Jackie Collins, page 34
Nick."
How could he resist her big brown eyes? "Maybe just for tonight, but
then I'll find my own place."
"You can listen to my tapes," she said proudly. "They're
professional.
I'm a real singer now."
"Yeah?" He remembered her singing debut at Q.J."s-a total disaster.
"I've been taking lessons," she said. "Reece has a record company
interested in cutting a demo with me. And when we were in Vegas I met
a couple of the talent bookers at the big hotels, and they might hire
me to sing in one of the lounges."
"Sounds great."
"And it's all because of Reece."
"I'm glad you're happy."
"So what made you come to L.A.? I thought everything was going so well
in Chicago."
Yeah. Going so well-all the way to nowhere.
"I finally decided I hadda give acting a shot. You know it's what I've
always wanted to do."
"This is the right place. Maybe Reece can be your manager too."
Sure. Bring him in on a family package.
When Reece arrived home he and Nick sized each other up, circling
warily.
Nick thought Reece looked like a dumb asshole with his fringed suede
jacket, stupid cowboy hat and droopy mustache. Not good enough for
Cyndra by a long way. And too old.
Reece was relieved to discover that Nick was white. All day long his
imagination had been running riot-Cyndra's brother had been getting
bigger and blacker as the day progressed. Now here was this skinny
white kid, and he didn't feel threatened at all.
"What do you do, Nick?" he asked, going for the friendly brotherin-law
approach.
"I was running a bar in Chicago, but I came out here to get into
acting."
Reece couldn't help himselœ "Yeah-you and every other schmuck in
town."
"Excuse me?" Nick said, holding his temper in check because he didn't
want to upset his sister.
"Oh . . . no offense. I mean kids come to Hollywood all the time
tryin' to make it. Everyone wants to be a star."
"Oh, I'll make it," Nick said confidently.
"That's nice," Reece replied. "Y'see, with me behind her, your
sister's gonna be a big star."
"Is that why you married her?" he asked, hitting pay dirt.
Reece glared at him. "I married her cause I love her."
"That's nice," Nick replied, giving him a long hard stare. "Because if
anyone ever hurts my sister, they're dead."
Reece couldn't wait to corner Cyndra in the kitchen. "How long is he
gonna stay?" he asked agitatedly.
"Only for the night," she said, not catching his concern. "I'm trying
to persuade him to hang around longer. Why don't you talk to him?"
"Sure," he said, although he had no intention of doing so. The sooner
the brother was out of their way the better.
The next morning Nick sat at the kitchen table studying the newspaper,
circling apartment possibilities. "I'd like to get a place at the
beach," he said.
"That's easy," Cyndra replied. "I've heard the rent is lower in
Venice. We could look around later today."
"Good idea," he said, folding the newspaper.
Later, when they were driving along Santa Monica he asked her if she
ever heard from Joey.
She brushed back her long black hair. "I wish I did. I wrote him
several times, he never bothered to reply. The last time I called,
someone said he'd moved and left no forwarding address."
"Sounds like Joey."
She nodded wistfully. "Sometimes I miss him. We shared so much
together."
Nick felt the same way. "Yeah, we did, didn't we?" he said, thinking
of the good old days when the three of them had faced the world
alone-hitching rides, sleeping on park benches, sharing a motel room.
The first apartment they looked at was a rathole with broken windows,
stained carpets and barely hidden roach motels. As soon as they got
outside, Cyndra said, "Ugh, if that's the kind of places available I
still say you should stay with us. Reece wouldn't mind. He likes
you.
Sure, Nick thought. Like a rat loves a cobra.
"Will you think about it? Please?"
He promised he would, but of course he wouldn't. One night with Reece
Webster was one night too many.
The second apartment they saw was better. Unfortunately the rent was
too high, so they moved on. The next three were hopeless. On their
sixth try they found a pleasant if somewhat rundown house on the beach
in Venice divided into one-room apartments.
The landlady-a slovenly woman in a grubby orange robe and fluffy
bedroom slippers-showed them a front-room apartment overlooking the
beach. It was a large, sunny room with a small kitchenette.
"No bathroom?" Nick asked.
