Hollywood Husbands (24 page)

‘Does Dustin Hoffman smoke?’

‘What’s Ann Margret really like?’

The questions came at him from all sides, until a fixed smile slid into place on his face and stayed there as he searched for the nearest exit.

‘Hi. I’m Cheryl. Wanna have a nice time?’

‘Try my room, 703, in ten minutes.’

‘I’d really like to sleep with you. I’m a big fan.’

‘Wanna get it on, TV star?’

The women were not shy. They were aggressive with their come-ons. A tiny blonde, with huge boobs hardly concealed in a shiny blue cocktail dress, trailed him relentlessly. Finally he had to turn on her and say, ‘Listen. Don’t follow me. I am not interested. Okay?’

‘Who d’y think you
are
?’ she shouted belligerently.

‘I know who I am,’ he muttered, and pushed through swing doors to the peace and quiet of the vast swimming pool.

The outside area was deserted. It was past ten, and the sun-bathers and swimmers were long gone. He gazed up at the sky. The stars were out with a vengeance. Tomorrow was going to be a scorcher. Mannon had said something about taking a boat out on Lake Mead.

What was he doing here? In theory it sounded great – a weekend with the guys. But he’d already realized he wasn’t one of them anymore. He had other things on his mind, and getting drunk and getting laid just for the sake of it had lost its appeal. Maybe he should alert Aretha to send him a fast telegram saying his presence was urgently required back in Los Angeles. Not such a bad idea.

* * *

‘Hiya, beautiful.’

‘Want a drink?’

‘How about dinner?’

‘Do you live around here?’

‘Mama! Mama! I died an’ went to pussy heaven!’

Jade ignored the remarks. She was used to getting attention. New York had taught her how to deal with it. Just ignore the suckers and they’ll soon go away.

However, in Las Vegas they did seem a touch more persistent.

She whirled on one man who made a particularly obscene remark. ‘Dream on, asshole!’

‘Right between your legs, baby!’

She hurried away. Taking a walk around the casino to get the feel of the place was not such a good idea. In Vegas, a woman alone at night obviously spelled available. She followed the
SWIMMING POOL
sign, and walked outside.

* * *

‘I love giving head,’ the expensive hooker in the filmy chiffon dress whispered into Howard Soloman’s ear. ‘It’s my favourite sexual act. How about you?’

Howard, who had no idea the woman was a hooker, nodded happily. ‘If you wanna give it, who am I to stop you?’

The woman smiled. Her teeth weren’t great, but the rest of her was verging on perfect. Long legs, big bosom, long hair. ‘I like a man who folds easily,’ she said, leaning all over him. ‘And you’re
sooo
attractive. Exactly my type.’

Howard felt the old one-eyed snake stir. This broad was something else. She had been coming on to him from the moment she sat down next to him at Dino and Susanna’s party. ‘You’re not an actress, are you?’ he asked suspiciously.

‘No,’ she replied with a scornful toss of her head – although if the truth were known she was a better actress than most of the flibberty little bits of fluff she saw on television. ‘I’m in real estate,’ she added. ‘What do
you
do?’

Was she putting him on? Perhaps. Perhaps not. After all, he wasn’t a famous
face
. ‘I’m a businessman,’ he said guardedly. Better she didn’t know too much about him.

‘I
loove
a man who handles things,’ she purred. Her expensively manicured hand moved onto his thigh. ‘Why don’t we go somewhere private?’

Howard agreed readily. He didn’t find time to play around in Hollywood. Oh sure, he could always use the never-ending supply of actresses looking for a part – but he didn’t like the thought of a woman sleeping with him just because of what he could do for her career. And if you got laid in Hollywood, the whole town knew about it the next day. A lot of men simply didn’t care, they just went for it and the hell with the consequences. One well-known producer regularly checked into The Beverly Hills Hotel for an afternoon tryst with his various paramours. Once, his wife was attending a charity function in the Coterie Restaurant, but that didn’t faze the producer; he still checked in with a top-heavy redhead, and waved a greeting to his wife’s friends at the same time. That was called
chutzpah
.

Howard didn’t have the nerve – Poppy would kill him. ‘Excuse me a minute,’ he said. ‘I’ll be right back.’

Pino Fonicetti was talking to a group of people. Howard drew him to one side and indicated the woman. ‘Do you know her?’ he asked.

