Kitabı oku: «The A-List Collection», sayfa 21

61

Los Angeles

‘I’m telling you, my wife is missing. Gone. Vanished.’

‘Just calm down,’ said Marty, poised for flight on Cole’s studded leather couch, ‘we’re not gonna solve anything by getting upset.’

‘Upset? You call this upset? Marty, you’ve never even seen me upset.’ He kicked the end of the sofa. Marty jumped. ‘Give me another couple of hours and then tell me I’m upset.’

‘There’s bound to be a simple explanation. Who knows? She’s probably …’ He shrugged, before finishing feebly, ‘Shopping?’

Cole stalked over to the French windows, his back shaking with rage. ‘Don’t make me laugh, Marty–you’re the one with the stipulations. I’m to know exactly where she is at all times; it was part of the deal. Nobody, not my drivers, my security, my house staff, nobody knows where the fuck she is.’

Cole paced the floor, his eyes blazing. He wiped his palms over his face. The room was spinning-he had never felt so desperate, so out of control.

Louisa entered and did a nervous sort of bow. ‘Rita Clay is here for you, Mr Steel.’

Cole didn’t turn round, just nodded and impatiently waved her in.

‘Hello, Cole. Marty.’ Rita was sharp in a tailored grey suit, striking against her dark skin and blonde hair. She shook Marty’s fat, sweating hand but still Cole didn’t turn round. Settling on a plaid chaise longue, she crossed her legs. ‘Let’s get to the bottom of this, shall we?’

‘Have you tried calling her?’ said Cole tightly.

‘I have. We had a phone appointment scheduled for this morning.’

‘Well, call her again, then.’

‘I’ve tried a number of times, she isn’t picking up.’

‘She isn’t picking up, or she’s switched off?’

Rita paused. ‘She’s switched off.’

‘Fuck!‘ Cole put his head in his hands. ‘Just find her, Marty–for God’s sake, find her!’

Marty looked uncomfortably at Rita, who looked more than uncomfortably at Cole, who was standing with his hands flat against the window, his head bowed.

Rita had known Cole was a weird one, but this was extreme. So Lana was missing–she was stir-crazy, she probably needed a break. It wasn’t ideal, in fact it was a pain in the ass, but if Lana needed head space then so be it. She’d talk to her when she got back.

‘Let’s not make assumptions.’ She checked her cell again. ‘Lana’s only been out since this morning. She’ll call either one of us in the hour and we’ll all realise it’s been a misunderstanding.’

Finally Cole whipped round. ‘A misunderstanding?’ he spat. ‘If only! Christ knows, I’ve tried my damnedest to misunderstand, but I’m telling you now, it’s pretty hard to misunderstand something that’s staring me right in the goddamn face!’

Marty and Rita exchanged confused looks.

‘Lana’s pregnant, you hear me?’ He laughed manically. ‘Pregnant.’ He shuddered. ‘With another man’s baby.’

The room was shocked into silence. Rita gasped. Marty sat with his mouth hanging open.

Rita spoke first. ‘What?’

‘Don’t make me repeat it,’ said Cole in a clipped voice.

‘I don’t understand,’ said Marty unhelpfully.

‘Guess what, Marty,’ said Cole, jabbing a finger in his agent’s face, ‘neither do I.’

Rita took control. ‘OK, Cole, let’s slow down a minute here. Are you absolutely sure about this?’

‘A hundred per cent. I found the test.’

‘How?’

‘In her bathroom.’

‘That’s a breach of contract.’

‘To hell with that, I was concerned for her safety.’

Rita took out her phone. What on earth had Lana been thinking? They were in deep shit now, real deep shit. As soon as she was done here they were getting the best lawyer in town.

‘What if the test belongs to someone else?’ said Marty.

Cole and Rita looked at him blankly.

‘Gee, I don’t know,’ said Cole, crossing his arms in mock-contemplation. ‘Lana’s acting kind of funny, then I see the test in Lana’s bathroom, then Lana disappears out my life the same fucking morning. I’m putting two and two together here, Marty, I don’t know, seems kinda logical to me.’

Marty opened his mouth to speak.

