Jackie Collins, page 44
"I told you-I don't have it."
ù "Then you'd better get it, you cheap little hooker."
"He's got a gun," she said in a flat voice. "He could blow both our
heads off. Whyn't you do us both a favor an' go quietly?"
"This was a setup all along," the man said bitterly. "I seen you
people on television, you had no intention of putting out."
"Listen, mister, you're the one started to whine like a baby."
"You black bitch-if I'm not getting my money, I'll sure get my money's
worth." Unexpectedly he grabbed her, his wet lips slobbering all over
her neck.
She shoved him off, but he came at her again.
Suddenly she was back in the Browning house in Bosewell and he was Mr.
Browning-grabbing her, forcing her to do things. Every bad memory
flooded over her.
"I . . . won't . . . do . . . this," she screamed, kicking out.
"You'll do it unless I get my money back," he said, roughly squeezing
her breasts.
Was money all anybody cared about? Mr. Browning's words hung in the
air-black cunt . . . black bitch . . . She could hear his voice, his
insults. It was like it had all happened yesterday.
They fell back on the bed and her screams became louder. Somebody
knocked on the dividing wall yelling, "Shut up!"
The door flew open and Reece marched in. "What in hellfire's going' on
here?" he demanded, narrow eyes pinning Cyndra accusingly.
"He . . . he . . . tried to attack me," she gasped.
"Damn whore," the man muttered. "The bitch wouldn't give me
nothin'."
"I left you two to have a good time," Reece said patiently, tapping one
of his pointy-toed cowboy boots on the frayed carpet. "An' all you're
doin' is fighting. Course she's gonna give you any sweet thing you
want." He threw her a warning look. "Get it together, lion, or you
know what'll happen."
"Screw you, Reece," she spat. "You can't treat me like this."
His hand hovered near his belt. "Oh, I can't, huh?"
The man decided the time had come to get back to his hotel room and his
flabby wife. "I want my money," he said, making one last attempt to
claim what was his.
"No refunds," Reece snapped.
i "You had no right to pull this on me," Cyndra said, tears stinging
her eyes. "I'll divorce you, that's what I'll do."
Reece stood dangerously still. "Honey, you'll do what I say you'll
do."
"Why don't I take my money and leave," the man suggested, not liking
the way this was going.
"Shut your mouth an' stay out of this," Reece said, not even looking in
his direction. This was between him and Cyndra, and she had to learn a
lesson.
"Maybe what I should do is call the cops," the man threatened.
"You stole from me.
Reece jumped to attention, pulling back his jacket and revealing the
gun stuck in his belt. "You ain't going nowhere, partner."
"Aw, Jesus!" the man groaned, the color draining from his face.
"Aw, sweet Jesus!"
Reece turned his attention back to Cyndra. "Get your clothes off I
hear one more scream outta this room an' you know what'll happen.
The man began slowly edging toward the door.
Cyndra stared at Reece, a deep rage burning inside her. "You know
what, Reece-you're nothing but a dumb pimp," she said, the words
spilling out. "In fact, that's all you're capable of-pimping. How
does it feel to be pimp of the year? Pimp of the fucking century?"
Her voice rose. "How does it feel to know you CAN'T DO ANYTHING
ELSE?"
The person next door hammered on the wall again.
"You callin' me a pimp?" Reece yelled. "Well, what does that make
you? A whore, honey. A drippin' blood-suckin' whore."
"Oh, I ain't no whore, mister. Don't you get it? I ain't no whore!"
She leaped off the bed, furious.
Removing the gun from his belt Reece waved it in her face.
"-Don't threaten me," she yelled hysterically. "You can't control my
life. You can't control me." She lunged at him, grabbing for the
gun.
The man reached the door, sweat coursing down his face. These two were
crazy. And he was equally crazy to have come here.
His hand clutched the doorknob as Cyndra and Reece struggled for
possession of the gun. His hand was so slick with sweat he couldn't
get it open.
And then a shot rang out. One lone shot.
The bullet ricocheted off the wall and hit the man in the back of his
head. He fell to the floor without a sound. There was a long moment
of frozen silence.
"Oh, shit," Reece said, panic-stricken. "Look what you done, you crazy
bitch-you shot the dumb motherfucker. You killed him, you stupid
cunt.
