Hollywood Husbands (37 page)

Desperately she had tried to act normally, but it was difficult when all she wanted to do was scream at him –
Why? Why? Why?

Polite conversation took place.
Have you seen this movie? Been to that restaurant? Tried this hotel?

Norman seemed nice enough. His father was Orville Gooseberger, the well-known film producer, and his mother – to quote him –
gives great charity
.

‘How did you two meet?’ she’d found herself asking.

And Norman replied. Corey had nothing to say. It seemed they had worked together in the San Francisco branch of Briskinn & Bower, the big publicity firm. When Norman was transferred back to Los Angeles, he’d asked his father – who owned a chunk of B & B – to arrange for Corey to be transferred too.

She didn’t want to know any more, hardly caring to hear the details.

Now, sitting quietly on her terrace, she began to wonder. Had Corey always been gay? Or did Norman bring it out in him?

She remembered how when he was a teenager he had always been inordinately shy around girls. One day her mother had voiced a mild doubt, swiftly forgotten, because the very next week he had started steady dating a girl named Gloria, with big breasts and sturdy legs. Were he and Gloria making out? She had asked him once, but he never replied. And then she had taken off for New York and her career, and only saw him on her occasional visits home.

When he met Marita, the entire family had been delighted, once they got over the shock of her being Hawaiian. Their wedding was old-fashioned and lovely, and they both seemed very happy. A year later, when the baby was born, everyone felt Corey was settled for life.

Now
this
bombshell. Her mother would have a nervous breakdown.

She reached for another cigarette. Some of her best friends were gay.

Jesus Christ, Johnson. What kind of a bigoted thought is that?

She hated herself for it, but she couldn’t control the shock and disappointment she felt. And she was angry too.

Why hadn’t he told her?

Because, asshole, he knew you’d react just like this.

Shut up.

It’s true!

Guilt crept up on her. Was Corey doing it to spite her? Beautiful, successful Jade Johnson. Always the centre of attention. Always the star of the family. Was Corey striking back in the only way he could think of?

Drawing deeply on her cigarette, she realized she was the one who would have to tell their mother.

Why?

Because she has to know.

Why?

Oh, fuck off.

The phone interrupted her argument with herself. Since the answering machine was still on she let it pick up. First the message, then the bleep, followed by the unmistakable tones of Lord Mark Rand. English jerk-off artist.

‘Jade?’ he asked. ‘Are you there?’

When she said nothing he left his message, sounding embarrassed, as most people are when faced with speaking to a machine.

‘Er… I’m in town.’

Obviously.

‘Please telephone me at L’Ermitage.’

Oh, great! A repeat performance
.

‘This is Mark.’

As if I don’t know
.

‘Er… call me. Please.’

He hung up.

She sighed. She wasn’t ready for him. Not now.

Yes, she was. She just wanted to curl up in his arms and shut out the world.

With a sigh of resignation, she reached for the phone.

Chapter Fifty-Three

Silver managed a frosty smile. She was outraged, furious,
incensed
. What was Zachary doing at
her
wedding dinner? Who
the hell
had invited him?

She had gone over the list of guests several times, making sure there were no enemies included. Poppy had been most obliging, crossing off a ridiculous actress made of silicone, and a glassy-eyed producer who everyone knew was certifiably insane, but put up with anyway because he continued to produce movies, even though none of them ever made any money.

‘I don’t think we should invite riff-raff,’ Silver had remarked mildly, and the two offenders’ names were struck through with a heavy felt-tip pen.

Now Zachary K. Klinger was present. And not only was he present, he was sitting down beside her.

The smile was fixed on her face like a frozen mask.
Poppy Soloman knows! Poppy Soloman did this on purpose! I’ll get the bitch for this!

‘Good evening, Silver,’ Zachary said.

‘
Zachary
! How
lovely
to see you. What a surprise! I’d like you to meet my husband, Wes Money, Junior.’

‘Will you cut out the Junior,’ Wes muttered irritably.

Zachary ignored him, concentrating only on Silver. ‘Congratulations on your success,’ he said.

‘Thank you,’ she replied, anxious to excuse herself and rush to the ladies’ room just to make absolutely certain she looked her best. Not that she cared what Zachary thought. It was just that after sixteen years one didn’t want to be caught looking anything but perfect.

