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64

Lana soaked for a long time in the spa tub. Robert had given her the Pagoda Luxury Suite, a revelation of a room thousands of feet in the air, where the tip of the tulip punctured the sky. She was stunned by the size of it–with its separate living, dining and sleeping areas it was half as big again as her own living quarters in Cole’s LA mansion.

He had brought her up an hour before, swiping a gold card to let them in, and taken her to the unbelievable panorama, excited to see her reaction. One entire wall was a curved window looking out to the dazzle of the Strip. Together they had stood, watching the lights. She had wanted badly to hold his hand.

‘I need to find Elisabeth, explain all this,’ he’d said, avoiding her gaze.

‘Of course.’ She’d felt bad. This was a whole new imposition.

‘I’ll have some food sent up, something to drink.’

She had smiled gratefully. ‘Thank you.’ It wasn’t enough.

‘You must be tired. Take a bath, have a rest. Do you need anything …?’ He’d looked down at her stomach. ‘Sorry, I don’t know much about …’

She’d laughed. ‘Neither do I, as it happens. But, no, thanks, I feel good.’

He’d seemed relieved. ‘OK. So …’ He’d looked about him. ‘OK.’ This time they’d both laughed, nervously. ‘I’ll let you know when your friend gets here.’

‘That would be great.’ She’d wanted him to stay, knew he couldn’t.

‘I’ll be back.’ He’d scribbled down a three-digit number. ‘Any problems, use the phone.’

‘All right.’

He had touched her arm when he’d said goodbye. Now, like a teenager, she kept tracing the spot, expecting the mark to show on her skin somehow, so hot was the imprint he’d left behind.

She submerged herself in the fragrant bubbles, letting the afternoon go. Exploring the little silver-capped bottles contained at one end in a reed basket, she washed her hair with a jasmine shampoo and lathered her body, moving in slow, deliberate circles over her tummy.

‘We’ll sort this,’ she told the person inside. ‘You’ll see.’

Afterwards she patted herself dry with a soft towel, ran a comb through her hair and wrapped herself in one of the hotel’s downy white robes. She padded round the rooms for a while, opening cherrywood drawers and closets, fingering the cream silk hangers and the little perfumed sachets hooked on to each one. The linens were crisp and fresh, scented with orange blossom; pillows and cushions were stacked up on the bed, cool to the touch; and beneath her bare feet the plush lilac carpet was thick and soft. She fought an overwhelming desire to sleep.

In the living area a wall-to-wall media centre enclosed a plasma TV, stereo and Mac. Lana fiddled with the cluster of remotes, marvelling at the black glass doors that slid aside to reveal a series of screens, then panicking when they all at once came to life at deafening volume.

‘Shit shit shit!’ She punched some more buttons and the thing died.

There was a knock at the door. Surely Rita hadn’t arrived already? She checked the mantel clock. No, too soon.

Tentatively she peered through the eyehole. It was room service.

Robert had sent up a feast: a sticky platter of barbecue ribs, mini spring rolls and crispy duck with cucumber; silver domes housing wild herb salads, chicken in a lemon sauce with swimming fat green olives, strips of beef in rich black bean sauce, prawns with fresh ginger and spring onion–and the final one, a cheeseburger and fries. She laughed.

It was way too much but, then, she realised sadly, he didn’t know what she liked to eat these days. She took a little from each plate and, feeling comfortably full, poured herself a mug of steaming green tea. With her legs tucked up under her, she settled back to watch an old episode of Frasier.

A half hour later, fighting sleep, she forced herself to dress in a pair of old blue jeans and a grey sweater. She dried her hair and tied it back. Now all she had to do was wait.

Elisabeth frowned. ‘I don’t understand why she’s here,’ she said for the third time. ‘Hasn’t she got anywhere else to go?’

She’d emerged from the Orient gym and spa an hour ago. There had been an urgent message asking her to phone her fiancé. Now they were in his office. Elisabeth wished she could get in the shower–this afternoon had been non-stop.

