dream about, California boy, not in your worst nightmares.
‘I’ll do those tests, David,’ she said calmly. ‘You just
husde them at Artemis. They’ll get seen.’
Already she had flashed onto Howard Thorn, one of the
many hugely powerful, hugely stupid, hugely married names in her little black book. Men she threw a mercy fuck
76
at now and then, who provided her with favours as needed. Howard Thorn was one of the most useful. Chained to his wife by billion-dollar handcu, he was guaranteed not to give her any trouble or bother her overmuch, and his massive holding conglomerate, Condor Industries, had helped her up the ladder with magazines, cosmetic .contracts and many kind little whispers in smoky clubs. Naturally, Howard was besotted with her, and every time she screwed him she made sure it was better than the last. And like all her other sugar daddies, Howard thought he was the only one.
Thank God, Ioxana thought contemptuously, ,for the fact that a girl can rely on some things in this life. The vanity of men was one world resource that would never run out.
Howard Thorn had bought faCteen per cent of Artemis Studios only last year.
‘They’ll get seen?’ Tauber repeated, questioningly. ‘Yes, they will.’
‘OK,’ Tauber answered, not pushing it.
She was glad they understood each other. Because she found herself in a position that she hadn’t known for years - helplessness. She couldn’t threaten David Tauber with firing him because, unlike at Unique, she wasn’t Sam Kendrick Interuational’s only client. Jesus, from the sounds of it she wasn’t even an important client. And anyway, Sam Kendrick had Zach Mason and Fred Florescu, and that was the pect movie, the one she wanted to be in. Already she knew that much. A movie would be no problem. But it was this’movie she wanted. The movie.
That was why she’d taken time out last week to do the test, and shown that jerk banker a little bit of nirvana this morning. She was already working for it, struggling for it. Roxana needed this ftlm, and if laying Howard Thorn was what it took, laying Howard Thorn was what she would’
77
do. She loathed him, but this morning she’d fucked him
like she was Scheherazade and her life depended on it.
The plane banked and dipped, preparing for the descent
into LAX. P,.oxana Felix gazed out at.the glittering grid of the city, laid out before her in a jewelled web of light,
sparkling against the darkness. It was a strange thing. She was frightened.
78
Chapter 7
Jordan Cabot Goldman was in an agony of indecision.
She twirled in front of her floor-to-ceiling mirrors, ignoring the reflection of the palatial bedroom behind her - the kingsize four-poster, an Elizabethan original imported from England, the carpet of delicate Chinese silk and the sunkenjacuzzi she’d had installed at the foot of the bed. Silver vases were scattered in a careful way about the room, crammed to overflowing with white and yellow roses, flowers that were changed every morning. The huge bay windows had a pofished mahogany window seat, laid out invitingly with soft downy cushions, embroidered in Scotland. The whole effect was an absolute triumph of wealth over taste, in the grand tradition of the Duchess of Windsor’s jewels, and Jordan was very proud of it, just as proud as she was of their ultra-neat gardens, which she’d had equipped with the very latest in both sprinkler and security systems. Tom Goldman had taken a while to get married, but Jordan Cabot Goldman was here to see that he never regretted that decision. Not for an instant. Hence the jacuzzi in the bedroom and the cupboard full of erotic paraphernalia hidden behind a bookshelf. And hence Jordan’s own slender, toned, worked-on young body that was bouncing so gratifyingly as she twisted about, pretending not to watch herself, holding up first the pink Chanel suit and then the navy Bill Blass dress. Both suchgroum-up designers. But Jordan knew it
‘I’ll do those tests, David,’ she said calmly. ‘You just
husde them at Artemis. They’ll get seen.’
Already she had flashed onto Howard Thorn, one of the
many hugely powerful, hugely stupid, hugely married names in her little black book. Men she threw a mercy fuck
76
at now and then, who provided her with favours as needed. Howard Thorn was one of the most useful. Chained to his wife by billion-dollar handcu, he was guaranteed not to give her any trouble or bother her overmuch, and his massive holding conglomerate, Condor Industries, had helped her up the ladder with magazines, cosmetic .contracts and many kind little whispers in smoky clubs. Naturally, Howard was besotted with her, and every time she screwed him she made sure it was better than the last. And like all her other sugar daddies, Howard thought he was the only one.
Thank God, Ioxana thought contemptuously, ,for the fact that a girl can rely on some things in this life. The vanity of men was one world resource that would never run out.
Howard Thorn had bought faCteen per cent of Artemis Studios only last year.
‘They’ll get seen?’ Tauber repeated, questioningly. ‘Yes, they will.’
‘OK,’ Tauber answered, not pushing it.
She was glad they understood each other. Because she found herself in a position that she hadn’t known for years - helplessness. She couldn’t threaten David Tauber with firing him because, unlike at Unique, she wasn’t Sam Kendrick Interuational’s only client. Jesus, from the sounds of it she wasn’t even an important client. And anyway, Sam Kendrick had Zach Mason and Fred Florescu, and that was the pect movie, the one she wanted to be in. Already she knew that much. A movie would be no problem. But it was this’movie she wanted. The movie.
That was why she’d taken time out last week to do the test, and shown that jerk banker a little bit of nirvana this morning. She was already working for it, struggling for it. Roxana needed this ftlm, and if laying Howard Thorn was what it took, laying Howard Thorn was what she would’
77
do. She loathed him, but this morning she’d fucked him
like she was Scheherazade and her life depended on it.
The plane banked and dipped, preparing for the descent
into LAX. P,.oxana Felix gazed out at.the glittering grid of the city, laid out before her in a jewelled web of light,
sparkling against the darkness. It was a strange thing. She was frightened.
78
Chapter 7
Jordan Cabot Goldman was in an agony of indecision.
She twirled in front of her floor-to-ceiling mirrors, ignoring the reflection of the palatial bedroom behind her - the kingsize four-poster, an Elizabethan original imported from England, the carpet of delicate Chinese silk and the sunkenjacuzzi she’d had installed at the foot of the bed. Silver vases were scattered in a careful way about the room, crammed to overflowing with white and yellow roses, flowers that were changed every morning. The huge bay windows had a pofished mahogany window seat, laid out invitingly with soft downy cushions, embroidered in Scotland. The whole effect was an absolute triumph of wealth over taste, in the grand tradition of the Duchess of Windsor’s jewels, and Jordan was very proud of it, just as proud as she was of their ultra-neat gardens, which she’d had equipped with the very latest in both sprinkler and security systems. Tom Goldman had taken a while to get married, but Jordan Cabot Goldman was here to see that he never regretted that decision. Not for an instant. Hence the jacuzzi in the bedroom and the cupboard full of erotic paraphernalia hidden behind a bookshelf. And hence Jordan’s own slender, toned, worked-on young body that was bouncing so gratifyingly as she twisted about, pretending not to watch herself, holding up first the pink Chanel suit and then the navy Bill Blass dress. Both suchgroum-up designers. But Jordan knew it
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