‘You haven’t changed,’ he said.

Nor had he, only she wasn’t about to flatter him. His hair was completely grey, and there were more lines on his face, that was all. He had never been handsome, but he radiated power, and it was that which had attracted her to him in the first place.

When they first met, he was an important and extremely rich man. Since their last encounter he had become a legendary business tycoon and billionaire.

‘Well!’ Poppy exclaimed, as a delicate avocado and papaya salad was served. ‘Isn’t this fun!’

* * *

‘When are you goin’ to dump the bozo?’ Howard asked, with a knowing wink.

Whitney flashed her famous teeth. ‘Don’t be bad, Howard. Chuck is an excellent actor, and extremely misunderstood.’

‘The guy is a stoned beach bum who is not worthy of you.’ He liked that. The ‘not worthy of you’ exhibited a great deal of class.

Whitney held her smile steady. ‘I’m not planning to
marry
him.’

Howard wanted to say –
Just hump his ass off, huh
? But that wasn’t classy, not classy at all. And above all he wanted her to regard him as a man of style.

‘Have you read the script?’ he asked.

She nodded, all teeth and hair and sparkling aquamarine eyes. ‘Yes, I have.’

‘And?’

‘Zeppo has asked me not to discuss it with you.’

‘What?’ He was outraged. ‘Since when has Zeppo been your agent?’

‘Do I hear my name?’ Zeppo White asked. He was sitting next to Beverly D’Amo, who was keeping him royally entertained with stories of her exploits in Peru.

Whitney widened her eyes. ‘I was just telling Howard that you’re my agent now.’

‘How’d he take it?’ snapped Zeppo, blinking rapidly several times. He was a small nut of a man, with a shock of bright orange hair, alarmingly styled in some kind of crazed pompadour. His reputation was fierce.

‘I don’t know,’ smiled Whitney. ‘How
did
you take it, Howard?’

‘When you get bitten by a snake, you look around for someone to suck out the poison.’

She continued to smile. ‘Yes?’

‘And if I’m very lucky, you’ll suck it for me, won’t you, Whitney?’ Not too classy, but funny all the same.

She laughed. Zeppo laughed. Beverly laughed. Ida White looked vague, but laughed anyway.

‘I wouldn’t put all your money on it if I was you, Howard,’ teased Whitney.

‘Dirty talk! I love it!’ exclaimed Beverly. ‘I thought you warned me to behave myself tonight, Zeppo.’

‘I wouldn’t ask you to do the impossible, kiddo,’ Zeppo replied with a jaunty wink.

* * *

‘Did you know that my wife died several months ago?’ Zachary said, staring intently at Silver.

She sipped champagne, refusing to return his gaze. What did he want from her? Was she supposed to say she was sorry? Silver Anderson was not a hypocrite and refused to act like one.

‘This means I’m free at last,’ he said pointedly.

She thought she might laugh in his face. Free. Sixteen years later. So what?

‘How nice for you,’ she replied coolly.

He continued to stare at her, waiting for a more positive reaction. Didn’t she understand what he was telling her? Finally they could be together, for over the years Silver was the only woman he had thought about and always wanted.

She was the perfect match for him. The Queen to sit beside him on his throne. Now that his wife was dead there was nothing to prevent their union.

‘I have an interesting proposition for you,’ he said.

She appeared bored. ‘Really?’

‘Perhaps you can meet me at my hotel tomorrow.’

‘I don’t think so.’

‘It’s to your advantage.’

‘I
don’t
think so.’

‘A business meeting. That’s all.’

Arrogant bastard. Did he really imagine he could walk back into her life and take over? ‘I would hardly suspect it to be anything else,’ she said icily.

He lowered his voice, so only she could hear his harsh whisper, determined to get to her. ‘Don’t flatter yourself, Silver. You’re too old for me now.’

His words stung like a sharp slap. How dare he talk to her like that,
HOW DARE HE
!

Lowering her voice to match his, she said, ‘You were
always
too old for
me
, Zachary.’

He laughed without humour, remembering her weak spot. ‘Dear Silver, you never could take criticism, could you?’

Unable to control herself, she said, ‘Shove it, Zachary
dear,
right up your decrepit
old
ass.’