Cole punched the air. ‘Bullshit!’

Rita stood up. ‘We’ll keep this under close wraps,’ she said. ‘It’s best for everybody concerned.’ She looked at Cole. ‘Especially you. We’re yet to find out the circumstances so let’s not reach any rash conclusions before we know the facts.’

‘And what do I do?’ Cole slumped into a chair, exhausted.

‘You wait.’

‘Just find her,’ he said stonily. ‘Find her and bring her back to me.’ He pointed to the floor beneath his feet.

Rita nodded. ‘Anyone’s gonna get through to her, it’s me. If you’ve been calling, stop. No pressure, nada. Let me deal with it.’ She left the room to try Lana’s cell again.

As soon as she was gone Marty slid over to Cole, quick as a snake.

‘What’s going on?’ he said hoarsely. He was perspiring with the excitement of it all.

Cole looked up wearily. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean …’ He looked about him. ‘Isn’t this what we wanted?’

Cole leaned in, careful to keep his voice down. ‘You’re an intelligent man, Marty, a very intelligent man. Why you’re behaving like the world’s biggest fuck-head is beyond me.’ He turned on him. ‘It’s another man’s baby. Do you understand what that means? My wife is carrying the bastard of some asshole off the street. And that asshole’s got a death wish: whoever goes behind my back with my wife has got to have a spare pair of balls.’

Marty sat back. ‘When you’ve calmed down, we’ll talk.’

‘I am calm.’

Marty turned his head to check Rita was out of ear-shot. ‘Then think about it a second, would you?’

Cole glowered.

‘You’ve still got the contract, right?’ said Marty. ‘You’ve still got her and you’ve still got everything she has. Infidelity’s a hell of a bargaining tool, my friend. If you want it, Cole, this baby’s yours.’

62

Las Vegas

It was scorching hot in Vegas. On the Boulevard Lana decided to quit the cab and walk, past the crowds swarming at the spectacular Bellagio fountains, the tourists gathered by the sparkling waterfalls of the Mirage, their attentions absorbed. Lana felt like part of it, sewn in, invisible. There were enough distractions here to make a person disappear.

Feeling suddenly hungry, she ducked into a burger joint close to the Venetian. It had been years since she’d got fast food, just queued up with everyone else to put in her order for a double cheese and fries, unwrapping the sticky, sweaty paper and sinking her teeth into the cheap, oily meat. It tasted delicious and awful at the same time, a far cry from the high-end, low-carb, small-portioned food she was used to.

She kept on her glasses and cap, her chestnut hair secured beneath. An overweight couple wearing Hawaiian shirts kept looking over, the woman nudging her partner who was more interested in finishing his meal, one time so hard that his strawberry shake spilled all over the counter. Just as the woman seemed to have summoned the courage to approach, Lana screwed up her wrappers and made her way out, tossing them in the trash on the way past.

Back on the street she caught sight of the Orient’s central pagoda, a gold-tipped peak piercing the deep blue sky. There was no time for nerves–she knew what she had to do. By now Cole would know she was gone. When she imagined his fury she wanted to run and run and never dare to stop.

Entering the giant hotel amid a mass of tourists, she went straight for the foyer washrooms, her overnight bag slung over one shoulder. She kept her head down, trying to forget the last time she’d been there.

Inside one of the cubicles she stepped out of her pantsuit and brushed her hair loose. Drawing a compact mirror from her purse, she applied a curl of mascara and some vanilla lip balm. She had to go for it and it had to be now. If she waited, the momentum would break and she’d never see it through.

At Reception she asked for Mr St Louis, but explained she didn’t have an appointment. The concierge was scribbling something on a piece of paper. As the corners of his mouth lifted in a sympathetic smile, she knew he was preparing to fend her off. He was used to women asking for the boss.

When he looked up and saw who she was, the smile dropped. He cleared his throat.

‘Of course,’ he said smoothly, picking up the phone. ‘Should I give a reason for your visit?’

‘No,’ she said, with as confident a smile as she could summon. ‘To be honest, it’s a bit of a surprise.’