You gone and goddamn killed him!" m not as bad as you think," Emerson
said.
"How do you know what I think?" Lauren replied, sliding along the
leather seat as far away from him as she could get.
"It's not exacfly difficult figuring you out."
"Figure this out, Emerson. I'd like to get out of this car, and I'd
like to get out now.
He shrugged. "Okay, I'll admit it. I was bombed outta my skull and I
gave you a hard time. So I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you."
She shook her head. "What does it take to get you to understand that I
don't want anything to do with you?"
He began to laugh. "That's what I like about you. You're different
from the rest of em. You can even string two words together."
"So can Nature," she snapped.
"You try living with Nature," he said gloomily. "It's a bloody
nightmare. Anyway, we split-didn't she tell you?"
Lauren leaned forward and tapped on the smoky black glass separating
them from the driver.
"Whattaya doin'," he asked, lounging back and stretching out his long
leather-clad legs.
"Telling your driver to stop the car."
He looked amused. "I thought I told you-you're my prisoner."
"This is kidnapping."
He shrugged. "So arrest me.
She sat back, trying to decide what to do. In spite of everything
there was no denying that he was a very charismatic figure, and if she
really wanted to face up to it she was attracted to him in spite of
what had happened. Besides, what did she have to lose? Exactly
nothing.
Nature wasn't talking to her anyway.
"Okay," she said, with a weary sigh.
"Okay what?"
"I'll have lunch with you. Impress me. Dazzle me with your charm.
Show me that you're really just like the boy next door."
He chortled with laughter. "Babe, I aven't been like the boy next door
in twenty years."
"Make an effort."
"For you-anything."
He took her to a small Italian restaurant on Third Street. The jovial
owner ushered them to a table in the back, treating Emerson like a
king. His bodyguard stayed at the front of the restaurant, scanning
the sidewalk for trouble.
"Champagne, caviar, what'll it be?" Emerson asked, tossing back his
mane of hair.
She glanced at her watch. "It's three o'clock in the afternoon."
"So?"
"So I'll have a small green salad and some pasta. Then I have to go.
Besides, this place doesn't have champagne and caviar.
"Wanna bet? I can get anything I want any time I want," he boasted.
"And if you don't get it you take it. Story of your life, right, Mr.
Burn?"
"What's with this Mr. Burn crap?"
"I'm giving you a little respect, you should try it some time."
He leaned across the table, staring directly into her eyes. "You're
beautiful, y'know that? You got something' I really get off on."
She hit him with a little light sarcasm. "Gee, you certainly have a
way with words."
He didn't seem to mind. "It's me upbringin'," he said cheerfully.
"Where was that?"
"Elephant an' Castle-or Asshole, as we liked to call it back in the
good old days. Sorta Brooklyn with a cockney accent."
"You and Nature have a lot in common-including a country."
He laughed derisively. "Me and Nature ave exactly nothing in common.
"You married her."
"Big friggin' deal. I ad a hangover at the time."
"Is that your excuse for everything?"
"Oh, now you're gonna give me the You drink too much speech."
"I really don't care what you do."
"You're wrong."
"About what?"
"About not caring. From the first time I saw you I knew we had
something going'. You were like this little mouse runnin' around
organizing that party for Samm up at my apartment-remember? I noticed
you immediately cause you seemed different-that's what I like about
you.
"I'll tell you what you like about me," she said crisply. "You like
the fact you can't have me, because you're so used to having every girl
that breathes, and now finally somebody says no. That's the only thing
you like about me.
"Wrong."
"I don't think so."
"Whyn't we put it to the test?"
"How?"
"Sleep with me an' see if I'm still around tomorrow."
"Very funny."
"Glad I got you laughin'."
After lunch he decided he had to buy some books, so they stopped at
Doubleday's on Fifth Avenue. Two minutes after leaving the limo, word
was on the street and he was mobbed. He grabbed her hand and ran her
back to the limo. As soon as they were inside, the car took off.
"Home. Mine," she said breathlessly.
"Deal," he replied. "I'll pick you up at ten."
"I'm asleep at ten."
"Tonight's different. Be dressed and ready to hit the town."