"You share with the other apartment in front," the landlady said, a
cigarette dangling from the corner of her mouth.
"I dunno-" "The tenant is never there-she travels all the time, so you
more or less got it all to yourself."
He looked at Cyndra. "What d'you think?"
"It certainly beats anything else we've seen."
"You superstitious?" the landlady asked, picking tobacco from her
teeth.
Nick noticed a hole in one of her slippers. "Why?" he asked, trying
not to stare.
"Cause a guy died in here last week. Hung himself." She hoisted an
escaping bra strap. "I'm up-front about it-don't wanna fool you.
If you're into that karma thing, you may not wanna live here."
He shook his head. "Karma thing? Shit, the rent is right an' it's on
the beach-I'll take it."
Cyndra squeezed his hand. "Reece and I will help you fix it up. If we
all come here next weekend with a bucketful of paint we can make it
look terrific."
"You got yourself a job. And you," he said, turning to the landlady,
"got yourself a tenant."
After leaving a deposit he drove Cyndra back to Hollywood. She talked
all the way about old times and the future and her career.
Finally she just threw it into the conversation. "Did you ever hear
from Lauren? Remember-that girl you liked in high school?"
As if he was going to forget. Was she crazy? He would never forget
Lauren.
"Nope. I guess she dumped me," he replied, making it sound casual. "I
wrote her a lot-she never replied."
"She probably married that big jerk she was engaged to," Cyndra said,
rolling down the window. "Strick-wasn't that his name?"
"Stock."
"Oh, yeah, Stock." She giggled. "Dumb oaf! Hey, remember that New
Year's Eve when he broke your nose?"
"What a prick!"
"And then a few weeks later you beat him up."
"Those were the good times," he said dryly.
"Would you ever go back?"
"Would you?" he countered.
She hesitated. "Only if I was a star. A real big star. I'd be driven
into town for a visit in a fancy limo and I'd show em all who I
wasevery damn one of them." Now she was warming to her subject. "I'd
be wearin' one of those big fox fur coats like Diana Ross, an' some
kinda slinky sequined dress. And I'd have a carload of presents for
Aretha Mae and Harlan."
"Do you miss him?" Nick asked, pulling up at a stoplight.
Her expression was wistful. "Sometimes I feel bad about leavin' him
behind-kinda guilty."
"Yeah, I know what you mean. But we couldn't have taken him."
"I know."
"Hey-maybe we'll both make it big an' we can go back together.
How's that?"
She nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah! We'll show that damn town a thing
or two."
As he was dropping her off at her apartment they bumped into Annie
Broderick getting into her car.
"I see you two found each other," Annie said. "Is he really your
brother?"
Cyndra nodded happily, clinging to his arm. "Absolutely. Didn't you
believe him?"
"You aren't exactly the same color," Annie said bluntly.
"We share the same father, but not the same mother," Cyndra explained
matter-of-factly.
"I was only looking out for your interests," Annie said, pushing her
hand through her short red hair. "Didn't want some stranger breaking
into your apartment."
"You looked after her interests, all right," Nick said. "I almost had
to sleep in my car."
"At least you've got a car. Think yourself lucky."
"Thanks, Annie," Cyndra said quickly-defusing the situation.
"What's her problem?" Nick asked, as soon as she left.
"It's tough being a single girl alone in L.A."
"No boyfriend?"
"She's into her career.
"What does she do anyway? She said something about going to class the
other night."
Cyndra looked amused. "What do you think she does? What do you think
everyone does in L.A.? She's an actress of course."
"So-how do you get into this class of hers? Do you have to pay?"
"Dunno-never been. Talk to Annie about it."
"Maybe I will."
A few weeks later Nick had settled into the L.A. routine. He had his
job at Glamour Limousines. He had his apartment at the beach. He'd
even started to work out a little and eat healthier foods, and he spoke
to Cyndra on the phone every couple of days.
All she could talk about was the deals Reece was about to make on her
behalf. He didn't trust Reece. The guy had "con artist" written all
over him-he'd seen enough cheap hustlers in Q.J."s to recognize that
combination of smarmy charm and bullshit a mile away Still . . . it
wasn't his business, Cyndra seemed happy enough.
One day he asked her for Annie Broderick's number.