‘Logistics,’ explained Robert. ‘Two of our guests are staying here–Lana Falcon and Cole Steel. We need a limousine out back; the drive round will give them the best approach to the carpet. It’s to be timed to the second.’

Robert and Alberto were walking the Orient. He had deliberately kept the Desert Jewel clear of the premiere–the Parthenon would house their A-list guests while the screening and after party took place here–so he had requested his friend’s assistance in managing the floor.

They passed a dealer and Robert nodded an acknowledgement. ‘We’re closing the Strip,’ he went on, ‘so there shouldn’t be any trouble.’

Alberto stopped outside the auditorium. ‘Can you do that?’

‘We just did. I don’t want Sam Lucas getting stuck behind a goddamn busload of weekend gamers, do I?’

Alberto glanced behind him. ‘And Elisabeth’s performance?’

Robert put his hands in his pockets. ‘After the show. Free liquor’s what a lot of them are here for anyway.’ He grinned. ‘She’ll get a happy audience.’

‘She sounds wonderful, you know.’

Robert eyed his colleague. ‘I know.’

‘I have heard her in rehearsal,’ he said softly. ‘She sings like an angel. Tell me, St Louis, have you?’

Robert tensed. In fact, he hadn’t been around for any of Elisabeth’s preparations–he’d been too busy with his own. Still, he didn’t like the old man’s attitude.

‘What are you implying, exactly, Bellini?’

Alberto leaned back, folding his arms. ‘Exactly nothing.’

‘I resent your tone.’ Robert kept his voice low. ‘Don’t use it with me again.’

Alberto matched his gaze.

At last Robert clapped the older man on the shoulder as he might the flank of a horse, their professional relationship resumed. ‘Let’s walk.’

The men made their way through to the casino. An orchestra of gaming instruments hit them with wild, discordant song: slots switching and flashing; the patter of chips as they spat into trays and were tossed into buckets; the brittle roll of the roulette wheel; and the shouts of the players. And above all, that smell, sweet and sharp, the aroma of changing luck.

‘Tell that jackass he’s had enough to drink,’ Robert instructed his casino manager. He nodded to a man with thick ginger hair and small crab-eyes who kept slipping off his table stool. ‘It’s not a free bar in here. If he’s not happy, get security to take him out.’

His manager followed orders. There were 130,000 square feet of Orient casino–his guys had to survey the tables like hawks.

Alberto walked quickly to keep up. ‘Elisabeth did tell me she was having trouble getting you alone. You spend too much time in the casinos, St Louis.’

‘I’ll spend time where I like.’

‘She wanted to talk to you. She said—’

Robert turned on him, his patience expired. ‘I’ll say this once, Bellini: my relationship with Elisabeth has nothing to do with you. Stay out of it. Christ! If it’s not Bernstein, it’s you.’ It bothered him to think that Elisabeth had been discussing their private lives with one of his employees. He knew they’d spent a lot of time together during Elisabeth’s residency but this was too much–now Bellini was acting like a concerned father.

At the craps deck Robert’s assistant fell into step beside him. ‘Sir, you’ve got a visitor.’

He waved the young man away. ‘I haven’t anything scheduled, they’ll have to wait.’

His assistant leaned in. ‘It’s Lana Falcon, boss.’

Robert stopped. He kept his face perfectly still. ‘Fine. I’ll be out.’

63

She was sitting in the foyer on a green silk couch the colour of her eyes. Her face was turned away from him, the delicate line of her profile, the alabaster skin framed by the warmth of her hair. For a moment he watched and remembered her. If this was the last time, he would not forget this picture.

‘Lana.’ He greeted her formally, an acquaintance. Part of him wanted to yell at her. Part of him wanted to kiss her and never stop.

‘Hi.’ She stood, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear in a self-conscious gesture he knew well. ‘I’m sorry to come here unannounced.’

Robert shook his head, the apology unnecessary. ‘It’s fine.’ Perhaps she was in town on business, wanted to drop by on an old friend. Her audacity galled him. She might be able to play make-believe but it gave her no right to assume the same of him.

‘I was wondering if I could talk to you for a few minutes,’ she said, knotting her hands. ‘You see, I …’ She shook her head. ‘God, how do I say this …?’

He waited.