Robert leaned back on his desk. ‘Darling, she needs our help.’

‘I should say so,’ said Elisabeth, pacing the room. She turned to him. ‘I asked if you two had history and you said you’d never met. You lied, Robert.’

‘I know I did. I’m sorry.’

‘Why the big secret?’ She lifted her chin.

He swallowed hard. ‘There isn’t a big secret.’

‘So, what, you used to be friends when you were kids—’

‘Yes.’

‘And then you fell out of touch.’

‘Yes.’

‘And now she’s here, asking for your help.’

‘That’s right.’

‘You’ve taken me for a fool once, Robert, don’t do it again. There’s more to it than that.’

‘Why should there be?’ He stood up and poured himself a drink.

Elisabeth narrowed her eyes. ‘I knew there was something between you,’ she said, not unkindly. ‘You made it so obvious. You couldn’t even handle hearing her name.’

‘That’s not true.’

‘Then tell me what is.’

Robert went to her. ‘OK. We dated for a while,’ he said. ‘It ended. She moved away. That’s it.’

A flicker of hurt. ‘Why did you split?’

He hesitated, grappling for the edited story he’d told so many times when Lana had first walked out on him. ‘We grew apart,’ he said, which was the truth. ‘Things changed. We changed.’

She looked up at him. ‘It sounds serious.’

‘It was, for a while.’

‘Who did it?’

‘What?’

‘The break-up. Who did it?’

Robert tried a laugh. ‘Does it matter?’

‘Yes.’

‘She did. She left me.’

Elisabeth nodded. ‘Did you love her?’

‘What’s that got to do with anything?’

‘Don’t be stupid.’

‘Yes.’

Her expression slipped. ‘Do you still love her?’

‘No.’

She let out a breath. ‘Fine.’ A pause. ‘I get that you still care for each other, I get that you want to help.’

‘Thank you.’ He kissed her forehead, which tasted salty.

‘And I won’t tell anyone about the pregnancy.’

‘I appreciate it.’ Robert embraced her. Over her shoulder his eyes hardened. ‘And the thing about Lana and I growing up together … no one needs to know about that, OK? It just complicates things.’

Elisabeth smiled tightly. ‘Makes no difference to me.’

‘Oh.’ He put a hand to his head, remembering. ‘Bellini said you wanted me.’

She balled her fists. ‘He did?’

‘Just something he mentioned. I know I’ve been difficult to catch. What is it?’

‘Nothing.’ She looked away. What the hell was Alberto playing at? Did he think he could force her into a confession?

Oh, Robert, darling, before you go, I’ve been having mind-blowing sex with another man. Who? Well, you’ll never guess …

‘Are you sure?’

She laughed it off. ‘Of course. I don’t even know what he’s talking about.’

Robert frowned. ‘OK.’

‘You’d better get back to Lana,’ she said, turning the tables. She grabbed her things and headed for the door.

‘Elisabeth?’ he called.

She turned.

‘Thank you.’

With a brief nod she stepped out and closed it behind her. She had to find Alberto, straighten out whatever game he was playing. It worried her more, she realised, than any revelation concerning Lana’s arrival.

As she summoned the elevator, Elisabeth knew that she was delivering Robert into the arms of another woman. What’s more, she was walking in the opposite direction.

65

Rita Clay arrived at the Orient in a gust of efficiency. She wasn’t happy about making the journey and even less happy at the position Lana had put them in. However, now wasn’t the time. They had a contract to unpick.

A staggeringly handsome man met her in the foyer, delivered a firm, no-nonsense handshake and asked about her flight from LA in a warm, straightforward manner. When Lana had told her where she was, Rita hadn’t been surprised. She had mentioned Robert St Louis before and it was clear a past was brewing between them. There had been more to this than a brief fling.

‘It’s kind of you to let her stay,’ said Rita as they walked through the lobby. ‘Has she been frank with you about her situation?’

