Hollywood Husbands (61 page)

‘I guess…’ she said hesitantly, wishing it was Penn Sullivan asking her out. Meeting him at her record launch party had been a real thrill. Unfortunately it was true – since her success it was all work work work, and no time for play. Eddie had telephoned on a couple of occasions, and she hadn’t even had time to return his calls. Getting the plum assignment to write the theme song for
The Murder
was probably more exciting than ‘Gonna Eatcha Tonight!’ climbing the charts faster than anyone expected. It was currently at number four with a bullet on the
Billboard
chart – which meant it was still rising.

‘You’re gonna be number one!’ everyone at College Records assured her. And then they had asked her if she would like to write and perform the theme song for
The Murder
.

Would she? wow!

Originally Orpheus had wanted Cyndi Lauper or Madonna. An executive at College Records had taken a meeting with Howard Soloman and convinced him that Heaven was the hottest and youngest meteor on the horizon.

The Murder
was still filming, behind schedule, in Puerta Vallarta. Heaven had been shown a rough cut of the dailies, and even she knew the finished product was going to be a smash. Clarissa Browning was staggering; Whitney Valentine looked breathtaking; and Mannon Cable gave a wonderful performance. It wasn’t a youth picture, but she loved every scintillating minute – for it combined all the elements of exciting moviegoing.

‘You like?’ Howard Soloman asked, having snuck into the screening room while she was watching.

‘Brilliant!’ she enthused.

‘Write us something tricky,’ he requested with a wink.

‘I will, Mr Soloman, I will!’

And she had. As far as she was concerned it was the best song she’d ever written.

Grandfather George was in his workroom when she returned home, which meant that he wouldn’t emerge for the rest of the night.

She had dropped Rocky off at his Hollywood apartment. ‘Pick me up at ten,’ he’d said.

‘Ten!’ she’d exclaimed. ‘What time does this party start?’

‘Babe – no party worth goin’ to starts before eleven.’

‘If I can get out.’

‘If ya can get out!’ He’d laughed derisively. ‘We gotta start thinking ’bout movin’ you to a place of your own.’

The seed was planted. He had to pull Heaven away from any sign of family. She was going to be a rock star. What kind of a rock star lived in the
Valley
with her
grandfather?

Yeah, Rocky decided. Tonight was the night his sweet little piece of baby flesh was going to grow up all the way.

Chapter Eighty-Five

Puerto Vallarta was hot in more ways than one. If the days were steamy while the cast and crew toiled away shooting the final scenes of
The Murder
, then the nights were even more so.

Everyone was on edge. They all knew the film was special. They all wanted to be finished with it before Christmas, and get home to their families.

Between Arizona and Puerto Vallarta there was only a three-day break. Clarissa had said to Mannon, ‘What shall we do?’

‘Honey,’ he’d replied apologetically, ‘I’ve got to go see Melanie-Shanna and my baby. There’s no way I can’t.’

On the day Poppy Soloman had thrown a lunch for Jade Johnson, Melanie-Shanna had given birth. Somehow, bearing Mannon Cable’s son had seemed a more pressing engagement. Mannon had wanted to fly to L.A. as soon as he heard, but Clarissa stopped him.

‘For the first time in your career you are giving a fine performance,’ she had told him. ‘If you break your concentration now it will spoil everything. Trust me.’

He trusted her. Clarissa was like no other woman he’d been with in his life. Her intensity had him caught in a web he really didn’t want to escape from. With Clarissa Browning he was not a macho superstar with startlingly blue eyes and a way with the ladies. He was a
real
man, with honest feelings. And he was a damn good actor.

Strutting, sexy, good-humoured Mannon Cable had taken a walk. Clarissa taught him to centre his feelings and care about himself more.

‘You’re much too nice to people,’ she’d said. ‘They walk all over you, and treat you like a fool.’

He hadn’t realized that. So he withdrew a little, became more aloof, stopped being so unassuming and good-natured.

‘And you eat like a wild animal,’ she informed him. ‘No more red meat, sugar, salt, alcohol.’

‘Hey—’ he’d objected.

‘Trust me,’ she’d said patiently. It was her favourite expression.

He’d trusted her, and he knew it was working, because he’d never felt so physically healthy in his life.

