Jackie Collins, page 50
Once he met Carlysle he knew exactly where all his sexual juice was
going. They'd hit it off immediately. He asked around and found out
her story. She'd been a child star since the age of eight, now she was
twenty-two, recently divorced from a rock n roll drummer and very
career-oriented. She had a mother who usually accompanied her on
shoots, but so far had not arrived in New York.
"Watch out for the mother," Waldo warned. "The woman is a complete
nightmare."
"Why are you telling me?" he asked.
"Because we all know what's about to happen between you two," Waldo
replied, with an evil chuckle.
Nick laughed. "How about fillin' me in?"
Their second day on the set Carlysle invited him out. "I have to go to
this dinner party tomorrow night," she said. "My mother was coming
with me, but since she's not here . . . will you take me?"
She gazed up at him with her big blue eyes and he wasn't about to say
no. "Yeah, sure. Should we go from the set?"
"No, I'll have to go home and change first. Pick me up at my
apartment."
"I thought you lived in L.A."
"I do. I've got a house in L.A. and an apartment here."
Wow! This girl really had it all together. "What time?" he asked.
"The dinner starts at seven-thirty, but they probably won't sit down to
eat until nine. Get me at eight-thirty and we'll make a late
entrance."
"Uh, what do I wear?"
She smiled. "Whatever you like. I'm sure you look fine in
anything."
Cyndra was determined the incident in Vegas was not going to drag her
down. She'd come so far and she was not allowing it to pull her
under.
It was unfortunate, but it was her past-just like Mr. Browning, her
abortion and all the other bad things she'd gone through.
Annie, on the other hand, kept insisting they had to do something about
it. If Nick knew, he'd throw a fit. "You'd better shut up about
this," Cyndra warned her." Cause the only thing you can do is get us
all into big trouble."
"You agreed with me at first," Annie reminded her.
"I was upset then. I wasn't thinking clearly. Understand, Annie, Nick
is right, it's our secret, and if none of us blow it we'll keep it that
way.
"How can you forget what happened?" Annie demanded. "That poor
man-what about his family? Don't you care?"
"Stop giving me that poor man crap," Cyndra said angrily. "He was in a
motel room with me, wasn't he? He thought I was a hooker. You should
have heard the names he called me."
"He didn't deserve to die for it."
"It was an accident, Annie. Reece didn't shoot him purposely, it was
just one of those things. Like when you get on a plane you don't
expect it to crash. When you go for a ride in a car you don't expect
it to be totaled. These things happen."
"I still think-" "Will you shut up!" Cyndra said, finally losing her
temper, her dark eyes blazing. "Shut up about it, Annie."
She went through her apartment and packed all of Reece's clothes into
two suitcases, stacking them in a closet by the front door. Nick had
suggested that as he was going to be in New York for at least six weeks
she should give up her apartment and move into his. Since she didn't
have any money, it struck her as an excellent idea. He'd also left her
his rented car to drive, so at least she was mobile.
Searching through Reece's papers she found the name of the producer
he'd been dealing with at Reno Records. Marik Lee. She called him on
the phone.
"Where's your manager?" Marik Lee asked, sounding guarded.
"You mean Reece Webster?"
"That's the guy."
"He's no longer my manager."
"Good," he said.
"Good? How come?"
"Drop by and we'll discuss it."
She didn't need a second invitation. Within the hour she was at his
office-dressed to make an impression in a tight red dress which showed
off her figure and flattered her glowing skin. Her hair, dark and
lustrous, fell almost to her waist.
Marik Lee did a double take when she walked in. "You're Cyndra?" he
said, standing up.
She nodded, checking him out. He was black, a little overweight and
kind of homely-looking, but he had nice eyes and a big friendly
smile.
"Why do you sound so surprised?" she asked, sitting in a chair across
from his desk and crossing her legs.
His eyes wandered. "I had no idea you were so . . . so pretty."
"Thank you," she said demurely, accepting the compliment.
"Now tell me," he continued. "That guy you were hitched up with -that,
uh, Reece Webster. He definitely out the picture?"
"Yes," she replied. "Very definitely."
"Between you and me, he was a bad case. We don't like to get involved
in those situations."
"What situations?"
