Jackie Collins, page 55
He wished something would come along for Annie. He knew she must be
feeling left out, working at the health club watching their careers
take off while she never got a break. It couldn't be much fun.
When the lights dimmed he slid down in his seat, barely able to see the
screen. Carlysle got star billing. He got: INTRODUCING NICK ANGEL AS
PETE.
Jesus! That was his name up on the screen. He'd actually made it -he
was in a fucking movie!
The film was fast-paced, gritty and surprisingly good. At the end of
the screening there was a burst of spontaneous applause. Bridget was
smiling-unusual for her.
Frances came up to him. "I like the film, I like you in it."
"Lunch tomorrow," Meena said on her way out. "It's about time you met
the head of the agency."
Cyndra was more excited than anybody. "Oh, God, this is so great!
You're fantastic, Nick, you really are!"
Annie was more controlled. Naturally. It wasn't in her nature to get
excited about anything.
The three of them went to a restaurant on the Strip, where they
celebrated with double margaritas and huge steaks.
Later, at home alone with Annie, he felt like making love, but not with
her, she didn't turn him on. He was only with her because he had to
be-it was a sad thought.
But tomorrow was another day and he'd figure out somethingmaybe.
He lay awake for a long while thinking about the movie, wondering what
would happen next.
Eventually he fell asleep with a smile on his face.
Lorenzo Marcella was the quintessential Italian man. Tall, exquisitely
dressed in the finest Armani had to offer, proudly handsome in an
aristocratic way. His dirty-blond hair was longish and lightly touched
with silver at the temples. His jewelry was discreet, and solid gold
of course. His car was a black Maserati-not exactly ideal for
Manhattan, but he would not dream of letting down the image. He was
forty-two years old and the sole heir to the family fortune. While he
waited to inherit he'd been sent to America to spearhead the Marcella
girl launch.
Lorenzo had no idea Lauren was married to the head of the powerful
advertising agency Liberty and Charles-the very agency that was
handling the Marcella account. And even if he had, it wouldn't have
made any difference. "This is the girl we use," he announced, picking
out Lauren's photo from a select group.
"She's expensive," Oliver said, trying to curb his amusement, for he'd
known there was no contest.
"How expensive?" Lorenzo demanded.
"Very," Oliver replied, straight-faced.
"Does she represent any other product?"
"No," said Howard, sitting in on the meeting with several other Liberty
and Charles executives.
Lorenzo studied Lauren's photographs one more time. "Then we sign her
to an exclusive Marcella contract. I don't mind what she costs. She
is the girl."
"Good," said Oliver. "I think you've made the perfect choice."
Lorenzo flashed a movie-star smile. "But of course!"
"Well, my dear," Samm said, her cat eyes gleaming. "You are the new
Marcella girl-it's a done deal."
"You got my price?" Lauren asked.
"Yes, this was a record breaker and I am very happy indeed. Of course,
as I mentioned before, most of my models will want to kill me. They'll
blame me for not getting them the job. You're going to be a star."
Lauren laughed. It didn't seem possible. "I'll be in a lot of
magazines, and my face will be around, but that hardly makes me a star,
Samm."
"Just you wait," Samm said, nodding wisely. "Hollywood will come
chasing after you. Didn't you once tell me you wanted to be an
actress?"
"That was a long time ago."
"Well, sweetie, you're hardly ancient. How old are you now?"
"I'll soon be twenty-five."
"An old hag," Samm laughed. "I'd like to see Jimmy Cassady's face when
he picks up the first magazine with you on the cover."
"Being the Marcella girl does not mean I'll be on any covers."
"Oh," Samm said acidly, "if they want you at Vogue you'll turn them
down?"
"Yes, I told you-I'm doing this for the money."
"I'm sure Oliver can look after you very nicely."
"Yes, he can. But I prefer to be independent."
"You do know that Nature was up for this job, don't you?"
"How is she?"
"Living in L.A. with a producer."
"What happened to Emerson?" Lauren asked, trying to sound casual.
"According to Nature, he sent her a telegram from Japan announcing he
was ending the marriage. By that time she'd moved in with her
producer, so she didn't much care. Don't you read the gossip
columns?"
"Actually, I don't."