There was no way she could stop him from visiting his son. Wasn’t he entitled to be excited about becoming a father for the first time? Even if he
did
plan on divorcing Melanie-Shanna, as soon as his lawyer gave him the go-ahead. So, in spite of Clarissa’s objections, he flew to Los Angeles. She wasn’t pleased.

‘What’ll
you
do?’ he’d asked her, before leaving.

‘Don’t worry about me. Please,’ she’d said icily.

‘I don’t want you to be angry.’

‘I’m not.’

He knew she was, but he figured he could straighten everything out once he got to Puerto Vallarta.

Clarissa had formed an alliance with Norman Gooseberger. He had arrived in Arizona to take care of Whitney Valentine, but once Clarissa ascertained he was very good at what he did, she decided she wanted him for herself. Placing a direct call to Howard Soloman, she demanded Norman’s exclusive services for the remainder of the picture.

Howard was bemused. ‘You refuse to do publicity,’ he pointed out. ‘Why would you want Norman?’

She did not reply that she had a whim to take him away from Whitney. She just said one word – ‘Because.’

Howard understood
Because
when it was spoken by a star. ‘He’s yours,’ he said resignedly, wondering how Whitney would take the news.

Howard phoned Norman personally to give him the good news. ‘I’ve cleared it with Bernie,’ he said. ‘Just do whatever she wants, and stay close.’

Norman was thrilled. Clarissa Browning was his idol. He regarded her as one of the finest actresses of her generation – she ranked alongside Meryl Streep and Vanessa Redgrave as far as he was concerned.

Corey was not so thrilled. Norman had left for the weekend, and now could be away for weeks. ‘You mean you’re not coming back?’ he asked anxiously.

‘Don’t sweat it,’ Norman replied. ‘I’ll fix it so you get a few days in Puerto Vallarta. Meantime, pack me a suitcase and get it out on the next plane.’

Clarissa and Norman spent the three-day break between locations redefining Norman’s sexual urges.

‘You’re not
really
gay,’ she teased him, the night Mannon and the crew took off. They were in her suite, lying on the bed fully dressed, downing lethal concoctions of grapefruit juice, vodka and gin.

He nodded affirmatively. Not many people discussed his sexual preferences.

‘Come
on
,’ Clarissa said lazily. ‘How do you
know?
’

His voice sounded surprisingly dry. ‘It’s always been that way.’

‘Always?’

Another nod.

‘You mean you’ve never had a woman?’ She trailed delicate fingers across his cheek.

Shaking his head he remembered his mother’s loud voice when she discovered
Penthouse
magazine hidden under his pillow. He was thirteen at the time. ‘Filth!’ Carmel had boomed. ‘Pornography! You want to grow up just like your father, humping every open-legged starlet you see?’

No. He didn’t want to be like Orville. He’d heard the fights in the huge mansion the three of them inhabited with four Filipino servants. He’d seen the anger and hurt they inflicted on each other. So one day, when an older boy at Beverly Hills High made a suggestion to him, it seemed like a safe alternative. If he wasn’t to be just like Orville, he had to strike out in the other direction. And the other direction turned out to be extremely pleasurable.

Dropping out of school at seventeen, he went to New York, and enjoyed himself in the fast lane of the gay culture for several years. His parents, although horrified when they first found out he was what Orville called ‘a faggot’ and Carmel termed ‘queer’, were only too delighted that he chose to do his growing up out of sight. They gave him financial support, and the feeling they’d be happier if he stayed away.

When he decided to take a job and start shaping his life, Orville arranged a position for him in the San Francisco offices of Briskinn & Bower. He turned out to be excellent at what he did. P.R. was his vocation.

After meeting Corey, he felt the time had come to go home, and without delay he bought a house in the Hollywood Hills with some trust money he’d inherited. Setting up housekeeping with Corey was a real challenge. Norman was a grasshopper – he liked the thrill of many different sexual partners. So far he had managed – only just – to remain faithful to Corey.

‘You don’t know what you’re missing,’ Clarissa said softly, allowing her fingers to creep down to the buttons of his shirt.

Laughing uneasily he tried to figure out what she wanted. Clarissa Browning was a star, an Oscar-winning actress. She had Mannon Cable – what could she possibly want from him?