"You know what I'm saying. He talked about you like you were a slab of
meat, like you'd do anything he wanted. We expect our talent to be
able to talk for themselves."
She sat up very straight. "Oh, I can talk for myself all right."
He looked at her appreciatively. "Yeah, I can see that."
She thought about Nick in New York about to get his big chance.
She wasn't planning on playing the little sister role, dragging along
behind. She had every intention of making it just as big as he.
"Mr. Lee-" "Call me Marik."
"Marik. Tell me the truth-do Reno Records and I have a future
together, or am I wasting my time?"
Nick was in the wardrobe trailer trying on different clothes.
"They're very happy with the dailies," Waldo confided sotto voce.
"Dailies?" he said, zipping up a pair of tight black jeans.
"Oh, Nick, please. Surely you know what I'm talking about? The
dailies are the scenes from the previous day. My friend is the
projectionist-I get a full report."
He was pleased. "So they like me?"
"Yes, they certainly do. Why do you think they hired you in place of
Charlie? They took one look at your closeups and realized they had
something with you. According to my friend the camera simply loves
you." He reached for a pair of cowboy boots. "Try these, please."
Nick grabbed the boots and sat down. "Yeah, well, I always knew I
could do this," he said, pulling on the left boot.
"You can do it, all right. Although, of course, there's no such thing
as a sure thing. You might have what it takes and the audience can
still hate you.
"No way they'll hate me," he said confidently. "I'm putting everything
I've got into this performance. They're gonna respond. You'll
see-they're gonna respond big time."
"I'm sure they will," Waldo said, selecting a denim jacket from the
rack. "And what are we wearing tonight when we take little Miss Madam
out?"
He pulled on the other boot and stood up. "How come my date with
Carlysle is public knowledge?"
"This is a film set, Nick. If you fart in the privacy of your dressing
room everyone knows about it."
"Great!"
"Just be careful with little Madam. She appears to be angelic, but
watch out."
He grinned. "Hey, Waldo, this may come as a big shock to you, but when
it comes to women I know my way around the block an' back again."
"Actresses are not women," Waldo murmured. "Oh, dear me, no."
Nick burst out laughing. "You're a character, you know that?"
"You have been warned," WaHo said primly. "Nobody can say you haven't
been warned."
"Thanks, but I guess I'll take my chances."
Waldo rolled his eyes.
"Hi," Carlysle said, greeting him at her apartment door wearing nothing
but a welcoming smile and a skimpy bath towel wrapped sarong style
around her body.
"Uh . . . hi," he said, standing on the threshold.
"Come on in," she said. "As you can see, I'm not quite ready."
Oh, he could see, all right!
She led him into a comfortable living room and waved him in the
direction of a small bar. "Fix yourself a drink. I'll be quick-I prom
"Take your time," he said, checking the place out.
"Ooops!" Her towel slipped and she quickly hitched it up, but not
before he caught a glimpse of her large, rosy, disturbingly erect
nipples.
She noticed him looking and giggled, her blue eyes widening. "Isn't it
stupid the way we all try to hide ourselves? Wouldn't it be better to
walk around without anything on? After all, we weren't born fully
dressed, were we?"
"Works for me," he said, opening the refrigerator behind the bar and
extracting a beer.
"Good," said Carlysle, dropping the towel.
Instant erection. He didn't even have time to think about it.
"Why don't you take your clothes off, too?" she said, with an innocent
little smile.
"Hey-" "You're not shy, are you?" she teased.
No, baby, I'm not shy, but I am used to being the instigator and this
is a different trip.
He shrugged off his jacket and began unbuttoning his shirt.
Carlysle was not a patient girl. She ran toward him and went right for
his zipper, pulling down his pants and underwear. Before he knew what
was happening she had him in her mouth giving him one of the finest
blow jobs known to man! He came in record time because it was so
unexpected and so good, and the truth was he hadn't gotten laid in a
while and he was beyond horny.
"Ah . Jesus!" he groaned. "That was wonderful. "Yes?" she asked
breathlessly, still on her knees.
"Pretty . . . damn . . . good."
"Good? Surely you mean sensational?"
"That, too. C'mere," he said, reaching for her breasts.
She jumped to her feet, skipping out of his range. "Later," she said
in a little-girl voice. "Gotta get dressed. It wouldn't do to be late
for the party, would it now?"
