Read the book: «The A-List Collection», page 14

37

Belleville, Ohio, 1999

‘Lester, please,’ Laura sobbed, pulling her clothes on, humiliation burning. Robbie was already dressed.

‘Lester, please,’ he mimicked, waving the gun again. ‘Please what, huh, bitch?’

Laura felt unbearably cold. The night was dark and thick. She felt Robbie’s hand on her shoulder.

‘Just cool it, Lester, OK?’ he said.

‘I’ll cool it when the hell I like,’ snarled Lester, slurring his words. ‘She’s a little whore, boy, you’re best off keepin’ away—’

In a flash Robbie rushed forward and slammed a fist into Lester’s face. It made a hard, smacking sound and Lester tumbled backwards, groping beneath him for the mossy ground. The gun flew from his grip.

‘Never speak about her like that again,’ commanded Robbie, his voice swollen with conviction.

‘You motherfucking sonofabitch—’ Lester scrambled to his feet and threw himself at Robbie, knocking him to the ground and pinning him with his knees. In a series of sickening shots, Lester pummelled Robbie, one punch after another, a hideous grin splitting his face, sharp rasps escaping with each exertion.

Laura moved quickly, hurling herself at her brother’s back, clinging there, clawing at him, biting his sour-tasting skin and begging him to break free. Eventually he did. Robbie was knocked out cold–or worse, she couldn’t tell.

‘Robbie!’ she howled, collapsing on to him. Lester dragged her off, pulling her into the trailer, grabbing her hair with his dirty fists.

‘Let me go!’ she cried, and he obliged by releasing her violently, sending her crashing to the floor and slamming her nose. She felt blood drip thickly, its iron taste in her throat.

Robbie. There might still be time.

Laura knew that speed was her strength. Lester was so drunk, on adrenalin now as well as liquor, that he could hardly stand up straight. She darted past him into her bedroom, grabbed a small bag from the top of the closet and threw some clothes into it. Taking one final look at the room she’d called home for the past seven years, she made her way back into the kitchen.

‘Don’t even think about it, bitch,’ slurred Lester, crashing into the kitchen table. Then he laughed. ‘You wouldn’t even dare. ‘

She watched him stonily.

With a burp he reached into the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of beer.

‘I’m leaving,’ she told him, her expression cold. She stood with her back to the door, ready to make her escape. ‘And I’m not coming back.’

Lester squinted at her. ‘You won’t get far,’ he sneered as he chipped the top off the bottle. ‘An’ run good as you like, little girl: only place you’re endin’ up is my bed.’

He leered towards her, his breath rancid. Frantic, Laura reached behind, ready to push the door open. But before she could he grabbed her wrists and lunged, his bony chest squashing against her breasts.

‘Get your hands off me or I will make you regret it,’ she hissed. She spat in his face.

Lester blinked a couple of times, then sniggered, a cruel, throaty rasp. Shoving his bottle down on the side he pushed her to the floor, restraining her with grimy hands and shoving a knee between her legs.

‘What you gonna do, huh, baby sis? You’re a woman now, and women got things they have to do.’ He unbuckled himself. ‘Sixteen today, ain’t that right? I bet you thought I’d forgotten. Never. You’ll never be able to get away from me.’ His breath was rotten, his teeth blackened. She struggled beneath him. ‘I’m always gonna find you out.’ He landed a wet, rubbery kiss, half on her lips and half on her cheek. ‘Always.’

With all her might she tried to throw him off, kicking and punching and gnawing at his shoulder. He ripped aside her knickers, his mouth open, tongue escaping, eyes wild.

‘I’ve waited for you,’ he gasped, his voice syrupy with desire. To her horror she felt his thing. It wasn’t hard like Robbie’s, it was soft and thin and damp at the end. She gagged.

He thrust her legs apart, guiding himself in. She screamed out loud.

Then, as though an unexpected thought had occurred to him, Lester’s features were suddenly rearranged. He looked puzzled, raised a hand to his head before releasing a watery ‘Ugh’ and slumping on top of her, his face buried in her neck. There was something sticky and warm dripping on to her and as a bead of it slid into her mouth, she tasted its saltiness and realised it was blood.

‘Get him off me!’ she yelled, pushing at his bulk with all her strength. Her brother rolled on to the floor, face down, the back of his head a red, shredded mass of glass and skin and hair.

She stared at it, at him, dumb. It took her a moment to realise there was another person in the room.

Robbie Lewis. He was standing above her, shaking, a glass bottle in his hand. The top of it had come off in a jagged line and glistened black-red in the dim light.

‘What the fuck have I done?’ There was silence before he said it again. ‘What the fuck have I done? ‘

38

Las Vegas

Elisabeth Sabell stabbed a spear of asparagus with her fork. She bit off its head and chewed carefully, scrutinising her fiancé. They had met for a late lunch at Athena, the Parthenon’s signature restaurant, but Robert had barely uttered a word.

