Hollywood Kids (12 page)

'Don't tell me you've hooked up with one of those jealous little things?' she needled.

He sounded uptight, definitely pussy-whipped. 'You could say that.'

She hung up the phone. Men. They sure as hell didn't make good best friends. But, hey, she didn't need a man to take her around, she could cruise on her own. In fact, hitting the clubs by herself allowed her more freedom.

After Shep left she watched a couple of movies on television, ordered a large pepperoni pizza from Jacopos, and shortly before eleven pulled on her oldest jeans, a pair of motorcycle boots, a man's oversize shirt and a Harley jacket.

Jordanna was ready to hit the streets.

Standing outside the house on Bedford brought back every bad memory. Bobby felt like a kid again, a stupid little kid whose father always put him down and told him he was useless.

Had to get his head straight. Had to remember he was not a kid. He was a successful businessman, producer, movie star.

Screw Jerry Rush. He was not afraid of him any more. He was going to walk into the house like a man and be treated with respect.

The black barman who'd worked for the Rushes for twenty-three years opened the front door. 'Mr Bobby,' the man exclaimed with a welcoming smile. 'Good to see you again after all this time.'

Bobby nodded. 'Thanks, Jimmy.'

He entered the house like a stranger. Darla had changed all the furniture. Hollywood wives had nothing much to do except redecorate and give great charity, and Darla was no exception.

He walked through the hallway, passing a familiar Picasso on his left, and a glass-fronted cabinet of African artifacts on his right. He strolled into the main living room trying to appear at ease.

Jerry sat in his favourite chair nursing a Scotch on the rocks. As soon as he spotted Bobby, he put down his drink, got up and threw open his arms. 'Welcome home, son,' he said magnanimously, as if playing to an attentive audience.

'Hello, Dad,' Bobby said, hanging back.

Gathered in the living room were Darla, clad in a shocking-pink Valentino suit and tasteful diamonds; stepbrother, Len, a florid-faced man with an aggravating wife called Trixie; and stepbrother, Stan, with his wife, Lana, a former
Playboy
bunny who'd put on thirty pounds since her glory days. From what Bobby had heard, Stan still fostered a major cocaine habit and his wife was into pill popping big time.

'Hello, everyone,' Bobby said, hoping he didn't sound as insincere as he felt. 'Nice to see you all.'

'Bobby,' Darla floated over, greeting him warmly. 'I'm
so
glad you're here. We're all delighted.'

Trixie darted across the room. She was a pinched-faced woman with small beady eyes and a snub nose covered in too many freckles. 'How would you like to speak at my ladies' lunch, Bobby?' she asked, never one to hang back. 'We meet once a month to discuss politics and world affairs. We're quite a cultural group and we'd love you to join us. Will you do it for me?'

'My schedule's full, Trixie.'

She pursed her lips. 'Too important for family now, is that it?' she asked peevishly.

It was starting already. 'No, Trixie, just too busy.'

He moved away from his annoying sister-in-law. Len came over and placed a hand on his shoulder. 'Doin' pretty good, baby brother.'

'Yeah, things seem to have worked out.'

'Maybe we can talk about something for me?'

Christ! Nothing like getting hit on the moment he entered the house.

'So, Bobby,' Jerry said in a loud booming voice. 'When you gonna produce a movie for your old man to star in, huh?
Huh
? It's about time.'

This evening was going to be twice as bad as he'd imagined.

By the time she reached Homebase Central Jordanna was on a high. She'd stopped off at a couple of other clubs, talked to friends, done a little dancing, a little gossiping, smoked a little grass.

I
thought your drug days were over
?

They are. This is just recreational fun.

Bullshit.

Arnie was right up front, greeting her with a sloppy kiss on both cheeks. 'How's it goin', Levitt?'

She sighed. 'If you're going to call me anything, Arnie, call me Jordanna, it
is
my name.'

He scowled. 'OK, OK. Don't go getting mad at me.'

'Who said I was mad?'

'I know your moods.'

No you do not
. 'Is the gang here?' she asked restlessly.

'Nope. Your group hasn't arrived.'

'They will.'

Moving closer he lowered his voice, speaking near to her ear. 'I understand Cheryl's going into business, she's asked me to find her girls.'