‘Yes,’ said Robert. ‘I know about the baby, and my fiancée Elisabeth does, too.’ At Rita’s alarmed expression, he clarified, ‘Lana explained the nature of her marriage but that I’ve kept to myself. You can be assured that nothing we discussed, or will discuss, will go any further.’

Rita knew she could do business with this man.

Upstairs was spectacular. When Lana found a hide-out, she sure found a good one: the Pagoda Suite was one of the most opulent she had ever laid eyes on.

The women embraced. Rita rested a hand on her client’s stomach and they both smiled at the wonder of it. Despite everything, Lana was still carrying a baby.

Immediately they got down to discussions, which pleased Rita–there would be time for pleasantries later. Robert, who had cancelled the following morning’s meetings, poured drinks in preparation for the night ahead.

‘How’s Cole?’ asked Lana.

Rita extracted some papers from her bag. ‘Fuming.’

‘Shit.’

‘You could say that.’ Rita looked at her directly. ‘You realise he knows about the baby?’

‘What?’ Lana gasped. ‘How?’

‘He found the test.’

‘In my bathroom?’

‘Yes.’

‘How did he …? I mean, it’s private. I’m the only one with access.’

‘It seems not.’

Lana was appalled. ‘It’s against the terms of the contract!’

‘So is your pregnancy,’ said Rita.

Lana shut up.

Robert looked between them, baffled by what he was hearing.

He knew contractual partnerships existed in Hollywood but he’d never really thought about the logistics. It was impossible to think that Lana, with all her heart and soul, was caught up in one.

‘But Cole finding out like this will play in our favour,’ Rita continued. ‘Think of it like reading something bad about yourself in a friend’s journal. You shouldn’t have looked in the first place, right? It’s leverage.’

Lana sat back, shaking her head. ‘I’m shocked he didn’t come with you.’

Rita laughed drily. ‘Believe me, he wanted to. In the end I persuaded him I had a better chance of bringing you back by myself.’ Her eyes flicked to Robert, his handsome face composed. ‘Probably a good idea.’

‘So what now?’ asked Lana.

Rita passed her a file. ‘Our argument,’ she said. ‘I’ve spoken with Rachel Manelli, she’s prepared to represent you.’ Rachel Manelli was the sharpest lawyer on the west coast–she specialised in acrimonious divorces, especially where delicate PR was paramount.

‘Wow,’ said Lana, ‘this is really happening.’

Rita nodded. ‘You made it happen, kiddo.’ She fished a cigarette out of her bag and prepared to light it. Remembering Lana, she went to the window, opened it and leaned out. ‘For the moment Cole thinks you’ll go back to the marriage,’ she said, blowing out smoke, ‘and I’m happy for him to continue thinking that.’

Robert frowned. ‘But how would he …?’

Rita raised a sharp eyebrow. ‘A man like Cole has ways. At a guess he’ll want to keep the baby, pass it off as his. But then you’ve got to prepare yourself for the other possibility.’

Lana shook her head. ‘What’s that?’

‘That he’ll request you get rid of it.’

‘That’s not happening.’

Rita pulled on her cigarette. ‘I know. That’s why we’re not giving him the option.’

Lana examined the papers.

‘I’m already on to Katharine,’ said Rita. ‘We’ll get you through the hoops; clean up the story as far as we can.’

‘What about the premiere?’ asked Robert.

‘There’ll be speculation,’ said Lana, ‘there always is. We’ve played up to it before, on Cole’s direction.’ A dry laugh. ‘Except this time it’s for real.’

‘I mean with your husband,’ he said gently.

Lana let out a long breath. ‘I guess we’ll keep the marriage together until after then.’ She looked to her agent. ‘Right?’

‘Right. Cole won’t argue–it’d be a publicity nightmare for him as well. Maybe worse.’ Then she asked, ‘What about Parker Troy?’

Lana was surprised. ‘How did you know?’