‘What’s the matter?’ she asked gently.

‘Nothing’s the matter.’ He loosened his tie. ‘Just a little hot in here, that’s all.’

Elisabeth looked down at her salad, her appetite vanishing. She felt like there was a stamp across her forehead that disclosed her guilt.

‘Are you sure?’ she enquired weakly.

Robert smiled in a way that made his eyes go crinkly at the edges. ‘Of course.’

A simultaneous rush of relief and affection compelled her to take his hand. She stroked his skin with her thumb, the first real act of intimacy between them in weeks. They’d made love, of course, but methodically–not with the passion they’d once shared.

‘What time are you expecting them?’

He reached for his glass of sparkling water and took a very long drink. ‘Early evening,’ he said. ‘They’re scheduled to arrive at seven.’

‘Great!’ Elisabeth sang, wearied by the thought of it. She wasn’t looking forward to this evening at all. The last thing she wanted was to make Lana Falcon’s acquaintance. The woman spelled trouble for Robert and her–she couldn’t put her finger on it but it was definitely there.

Then again, Elisabeth was hardly able to indulge in the mistrust of others. Swallowing her memories of Alberto Bellini with the next slug of Sancerre, she put her cutlery together and gave Robert a tight smile. Since the fight she’d vowed to put him from her mind. It wasn’t easy. Every time she thought of Alberto’s touch, the way he had caressed her body with hands that had known a thousand dangers, she felt a shiver ripple right down her spine.

‘I’ll give them a tour of the Orient before we eat,’ said Robert. He cleared his throat.

As Elisabeth glanced up she felt a stab of guilt. She had to tell him, they were getting married. The twinkle of her engagement ring caught her eye. Robert still hadn’t mentioned a date for the wedding. In a defence she didn’t quite support, she decided it was no wonder she’d found solace elsewhere.

The mess you’re in is Robert’s fault, is it?

Yes, it is. He forced me into Alberto’s arms.

Don’t kid yourself, Elisabeth.

‘Is there something you want to talk to me about?’ she asked, bracing herself for the accusation. Hoping for it, even.

You’re a coward.

Instead Robert’s face broke into a warm smile. ‘No, darling.’ She got the impression he was treading carefully with what he said. ‘Why?’

She shook her head. ‘It doesn’t matter.’

A moment passed. She felt his eyes on her but she gave nothing away. For a second it was like they didn’t know each other, just two strangers meeting at lunch. Abruptly he stood up.

‘I’ve got a VIP arrival,’ he said, checking his watch. ‘I’ll see you this evening, yes?’

Elisabeth dabbed her mouth with a napkin. ‘Of course–I’ve got a session with Donatella anyway.’

Robert tried a laugh. ‘Good luck,’ he said, remembering Elisabeth’s formidable voice coach.

Elisabeth didn’t join in. She rose to her feet. Then she added in a weird chummy sort of voice, ‘Till this evening!’

Silence. There had been this awful politeness between them for weeks. She felt like she should shake his hand.

‘Eight o’clock?’

She nodded, then grabbed her things and made a swift exit. It seemed important she be the first one to leave.

39

Later that afternoon, Robert stood for a long time under the hot needles of water. He scrubbed furiously at his skin, washing away the sleepless night he’d had, the torturous day; preparing himself for what was to come.

In less than two hours, Lana Falcon would be in his hotel. He would see her again. He would see those clear green eyes and pretend he hadn’t looked into them a thousand times before. He would embrace her politely when they met, feel her familiar shape and skin and smell her hair. He would talk to her like they had never even met.

But despite how it had ended, he couldn’t bring himself to wish he had never been a part of her life. It would still be Laura, he couldn’t doubt it, and for that reason he knew he would still love her. He would still love her in that lasting, irrevocable way he could not summon for anybody else. Her laugh, her kindness, her body.

He remembered the night she had walked out on him, the guilt that had set hard in their bones finally winning the fight. That morning he’d woken to find her gone, her closet empty, not a trace of her left. Except a note:

Robbie, this is my lie. Let me take it with me.

The words he had lived with for the past decade.

A familiar surge of anger flared. Everything she’d put him through and that was how she repaid him. He’d told her it would happen. She hadn’t listened.

He scoured his face and chest, ridding himself of the memories.

At the MGM he’d heard they were coming, wanted to scope out the Orient before next summer. It sounded so simple, just an introduction over dinner, except Robert knew it would be almost impossible to do.

I’m going to see Laura again.

He didn’t think Elisabeth had suspected anything over lunch today. When he thought of his innocent fiancée he felt nothing but shame.

Turning off the shower, he stepped out, pressing a towel to his face. It was easier to feel anger than it was hurt.

He could not continue to let Lana Falcon rule his life. She had moved on; she didn’t want him. She’d wasted no time in getting married to another man. Clearly she had forgotten everything; meanwhile he’d been holding out on the rest of his life–and for what? Some girl who couldn’t care less.

