Hollywood Kids Read online

  'Sounds like the Army.'

  Cheryl was still on a roll. 'She finds them on Rodeo Drive, Melrose, at health clubs, restaurants, parties. According to Donna gorgeous girls are everywhere, and they're all tempted by the money. I mean, we're talking big bucks. She discovered one girl checking out the jewellery in Pepe, and the next day she had her on a private jet to Paris with five thousand bucks in her purse for one simple day's work! Nobody's going to turn down an extra thousand or two. And these girls get to go on great trips, just like the one in Pepe, who incidentally ended up marrying an extraordinarily rich Arab.'

  Jordanna couldn't believe Cheryl was actually serious. She'd done some wild things in her time, but this was way out there. 'I'm delighted you've found your vocation,' she said coolly. 'But it's not something I would even consider getting into.'

  'You're chicken shit.'

  'How about you? Jordanna challenged. 'Are you planning on putting out for the right price?'

  'Please!' Cheryl replied scornfully. 'Madams don't have to.'

  'I didn't think so,' Jordanna murmured, clicking her fingers for the bill and watching as the good-looking waiter hustled it over.

  Another out-of-work actor. Her weakness.

  Idly she wondered if she'd had him. Maybe in her drug days.

  'You'd love being a hooker,' Cheryl continued, still trying. Think of the illicit thrill!'

  Jordanna shook her head. 'I've never seen you this hyped.'

  'Keep watching,' Cheryl said happily. 'I'm about to be bigger than my daddy any day!'

  * * *

  Sharleen and Mac were on the outs, they'd hardly spoken for almost a week now, ever since they'd arrived home from the screening at Jordan Levitt's and found the police on their doorstep.

  Sharleen blamed Mac's two sons for the trouble. Mac was equally convinced that Sharleen's sixteen-year-old daughter was to blame. Whichever of their offspring was responsible did not make much difference - the fact was there'd been a drug bust in their house and Sharleen was mortified. 'I'll be all over the tabloids,' she wailed.

  'It won't be the first time,' Mac replied, remembering when she'd been labelled the other woman in his very public divorce. At the time he'd been married to Willa, the daughter of famous director William Davidoss. Willa had been his ticket to the big time - he'd started out as third assistant on one of her father's movies in New York, and ended up moving to California and marrying his daughter. Two years later - with a little help from William - he'd directed his first movie.

  When he and Willa had separated, the tabloids had gone into a frenzy, because some big mouth had alerted them about his affair with Sharleen. For months they'd lived with the lurid headlines, right up until he'd divorced Willa and married Sharleen. Thank God they hadn't delved into his background, although it would be pretty difficult to find out anything about him, he'd covered his tracks well.

  Sharleen was not to be appeased. 'That was then - this is now. I have a reputation to protect,' she said primly.

  When Sharleen said things like that, he wasn't quite sure what she meant. Sharleen was a movie star for chrissake. Movie stars were supposed to have reputations!

  'Calm down,' he told her, in between trying to find out exactly what had taken place at his house. Kyle and Daniel, his sons, were close-mouthed. Suzy, Sharleen's daughter, was sulky. The three of them were silent on the subject of who invited the drug dealer - a twenty-something rich kid - to their house.

  'He's a friend of a friend,' Kyle finally admitted. 'We had no idea he was a dealer.'

  Sure. They'd had no idea. Until the rich kid was arrested by an undercover cop posing as a high-school drop-out just after he'd sold a gram of cocaine to Susy's best friend, an angelic-faced blonde teenager.

  'It's your fault,' Sharleen informed Mac.

  'Why is it always my fault?' he'd asked patiently.

  'Because you never discipline those boys. You allow them to run wild.'

  'It was Susy's friend making the buy,' he'd pointed out.

  'That's right, change the subject.'

  At Sharleen's insistence he'd arranged for his sons to visit their mother for a few weeks. Some punishment. Lounging around Hawaii surfing and getting tans.

  His ex-wife had moved to the big island shortly after their divorce became final. Her father had made sure she used a killer lawyer who'd scored her an enormous settlement, with hefty alimony payments unless she remarried. Plus child support until the boys finished college.

  Like she needed the money, Willa had trust funds coming out her ass.

  Big chance she'd ever remarry. He was screwed. The moment all financial matters were in place she'd moved her girlfriend in, a plump redhead with smoky eyes and soft hands. The ex-Mrs Mac Brooks was a dyke, and there was nothing he could do about it except continue paying big bucks for the rest of his life.

  He was able to get custody of his boys. This didn't thrill Sharleen, who went to great lengths to inform anyone who'd listen that they were merely her stepsons.

  Mac was not happy about the situation. Getting divorced was one thing. But getting divorced and then having his ex set up home with another woman was downright insulting. Especially when he was paying for their cozy little set-up. Somehow he imagined Willa's sexual turnaround reflected on him, and not favourably. Hadn't he satisfied her? Wasn't he an incredible lover as women had always told him?

  'Baby, you're the best,' Sharleen crooned on a regular basis. She was a very intelligent woman when she wanted to be.

  So Kyle and Daniel were banished to Hawaii, and Suzy was forbidden to see her angelic-faced girlfriend ever again. Case settled. Mac could get back to concentrating on his next project.

  He had a lunch-time meeting with Bobby Rush regarding a script Bobby had sent him. Thriller Eyes was an interesting piece of material - a psychological sexual edge-of-the-seat psycho drama about a hero and a villain. The twist was that the villain was a beautiful psychotic young woman, although the audience didn't find out until the end of the movie.

  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?'

  'Whe
n 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?'

  Chapter Eight

  '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.'r />
  '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.'