Jackie Collins, page 33
She'd been thirteen when he'd burst onto the scene and taken America by
storm with his most famous single, "Dog Days and Wild Women."
The song playing was a love song, not the romantic kind-but a driving,
hard song called "Viper Woman."
"Listen to this and tell me what you think," Emerson said, pacing up
and down his studio.
She studied his leather-clad legs. "Does it matter what I think?"
"Yeah, you're the public," he said, speaking quite slowly as if she was
an idiot. "You're the girl in the street. You won't kiss my assyoul
tell me the truth." He turned up the volume, almost blasting her out
of the room.
The 1vrir biniew her ene.
She loves me for my money She loves me for my power She even goddamn
loves me for my big fat car She's a Viper Woman Loves to rock n roll
She's a Viper Woman She only got one goal Oh yeah!
Money money Sex and honey She got her eye on it all Money money Sex and
honey This bitch is pretty damn cool!
The record certainly wasn't vintage Emerson Burn.
He turned the volume down and stared at her. "Well?"
"It's . . . it's okay," she said, standing up and smoothing her
skirt.
"Okay." He repeated "okay" as though it was a dirty word. "What are
you-deaf?" Then he raised his voice. "It's my new single, for
crissake. It's a fuckin' hit!"
Obviously he didn't care to hear the truth. Maybe she should lie and
say it was the best thing she'd ever heard.
Oh, the hell with it, why should she?
"I don't like it," she said. "I don't appreciate you calling women
bitches. If it's a love song, why isn't it more loving?"
"Who the fuck do you think you are?" he exploded. "Viper Woman is one
of the best things I've ever recorded."
"Who the hell do you think you are?" she blazed back. "I'm not some
burned-out groupie who's going to tell you it's wonderful if I don't
think so. You asked for my opinion and you got it."
"Get the fuck outta my sight," he snarled. "You don't know shit."
She was furious, but there was nothing she could do. A party was about
to take place and she had to make sure everything ran smoothly.
With as much dignity as she could muster she left the room.
"I knew this was going to be a good day."
Lauren turned around and faced Jimmy Cassady, the photographer who'd
asked her out a few weeks earlier.
"Hi," she said, glad to encounter a friendly face.
"Hi," he replied with a smile.
She groped for conversation. "Do you think Samm was surprised?"
"Surprised?" he laughed. "More like pissed."
"I guess it's not much fun being forty."
"Forty?" He laughed even louder. "You think Samm's forty? The woman
is fifty."
"What?" Lauren was amazed. "She doesn't look it."
"She doesn't even look forty," Jimmy said. "Samm's a phenomenon. Have
you seen pictures of her when she was modeling?"
"No.
"Dynamite!"
Lauren's eyes darted around the crowded party. Most of the guests had
arrived on time and when Samm put in an appearance with Selina on one
side and Emerson on the other they'd all screamed "SURPRISE!" right on
cue. And now everything was going so well she thought she might sneak
out.
"What's your story?" Jimmy asked, lighting a cigarette.
She turned to look at him. He was in his early thirties, short and
wiry with a pointed face and hair that was thinning on top and long in
the back. He wore it in a ponytail. He also wore John Lennon
eyeglasses and tight blue jeans. The jeans immediately reminded her of
Nick.
Sternly she put Nick Angelo out of her head.
"I don't have a story," she said, deciding she could exit through the
kitchen without anyone noticing.
"Everyone has a story," he replied confidently. "And I'm interested in
finding out yours.
She shrugged. "Small-town girl, came to New York, got a job.
That's it."
"There's a lot more to you than that. I could tell the moment I asked
you out."
"Not used to getting turned down, huh?"
He drew on his cigarette and regarded her with a contemplative
expression. "You're not married, are you?" He looked pointedly at her
left hand. bereft of nns.
"No, I'm not married," she said defensively.
"Going steady? I don't notice a guy with you."
"I'm not seeing anyone.
"Then why can't we go out?"
Good question, but she owed him no explanation. "Has it occurred to
you that I might not want to?" she said, hoping to put an end to the
conversation.
He refused to be put off. "Is it just me or does everyone get the big
no?"