"Why? Are you plannin' on taking her out?" Cyndra asked.
He hadn't considered it, but it wasn't such a bad idea if he wanted to
find out more about her acting class. Plus he was feeling horny.
Oh, was he horny! Of course, Annie Broderick was not his usual type,
too gamin-looking and short, but he had to admit she did have a
sensational body-and it had been too long between pit stops. He was
even starting to miss DeVille.
Cyndra gave him Annie's number. He waited a day and called. "I'd like
to buy you lunch," he said, expecting an immediate yes.
"Why?" she asked suspiciously.
Oh, shit, he was going to have to work for it." Cause I kinda think we
got off on a downer, an' I don't have many friends here."
She was silent.
He was prepared to work-but not that hard. "Hey-big deal. You wanna
have lunch or not?"
She was not exactly filled with enthusiasm. "Maybe."
Didn't she realize this was Nick Angelo calling? "Maybe. What's that
supposed to mean?"
"Well . . . can you come to where I work?"
"Tell me where."
"The Body Beautiful on Santa Monica."
"Are you kidding me? What's the Body Beautiful?"
"It's a health club."
Glamour Limousines. The Body Beautiful. They sure loved to foster
illusions in L.A. "Okay," he said.
"I get a break at noon.
"Il be there."
Body Beautiful was in a big white building on Santa Monica. The place
was alive with people hurrying in and out, all wearing shorts, tank
tops, cut-outs, tights, every kind of variation on workout gear.
"Can I help you?" asked a California blonde perched behind the
reception desk, her perky breasts covered by a white Body Beautiful
T-shirt.
"I'm looking for Annie Broderick," he said, checking out her
attributes.
She caught him looking, fluttered long fake lashes and smiled. "Oh you
must be Nick."
He was surprised Annie had mentioned him-maybe she liked him better
than she'd let on.
"Is she around?"
"She's getting changed. She'll be with you in a minute." The girl's
smile brightened. "I understand you're new in town."
"Sort of."
"How did you meet Annie?"
"She lives in the same building as my sister," he said, noticing that
she wasn't wearing a bra.
"Hmm . . ." She eyed him hungrily. "I wish I did."
He knew a come-on when it hit him in the face. "What's your name?" he
asked, going along for the ride.
Annie cut him off at the pass by appearing at the reception desk.
"Let's go," she said briskly, taking his arm and leading him out of the
building.
"Where are we going?" he asked, thinking she looked healthy and
glowing and really quite attractive-even if she wasn't his type.
"There's a health food place across the street. Have you ever tried a
turkey burger?"
"Is that like a hamburger without the taste?"
She smiled. "Come on-you'll love it."
"I will?"
"Yes, you will," she said firmly.
They crossed the street, entered the restaurant and sat at a window
table. Annie immediately ordered two health burgers. "Turkey, soya
and seasonings. It's the most delicious thing you've ever tasted," she
assured him.
"I'm drooling!"
"You're funny."
They exchanged smiles.
"So," he said, "you work at a health club, eat healthy foods and
exercise in the pool. What are you in training for-the Olympics?"
She tapped her fingers on the table. "I don't know if I told you or
not, but I'm really an actress. That's why I have to stay in great
shape."
"Isn't being a good actress enough?"
"Producers expect you to have a Raquel Welch body."
"In case you have to do a nude scene, huh?"
"Maybe."
"Would you?"
"If it was an integral part of the story."
He burst out laughing. "Come on-that's like me saying I read Playboy
for the articles."
She couldn't help laughing too. The waitress delivered their turkey
burgers. Nick looked at his suspiciously.
"Go ahead, taste it," Annie encouraged.
"Can I have ketchup?"
He had no intention of getting rejected. Once he got through the
door-whoever's door it was-he was going to make such an impression
they'd never let him go.
"I'd like to come to class with you. I could sit in back and watch."
"I don't see why not. You're allowed to observe two sessions, after
that you have to pay-that's if Miss Byron accepts you."
"Who's Miss Byron?"
"Joy Byron-the best acting coach in town."
If she was the best, he wanted her. "When can I come?"
"How about tonight?"
"No, nights are out. I got this gig driving for a limo company."
