Authors: Jackie Collins
Rock Star (57 page)
‘Do you need a job, my dear?’ he’d asked.
‘Yes,’ Vicki had nodded.
She’d stayed long enough to share her sexual favours and steal his precious and valuable stamp collection, which she sold for three thousand dollars to a pawnshop. It was worth over a hundred thousand.
Then she ticketed herself to Amarillo, Texas, where she set herself up in an apartment doling out submission and discipline.
Business was good.
* * *
Maxwell Sicily did not fare so well. In prison, awaiting trial for the murder of Marcus Citroen, he mysteriously passed away in his sleep one night. There was no official investigation.
The tentacles of Carmine Sicily’s power stretched far and wide.
* * *
Sara Johnston and Bobby Mondella planned a quiet wedding ceremony in her home town of Philadelphia. Both of them couldn’t be happier.
It had taken him some time to win her over, but he’d done it. After the night at Novaroen so much had happened. Firstly, the shock of recovering his sight had sent Bobby into a tailspin. At first he hadn’t known how to handle it, everything seemed so strange.
Seeing Sara – a woman he had virtually shared his life with for the last eighteen months – was the biggest shock of all. He’d imagined her to be darker, shorter, plumper, plainer. Instead she was dazzlingly pretty – reminding him in a way of a young Sharleen.
Before he had a chance to tell her how much she meant to him, she took off, leaving him a short note on which she had written,
You don’t need me anymore, so I’ll say goodbye. It was great, Bobby, and I’ll always love you. But now you’ve got your life back. Enjoy it. Sara
.
It took him two months to find her, and when he did, he told her in no uncertain terms, they would never be apart again.
She acquiesced. After all, she loved him, it was as simple as that.
* * *
Kris Phoenix and Rafealla went their separate ways.
After breaking up with Cybil, Kris returned to England and told Astrid it was over. They’d been together four years, which was long enough. He bought her a house in the country and allowed her to keep the dogs. They parted friends.
Then he sought out Buzz – still off drugs and well on the way to recovery, and suggested they did something together, just the two of them.
‘Yeah, I’d like that,’ Buzz said.
‘Yeah, I rather thought you would,’ Kris replied, adding with a wink, ‘Ya always fancied workin’ with a superstar, didn’t you?’
‘You’re
still
full of it, you old wanker,’ Buzz replied, with a wicked grin.
‘Yeah, an’ you wouldn’t have it any other way. Right?’
‘Right, mate.’
The years disappeared as they broke up laughing and spontaneously hugged each other.
* * *
Rafealla returned to England, collected Jon Jon from her mother’s, and the two of them settled down in the small house she’d bought near Regent’s Park.
It was good to be back in England after all the years she’d spent abroad. And it was certainly nice to be an established recording artist without the threat of Marcus Citroen hanging over her head. Of course she regretted his death, it was a terrible thing to have happened, but life went on.
* * *
Kris Phoenix and Rafealla made the trip to Philadelphia for Bobby Mondella’s wedding. They arrived separately, neither aware of the other’s presence.
Rocket Fabrizzi was best man, and although Bobby and Sara had tried to keep the wedding quiet, there was a huge turnout of fans and press.
Rafealla hadn’t seen Kris Phoenix since their shared ordeal. She glanced across the aisle, and there he was, cocky as ever, with that ridiculous spiked hair and those intense blue eyes – Jon Jon’s eyes.
Tentatively she waved.
He waved back.
She smiled.
He smiled back.
Oh God! Not again. For the third time in her life she felt that old familiar tingle of anticipation.
She’d struck out twice, that didn’t mean she had to stop playing, did it?
Kris was on his feet, heading in her direction. Soon he was beside her.
‘Anyone sittin’ here?’ he asked, indicating the half-empty pew.
‘No.’
‘Mind if I join you?’
‘I think I’d like that.’
They watched Bobby hurry down the aisle, Rocket beside him.
‘He looks nervous,’ Kris remarked jauntily. ‘Poor sod.’
‘He probably is.’
‘Yeah, well, it’s a big step.’
‘It certainly is.’
‘Have
you
ever taken it?’
‘Once.’
‘Me too. I’m divorced now.’
‘So am I.’
Music began to play, indicating the arrival of the bride. Sara wore white, and a big smile.
Bobby turned to look at her as she walked down the aisle. He thought she was the prettiest girl he’d ever seen.
‘Romantic, huh?’ whispered Kris.
Rafealla nodded. She was frightened to look him in the eye, because once she fell into those two intense pools of blue she might be lost forever.
Maybe she should risk it. What was that old superstition? Third time lucky, or something like that.
‘Hey, Raf He leaned towards her; speaking in a low, intimate voice.
‘Yes.’
‘There’s something I’ve bin meaning’ to tell you.’
‘Yes?’ she repeated.
Their eyes met, and it was memorable.
‘Uh . . . I just want you to know this.’
‘What?’
‘Did I ever mention that after I met you I gave up blondes forever?’
Gazing at him solemnly she said, ‘No. You never told me that.’
He winked. ‘It’s true.’ Arid with perfect timing he took her hand in his, squeezing it gently. ‘C’mon, we’d better watch a wedding, see how it’s done. It might come in useful one of these days.’ A cheeky grin. ‘Right?’
She grinned back. Kris Phoenix was an adventure waiting to be experienced, and this time she was old enough to enjoy it. ‘Right,’ she agreed.
‘After all—’ he began.
Catching his rhythm she joined in, and together they completed his favourite expression – ‘It’s only rock ’n’ roll!’
About the Author
There have been many imitators, but only Jackie Collins can tell you what really goes on in the fastest lane of all. From Beverly Hills bedrooms to a raunchy prowl along the streets of Hollywood; from glittering rock parties and concerts to stretch limos and the mansions of the power brokers – Jackie Collins chronicles the real truth from the inside looking out.
Jackie Collins has been called a ‘raunchy moralist’ by the late director Louis Malle and ‘Hollywood’s own Marcel Proust’ by
Vanity Fair
magazine. With over 400 million copies of her books sold in more than 40 countries, and with some twenty-eight
New York Times
bestsellers to her credit, Jackie Collins is one of the world’s top-selling novelists. She is known for giving her readers an unrivalled insider’s knowledge of Hollywood and the glamorous lives and loves of the rich, famous, and infamous! ‘I write about real people in disguise,’ she says. ‘If anything, my characters are toned down – the truth is much more bizarre.’
Visit Jackie’s website www.jackiecollins.com, and follow her on Twitter at JackieJCollins and Facebook at www.facebook.com/jackiecollins
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