Goddess of Vengeance - Jackie Collins [27]
Amy was in fine form, dragging her down the street at a fast pace. By the time they reached the burger place, Denver was out of breath. She stopped for a moment, thinking she needed to spend more time at the gym.
Ah . . . if she only had more time. Work took up most of it, and Bobby the rest. Not that she was complaining, spending nights and weekends with Bobby was always the best. But a weekend in Vegas with his family was not something she was looking forward to.
‘Denver?’
Somebody spoke her name and she spun around.
‘Sam?’ she countered.
They both grinned and hugged.
‘What are you doing here?’ she questioned, flashing on the last time she’d seen Sam – her New York screenwriter friend with the lean body, crooked teeth and disarming sense of humour. He’d been standing outside her front door in L.A. when she and Bobby had returned from rescuing Carolyn in Washington. Just standing there with an overnight bag and an expectant expression, which totally threw her, because it wasn’t as if he was her boyfriend. They’d shared one very pleasant night of passion in his New York apartment and a delicious breakfast the next morning. That was it.
After Bobby had taken off, she’d asked Sam in for a drink, told him she was kind of involved, and they hadn’t spoken since.
‘They’re making my movie,’ Sam said, his wacky smile going full force. ‘Remember – I told you I sold my screenplay.’
‘You mean it’s actually in production?’ she asked, genuinely surprised, because she honestly hadn’t imagined he was a successful screenwriter.
‘Can you believe it?’ he said modestly. ‘And they’ve made me a creative consultant. Which means I stand around the set making incredibly smart comments, and nobody listens to me, including the actors.’
‘You’re the writer,’ she said succinctly. ‘Why would they?’
‘You got that right,’ he said, bending down to pet Amy. ‘Hey, buddy.’
‘He’s a she,’ Denver pointed out, as Amy basked in the attention.
‘That’s me,’ Sam said wryly. ‘Always confusing the sexes.’
Denver smiled. She had fond memories of Sam; he was a really interesting and funny guy.
‘What are you doing right now?’ Sam asked. ‘Can I buy you a burger?’
‘No,’ Denver replied. ‘But I’ll buy you one. Kindly take into account that L.A. is my city, you’re merely a visitor.’
Sam held up his hand, ‘My mom taught me that when a beautiful woman wants to buy you anything – go for it.’
‘Your mom’s a smart woman,’ Denver said, liking the ‘beautiful’ comment.
‘She is,’ Sam agreed, ushering her to a seat at a plastic table on the outdoor patio. ‘She taught me a lot of things.’
A waitress, balancing her out-of-work actress body on roller-skates, appeared and handed them menus.
Denver hid behind hers for a moment, studying the lists of various hamburgers. Mexican, Puerto Rican, Southwestern, German (German?!). She wondered if Bobby would mind her sharing a meal with an old friend.
Hmm . . . an old friend she’d slept with, but only once. And it wasn’t as if she was planning on sleeping with him again.
Sam was just a friend. Period.
* * *
Now that he was getting a divorce from Queen of the Divas, Billy was determined to enjoy his newfound freedom. It was about time. He felt like he’d escaped from a gilded cage and was finally able to do whatever he wanted.
And what did he want?
To ride his Harley.
Get blow-jobs beside his pool.
Wake up late when he wasn’t working.
Flirt with anyone and everyone without Venus checking out his every move.
Never wear a tuxedo again.
Fart in bed.
Drink milk from the carton.
Play video games all night long.
Watch wrestling at midnight.
And porn whenever he felt like it.
Yeah, being free was a good thing. He liked it a lot.
His lawyer had recently informed him that Venus was going for the jugular. She was under the misguided impression that he was sleeping with his co-star, and nothing could be further from the truth.
The break-up of their marriage had come about because Venus never trusted anything he said any more. She’d taken to checking his emails, poring over his Tweets, going