"I'm leaving," she said, and then added, "Everything's going nicely,
they don't need me anymore.
"You organized this event?"
"Right." She began slowly edging toward the kitchen.
He followed her. "You did a pretty fine job, but you'd better not
leave.
"Why?"
He gestured over to the far corner. "Because Selina is just about to
kill Nature. Take a look."
Lauren looked. Nature was all over Emerson Burn, who lounged on a
couch, his leather-clad legs stretched out before him. Her shrieking
laugh could be heard all the way across the room.
Selina hovered behind him clad in a floating chiffon dress, her cat
eyes signaling immediate danger.
"It's not my problem," Lauren said.
"How come?" Jimmy asked. "You're known around the office as the
solver of all problems."
"I am?"
He grinned. "Yeah. Have you any idea what they call you behind your
back?"
She wished he'd leave her alone. "I'm sure you can't wait to tell
me.
He seemed amused. "Miss E."
Now she was really irritated. "Miss E.? What's that supposed to
mean?"
He laughed. "Miss Efficiency."
"Oh, thanks a lot," she said, not exactly thrilled with the title.
He pressed on. "It's true, isn't it? You do everything for
everybody.
You've made yourself indisensable. How lon have you been there -three
months? The other bookers must love you. I bet even Pia's getting
nervous about her job."
How come he knew so much about her? "What are you talking about?"
He stubbed his cigarette in a nearby ashtray. "I'm talking about
you.
You're the ideal personal assistant-and don't think it's escaped Samm's
notice, because nothing escapes Madam."
"I'm not after anyone's job," Lauren said. "I'm perfectly happy doing
what I'm doing."
He stared at her from behind his John Lennon specs. "Yes?"
"Yes," she replied defiantly, preparing to take off.
"Oh, shit!" he exclaimed.
"What?"
"Take a look at them now."
She glanced over at Selina, Nature and Emerson in time to observe
Selina slowly and deliberately pour a full glass of champagne over
Emerson's head.
"Leave em to it," Jimmy said, putting a restraining hand on her arm
just in case she was about to take care of that problem too.
"They'll work it out between em.
Emerson Burn was now on his feet, stoned and swaying, champagne
dripping down his face. "Yer stupid bleedin' cow," he shouted.
"You've ruined me bleedin'" "Yeah," Nature joined in. "Look what
you've done."
"Stay out of it, bimbo," yelled Selina.
"What'd you call me?" Nature yelled back.
And before anyone could stop them they were at each other like a couple
of wildcats, tearing at hair, clothing, earrings-anything they could
get their hands on.
Emerson prevented anyone from getting near them. "Let em at it," he
shouted happily. "This is the best part of the bleedin' party."
"Come on," said Jimmy, taking Lauren's arm. "I'm escorting you out of
here."
Before she could argue he steered her to the door and they slipped away
into the night.
yndra stormed around her apartment raging in disbelief. "Someone's
been in here. I don't believe it! Look, Reece, look, there's
cigarette butts in the ashtrays and a burn hole on the arm of the
couch."
"Even better," Reece shouted from the bedroom, where he was
investigating further. "Instead of taking our stuff they've left a bag
here."
"What?" she said, marching into the bedroom to see what he was talking
about. Sure enough, there was somebody's bag full of clothes.
She began searching through it.
"I don't understand," Reece said, scratching his chin.
"I do," Cyndra said, pulling out a pair of worn jeans. "This is Nick's
stufE" "Who's Nick?"
"I told you about him-he's my brother."
Screw it! Reece thought. Relatives! That's all I need. "How'd he
get in? An' where is he?" Reece demanded.
"Knowing Nick, he broke in. Is there a note or something?"
"That's a helluva thing, breakin' into a person's apartment," Reece
grumbled.
"Oh, like you wouldn't."
The second night of working for Glamour Limousines Nick landed the
airport run again. This time his passenger was an anorexic woman
producer with cropped hair and a bad temper. Julia something or
other.
She sat in the back of his limo snorting coke and talking nonstop on a
portable phone.
When they reached Bel Air he got lost in the winding hills and she
screamed at him, calling him a dumb fuck and a stupid prick. He almost
stopped the car and threw her out, but wisdom prevailed.
