Hollywood Kids (8 page)

Mac liked the piece a lot, but he wasn't sure about working with Bobby Rush, if he was anything like his father he'd be a monumental pain in the ass.

'Have you heard about Cheryl's latest venture?' Jordanna asked Shep as they sat on the patio of his two-bedroom Hollywood Hills house - purchased for him by his mother in a generous mood.

'The call-girl thing?' Shep said.

Jordanna raised her eyebrows. 'Is she crazy or what?'

'We all know she's crazy,' Shep stated matter-of-factly.

'I realize that,' Jordanna replied. 'But this time she's
really
over the edge.'

Shep filled up Jordanna's glass of iced tea. 'She told me if she succeeds with the girls she's starting a service to accommodate the wives.'

Jordanna almost choked on her tea. 'Huh?'

'Studs for bored women.'

'No way!' Jordanna said, spluttering with laughter.

'She's quite serious. In fact, she asked me if I was interested in being on her books.'

'Come
on
, Shep!'

'Honestly.'

'I don't know why I'm surprised. She tried to recruit me, too - said I'd make a shitload of money.'

'You would.'

They stared at each other and completely broke up.

'Can you imagine!' Jordanna exclaimed. 'I'd like to see the face on one of Daddy's friends if I turned up at their door in a skimpy black lace teddy carrying a whip. It could put them off sex for life!'

'Maybe not. Think about the vicarious excitement of it all.'

'You're
bad
, Shep.'

'So I've been told,' he replied crisply, brushing a lock of blond hair off his forehead.

'Grant would be perfect if Cheryl starts a stud service,' Jordanna mused. 'Have active cock - will travel.'

'Perfect,' Shep agreed. 'My mother's always had her eye on him. I'm sure if she could only pay for it she wouldn't feel so guilty.'

'Did she ever try to screw him?'

'When we were fifteen she came on to him one day after school. I told you about that, didn't I?'

'No, you certainly didn't. What did he do?'

'Refused to come back to my house for three years!'

'Grant must have been petrified - your mother's so... predatory.'

'And needy.'

'Is she?'

There's no one more needy than an ageing sex symbol.'

'Poor Taureen - '

'Her husbands get younger, she gets older, and the movie roles are almost non-existent.'

'It's so sad.'

'Right now she's doing the nasty with an ex- bartender who thinks he's this generation's answer to James Dean.'

'How old is he?'

'Barely older than me.'

'Well... if it makes her happy.' She sipped her tea. 'How's
your
relationship with her now?'

'After ten years of therapy I'm learning to accept her for who she is.'

'And does she accept you?'

Shep turned away, not answering.

Jordanna knew better than to push. Parents. Who could understand them? Who really wanted to? She'd spent years in and out of shrinkdom until she'd finally decided she didn't need help, she could deal with her own problems.

Am I doing that? she thought anxiously.

Yes, she decided, I'm finally making a start.

Bobby Rush sat at table number seven in Le Dome surveying the scene. It was a good day - a power day. He'd already had a stream of people stop by his table as he waited for Mac Brooks to arrive. Something told him
he
was the movie star, he shouldn't be kept waiting. But so what? His ego wasn't out of control yet, he could handle it.

'Bobby!' Taureen Worth paused dramatically on her way to the back room, trailed by two short, hyper agents. For a woman in her early fifties she was quite a knockout in a skin-tight white Montana suit and Walter Steiger stiletto heels.

Bobby jumped up and returned her enthusiastic greeting, even though the last time they'd met he'd had two lines in one of her movies and she'd barely acknowledged his existence. 'You look wonderful,' he said, with just the right degree of sincerity. He'd learned at an early age that in Hollywood you always complimented women and they always believed you whether you meant it or not.

'I feel like a hag!' Taureen replied, knowing full well that she did indeed look wonderful. And so she should, she worked hard enough at it - liposuction, face peels, collagen injections, high colonics, punishing work-outs. She hadn't resorted to plastic surgery - yet. 'I've been working non-stop, you know how tiring
that
is.'

Bobby nodded, wondering what she was working on.

'I'm so
proud
of you!' Taureen exclaimed, flashing her feral smile - big teeth and a curled scarlet lip. 'To think,
I
discovered you!'

What was the woman talking about?

