Lovers and Liars (20 page)

S
he had no idea what time it was.

She thought she was going to die.

Mary moaned and rolled over, her heart going wild, her head throbbing, her throat dry. Water. She desperately needed water. With a great effort she sat up and looked at the clock. How in hell had she gotten so fucked up last night?

Vince.

It was all coming back …

She had spent the afternoon with Beth. Then … laden with guilt, and a little high—she had gone to the store, come home, and fixed Vince a perfect dinner. He had been hours late, and when he had arrived he hadn’t even been hungry. Mary had been hurt and furious.

And the more she thought about it the more she realized she hardly ever spoke to Vince these days. Sex was less frequent, down to about once or twice a week, and he was constantly distracted. She knew there couldn’t possibly be another woman—could there?

Vince was not the type to have an affair.

He was home most nights; six out of seven were spent with her. That one other night, well, he deserved that one with the guys. That was only fair. But … no, he had to have been with the guys that night.

He couldn’t possibly know about her and Beth.

Or could he?

Wouldn’t he confront her if he knew?

Mary got up and took a shower, starting to feel better but still horribly hung over. Cocaine hangovers were the worst—they left her physically depleted. With rising panic, she kept thinking about Vince. Come to think of it, when
was
the last time he had made love to her? She thought and thought and decided it must have been two weeks ago. That definitely meant something was wrong. She knew him too well. His sex drive was as Taurus as the rest of him—steady, consistent.

For some reason the thought of losing Vince terrified her.

Her mother would laugh and tell her she’d never hold a man unless she lost weight. That, of course, was bullshit. Or was it?

Beth would be thrilled. Beth was crazy to think she’d even consider it. Fooling around with a woman on the side was one thing; living openly with one was another. Besides, she loved Vince.

Didn’t she?

Thoroughly worried now, Mary threw on one of Vince’s big flannel shirts and padded into the bedroom. She opened her underwear drawer and sorted through the cotton garments, then pulled out a tin box. In it were vials, a mini-scale, straws, razor, cash—but no foil packets.

Fuck! She was out.

She’d had no idea she was getting so low.

Quickly she counted the cash—one hundred seventy-five dollars. She couldn’t believe that figure either. An eighth was three twenty-five. She had nothing left. How in hell was she so short? She certainly hadn’t done up all of what she was supposed to sell, had she? If she remembered correctly, she had dipped into what she was selling twice—two half grams. That didn’t make sense. Had she fronted that stuff? And if so … damn, she couldn’t remember to whom!

She began to think up lies in order to get some money from Vince. They needed groceries—she had invited friends for dinner this weekend. Perfect. Except she’d probably only get fifty or so out of Vince.

There was her mother. Her mother—shit.

Her mother would give her the balance, that was no problem. But she would gloat. Smirk. Because her daughter had to come for cash to her instead of Vince.

Her life was falling apart. She was out of blow. Vince was tired of her. Maybe he was having an affair …

First things first. She would go down to the job and see if she could get some cash from him. Then she would call Ben. Maybe he would let her owe him—he had done that before. If she could remember who her customer was (and it would come back to her), she would call him and pressure him. And there was always her mother …

First she would go see Vince.

31

H
e hated school.

“C’mon, Rick.” Jack was shaking him. “Time to get up. Hey, kid!”

“Ah, shit,” Rick mumbled, sitting and rubbing his eyes. When he opened them Jack was gone.

He hated school, he always had, but he especially hated this one. They were all faggot pansies and snobs, every single kid there, looking down their Valley-girl and Valley-boy noses at him. Shit. He stumbled into the shower, full of dread, the same dread he felt every morning when he woke up. At least in Houston the dread had only been once and a while—not like this.

But he knew what it felt like to be in a cage, and that was the worst kind of dread you could feel.

He pulled on torn and faded jeans, black, a pale green muscle shirt, a faded black denim jacket. The standard garb. Already he was smoking a Kool. Jack hated his smoking and had told him he was forbidden to smoke anywhere except in his room or on the balcony. Fine. When Jack wasn’t home he smoked in the living room, drinking beer and watching the big-screen TV.

Now that was one helluva TV!

But then again, so was everything in the three-bedroom condo in Westwood that Jack owned. He hated L.A., true, but he liked the condo almost as much as he liked the ranch house in Santa Barbara. Both homes were small compared to the mansions that lined Rodeo Drive and the rest of Beverly Hills, but to Rick they were palatial. Just living in digs like these justified the school shit.