Dino looked across the room. Did he know her? Oh, yeah, he knew her, she was the perfect sexual partner for some of his more important guests at the hotel, and he paid her handsomely to entertain them. ‘Yes. She’s very nice. Very respectable. Not a spinner.’

‘Spinner?’ This was a phrase even Howard hadn’t heard.

Dino chuckled. ‘You know, a spinner. A broad who spins from one guy to the next.’

Howard laughed too.

‘You’re not leaving, are you?’ Dino asked.

Howard winked. ‘I’ll be right back.’ He indicated Mannon, who was playing poker with a tableful of high-rollers. ‘Tell him I’ll see him later, or in the morning.’

Dino nodded understandingly.

* * *

‘Don’t we know each other?’ Jack asked.

Jade, sitting on the edge of the diving board, sighed with annoyance. She’d had it with the never-ending pick-up factor. ‘
Go away.
’

‘Huh?’

‘You heard.’

She hadn’t even looked at him. He persisted. ‘Hey – I’m not trying to hit on you. I remember you from… uh… Silver Anderson’s party. My name’s Jack Python.’

She didn’t exactly jump, more a slow turn. She knew who he was all right.

He decided maybe Vegas wasn’t such a dead loss after all. He’d been watching her for ten minutes, and he recalled her leaving Silver’s party very well. She had been with Antonio’s group.

‘We never met,’ she said, recognizing him immediately.

‘You
were
there,’ he stated.

‘So was half of Hollywood,’ she pointed out.

‘Can we have a drink and discuss it?’

She began to laugh. ‘Mr Python. Have you any idea how many times I’ve been asked that tonight? I’m
surprised
at you. Couldn’t you have come up with a more original approach?’

Smiling the Python killer-smile, he said, ‘Tell me an original approach and I’ll use it.’

‘How about… what’s a nice girl like you doing in a sleazy city like this?’

He nodded. ‘That’s good. It’s got impact. Let me try it.’ He took three steps away from her and then strode briskly back. ‘Excuse me – Miss?’

She played the game. ‘Ms., if you don’t mind.’

‘Uh… Ms.?’

‘Yes?’

‘What’s a nice girl like you—’

‘Woman,’ she interrupted.

‘Woman?’

‘Girl is a patronizing term.’

‘Come on –
you
told me what to say.’

‘Just checking to see if you’re smart enough to change it.’

‘Hey – watch the insults!’

Getting up, she said, ‘Don’t sweat it, Mr Python. I can’t have a drink with you anyway.’ She took the sting off her words with a dazzling smile. ‘I do enjoy your show, only my mother warned me never to talk to strangers, and let’s face it, you may be famous, but you’re still a stranger.’

She walked briskly away before he could answer, and vanished into the hotel.

Once inside she stopped to think. What was a man like Jack Python doing picking up girls – women – out by the pool of the Forum Hotel at ten-thirty at night? He was dangerously good-looking. Too dangerous for her. She had enough involvements right now, and certainly did not need a one-night stand with a man who had a stud reputation. Besides, she had made a strict rule to always steer clear of well-known men – they had egos the size of Atlanta. And that’s the last thing she needed.

* * *

‘Take it off, Howard,’ crooned the woman.

‘What off?’ gasped Howard. He was marooned among her long legs and big breasts and mass of hair, naked as a bare-assed baby, and just as happy.

‘Take off the rug, it’s inhibiting you.’

‘What rug?’ he asked indignantly.

‘
This
rug!’ she said with a triumphant tug at his prize thatch of hair. She whirled it in the air and threw it on the floor.

‘Shit!’ he exploded.

She bounced on the bed, large breasts jiggling. ‘I get off on bald men,’ she explained. ‘It’s sexy. Let’s do sixty-nine.’

‘I’m
not
bald.’

‘Gettin’ there.’

‘Thank you
very
much.’

‘Let’s do sixty-nine.’

‘No.’

‘Why?’

‘Because…’

‘What? You don’t like to eat pussy?’

He didn’t answer.

She shrugged, and her large breasts heaved. ‘Your loss,’ she said, thinking of the female lover she would get it on with later.

* * *

Mannon Cable won fifty thousand dollars. The party was going strong. He shook the women off like aggravating bugs, and retired to the suite – alone. Jack was in the living room fixing a drink. The door to Howard’s bedroom was firmly closed.

‘You know something?’ Mannon said, ‘I think I’m getting too old for catting around.’

‘Want a shot?’ Jack asked, pouring himself a scotch.

‘Brandy.’

‘Coming up.’