‘I’m a mind-reader.’ Rita tried a smile. ‘You had a glow about you on set, kept wanting to buy time. When I found out about the pregnancy, it wasn’t hard to guess who the father was.’ She noticed Robert’s discomfort and wondered why, since these two clearly still had feelings for each other, they had split in the first place.

‘He doesn’t know,’ admitted Lana. ‘I’ve been putting it off.’

‘Put it off no longer.’

‘Shouldn’t we wait? I don’t know, till I’ve sorted things with Cole?’ She knew she was being a coward.

Rita made a so-so gesture. ‘It’s complicated enough already, don’t you think? Let’s thrash everything out at once.’ She smiled at Robert. ‘Always the way I like it. And besides, this is something you’ve got to be straight with Parker about. He’s the father; he’s got rights.’

Lana looked at Robert, who nodded in agreement. ‘You have to tell him,’ he said. ‘I’d want to know.’

‘So what about the short term?’ She touched her stomach. ‘How do I face Cole?’

Rita stubbed out her cigarette and sent the glowing end into the night.

‘You’re not going back to that house just yet, that’s for sure.’ She drew the window shut. ‘You’ll crash with me, I’ve got the room.’

‘No,’ interjected Robert, ‘she’ll stay here. It’s safer–at least while you’re in negotiations. Soon as things start moving, let us know.’

Rita hesitated. ‘Lana?’

‘Really, I couldn’t—’

‘Good, that’s settled.’ He stood up. ‘Afraid I’ll have to move you, though–I’m losing tens of thousands a night.’ He winked.

‘Of course,’ she said, embarrassed at his generosity. ‘Anywhere is fine, anywhere at all.’

‘I’m kidding.’

Rita scribbled something down on a piece of paper. ‘It shouldn’t be more than a week, maybe two. I’ll call you.’

Lana watched her friend. ‘Rita, thank you,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry I got us here.’

Rita brushed her off, never one to get sentimental. ‘It’s my job.’

‘I’m grateful.’

She squeezed Lana’s arm. ‘I know.’ ‘Are you flying out tonight?’ asked Robert. ‘I’ve got a meeting first thing.’ ‘We’ll organise a car.’

‘Thanks.’ She smiled. ‘You’ll take care of her?’ He nodded once. ‘She’ll be safe here. I’ll make sure of it.’

66

New York

Lester Fallon unlocked his apartment door and stepped inside. It was dark except for a naked bulb above the dirt-caked stove, casting a bald yellow light across the room.

Tonight had been his last at Club 44. Some of the guys had stayed to have a drink with him when his shift was done–he didn’t like any of them, they were weak and blind; they had no drive, no fire. Not like him. He was about to become a multi-millionaire, richer beyond his wildest dreams.

The time had come. Vegas was calling. Laura had been waiting long enough.

Lester opened the fridge and surveyed its contents. A chunk of greyish meat on a cracked plate; a bit of cheese hardened on one side; a sticky jar of jelly and three cans of beer. He reached in for one, popped it open and closed the door. On its front was a calendar with thick red crosses slashed through the days. Sixty to go until the movie premiere–that was all.

He was getting close, closer than he’d ever been. So close he could smell her fear.

In the bedroom he pulled out a canvas bag and began packing for the first leg of his journey. He wasn’t particular about it; there would be no need for order where he was going. Efficiency, that was all. Combat pants, a couple of sweaters, a pair of gloves.

He showered, dried with a cloth that stank of milk, then ran a fine-toothed comb through his thin, wet hair, beneath which it was possible to see the pale pink of his scalp. His decision to catch an overnight coach was a deliberate one. It was easier to move under cover of darkness. He’d learned that a long time ago.

Lester dressed in brown slacks and a corduroy jacket. He tied his shoelaces tightly. Sinking to his knees, he bent to retrieve a box from under the bed. Inside was a camel-coloured envelope containing a stack of fifties he had been saving. He tucked half the stash in the inside pocket of his jacket and the other half slotted down one side of his bag. Once he’d dealt with Lana and her murderer boyfriend he’d never have to worry about money again. He’d reveal their crime and their world would end … just like the voice had said.