When they reached her house she changed moods and invited him in.
"What for?" he asked.
She had desperate eyes and bad breath. "A fuck."
"Sorry-got another job."
Sweet revenge. Not that he'd have fucked her even with somebody else's
dick.
So far he was not having a wonderful time in L.A. That night he stayed
at the motel again, and in the morning he called Cyndra.
"Nick!" she exclaimed excitedly. "I've been waiting for your call, I
knew you were here. I went through your bag and unpacked it.
Naturally I had to wash all your clothes, you filthy hog. Nothing's
changed, huh?"
"Where've you been?" he demanded. "I came all this way and you
weren't even home."
"Where are you?"
"In some crappy motel on Hollywood Boulevard."
"Get over here fast! You'll stay with me and Reece. Hurry up, I'll
make you breakfast."
"Since when do you cook?"
"This is California. I take it from the freezer, put it in the toaster
and call it waffles. You'll love my cooking!"
He made it over to her apartment as fast as possible, parking his car
on the street.
She greeted him at the door, almost jumping up and down with
excitement. Throwing her arms around him she hugged him tightly and
dragged him inside.
"It was you, wasn't it? You broke into my apartment."
He grinned. "What else could I do? You weren't around, so I spent the
night here, an' when I came back the next day the super wouldn't let me
in."
Cyndra giggled. "Don't mess with Rasta. He's a wild man."
They went into the tiny kitchen, where she poured him coffee and
toasted her famous frozen waffles.
"So where were you?" he asked again.
"Guess," she said, grinning happily.
He hated playing games. "I can't guess."
She took a deep breath. "I got married."
"How long is it since you've seen this brother He chewed on his lip.
of yours?"
"Going on four years.
Reece's imagination began running wild. Cyndra, his little darkie
beauty, probably had a brother who was over six feet tall and black as
his patent-leather shoes. What's more, it was likely that he'd want to
beat the shit out of him. "You gotta be careful of relatives," he
cautioned.
She turned on him angrily. "Nick's my brother. I love him."
"Well," Reece said, hoping the brother would not put in a return
appearance, "there's nothing we can do about it. I'll store his bag in
the closet and we'll see if he contacts you. One thing, honey. If he
does-I've had experience-don't get too cozy with relatives, cause they
come to stay and then you can never get rid of em."
"Thanks, I'll take your advice," she said sarcastically. "I'll throw
my own brother out on the street and hope he doesn't bug me again."
If they'd been married longer Reece might have smacked her, he didn't
appreciate sassy women. But he knew that the moment you hit a woman
you had to have her in a position where she couldn't leave, and since
they'd only just gotten married, she might take off on him, and then
where would he be, what with the money he'd laid out on singing
lessons, clothes and all the rest.
"I'm going to a meeting," he said, adjusting the tilt of his Stetson.
She didn't reply. She was too busy thinking about where Nick might
be.
Oh, great. "You did?"
"Yes-me and Reece got married in Las Vegas." She looked at him with a
half-guilty, half-delighted expression-seeking his approval.
"Oh, Nick, I hope you like him. He's helping me with my career-he
really cares about me."
"Good. Cause if he didn't I'd have to kill him," Nick said, making it
sound like a joke.
"He does. You'll see. I mean, when you first meet him you might think
he's a tiny bit older than me and, y'know, like maybe his cowboy
clothes are kinda silly, but he's gonna help me make it big."
"If you say so.
Her marriage had taken him by surprise. He'd imagined them sharing an
apartment and hanging out together just like Chicago. Now she had a
husband and there was no way he could stay.
He tried to find out more. "What does this character do?"
"Personal manager," she said proudly.
"Who does he manage?"
"Who do you think? Me, of course!"
Ofeourse. "So how does he make money?"
She waved her hands vaguely in the air. "I don't know, he has an
office he goes to. We don't discuss money. He always has enough."
Sometimes his sister was extremely naive-how could she not know what
her husband did?
"You'll stay here," she said. "The couch turns into a bed-you'll be
very comfortable."
It was different now. He was certainly glad to see her, but he didn't
plan on moving in. "No, it won't work out-not with you bein' newly
married an' all."