‘This place is loaded with hookers. Who did Howard end up with?’

Jack found a bottle of Courvoisier. ‘I never made the party. I took a walk instead.’

Mannon clicked the television on and ruminated. ‘I’ve got a beautiful wife, and a beautiful ex-wife. I came here to get laid, but quite frankly – who needs it?’

‘You’re asking
me
?’ Jack said, handing him his brandy. ‘Let’s take the plane back tomorrow.’

‘What about Howard?’

‘What
about
him? He’s over twenty-one. I think he’ll make out.’

Mannon held the brandy glass between his hands and swirled the amber liquid. ‘It’s strange, isn’t it? Once we would have given our right arms for this kind of set-up. Now we’ve got it, who wants it? Who needs it?’

Jack laughed. ‘Howard.’

‘Yeah. You can take a kid out of Colorado—’

‘But you can never take Colorado out of a kid!’ Jack finished Mannon’s sentence, and as he did so Jade’s coffee commercial appeared on television. ‘Hey—’ he exclaimed. ‘
That’s
where I know her from.’

‘Who?’

‘The girl on television.’

They both stared at the set. Jade in a supermarket, buying a jar of coffee. She wore shorts and a tee-shirt and looked like every man’s fantasy of the girl next door with her hair piled on top of her head. Next shot. Jade at home – drinking the coffee. Dissolve… She’s dreaming… Jade on a Caribbean beach swaying from the sea in a white bikini, her body tanned and supple, her copper hair long, tangled and wild. She strides from the sea, an Amazon princess. What a body! The camera pans in for a close-up of her face. What a face! ‘
My place or yours?
’ she asks with a long and challenging look straight at the camera. Fade out.

Jack was mesmerized by the commercial. ‘I think I’m in lust,’ he dead-panned. ‘Have you any idea who she is?’

‘I thought
you
knew,’ Mannon said.

‘I
want
to know. She’s here in the hotel – I just saw her.’

Mannon was amused. ‘Is this love at first commercial? Should we alert Clarissa?’

‘Aw… get lost!’

Howard emerged from his bedroom and staggered in, hairpiece in hand. He wore a white hotel bathrobe and looked like a beaten man. Two prominent love bites decorated his neck. ‘Drink,’ he requested hoarsely.

Jack handed him the bottle of scotch.

‘Cigarette,’ he mumbled.

Mannon handed him a half-full pack of Marlboros.

Howard took a deep breath. ‘I think I’m having a wonderful time,’ he said, his voice heavy with exhaustion. ‘She’s got a pussy like a vacuum cleaner. Wake me if I’m not dead in the morning.’

And with that he reeled off.

‘Viva Las Vegas,’ said Jack dryly.

Chapter Thirty-Six

Reba turned up at noon. She let herself in with her pass key, and stood, arms akimbo, a furious expression on her heavily made-up face, at the end of the bed where Wes lay snoring.

He did not stir, in spite of her malevolent glare, which could have cracked paint.

She kicked the end of the bed. ‘You
shithead!
’ she shrieked. He opened one eye and smelled trouble. Best to face it head on. Sitting up quickly he said, ‘Jesus! Am I glad to see
you
. I couldn’t figure out what happened last night. Once I got Silver Anderson home I came racing back to find you, but you’d gone.’ He stared accusingly. ‘Why did you leave without me?’

She opened her mouth like a surprised fish. This was not what she’d expected to hear at all.

‘Reba, Reba,’ he continued, warming to his theme. ‘You
ran out
on me. I was stranded. I had to stay at a friend’s house, and get the bus back this morning.’

Frowning, she tapped extremely long fingernails on the end of the bed. ‘I didn’t know you were comin’ back,’ she said. ‘I thought you’d run off an’ dumped
me
.’

He managed to look hurt. ‘You thought that?’

‘That’s what it looked like, didn’t it?’ she answered defensively.

‘It may have looked that way, only surely you know me better? I had your car keys, the claim check for your jacket. I
broke my neck
gettin’ back.’ He paused, careful not to lay it on too thick. ‘How
did
you get home?’

‘I always carry a spare set of keys for the car,’ she admitted.

He stretched out and yawned. ‘I’m just glad you’re okay. That mob scene was a joke. I had to get the poor bitch out of there before things got out of control.’

Reba sat on the end of the bed. ‘I guess I owe you an apology,’ she said lamely. ‘I didn’t believe you even knew Silver Anderson.’