He slid his hand into the box a final time, removed something cold and heavy, then secured the lid before replacing it, empty, under the bed.

The most important thing of all.

The gun.

67

Los Angeles

Every time Jimmy turned over, Chloe could feel his erection pressing into the small of her back. He seemed to be permanently ready to roll, even after the epic session they’d enjoyed last night. The size of it now, like a living thing jammed between them, made it impossible to ignore.

She decided to wake him, manoeuvring her naked body on to his sleeping form. Jimmy groaned and opened his eyes, sticky with sleep.

‘Hey, lover,’ she purred, sliding him in.

They fucked frantically, Chloe riding him like there was no tomorrow. It was the first flush of an affair: they wanted it hard and fast, both with a fever to burn. She came quickly; he soon after.

‘You’re insatiable,’ she gasped, her head on his chest. His long fingers stroked her hair.

‘Only for you.’ He brought her face close and kissed her lips.

Chloe rolled over, stretching like a cat. ‘I’m free all morning,’ she said. ‘What do you want to do?’

Jimmy made a face. ‘We could stay in bed all day.’

She hit him. ‘Don’t be silly,’ she teased, sitting up. To be honest, he’d left her a little sore. It had been a crazy week–since the day of the nanny’s interruption they’d scarcely been out of each other’s beds.

Thank God it hadn’t been Kate. Chloe trembled at the thought. She had seen the panic in Jimmy’s eyes when the door had gone–he’d come too close too many times. They’d managed to dress, just about, before Su-Su had walked in. From their flushed faces and rumpled hair it had been obvious what was going on. Jimmy had assured her that the nanny was far too afraid of her employers to ever say anything to his wife; he’d be surprised if she could even articulate it in English. Chloe wasn’t entirely convinced, but figured that if Jimmy could relax in that knowledge then so could she.

‘A compromise.’ Jimmy pretended to mull it over. ‘We’ll stay in bed all morning.’ He grabbed her waist and pulled her down. She felt his renewed hardness push against her stomach.

‘Come on, Jimmy,’ she said, giving him a shove, ‘don’t you ever let up?’

‘Why should I?’

Pushing him again, she slid out of bed. ‘Because I need to do some exercise. Too much time lying around in bed.’ She unhooked a flannel robe off the back of the door and slipped it round her shoulders.

‘Don’t do that,’ said Jimmy.

‘Do what?’

‘It’s Kate’s.’ He leaned back on one elbow. ‘Just a bit weird, that’s all.’

‘Sorry,’ she said, but she didn’t take it off. Jimmy was a cheat, a cocksman–if he hadn’t any qualms about taking strange women into his marital bed then he couldn’t get arsy about his wife’s dressing gown. Instead Chloe padded into the bathroom and turned the shower on.

‘Besides, you’ve been getting enough exercise,’ called Jimmy, with a wicked grin.

‘You know what I mean.’

‘Not really. Don’t know about you, love, but I’m knackered.’

‘You’re never knackered, Jimmy,’ she said, letting the robe drop tantalisingly to the floor. She stepped in, the glass around her steaming up.

‘Try me!’ he yelled as the pounding water took over.

In the silver rack was a selection of shampoo bottles, obviously Kate’s, and Chloe took pleasure in using the products. It was curious to be the other woman, but not altogether alien–it felt too much like retribution for that. She knew what it was like to be on the other side, and she’d earned her right to try it a different way.

In the end, they spent the morning by the infinity pool. Sweet-scented palms sweltered beneath an azure sky, the sugary smell of coconut tanning lotion thick in the air. Chloe swam fifty lengths with ruthless efficiency, Jimmy watching avidly from a sun lounger, a thin joint hanging out the side of his mouth.