'That should be easy for you.'

'I'll want commission.'

'Of course you will, Arnie.'

'Can I buy you a drink?'

'No, that's OK.'

Making a fast getaway she wandered through the club, looking for someone she knew, or at least someone she might want to spend time with. The pickings were sparse.

As she passed Charlie Dollar's table, he waved at her. 'Hey, come sit with an old man.'

'That's an irresistible invitation,' she said, strolling over.

'You're always in such a hurry,' he said, with a crooked smile.

'Better to be in a hurry than to be left behind,' she replied coolly.

He slid over in the leather booth patting the spot next to him. 'I know your father,' he announced.

'Everyone knows Jordan,' she said, sliding in beside him because she had nothing better to do.

'Knew your mother, too.'

'Hmm, you're a regular friend of the family.'

I've been watching you,' he said, stoned eyes still watching her.

'Why?' she replied.

'Cause you're different.'

'I am?'

'You am.'

Suddenly she was sitting there having a major flirtation with Charlie Dollar, a man old enough to be her father.

Oh, God, what are you doing, Jordanna?

Something that will
really
piss Daddy off
.

Dinner was a nightmare. Bobby didn't know how he got through it. Fact of life. He'd grown out of his family and he didn't have to take their crap any more, especially Jerry's.

Darla tried to make everything all right, but she could only do so much. Jerry didn't apologize for the past, he didn't apologize for anything. He merely sat at the head of the table guzzling Scotch and voicing his views on how the industry was falling to pieces because all they wanted to know about was hiring young talent.

'Movies today,' Jerry pontificated. 'Got no point of view, they got nothing going for them. All you see are two-bit hookers flashing their tits, an' a bunch of muscle-bound assholes who can't act their way out of a sandbox.'

Gee, thanks, Dad, Bobby wanted to say. But then he realized it didn't matter. He didn't need his father's approval any more.

'I'm not talking about
your
movie,' Jerry said, burping loudly. 'Not that I've seen it, but I hear it's pretty damn good.'

Screw you, Dad. How come you haven't seen it? How come everybody else in America has?

'Thought you'd run it for me,' Jerry continued. 'I'll come by the studio. Hear you've got offices there.'

Oh, yeah, sure. I'll have you over to see my movie.

No fucking way.

'I'll get you a print,' he said. 'You can show it in your screening room here.'

We don't use the screening room any more,' Jerry said. 'Costs too much.'

Oh, so now the great Jerry Rush was going to plead poverty?

'Don't be ridiculous,' Darla interrupted, quite flustered. 'I'll call the projectionist.'

Jerry shot her a deadly look. 'I'm not paying a fucking projectionist to come to my fucking house and charge me a fucking fortune to see a movie I can see in my son's screening room at the studio.'

We have our own screening room, it's stupid not to use it,' Darla said, tight-mouthed.

'You miss our screenings, don't you?' Jerry sneered. 'You miss all those freeloading friends of yours.'

'Jerry, please!'

He was not to be stopped. 'How many people did we have over every weekend? We fed 'em, showed 'em a movie, while they drank all my booze an' badmouthed me behind my back. Then they ran out on us when my fucking career stopped.'

That's not true,' Darla said, her face flushed. 'Your career is fine.'

Jerry laughed hollowly. 'Isn't it nice to have a loyal wife.'

'Please, Jerry. Don't start.'

Wake up, Darla. We don't get invitations any more.'

'I can show you a pile of invitations,' Darla said defensively.

'For charities we gotta pay for. Big fucking deal.' He picked up his drink, took a swig and muttered, 'I don't need their lousy invitations. Let 'em stay the fuck away. Who gives a rat's ass except you.'

Later, Darla took Bobby to one side. 'Your father's getting old,' she explained. 'He doesn't like to go out any more. He suffers with his hip. I know he hasn't said anything to you, but eventually, if it gets any worse, he may have to undergo hip-replacement surgery. Don't mention I told you.'

Oh, Jesus, was she trying to make him feel sorry for the old man?

'Cash
is
a little tight, I'll admit that,' Darla added. 'But we do have a fine portfolio of stocks and investments.'

What was she going to do now? Touch him for a loan?