‘You’re very handsome, Norman,’ she said, lightly touching his exposed nipples. ‘It seems to me such a waste…’

‘What is?’ His voice cracked. He knew exactly what she meant. In spite of himself he felt a hardness in his pants.
My God! She’s actually turning me on!
he thought.

‘You know what,’ she replied huskily. ‘Don’t you ever wonder about a woman’s body? Oh, I know you can look at pictures if you so desire. But pictures can’t tell you about touch and taste and smell, can they?’

As she spoke she continued to massage his nipples, and by the time she began to unbutton her blouse he knew he was ready to do whatever she asked. The excitement of the unknown was pounding through his body. Norman Gooseberger was twenty-six years old, and he had never had sex with a woman.

‘Take off your clothes,’ she commanded.

With trembling hands he started to do just that.

Clarissa opened her blouse as she watched him. She wore no bra, and her breasts were small, with sharply extended nipples. As he stripped off, her eyes never left him. Distractedly she touched herself.

Now he was naked, and she was still dressed. His hard-on dominated the room.

‘Very nice,’ she murmured. ‘I want you to straddle me and touch it to my breasts.’

He could hardly breathe as he obeyed her request.

‘Easy,’ she said, taking his erection in her hands and rubbing it back and forth, the tip playing against her erect nipples. ‘Just take it slow and easy.’

How could he? All he wanted to do was come, and there was no way he could control it any longer.

‘Clarissa – I’m going to—’ Before he could get the word out, it happened. A throbbing, pulsating explosion.

And as his semen pumped all over her, she smiled – a secret smile. ‘We’ll make a man of you yet, won’t we, Norman?’

* * *

The first thing Mannon did when he arrived back in Los Angeles from the Arizona location was to instruct his driver to stop at a hamburger joint and get him two double burgers with everything on. This health kick Clarissa had him on was all very well, but he needed a break. Fuck it, he was doing his best – she couldn’t expect miracles.

Munching the burgers in the limo on the way to his house, he felt one hundred percent better.

Arriving home, he marched inside, the conquering hero returning from the wars of location to see his son.

There was no one to greet him. ‘Where is everyone?’ he hollered.

The Mexican housekeeper appeared. ‘Meesus Cable, she out.’

‘And the baby?’

‘He out.’

Wonderful. He’d rushed home specially, and everyone was out. What a welcome!

Not only were they out, but they did not return for another two hours. By this time he was furious.

‘Where have you been?’ he demanded, as Melanie-Shanna entered the house. Behind her stood a uniformed nurse carrying his three-week-old son, Jason. Not waiting for an answer, he rushed over to the nurse and inspected her small charge. ‘Jesus!’ he exclaimed. ‘He looks just like me!’

Later that night, after he’d spent plenty of time staring at his son and heir, and consumed a hearty roast beef dinner and a couple of scotches, he took a second look at Melanie-Shanna. He had to admit it – she was gorgeous. Of course, Clarissa had taught him that gorgeous wasn’t everything, and he missed her already, but Melanie-Shanna
was
still his wife, and maybe – until he broke the divorce news – he would be wise to pay her a little attention.

They had just got into bed when he reached for her. ‘How’re you doing, pretty?’

Edging away from his touch she replied, ‘Fine, thank you.’

‘You fine – me fine – baby fine. It’s good to be home.’

‘For how long?’

He detected hostility in her voice. Was it possible she’d heard about Clarissa and him?
Deny it – Deny it
and then
Deny it
.

‘Only three days, but the rest of the location’ll pass faster than you can buy yourself a present at Cartier.’

‘I want a divorce, Mannon.’

What? What did she say?
Was he losing his hearing?
I want a diamond necklace
he could understand.
I want an emerald ring
was easy. But
I want a divorce?
Come
on
. That was
his
line. And he wasn’t ready to say it. Not yet, anyway.

‘Huh?’

‘I said’ – her voice was clear and calm – ‘I want a divorce.’

‘Are you goddamn
crazy?
’

‘No. I’m perfectly sane.’

‘Why?’

‘You know why.’

‘Have you heard things about me and Clarissa?’

No reply.

‘
Have
you?’

No reply.

‘You’ve been listening to that cunt Poppy Soloman, haven’t you? Well, I’m here to tell you it’s lies –
all
goddamn lies.’