'Now, Bobby,' she said, leaning over his table, bending slightly so he couldn't miss her impressive trademark cleavage. 'When you're casting your next movie don't forget it was
me
who gave you your first break. I'd love us to work together again.'

He repeated his nod, it seemed that's all she required. He was saved by the two agents bobbing into view. Taureen did not introduce them. She pursed her lips and moved in for the kill, leaving sticky lip gloss residue on both his cheeks. 'Goodbye, darling.' Meaningful pause. 'You're looking very... sexy.'

It's the hit movie that does it, he wanted to say, pulls 'em in every time.

Taureen swept into the other room, her musky scent lingering behind.

What a town! Bobby thought. When you're hot you're boiling. And when you're cold - lie down and die, asshole, 'cause even your exterminator won't speak to you.

Mac Brooks hurried up to the table full of apologies. 'Trouble with my kids,' he said ruefully. 'If you're single, Bobby, stay that way. Marriage leads to kids, and then normal life as you know it is over for ever. I gotta have a drink.' He wrinkled his nose. 'That's a hell of an aftershave you're wearing.'

'Taureen Worth.'

'Is she doing that Elizabeth Taylor thing now?'

Bobby laughed. 'Not yet. She stopped by the table. I'm sure she'll be back when she knows you're here.'

'You heard about me and Taureen, huh? It was a location fuck - you know what that's like - six weeks of passion and then you don't even remember each other's name. She's the worst actress I ever worked with - never again.'

Bobby decided to go the polite route. 'It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Mac. I admire every one of your movies, especially
The Contract.'

Mac signalled the waiter, he really did need a drink and a Scotch on the rocks would do nicely. 'You, too, Bobby. I had the studio screen
Hard Tears
for me - excellent work. As an actor you make interesting choices. You have an edge. I like that, keeps the audience alert.'

Bobby felt suitably flattered. 'Thanks,' he said modestly.

'I almost worked with your father once.'

'How lucky can you get.'

Well, Mac thought, I guess we know where we stand on
that
issue.

'So,' Bobby said, getting right to it. 'Did you have time to read the script?'

'Read it. Loved it. That's why I'm here.'

'Are you interested?'

Mac chuckled. 'You don't believe in wasting time, do you?'

Bobby paused before answering. He'd gone over this meeting in his head for several days. Mac Brooks had a fine track record, but he hadn't made a money-making movie in several years, so choosing him for the project was a risk. However, Bobby was sure, in fact he knew that if they got along, Mac would be the perfect director for his film.

'You know what, Mac,' he said slowly, measuring his words. 'In the past I
have
wasted a lot of time, and now I'm taking the high-ticket ride.' He stared directly at the Oscar-winning director, his blue eyes blazingly intense. 'I need a fast answer, so, let's cut out the bullshit. Are you in or out?'

'What's the matter?' Amber asked, as Michael and Quincy burst noisily into the house.

It's not good news,' Quincy replied, hurriedly taking her to one side as Michael ran to the phone. 'Rita's not at her apartment, nor is Bella.'

'Are they on vacation?' Amber asked, wondering why they both seemed so uptight.

Quincy shrugged, heading for the kitchen. 'I doubt it, the place is neglected - looks like nobody's lived there in a couple of months.'

Amber followed him. 'So she's moved?'

'Don't think so,' Quincy said, automatically reaching for the cookie jar. 'All their stuff's there. Clothes, toys, everything.'

She smacked the cookie out of his hand. 'No,' she said firmly.

'Amber!' he pleaded. 'I'm starvin', woman!'

You'll get fat,' she retorted.

'One cookie?' he begged, snaking his arm around her waist. 'C'mon, Mama, one little cookie for one hungry man.'

She ignored him. 'How about her make-up?' she asked.

What's that got to do with anything?'

'If she took her make-up it means they're OK.'

Women's logic. Quincy shook his head. 'I don't know. She hasn't picked up her last two months' alimony checks, they're still in the envelopes.'

'What does Michael say?'

What
can
he say. Right now he's trying to reach her aunt in New York. She's Rita's only relative. He's hopin' she knows where they are.'

'I'm telling you, check her make-up,' Amber said, nodding wisely. 'No woman goes anywhere for more than a day without taking her make-up.'