She couldn't hide her disappointment. "You've got to stay here,
storm with his most famous single, "Dog Days and Wild Women."
The song playing was a love song, not the romantic kind-but a driving,
hard song called "Viper Woman."
"Listen to this and tell me what you think," Emerson said, pacing up
and down his studio.
She studied his leather-clad legs. "Does it matter what I think?"
"Yeah, you're the public," he said, speaking quite slowly as if she was
an idiot. "You're the girl in the street. You won't kiss my assyoul
tell me the truth." He turned up the volume, almost blasting her out
of the room.
The 1vrir biniew her ene.
She loves me for my money She loves me for my power She even goddamn
loves me for my big fat car She's a Viper Woman Loves to rock n roll
She's a Viper Woman She only got one goal Oh yeah!
Money money Sex and honey She got her eye on it all Money money Sex and
honey This bitch is pretty damn cool!
The record certainly wasn't vintage Emerson Burn.
He turned the volume down and stared at her. "Well?"
"It's . . . it's okay," she said, standing up and smoothing her
skirt.
"Okay." He repeated "okay" as though it was a dirty word. "What are
you-deaf?" Then he raised his voice. "It's my new single, for
crissake. It's a fuckin' hit!"
Obviously he didn't care to hear the truth. Maybe she should lie and
say it was the best thing she'd ever heard.
Oh, the hell with it, why should she?
"I don't like it," she said. "I don't appreciate you calling women
bitches. If it's a love song, why isn't it more loving?"
"Who the fuck do you think you are?" he exploded. "Viper Woman is one
of the best things I've ever recorded."
"Who the hell do you think you are?" she blazed back. "I'm not some
burned-out groupie who's going to tell you it's wonderful if I don't
think so. You asked for my opinion and you got it."
"Get the fuck outta my sight," he snarled. "You don't know shit."
She was furious, but there was nothing she could do. A party was about
to take place and she had to make sure everything ran smoothly.
With as much dignity as she could muster she left the room.
"I knew this was going to be a good day."
Lauren turned around and faced Jimmy Cassady, the photographer who'd
asked her out a few weeks earlier.
"Hi," she said, glad to encounter a friendly face.
"Hi," he replied with a smile.
She groped for conversation. "Do you think Samm was surprised?"
"Surprised?" he laughed. "More like pissed."
"I guess it's not much fun being forty."
"Forty?" He laughed even louder. "You think Samm's forty? The woman
is fifty."
"What?" Lauren was amazed. "She doesn't look it."
"She doesn't even look forty," Jimmy said. "Samm's a phenomenon. Have
you seen pictures of her when she was modeling?"
"No.
"Dynamite!"
Lauren's eyes darted around the crowded party. Most of the guests had
arrived on time and when Samm put in an appearance with Selina on one
side and Emerson on the other they'd all screamed "SURPRISE!" right on
cue. And now everything was going so well she thought she might sneak
out.
"What's your story?" Jimmy asked, lighting a cigarette.
She turned to look at him. He was in his early thirties, short and
wiry with a pointed face and hair that was thinning on top and long in
the back. He wore it in a ponytail. He also wore John Lennon
eyeglasses and tight blue jeans. The jeans immediately reminded her of
Nick.
Sternly she put Nick Angelo out of her head.
"I don't have a story," she said, deciding she could exit through the
kitchen without anyone noticing.
"Everyone has a story," he replied confidently. "And I'm interested in
finding out yours.
She shrugged. "Small-town girl, came to New York, got a job.
That's it."
"There's a lot more to you than that. I could tell the moment I asked
you out."
"Not used to getting turned down, huh?"
He drew on his cigarette and regarded her with a contemplative
expression. "You're not married, are you?" He looked pointedly at her
left hand. bereft of nns.
"No, I'm not married," she said defensively.
"Going steady? I don't notice a guy with you."
"I'm not seeing anyone.
"Then why can't we go out?"
Good question, but she owed him no explanation. "Has it occurred to
you that I might not want to?" she said, hoping to put an end to the
conversation.
He refused to be put off. "Is it just me or does everyone get the big
no?"
"I'm leaving," she said, and then added, "Everything's going nicely,
they don't need me anymore.