He finished the smoke and felt in his rear pocket, pulling out a five. Damn! He was short by forty bucks. Jack gave him a decent allowance—fifty a week—which was supposed to cover transportation, food, cigarettes, and anything else—such as albums and a new shirt and movies. But it was barely enough for the cocaine Rick liked freebasing. However, the other day he had tried crack for the first time and had liked it. For ten bucks he could get enough crack to stay high for a couple of hours. Maybe he’d forget about freebasing and stick with crack. It was a lot more affordable.

He knew if he asked Jack for more money he’d want to know whatever it was he needed it for. He’d already spent this week’s allowance. Jack was too fucking sharp and suspicious. Fifty bucks a week! The guy could afford to give him twice that.

Rick sauntered out into the kitchen, where Jack was placing a bowl and coffee cup in the sink. Jack gave him a friendly smile, which Rick knew was phony. After all, the guy was an actor, wasn’t he? Why should he care about him? Some kid off the street? He still couldn’t figure out his angle. He guessed it might be guilt.

“I’m leaving in a few hours,” Jack said. “I hope you’re going to stay on the straight and narrow, Rick. I’m trusting you. Please don’t give Ruth Goodman a hard time,”

“Yeah, sure,” Rick said. Jack didn’t trust him, and he knew it. Ruth Goodman was evidence of that. Christ! A babysitter!

“I’m going to try and fly back next weekend,” Jack was telling him. “Please be nice to Ruth. And no playing hooky. I mean it, Rick.”

Rick mumbled an affirmative. He was thinking about
how, if he could get extra money, he could buy crack and beer and skip school and just party out all day every day and Jack probably wouldn’t find out for a couple of days. On the other hand, then the shit would hit the fan. Jack might even fly back immediately to deal with him. Shit. He’d have to be careful. There had to be something around here that Jack wouldn’t miss if he pawned it. The guy had so much stuff.

“I won’t see you later, kid,” Jack said, looking him right in the eye. “You need anything, you got a problem, call me in Tucson, okay? The number’s taped by the phone.”

Jack hesitated, then finally left. Rick debated what he wanted to do. He would go bananas if he had to stay straight another day. The man would be around today and then not again until Friday. Not that he couldn’t score off the street if he had to, but it was easier this way. He walked into Jack’s room and stood looking around.

The room was completely modern, all white except for the bed, which was king-sized and black. Black-and-white striped comforter, black-and-white striped sheets. Jack and women in and out of it constantly, explaining to him the second night he was home that he had a lot of women friends. Friends. Right. The noises some of them made kept him awake half the night. If there was anything he admired about his brother it was his love life—he had it in more than out. Rick was definitely envious on that score.

Rick found the gold-and-diamond cuff links he’d seen Jack wear once. They were tossed carelessly in a crystal ashtray that contained all sorts of odds and ends—some single dollar bills and change, receipts, a silver bill clip, a gold tie clip with a diamond in the center, a tie, matches …

He debated between the tie clip and the cuff links. And finally opted for the latter.

32

J
ackson Ford and her mother.

Even now, with the wind whipping her hair as her red MR2 barreled down the freeway, the knowledge was devastating. It made the knot in her guts expand, choking her. There was no reason she should care. None. But she did.

It felt like betrayal.

Belinda took a few deep breaths. She was impossibly wound up. How could she be a professional on the set when she was so agitated? She was sorry she had ever followed her mother to the powder room at that damn party. Sorry she’d ever gone. Sorry she’d ever laid eyes on him—on Ford.

And the worst, the absolute worst part of it, was that she had wanted Ford. Badly, Really wanted him. He exuded total sexual magnetism. A woman was helpless under his onslaught. If he chose to turn it on. She knew that instinctively. Had her mother been helpless too?

She had been anticipating leaving Majoriis’s party to meet Jack, trying to figure out how to get Adam out of the picture tactfully. Her gaze, unfocused, had wandered and then, startled, she realized she was looking at her mother and her father and Jack Ford in a distraught conversation from across the room.

There were no smiles. Belinda thought, puzzled, Do they know each other? Then Abe grinned, but there was nothing pleasant in his expression; rather, it was volpine and triumphant. Jack turned abruptly and rigidly away; and then Nancy was suddenly running across the room in her Jourdan heels and Ungaro silk, disappearing down a corridor. Belinda got a glimpse of Nancy’s face—enough to see that her mother was upset to the point of tears. She looked
back at Abe. Ford was gone, but her father was pleased. What has he done now? Belinda thought grimly.