'Yeah, yeah, we'll do that. We're goin' back to the apartment an' meeting a couple of cops I know. I'm gonna try an' get 'em to put out a missing persons report.'

Michael slammed the phone down and marched into the kitchen. 'I need a drink,' he said, grim-faced.

That's exactly what you don't need,' Quincy said, remembering the bad times.

Michael managed a wry laugh. 'I said I
needed
one, I didn't say I was going to have one.' Opening the fridge he grabbed a 7-Up and took a hearty swig. 'There's no reply at her aunt's house.'

'I have a feeling they're both fine,' Amber said reassuringly.

Oh yeah, like she would know, Michael thought. If anything had happened to his kid...

No. It didn't bear thinking about. He would kill if anyone harmed Bella - blow their fucking brains out without a second thought.

Guilt was creeping up on him big time. He should have guessed something was wrong when he kept on getting the answering machine. He was a detective for chrissakes, the moment he hit LA he should have run right over there instead of waiting almost a week.

Taking two more gulps of 7-Up he slammed the can on the counter. 'Come on, Q, let's get back, I wanna talk to the woman in the upstairs apartment again. Maybe she's remembered something.'

Stopping only to kiss Amber on the cheek, Quincy was right behind him. We're on our way. See you later, hon.'

'Lily,' the fat woman said, lisping slightly. 'My name's Lily Langolla.' She was quite a sight to behold in a stained yellow caftan and fluffy blue slippers, a pink bow stuck jauntily on top of her frizzy yellow hair.

At least she'd let them into her apartment this time. Michael had flashed his detective's badge and she'd opened up immediately.

'So, Lily,' Quincy said, keeping his voice nice and even. 'When did you last see Rita Polone?'

'I don't spy on people,' Lily said primly, throwing her huge bulk on to an old purple couch from which the stuffing escaped in six different places.

'Nobody said you was spyin' by knowin' what's goin' on,' Quincy said, continuing his soothing friendly bit.

Michael stared out the window, as far as he could see, the woman had a prime spot to watch everything that happened on the street, if there'd been any kind of commotion there was no way she could have missed it.

He turned towards her. 'Lily,' he said, speaking softly. 'Why did you call her a slut?'

'Not against the law't call people names, is it?' Lily replied belligerently.

He used his charm, hitting her with a direct dark-eyed gaze. 'No, Lily, I'm sure a smart woman like you wouldn't do anything against the law.'

The heat of his gaze had the required effect. Reaching up, Lily patted the bow in her hair, suddenly aware that she might not be looking her best.

Michael knew he had her. Quickly he moved in, bombarding her with questions, taking her by surprise. 'Was she noisy, Lily? In and out all the time? Did she have many visitors?'

That's right,' Lily agreed.

What's right?'

Lily was flustered, but now she was determined to please. 'Men. Comin' an' going at all times.'

He felt a tenseness in his stomach, a knife-like feeling of doom. 'How many men, Lily?' he asked, making a concentrated effort to keep his voice calm, because he knew exactly what she was alluding to. 'One a night? Two?'

'Hey, now, Mike, don't go thinking just because -' Quincy began.

Michael silenced him with a look.

Lily squinted, thinking about it for a moment. 'First there was several different ones comin' an' goin' all times of the day an' night,' she said, fidgeting with the bow in her hair. Then there was just one. He visited her regular for a couple of weeks, until one night he came an' got her an' they took off. I ain't seen her since.'

Was her little girl with her, Lily?' Michael asked softly.

'Maybe she was.'

What the fuck do you mean,
maybe
she was,' Michael yelled, suddenly losing it. 'Was she or wasn't she?'

'OK, OK,' Quincy said, hurriedly getting between them as Lily cowed back. 'Let's take it nice an' easy here. Lily's doing her best to remember, aren't you, sweetheart?'

Lily was shaken. Jerking a cheaply bejewelled finger at Michael she said, 'What's the matter with
him
?'

'It's
his
kid, Lily,' Quincy explained. 'You can understand him being upset, can't you?'

'You
sure
he's a cop?' Lily asked, peering at Michael suspiciously.

'Just as much as I am,' Quincy lied smoothly. 'Now come on, Lily, let's try an' jog that memory of yours.'