The guests had all arrived, the hors d'oeuvres had been served and
Lauren began her own private countdown to dinner. Her two assistants,
Hilary and Karen, knew her well, anticipating her every request.
Actually, the truth was she'd trained them so efficiently they could
probably do it without her. Which was good, because when she and
Oliver were married she'd have to delegate a lot more. Oliver had
already told her he wanted her to travel with him, and why not-she was
dying to see Europe. He took six weeks' vacation every year, traveling
through Italy, France and England. Help Unlimited would just have to
manage without her for a few weeks.
Jessie popped into the kitchen. "Almost ready," she said, beaming in
her severe, men's style velvet suit. "The melon and caviar was a
riot!"
"We're all set when you are," Lauren said, adjusting the flame under
the sauteed carrots.
"Spectacular!" exclaimed Jessie.
One of the things Lauren liked about catering dinners for the Georges
was their unbridled enthusiasm. Quentin was exactly like his wife.
The two of them enjoyed life, and it was infectious.
"Who's out there tonight?" Lauren asked Hilary, who'd been busy
serving the hors d'oeuvres.
Hilary recited a list of celebrities-including a controversial black
politician, an avant-garde dress designer, a famous ballplayer and two
movie stars. Jessie sure loved to mix people up.
Lauren decided Oliver would be happy when he dropped by. He enjoyed
hanging out with celebrities. She didn't. If she was lucky she
wouldn't have to emerge from the kitchen all night long.
"Did you like it?" Carlysle giggled, holding tightly onto his arm in
the back of her limo. "Was it the best-the very very best you've ever
had?"
He grinned lazily. "The best."
She squeezed his arm. "Don't lie to me, or I'll have to do it
againright now in the car.
He laughed. "Sure."
Her blue eyes sparkled. "You think I wouldn't?"
"I'm positive you would."
"Want me to?" she asked, stroking his thigh.
He felt himself getting hard again. "What about the driver?" he
said.
She pressed a button and the black privacy glass slid up. "Oh, he's
not getting any-he's definitely not on my list."
Before he could question her about what list that might be, she was on
him again-going for his zipper with practiced hands, springing him
free, and bending her blond head.
He gave himself up to the moment, pressing the top of her head, forcing
himself into her mouth as deep as she could take him.
This time he lasted longer, and when he came it was an explo "Shit!"
he exclaimed, falling back on the leather seat. "Holy sion.
shit!"
She laughed triumphantly. "I'm good, huh?"
"You're great."
"The greatest?"
What was it with this girl? All she wanted to hear was how great she
was. "Yes," he said.
"The greatest you've ever had?"
He reached for her breasts again, but she slapped his hands away.
"We're here," she said. "Didn't you notice the car stop?"
ù "Sweetheart," he sighed, "I didn't notice anything but you."
He'd said the right thing. Carlysle beamed like a cat who'd just
devoured a saucer of cream-and in a way she had.
"Later I'm gonna fuck you," he said.
"Later I'm going to let you," she replied.
Grinning, they alighted from the limo and entered the house.
The vichyssoise was served. The guests were happy. In the kitchen
Lauren concentrated on the mashed potatoes, making sure they had just
the right combination of cream, butter and milk. Cooking was
therapeutic. She really enjoyed creating a meal and watching as all
the empty plates came back into the kitchen.
"Carlysle Mann just arrived," Hilary said. "She's 5000 pretty."
"You're pretty too," Lauren said crisply. "You're as pretty as any
movie star."
"No way!"
"Yes, you are.
"She's got fantastic skin," Hilary said enviously.
"Talking of skin-did you see the guy she's with?" Karen said.
"Cute," they both said in unison. "Very very cute." They burst out
giggling.
Oh, to be young again, Lauren thought. Hilary and Karen were so
bright-eyed and full of life. She was only six years older than them,
but sometimes she felt like a staid old lady. "Come on, girls,
concentrate," she said. "Let's get this meal on the road."
Carlysle's hand began creeping up his leg again. Shit! She was
actually doing it in front of all these people. And important people,
too.
He glanced around the table and couldn't believe he was sitting among
them.
"Hey-stop that," he whispered.