‘I need your help,’ she said finally, meeting his dark eyes. ‘I didn’t know where else to come. It’s silly, I’m sure–you’re busy.’ Her voice cracked.

Robert knew how he was meant to feel. He was meant to hate her, wish her gone, tell her to leave and never come back and stop crashing into his life just when he thought he had his head together. But he couldn’t.

‘Hey.’ He touched her elbow. Then, aware they were attracting attention, ‘Come on, let’s get some privacy.’

They walked in silence. Lana couldn’t tell if he was angry, disappointed, or what. He carried himself with such control, such power–part of it so familiar and part she didn’t know at all. She wanted desperately to rediscover him.

It was an uncomfortable ride to the thirtieth floor. Robert didn’t speak. The fact of her next to him was so unprecedented that it was as if time and place had dislocated, swapping them over, picking them up ten years ago and putting them down here, now, telling them to make fate from whatever was left.

In his office he poured them two large mugs of steaming coffee, while she walked the room and marvelled at its grandeur. She was in awe: she’d known how rich he was, but seeing him again at the heart of his empire, the full force of his efforts made real, words escaped her.

When he passed her coffee their hands met briefly. He went to sit at his desk but then realised how absurd that was-it wasn’t one of his business meetings, it was Lana.

They perched uncomfortably on either end of a low-backed couch.

‘It’s been a long time,’ he said, sipping his coffee too quickly and scalding his top lip. It seemed such a formal thing to say. Language was useless, a distraction.

‘Three months,’ she smiled. She considered adding ‘And eight days’ but thought that might sound creepy.

‘You know what I mean.’

A silence passed, but they were both happy to let it stand.

‘Are you hungry?’ he asked.

‘Actually, I ate already.’

He nodded.

Then she said impulsively, like a confession, ‘I had a burger.’

Robert laughed. She loved that she had made him laugh. ‘Did they offer you a job?’

It was too close. He knew it as soon as he’d said it. Her past waiting tables was too bound up in the pain and the guilt, in her walking out on him. Too near to her brother’s death.

‘Pleased you haven’t lost your appetite, anyway,’ he said, smoothing it over.

‘Thanks!’ She pretended to take offence, relieved he didn’t consider her to be on some Hollywood starvation campaign: she didn’t want to have changed.

There was another silence before he asked, ‘Where’d you go?’ It sounded loaded.

If she noticed, she didn’t let on. ‘I can’t remember. Theo’s Diner, maybe, I think.’

‘There’s better.’

‘There is?’

‘You should’ve asked me first.’ He grinned, wondering where the line was between friendly banter and flirtation. Why was he treading it anyway?

He sipped his coffee again. It was cooler.

‘Lana, tell me why you’re here.’ He said it gently.

She put down her drink. It was a long time before she spoke, trying to put into words the terrible mess she’d made without making him think ill of her.

‘I didn’t know who else to come to,’ she began, rubbing the back of one hand with the fingers of the other. ‘My life is …’ She cleared her head, started again. ‘Sometimes it’s hard to trust people. When something happens, something bad, you need a friend. Right?’

They looked at each other.

‘But these days, with my marriage and everything, it’s not always possible.’ Lana pushed back her hair and gave a nervous laugh. ‘I’m not explaining myself very well, am I?’

‘Go on,’ he said patiently.

She took a deep breath. ‘The thing is, Robbie—Sorry, I mean—’

‘Don’t,’ he said. ‘You don’t have to.’

‘The thing is that I’m … I’ve got myself into trouble.’ She breathed out and closed her eyes. ‘And it’s wildly inappropriate to come to you, don’t think I don’t know that. It’s just …’

Her voice dropped and he could tell she was holding back tears. With a sick feeling he knew what was coming next.

‘I’m pregnant,’ she said simply, finally looking at him. ‘Nearly nine weeks. And the baby’s not Cole’s.’

Words didn’t come. Robert was stunned. All he could think was, stupidly, selfishly, Lana’s having a baby and it’s not mine. He stared back at her, dumb.

