of the driveway. He changed the licence plates unobserved and got behind the wheel.

It was a long drive to Agoura Hills and he didn't intend to be late.

They sat side by side in the beauty salon - Cheryl was getting her legs waxed while Jordanna had a manicure. It was a weekly ritual, there was always maintenance to take care of.

'I'm having a party,' Cheryl announced, adding casually, 'You can come if you like.'

'What sort of party?' Jordanna asked suspiciously. It was almost a week since Cheryl had announced her plans to become a Hollywood madam and none of her friends had heard from her since.

'A get-together which will include a few of my girls and plenty of would-be clients,' Cheryl said airily. 'I've been on the phone all week.'

Thanks for the invite, but I don't think so.'

'Grant's coming.'

'I'm sure he is.'

'I wish you'd support me in this.'

Why? We've done some crazy shit in our time, but this beats everything. You've lost it, Cheryl.'

'Be like that.'

'I will.'

'I have some information you might be interested in,' Cheryl said mysteriously. Jordanna examined her nails. They were long and shiny and strong. The good news was she'd finally managed to stop biting them - a minor triumph. 'What information?' she asked curiously.

'It's juicy.'

'So tell.'

'Not here.'

Sometimes - most times - Cheryl was an annoying pain in the ass. Since her new vocation she was impossible.

'What's it about?' Jordanna asked.

'Your latest stepmother.'

Jordanna buried a yawn. 'What's she done now?'

'It's not what she's done
now
,' Cheryl said, staring pointedly at the Puerto Rican woman diligently waxing her legs. We'll talk later, in private.'

Jordanna hated having to wait for anything, especially information. 'Spill it, Cheryl,' she said emphatically.

This is
not
news for
The Enquirer
,' Cheryl replied primly. 'Learn to be patient.'

The last thing I am is patient.'

'Don't I know it!'

'So?'

'So where did your father meet Kim?'

Shaking her head Jordanna said, 'Oh, like I know. Following his love life is not exactly number one on my agenda.'

Try asking her,' Cheryl suggested. 'See what she says.'

'Why?'

'Just try it.'

'And when I have this important piece of info you'll tell me
all?'

We'll have lunch tomorrow at Cafe Roma. One thirty. Your cheque. I promise you it'll be worth it.'

'Hi, Daddy.'

Jordan Levitt looked up from his desk with an expression of surprise. 'A visit. From my daughter. Who died?'

Thought I'd drop by, check out how you're doing,' Jordanna replied, ignoring his sarcasm as she flopped into one of the oversize leather chairs stationed in front of his massive oak desk.

'How nice of you to make the long trek from the guest house,' Jordan said, removing his horn-rimmed reading glasses and smiling broadly.

God, he's handsome, Jordanna thought. What is it with him? He doesn't get older, just more attractive.

'I suppose your allowance is in need of a boost,' he added, sliding open a drawer and removing his chequebook.

'No,' Jordanna said, disappointed that he thought that's what she wanted. 'Scoring more money is not the only reason I come to see you.'

He placed his chequebook on the desk and picked up a gold pen. 'That's reassuring.'

She fidgeted uncomfortably. 'I... uh... I guess I missed you.' It was difficult for her to say, but she really wanted him to know how she felt. She craved his love and affection, but he was usually too busy giving it all to his current wife. It would be so nice if he responded in the same way.

Jordan looked pleased. 'Missed me, huh?'

'Well, you
are
my father, and since you got married again...' She trailed off, not quite sure what she was planning to say. 'By the way,' she added, 'where did you and Kim meet?'

'What a question!'

'Pretty normal.'

'A mutual friend introduced us.'

'How nice.'

A critical tone entered Jordan's voice. 'Since I married Kim we've invited you to the big house for dinner on countless occasions. You haven't shown up once.'

'I've been busy.'

His face turned stern. 'Doing what?'

Writing,' she said defensively. 'I'm writing a book.' Hmm, not quite, but it was a good idea.

That stopped him. 'A book? About what?'