'If it was up to me I'd sell the house and move to a condo on Wilshire. We don't need this big place now all you boys are gone.'

Do what you like, Darla, he wanted to say. It's nothing to do with me. I've moved on. I don't have to put up with him any more.

Before he was able to make a clean escape, Stan and Len cornered him, both canvassing for a job.

He tried to be nice about it. 'It wouldn't pan out. Y'know, family working together - not a good idea.'

They got nasty. 'It's all right for you, Bobby. You've got plenty of money now. Big shot, huh? Don't want to help us.'

They had short memories. Growing up in the same household they'd treated him like a punching bag, never giving him any love or encouragement. He could remember numerous incidents from his childhood when they'd turned their backs rather than help him.

Screw this whole deal.

After thanking Darla for dinner he made a fast exit, jumping into his car and roaring off into the night.

He needed a drink. His partner, Gary, had said to meet him at Homebase Central. He set off in the right direction.

'Why don't you come to any of my parties?' Charlie Dollar asked, watching her closely. 'I know Arnie's offered to bring you up to my house.'

'That's exactly why,' Jordanna replied, sipping a Jack Daniel's to keep him company, although she really didn't like the taste.

Charlie chuckled. 'Don't like Arnie, huh?'

'Would
you
like him if he was hitting on
you
?'

'Kiddo, you got a great look,' Charlie said, still watching her with a half-lidded stare.

'Thank you.'

'You got a touch of your mother mixed up with the ballsiness of your father. Lethal combination, kiddo. Plus you're beautiful - an' that ain't bad.'

'Is this a job offer or a come-on?'

He chuckled. 'What
d'you
think?'

'Hmm... perhaps a come-on?'

'You an actress?'

She glanced restlessly around the club, wondering where Shep was. 'I wanted to be, but my father didn't go for the idea.'

'Jordan's right. You don't wanna be an actress, it's a shitty profession.'

'You're an actor,' she pointed out. 'And
you've
done pretty good.'

Running his tongue across his teeth he eyed her contemplatively. 'Like I said, it's a shitty profession. I happen to be in the fortunate position of being able to choose what I do, but most actors and actresses gotta eat crap, deal with asshole executives, not to mention the jerks, pricks and mother-fucking know-nothings who call themselves agents an' managers. There's times even
I
have to kiss ass.'

'Oh, I can't imagine you doing that, Charlie,' she murmured sarcastically.

Grinning slyly, he said, 'I do it when I have to.'

'And how often is that?'

He leaned back in the booth and his grin broadened. 'Not very often, kiddo. Not very often.'

'I bet.'

'So,' he said slowly, 'I hear you're a wild one.'

'Who told you that?'

Word's on the street, kiddo.'

'
Your
image is not exactly Mister Clean.'

'I'm an old guy, I can do anything I want an' just about get away with it.'

'How nice.'

He was giving her that stare again, that half-lidded insouciant stare.

'Wanna go back to my house tonight, Jordanna?' he drawled.

'Are you having a party?'

'Yeah, for two.'

She didn't have to think about it, she knew what she was going to do. 'Two, huh?' she said coolly.

'That's what I said.'

'I think I can manage that.'

'I'm sure you can.'

Just as he thought he was lost for ever, Bobby spotted a discreet sign saying Homebase Central.

He pulled his car up to the valet and got out. Thought I'd never find this place,' he grumbled.

'Some people have a problem,' the valet replied, handing him a ticket. 'This your first time here?'

Bobby nodded.

'Hope you got connections,' the valet said, obviously not recognizing him. 'They're pretty tough on who they let in.'

'I have a feeling I'll make it,' Bobby said drily.

The bouncer outside recognized him, and by the time he got through the front entrance Arnie Isaak had been summoned and was duly standing there waiting to greet him. 'Bobby!' he exclaimed, as if they were old friends.

'Do I know you?'

'Arnie. Arnie Isaak.'

'Oh, yeah - right,' Bobby said, vaguely recalling the man's name but not his face.

'Welcome to Homebase,' Arnie said, full of genial host attitude. 'Perhaps you'd care to join me at my table?'

'Uh...' Bobby glanced around, the place was jammed, the music blasting, and he couldn't see Gary anywhere. 'I'm meeting Gary Mann.'