‘I’m frightened,’ she went on. ‘I need to be able to trust somebody. It’s not your problem, you’re probably the worst person I could ask, and I’m sorry for that, I’m sorry for—’

Robert held up a hand. ‘Stop apologising,’ he said. ‘Don’t apologise again.’ It was all he could say. This was too much to take in.

‘I was foolish, I got carried away–it was my fault. You see, the marriage with Cole isn’t normal. He doesn’t have normal …’ She shook her hands out, uncomfortable with the explanation. ‘Desires.’ She picked up her coffee, thought about it then put it down again. ‘It’s going to sound crazy, because it is crazy, but the marriage is …’ Lana steadied herself. ‘Robert, it’s for business. Do you understand? We’re not in love.’ It felt necessary to clarify it. ‘I don’t love him and he doesn’t love me.’

Her words were like sunlight breaking through clouds. It was madness: she’d just told him she was pregnant by another man, but still his heart rejoiced.

‘I’m frightened,’ she said again. ‘For me and the baby. I’m frightened of Cole.’

Robert let out a long breath. It felt like he’d been holding it for years. Instinctively, like it was the most natural thing in the world, he moved closer and put an arm around her. Her hair smelled of lemons. ‘Don’t be frightened,’ he said quietly. ‘You’ve nothing to be frightened of.’

‘I’ve got myself into such an awful mess. I’m a disaster.’

‘You’re not. You’re never a disaster. Come here.’

She put her forehead against his. It was nothing sexual, just the right thing to do. After a moment he moved away, embarrassed.

‘Cole will find out,’ Lana said, searching his eyes. ‘And when he does, he’ll …’ She glanced away, naked with fear. ‘I don’t know what he’ll do.’

‘Do you know who the father is?’ Robert asked.

Lana was offended. ‘Of course. There’s only been one person.’

Robert nodded stiffly. ‘Do you care for him?’

‘I don’t love him.’

‘Have you told him about the pregnancy?’

She shook her head. ‘Not yet.’

‘You have to.’

‘I know.’

He reached for her hand, held it in his, like he had when they were young. ‘Do you want to keep this baby?’

She didn’t have to think about it at all. She nodded.

A long beat. ‘OK.’ He squeezed her hand. ‘You did the right thing coming to me. I’ll always help you, whatever it is, wherever I am. I’m glad you knew that.’

‘I didn’t know …’ She paused, her heart pounding. ‘After what happened—’

‘Don’t.’ He put a finger to her lips. ‘All that’s gone, it’s over.’

She shook her head. ‘How can it be? How can something like that ever be over?’

‘By letting it go.’ Robert’s voice was fierce. ‘We’ve paid our dues, Lana–we did what we had to and then we moved on.’ He couldn’t look at her. ‘There was no other choice. We both had to survive.’

‘It was my choice, though, wasn’t it? I forced us to do what we did—’

‘Stop.’ He stood up, paced to the window and looked out. ‘I put us in that position, remember? Don’t you ever dare forget it.’

‘I won’t assign blame.’

‘Then stop blaming yourself.’ He turned round, eyes blazing. ‘Your brother’s dead, Lana. Dead. It was ten years ago. He’s gone, he’s not coming back. We’ve served our punishment.’ He indicated the space between them. ‘Can’t you see that?’

She forced back tears. ‘I wish I couldn’t. I’m sorry, Robbie.’

He held up a hand.

‘No, let me finish. I’m sorry for everything you were pulled into, for my short-sighted, thoughtless decisions and my selfishness. But most of all I’m sorry for us. I’ve never admitted it before, not even to myself, but I should never have walked out on you that night. Never. I regret it every single second and will until the day I die.’

He came to her, knelt and took her hands. The distance between them folded away like paper; the ocean of time passed emptied dry.

As he opened his mouth to speak, her cell rang.

‘It’s my agent,’ she told him.

He got to his feet, the moment broken. ‘Pick it up.’

‘I can’t, I’m not ready.’

‘Lana, you can. I’m here. OK? I won’t let anything happen to you.’

She held the blinking phone in her palm. ‘Do you trust this person?’ he asked. ‘She’s my friend.’

‘Then get her out here,’ he instructed. ‘You can’t hide for ever. And we can’t do this by ourselves.’