"I didn't say I'd go out with you.
"You didn't say you wouldn't. Just remember, I could have kept you
prisoner for the rest of the day, but I'm letting you go. Now you owe
me.
"Exactly nothing."
"Do you always ave to ave the last word?"
"Yes."
Upstairs in her apartment she found herself unable to settle down.
This was crazy. Emerson Burn was a dilettante rock star. She wanted
nothing to do with him. Or did she?
How come you had lunch with him, Roberts?
Why shouldn't I?
Do you find him attractive?
Yes, as a matter of fact I do.
The phone rang and she grabbed it, ready to tell Emerson she was
definitely not going out with him that night, or any other night for
that matter.
"Hi," Pia said brightly. "What are you doing?"
"I just walked in. Why?"
"Howard and I want to take you to dinner."
"I don't like the sound of your voice.
"What's wrong with my voice?"
"Whenever you use that tone there's always some single guy you think is
perfect for me.
"I resent that," Pia said indignantly. "As a matter of fact, we're
dining with Howard's uncle, and we thought it would be nice if you made
up the foursome."
"Where's his wife?"
"At their house in the Hamptons."
"Hmm "Lauren, we're talking about Howard's old married uncle-he's
hardly likely to jump all over you.
"He's a man, isn't he?"
"Oh, please!"
"Okay, I'll come."
Pia was so used to getting a no that this was a surprise. "We'll pick
you up at eight," she said quickly, before Lauren changed her mind.
Hmm . . . dinner with Howard's uncle. At least it got her out of the
house, and when Emerson arrived and found nobody home maybe he'd take
the hint and leave her alone.
Or then again, maybe not.
he didn't know how long she'd been sitting there, she only knew that
Reece had gone and left her. Left her with a dead man lying on the
floor.
She crouched on the bed, hugging her knees to her chest, her eyes wide
with fear, while the man's body lay in a huddle behind the door.
"I didn't shoot him, you did it," she'd screamed at Reece when it
happened-breaking away from him, her body trembling.
"Oh, no no no, baby, I don't take the rap on this one," Reece had said,
frantically stuffing his clothes in a suitcase and running for the
door.
"You can't . . . leave . . . me," she'd said, the words sticking in
her throat.
"Just watch me, honey," he'd said, throwing the gun at her.
And then he was gone.
At first she'd thought about calling the police. In fact, she wouldn't
have been surprised if they'd turned up, because the people next door
must have heard the gunshot. But nothing happened. Absolutely
nothing. So she stayed on the bed too frightened to move, knowing she
should have followed Reece and taken off. But how could she?
He had the car and all their money-she was left with nothing.
So she sat in the middle of the bed, tears rolling down her cheeks,
clutching the gun-her only protection.
Her life was over and there was nothing she could do about it.
"This is just like I've seen it on television!" Annie exclaimed.
"Look at all these lights!"
"Yeah, this is really something," Nick agreed, pulling into the parking
lot of a downtown hotel.
"Where are we going?" she asked. "Shouldn't we find Cyndra?"
"First we're gonna gamble. That's what you're supposed t'do in
Vegas."
"Nick "Try an' enjoy yourself, Annie," he said teasingly. "Today's
your day for takin' chances. Bring it t'the edge-you never know, you
might enjoy it." He got out of the car, grabbed her by the hand and
they ran across the parking lot into the hotel lobby.
"Holy shit!" Nick exclaimed, taking in the banks of slot machines all
in constant use. A grin spread over his face. "Y'know, I always
wanted to do this." He groped in his pocket for change, coming up with
several quarters. "C'mon, pick a machine-we're gonna win big time!"
"We are?" she asked unsurely.
"You bet your ass we are!"
They played the slots for two hours straight, ending up ten dollars
ahead. By this time Nick had the fever-he was all set to carry on, but
Annie was ready to quit. "We'd better go find Cyndra," she said.
"It's one o'clock. What will they say when we turn up in the middle of
the night?"
"They won't care. Tomorrow night we'll hear Cyndra sing, then we'll
drive back to L.A."
"Ican't take off work again tomorrow," Annie objected.
"You'll call in sick. Big deal."
She sighed. "You're making me as bad as you are."