"You organized this event?"
"Right." She began slowly edging toward the kitchen.
He followed her. "You did a pretty fine job, but you'd better not
leave.
"Why?"
He gestured over to the far corner. "Because Selina is just about to
kill Nature. Take a look."
Lauren looked. Nature was all over Emerson Burn, who lounged on a
couch, his leather-clad legs stretched out before him. Her shrieking
laugh could be heard all the way across the room.
Selina hovered behind him clad in a floating chiffon dress, her cat
eyes signaling immediate danger.
"It's not my problem," Lauren said.
"How come?" Jimmy asked. "You're known around the office as the
solver of all problems."
"I am?"
He grinned. "Yeah. Have you any idea what they call you behind your
back?"
She wished he'd leave her alone. "I'm sure you can't wait to tell
me.
He seemed amused. "Miss E."
Now she was really irritated. "Miss E.? What's that supposed to
mean?"
He laughed. "Miss Efficiency."
"Oh, thanks a lot," she said, not exactly thrilled with the title.
He pressed on. "It's true, isn't it? You do everything for
everybody.
You've made yourself indisensable. How lon have you been there -three
months? The other bookers must love you. I bet even Pia's getting
nervous about her job."
How come he knew so much about her? "What are you talking about?"
He stubbed his cigarette in a nearby ashtray. "I'm talking about
you.
You're the ideal personal assistant-and don't think it's escaped Samm's
notice, because nothing escapes Madam."
"I'm not after anyone's job," Lauren said. "I'm perfectly happy doing
what I'm doing."
He stared at her from behind his John Lennon specs. "Yes?"
"Yes," she replied defiantly, preparing to take off.
"Oh, shit!" he exclaimed.
"What?"
"Take a look at them now."
She glanced over at Selina, Nature and Emerson in time to observe
Selina slowly and deliberately pour a full glass of champagne over
Emerson's head.
"Leave em to it," Jimmy said, putting a restraining hand on her arm
just in case she was about to take care of that problem too.
"They'll work it out between em.
Emerson Burn was now on his feet, stoned and swaying, champagne
dripping down his face. "Yer stupid bleedin' cow," he shouted.
"You've ruined me bleedin'" "Yeah," Nature joined in. "Look what
you've done."
"Stay out of it, bimbo," yelled Selina.
"What'd you call me?" Nature yelled back.
And before anyone could stop them they were at each other like a couple
of wildcats, tearing at hair, clothing, earrings-anything they could
get their hands on.
Emerson prevented anyone from getting near them. "Let em at it," he
shouted happily. "This is the best part of the bleedin' party."
"Come on," said Jimmy, taking Lauren's arm. "I'm escorting you out of
here."
Before she could argue he steered her to the door and they slipped away
into the night.
yndra stormed around her apartment raging in disbelief. "Someone's
been in here. I don't believe it! Look, Reece, look, there's
cigarette butts in the ashtrays and a burn hole on the arm of the
couch."
"Even better," Reece shouted from the bedroom, where he was
investigating further. "Instead of taking our stuff they've left a bag
here."
"What?" she said, marching into the bedroom to see what he was talking
about. Sure enough, there was somebody's bag full of clothes.
She began searching through it.
"I don't understand," Reece said, scratching his chin.
"I do," Cyndra said, pulling out a pair of worn jeans. "This is Nick's
stufE" "Who's Nick?"
"I told you about him-he's my brother."
Screw it! Reece thought. Relatives! That's all I need. "How'd he
get in? An' where is he?" Reece demanded.
"Knowing Nick, he broke in. Is there a note or something?"
"That's a helluva thing, breakin' into a person's apartment," Reece
grumbled.
"Oh, like you wouldn't."
The second night of working for Glamour Limousines Nick landed the
airport run again. This time his passenger was an anorexic woman
producer with cropped hair and a bad temper. Julia something or
other.
She sat in the back of his limo snorting coke and talking nonstop on a
portable phone.
When they reached Bel Air he got lost in the winding hills and she
screamed at him, calling him a dumb fuck and a stupid prick. He almost
stopped the car and threw her out, but wisdom prevailed.
When they reached her house she changed moods and invited him in.