She pulled herself on to the side, wrung out her long dark hair and arranged a pink towel beneath her. Relaxing back, she showed her tits to the sun–and to Jimmy, who, predictably, came to sit down next to her.

He passed her the joint, running a thumb lazily over her left nipple. ‘We should get married,’ he mused.

Chloe’s eyes flew open. ‘Are you serious?’

‘I’m a comic. What do you think?’

She reached for her Ray-Bans and put them on. ‘I think you’re a nob,’ she said, tilting her head back. Though it had been an intense week–for the first time in her life Chloe understood why people might get married on impulse, just like that after a few days, because when you were having sex like she and Jimmy were having sex, the rest of the world and all its rules, like other people and time and the usual order of things, went out the window. She had always thought that the relationships that worked were built on steady, solid years together before any kind of commitment. Obviously that hadn’t worked for Kate and Jimmy, or her and Nate—or her parents, for that matter. So what difference did it make?

Jimmy lay down in her lap, trailing one hand in the crystal water.

‘D’you know Cole Steel?’ she asked suddenly.

‘Vaguely,’ Jimmy said, taking back the smoke.

‘Brock’s got me auditioning for his new movie. Do me a favour and put in a word?’

His voice was tight. ‘Come on, Chloe, don’t go there.’

‘Where?’

‘You know where. This hasn’t got anything to do with either one of our careers.’

‘I know that,’ she said quickly. ‘I was only asking.’

‘Well, don’t. I’ve been put in that position too many times.’

‘You mean you’ve slept with too many actresses,’ she shot back.

Jimmy didn’t say anything.

‘Forget it,’ she muttered.

‘I will.’

Chloe looked down at her lover. He really was rather thin, she thought critically, taking in his stringy body and knobby knees.

Despite herself she thought fleetingly of Nate, so physically different from Jimmy. The Hides’ new album was getting excellent reviews on both sides of the Atlantic, but she couldn’t feel happy for him, not after how shittily he had treated her. After the break-up she had flown straight back to LA. Melissa Darling had called her from London the following week with news that Nate was badmouthing her to anyone who would listen, including the press. Fortunately there were enough other accounts of that night and it was perfectly obvious who had suffered in the relationship. Oddly it didn’t seem to be doing either of them any harm–Nate had reinforced his wannabe bad-boy image and she had come out as the wronged, innocent party.

‘It might not feel like it now,’ Melissa had said, ‘but in time you’ll see it’s better this way. You’re the girl who got caught in the wrong crowd. Better than the heartbreaker, Chloe.’

Jimmy extinguished the smoke in the pool with a fizz. ‘You’re a million miles away.’

‘Am I? Just thinking.’

The phone rang from inside the house.

‘Shit, better get that,’ said Jimmy, leaping up. Moments later he emerged, looking exhausted.

‘What is it?’ she asked.

‘That was Kate. She’s coming back from London.’

Chloe was alarmed. ‘What? When?’

‘Keep your knickers on.’ Jimmy yawned. ‘Couple of days.’

‘Oh.’

‘Yeah.’

A pause.

‘I was getting used to this,’ he said, his smile crooked.

Chloe glanced up at him. Some small, old part of her thought, You’re a real arsehole.

Jimmy seemed to think about sitting down, then padded to the opposite end of the pool and shook out his muscles. He looked troubled.

‘What’s this, an attack of conscience?’ she taunted. ‘This is real life, Jimmy–you make your choice and you pay the price.’

He disappeared into the pool with barely a splash and swam the length underwater. When he emerged at her end he grabbed hold of her knees. ‘That’s what you think I want you for?’ he mocked. ‘Real life? This is just fantasy, Chloe, and you’re part of it.’

‘We’re not getting married then?’ she flirted, kicking gently and sending a glittering splash into his face.

He looked at her funnily. His eyes were kind, she thought. Once upon a time he’d probably have been the perfect husband. If such a thing existed.

‘Not yet,’ he said, his gaze holding hers as he fed a hand between her legs. ‘Not yet.’