"Smart girl. Who needs to fill one's mind with trivia."
Oliver, who'd been so enthusiastic at the idea of her being the
Marcella girl, was now not so pleased. "Perhaps I've created a
monster," he said.
"Don't be silly, Oliver."
"I know what's going to happen. I'll never see you.
"Representing Marcella will not take all my time. I've read the
contract carefully. Two photo sessions a year, six public appearances
and one commercial."
He shook his head. "You have no idea how much of your time they'll
require."
"You were the one that got me into this in the first place."
She was confused. She hadn't wanted a career in the public eye, but
now it seemed that's exactly what she was about to have. All she'd
really wanted was to marry Oliver and live a happy, fulfilled life.
Only this was not to be, her husband could never fulfill her. Oliver
could not make love the way she expected, and whenever she raised the
subject he dismissed it as though it wasn't important.
Did he really think she was going to want nothing but oral sex from him
their entire married life? If the truth were known, he'd tricked her
into marriage. He should have told her about the pacemaker.
Meeting Lorenzo Marcella was an experience. The only Italian man she'd
ever come in contact with before was Antonio the photographer, and he
was gay. Lorenzo was the complete opposite. He kissed her hand, gazed
into her eyes, inundated her with white orchids and told her she was
the most beautiful woman who'd ever breathed.
"You are my Marcella girl," he said. "You will make every woman in the
world want to be you. And every man want to be with you."
She backed off, his avid attention made her edgy. "I'll do my best,"
she said.
"Ah, but your best is going to make me a very happy man," Lorenzo
crooned, continuing to gaze into her eyes.
They were at a luncheon in her honor-arranged so she could meet the
other executives from Marcella. "Did you tell them we're married?"
she whispered to Oliver.
He shook his head. "No. I imagine they'll find out soon enough."
"But he's coming on to me.
"Take no notice, my dear. Italian men come on to every woman.
Whether they be six or sixty-it doesn't make any difference to them."
Obviously, Lorenzo's outrageous flirting did not bother Oliver, so she
went along with it.
"I will have a wonderful party to present you to the press," Lorenzo
told her. "It will not be another boring press conference. It will be
a fantasy ball-and you will make a divine entrance in the middle of the
party."
"I will?"
"Yes, bellissima. You shall introduce Marcella Cosmetics to the world
as only you can. Everyone will fall in love with you-just as I
have."
"You have?"
Lorenzo flashed his dazzling smile. "But of course!"
AO The next few months proved challenging and exciting for both Cyndra
and Nick. Neither of them could really comprehend what was happening
to them.
"It's like a dream come true," Cyndra said. "Can you believe it,
Nick-you and me? My record's taking off and your movie's a big hit.
It's incredible."
It was incredible. If he wasn't stuck with Annie he might have enjoyed
it a lot more. He was so tired of faking his emotions, pretending to
be someone he wasn't.
Annie was smothering him. Because her own career had failed to go
anywhere, she leeched onto his-voicing her opinion on everything. This
was exactly what he didn't need. It was enough he had Frances giving
him advice, Meena handling his career and Bridget guiding him through
the maze of hungry press.
He also had his producer friend anxious for him to start her next
movle. He'd read the script. It was not exactly what he wanted to
do.
Meena said they'd try to get him out of the contract.
"How?" he'd asked.
"With the right lawyer we can do anything," she'd replied
confidently.
Night City had launched his career. It was one of those low-budget
films the critics loved and the public flocked to. His reviews were
excellent and suddenly he was an actor people were talking about.
He'd followed Bridget's advice and made up a past for himself, not
revealing too much.
"Try not to smile in interviews," she'd told him. "Cultivate that
moody look. Women love it."
He did as she asked. Especially with the reporter from Satisfaction.
They ran a cover story on him that blew his mind. He was on the cover
of a fucking magazine and everybody in the world was going to see it!
In the meantime, Cyndra's record was getting plenty of air play.
Gordon Hayworth had financed a trip for her and Marik to visit some of
the most influential disc jockeys in the country. Marik loved the idea
of traveling with her, but she wasn't so thrilled. She would have
preferred that it was Gordon accompanying her.