"What for?" he asked.
She had desperate eyes and bad breath. "A fuck."
"Sorry-got another job."
Sweet revenge. Not that he'd have fucked her even with somebody else's
dick.
So far he was not having a wonderful time in L.A. That night he stayed
at the motel again, and in the morning he called Cyndra.
"Nick!" she exclaimed excitedly. "I've been waiting for your call, I
knew you were here. I went through your bag and unpacked it.
Naturally I had to wash all your clothes, you filthy hog. Nothing's
changed, huh?"
"Where've you been?" he demanded. "I came all this way and you
weren't even home."
"Where are you?"
"In some crappy motel on Hollywood Boulevard."
"Get over here fast! You'll stay with me and Reece. Hurry up, I'll
make you breakfast."
"Since when do you cook?"
"This is California. I take it from the freezer, put it in the toaster
and call it waffles. You'll love my cooking!"
He made it over to her apartment as fast as possible, parking his car
on the street.
She greeted him at the door, almost jumping up and down with
excitement. Throwing her arms around him she hugged him tightly and
dragged him inside.
"It was you, wasn't it? You broke into my apartment."
He grinned. "What else could I do? You weren't around, so I spent the
night here, an' when I came back the next day the super wouldn't let me
in."
Cyndra giggled. "Don't mess with Rasta. He's a wild man."
They went into the tiny kitchen, where she poured him coffee and
toasted her famous frozen waffles.
"So where were you?" he asked again.
"Guess," she said, grinning happily.
He hated playing games. "I can't guess."
She took a deep breath. "I got married."
"How long is it since you've seen this brother He chewed on his lip.
of yours?"
"Going on four years.
Reece's imagination began running wild. Cyndra, his little darkie
beauty, probably had a brother who was over six feet tall and black as
his patent-leather shoes. What's more, it was likely that he'd want to
beat the shit out of him. "You gotta be careful of relatives," he
cautioned.
She turned on him angrily. "Nick's my brother. I love him."
"Well," Reece said, hoping the brother would not put in a return
appearance, "there's nothing we can do about it. I'll store his bag in
the closet and we'll see if he contacts you. One thing, honey. If he
does-I've had experience-don't get too cozy with relatives, cause they
come to stay and then you can never get rid of em."
"Thanks, I'll take your advice," she said sarcastically. "I'll throw
my own brother out on the street and hope he doesn't bug me again."
If they'd been married longer Reece might have smacked her, he didn't
appreciate sassy women. But he knew that the moment you hit a woman
you had to have her in a position where she couldn't leave, and since
they'd only just gotten married, she might take off on him, and then
where would he be, what with the money he'd laid out on singing
lessons, clothes and all the rest.
"I'm going to a meeting," he said, adjusting the tilt of his Stetson.
She didn't reply. She was too busy thinking about where Nick might
be.
Oh, great. "You did?"
"Yes-me and Reece got married in Las Vegas." She looked at him with a
half-guilty, half-delighted expression-seeking his approval.
"Oh, Nick, I hope you like him. He's helping me with my career-he
really cares about me."
"Good. Cause if he didn't I'd have to kill him," Nick said, making it
sound like a joke.
"He does. You'll see. I mean, when you first meet him you might think
he's a tiny bit older than me and, y'know, like maybe his cowboy
clothes are kinda silly, but he's gonna help me make it big."
"If you say so.
Her marriage had taken him by surprise. He'd imagined them sharing an
apartment and hanging out together just like Chicago. Now she had a
husband and there was no way he could stay.
He tried to find out more. "What does this character do?"
"Personal manager," she said proudly.
"Who does he manage?"
"Who do you think? Me, of course!"
Ofeourse. "So how does he make money?"
She waved her hands vaguely in the air. "I don't know, he has an
office he goes to. We don't discuss money. He always has enough."
Sometimes his sister was extremely naive-how could she not know what
her husband did?
"You'll stay here," she said. "The couch turns into a bed-you'll be
very comfortable."
It was different now. He was certainly glad to see her, but he didn't
plan on moving in. "No, it won't work out-not with you bein' newly
married an' all."
She couldn't hide her disappointment. "You've got to stay here,