* * *

‘How’re you doin’?’

Melanie-Shanna, on her way out of the ladies’ room, jumped. Chuck Nielson loomed in front of her, stoned eyes and boyish grin.

Pulling herself together she asked him evenly, ‘Do you follow me every time I go to the bathroom?’

‘Only when I know you want me to.’ His come-on was out in the open. Usually it worked. Tonight it didn’t.

‘You’re on the wrong track,
Mr
Nielson,’ she said. ‘And if you don’t get off it, I’ll tell my husband.’

‘Hey – hey – hey! Back off, beautiful. I’m only makin’ polite, not grabbing your gorgeous body.’

She looked him straight in the eye. ‘Don’t. Okay?’ He threw up his hands. ‘You got it, babe.’ She hurried past him, back to her place at the table next to Mannon. It crossed her mind that maybe she
should
tell Mannon, if only to see what he would do. Then she thought, no, why cause unnecessary trouble, she could deal with it herself. All her life she had been dealing with it…

* * *

For the first time in Silver’s company, Wes was bored. Mixing with the movers and shakers from the other side of the bar was not the trip he had imagined it to be. Here he was, surrounded by the rich and famous, and once he got to talking to them, he realized they were just as boring as the rest of the population.

Carlos Brent was no great wit. Orville Gooseberger talked too much and too loud. Ditto the wife;
nobody
could shut her up. Mannon Cable was broodingly quiet, and Melanie-Shanna Cable – although a knock-out to look at – didn’t open up her mouth all night.

Which left Dee Dee Dionne, who was quite charming; Zachary K. Klinger, who monopolized Silver from the moment he sat down; and their hostess, Poppy Soloman – a supercharged bundle of nerves.

Without exception, everyone had one eye on the door to see if anyone they should know about was exiting or entering. Wes caught on fast. He’d be mid-sentence and their eyes glazed over while their attention wandered. It could make a person feel very insecure. Especially as nobody seemed to give a flying fart what anyone else had to say.

Silver seemed well taken care of with Zachary Klinger whispering away in her ear, so after the entrée Wes excused himself, and took a walk around, mentally counting the stars. He hadn’t met Whitney Valentine Cable, and since she was the best-looking female in the room, he thought it might make life worthwhile. He caught himself staring as he hovered near her table.

She smiled at him, brilliant white teeth flashing.

He walked over and proffered his hand. ‘Wes Money.’

What a smile she had!

‘I know. Congratulations.’

‘Thanks.’

‘Have you met Chuck Nielson?’

Yeah. He had met good old Chuck when he’d sold him cocaine at Silver’s party. Only he was just a barman then, and who remembered barmen? Certainly not anyone at
this
dinner.

‘Hey, man.’ Chuck gave him a bone-crushing handshake. ‘You an’ Silver are gonna make each other very, very…’ He trailed off and looked to Whitney for help.

‘Happy,’ she said, her dazzling smile still going strong.

Ida White leaned back in her chair and placed a thin, blue-veined hand on his arm. ‘I hope you’re going to be good to Silver,’ she remarked, nodding her own confirmation. ‘We all love her, you know. She’s one of us. If you can—’

‘She’s a pro,’ interrupted Zeppo, spitting out each word like machine-gun bullets. ‘The important thing in Hollywood is to always act like a professional, and Silver does that better than anyone. Except perhaps Elizabeth Taylor, Shirley Maclaine… there’s still a few of’em left. Anyway, Silver has class.’

‘Yes,’ agreed Wes. ‘She sure does.’

‘The woman’s a star,’ Zeppo added. ‘One of the last of the truly
great
stars. You see ’em running around in tee-shirts and sloppy clothes with straggly hair. All the young actresses today look like somebody’s maid.’

‘Thank you!’ interjected Whitney.

‘Not you,’ Zeppo barked. ‘You look okay, kiddo.’

‘And how about me?’ demanded Beverly.

‘You’re an original, but you can all learn from Silver,’ Zeppo continued, warming to his theme. ‘Star quality! She had it the first time I saw her nearly thirty years ago. And she’s
still
got it.’

For the next fifteen minutes he continued to sing her praises.

Chuck got up from the table. ‘Wanna smoke?’ he asked Wes.