Shortly after she got back Nick took her for a long drive. It had been
a while since they'd been alone and had a chance to talk privately. He
drove his rented car to Paradise Cove and parked. It was a beautiful
September day and they got out and strolled along the beach.
"So," he said, stopping to flip pebbles in the sea. "How you feelin',
kid?"
"Sensational! What about you?"
"The agency is trying to get me out of that contract. They have
another film for me to do. This time it's a big movie with an
important director."
"Is it what you want, Nick?"
"Yeah, I'm doing all the things I always dreamed of."
"So am I," she said. "Thanks to you."
"Why me?"
"Because you're stuck with Annie. You've saved us both."
He shrugged. "Annie's a nice girl."
Cyndra pinned him with her eyes. "But she's not the girl for you, is
she?"
"You can talk. Marik's not the guy for you-but sometimes we do stuff
to make things work."
"How do you know Marik's not for me?"
"I see it in your eyes.
"Oh, thanks a lot, Nick. Am I that obvious?"
"Hey-I'm your brother. I should be able to read you, huh?"
She stopped walking and flopped down on the sand, hugging her knees to
her chest. "Wait until that little item hits the press."
He zoomed another pebble and watched it skim across the smooth surf.
"What, that I'm your brother?"
"Somebody's bound to find out."
"I've been thinking," he said, squatting on the sand beside her.
"What?"
"Now that we're both getting all this publicity, maybe it's time to go
back to Bosewell."
"Really, Nick? Y'know, sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night
and I get all these guilty feelings about leaving Harlan."
He nodded. "I know what you mean.
She rushed on. "I always thought I'd send for him, but it was never
the right time. It would be nice to go back and let them see how well
we're doing-although I'll catch hell from Aretha Mae."
He frowned. "God knows why I'd want to see" "Cause you wouldn't let me
go by myself."
"You really think we should do it?"
"Definitely."
"Okay-so this is the plan," he said, jumping up.
"What?"
He reached out his hands and pulled her to her feet. "Now that I'm in
a position to buy a car, I'm gonna get me the biggest, reddest Cadillac
you've ever seen. And I'll take delivery in Kansas, then we'll drive
to Bosewell. How do you like that image?"
She began to laugh. "With fifty copies of Satisfaction on the back
seat so you can hand them out. Right?"
He grinned. "Hey-Bosewell's a small town, maybe they haven't heard."
"But we'll tell em, huh?"
"If we're going' back we gotta do it big time."
"Right on, Nick. When shall we do it?"
"How about next weekend."
"Just the two of us?"
He nodded. "Just the two of us."
They flew to Kansas and took a cab directly to the car showroom.
When Nick saw his gleaming red Cadillac it was one of the happiest
moments of his life. He'd always dreamed about it, but he'd never
actually thought the day would come.
The dealer handed him the keys with a shit-eating grin. "Enjoy.
This little baby's gonna give you plenty of pleasure."
Nick tried to stay cool-had to keep up his image. He was getting good
at it.
"Uh . . thanks."
"Finest car on the market."
"I know."
"Liked you in Night City."
"Thanks."
He finally got rid of the dealer. Then he sat behind the wheel of the
Cadillac with Cyndra beside him and let out a whoop of joy. "Holy
shit! I got it! It's all mine! It's all fuckin' mine!"
"It's so fantastic," Cyndra said, bouncing up and down on the seat.
"Hey, get a load of the radio, look at the chrome, feel the leather. I
love this freakin' car. I goddamn love it!"
She leaned across the seat and hugged him. He started the engine and
switched on the radio.
"It's my record!" Cyndra screamed. "They're playing my record!"
"Shit!" he said, grinning. "This day belongs to us!"
Their plan was to drive to Bosewell, visit Aretha Mae and Harlan, take
a walk around town and then drive back to L.A. Nick had estimated it
would take them a couple of days, but they'd both decided they needed
the break.
When he and Cyndra had first talked about visiting Bosewell he'd hoped
that Joey might come with them. He'd called him up and asked. Joey
said no.
He wasn't about to argue, and Cyndra was hardly disappointed.
"Joey's a loser," she'd said. "He always was and he always will be."
When Joey got out of the drug rehab clinic he'd run straight back to