Tonight would draw a line under the past. He was a St Louis, a businessman, and he hadn’t got this far by indulging his emotions.

Robert wrapped the towel around his waist and emerged into the bedroom.

To his surprise Elisabeth was sitting on the bed, her eyes dead on him. She must have come in and got changed while he’d been in the shower. Her gun-metal-grey gown was studded with crystals and a serious expression clouded her beautifully made-up face.

‘I thought I was meeting you there,’ he said, running a hand through his wet hair. He pulled a dark blue suit out of the closet.

Elisabeth swallowed. ‘I’ve got to be honest with you.’

Robert turned round. Immediately she looked away and in that movement he knew the hurt he’d caused her ran deeper than he knew. He’d withdrawn the past few months, he’d treated her unfairly–what was she supposed to think?

‘About what?’ he asked softly.

She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it, then opened it again. Tears threatened and she raised a hand to stem them. ‘I don’t know how to …’ she began.

Robert saw his opportunity. ‘I know things haven’t been great between us,’ he said quietly, approaching the bed.

‘Me, too,’ she blurted. ‘It’s because I’ve done—I mean, I’ve been—’

‘Stop.’ He sat down next to her and put a finger to her mouth. ‘I already know.’

Elisabeth was confused. ‘You do?’

‘Of course.’ He put an arm round her and pulled her into his warmth. ‘I’ve not been there for you lately, I’m aware of that.’ He kissed the top of her head. ‘To tell the truth I’ve had a lot on my mind, I had a few things I needed to work out. Now that I have, I know what I want.’

He pulled away so he could look into her eyes. They were blue, so blue. That treacherous part of him willed them to be green.

‘And what’s that?’ she asked.

He closed his eyes. ‘I want to … Hang on.’

Suddenly he was on his knees, in front of her, his strong, bare chest still wet from the shower.

‘Elisabeth.’ He looked up at her solemnly.

Her breath caught.

‘Will you marry me?’

She let out a burst of laughter. ‘What?’

‘I don’t mean it like a proposal.’ He took her hand and rubbed a thumb over the sparkling diamond. ‘I mean it like a date, OK? Let’s set a date. For the summer, after the premiere.’ He became animated. ‘Soon after the premiere, in August, yes? Pick a date for me and I promise you,’ he put a hand on his heart, ‘we’ll do it.’

Elisabeth was stunned. This was it: her opportunity to become Mrs St Louis; the most powerful woman in Vegas. It meant she could put the episode with Alberto Bellini firmly behind her. She could be free from her family once and for all. So why didn’t she feel happier?

Robert looked up at her expectantly.

‘Yes!’ she cried, surrendering herself to the release. In one word she was back on safe ground. Everything was going to work out, this was how it was meant to be–her night with Alberto had been a blip, nothing more, just as she’d known. ‘Oh, of course, yes!’

She fell into his arms and he kissed her fervently, his hands buried in her glossy blonde hair. Gently he lowered her to the floor and moved on top of her, kissing her, one hand cupping her chin, the other working the zipper on her dress.

Elisabeth thought briefly of Alberto, but only briefly. Robert had saved her, delivering her from transgression and showing her the way.

Robert thought of Lana and resisted her with all his might. He resisted Belleville, that final, terrible decision, though it came in waves, thick and fast.

This was the right thing, for all of them. It was the right thing for him. It was.

40

Belleville, Ohio, 1999

‘We’ve got to go to the police.’

Robbie was slumped against the door to the trailer, his head in his hands.

‘No.’ Laura shook her head fiercely. ‘No cops, no way.’ Indecision was a luxury they could not afford–there would be time for weakness later. For now they had to think straight, and if there was one thing she was certain of, it was this: Lester Fallon had taken enough of her life already, there was no way she was giving him more.

‘Laura, I killed him.’ Robbie shook his head. ‘Do you hear me? I killed him.’

Laura thought she was going to be sick. ‘It was self-defence,’ she said at last, her voice cold. ‘He was trying to rape me. ‘

They had no idea how much time had passed since the fatal blow. It felt like hours. The smashed bottle lay on its side at her brother’s feet, staring back at them, accusing. The words ‘murder instrument’ looped in Laura’s mind.

‘I need some air,’ she said. ‘We have to get our heads together, come up with a plan.’

Robbie looked up at her. ‘No police?’

She shook her head. ‘No police.’

He closed his eyes. ‘OK.’

Outside they sat next to each other, not speaking. It was dark and late and there was no one around. Robbie took Laura’s hand in his and held it.

This was the only boy she had ever loved. It was her fault they were in this mess and there was no way she was letting him take the rap for it. He had a bright future and he’d give that up over her dead body. Not Lester’s.

Eventually she turned to him. ‘It’s our only chance.’

‘What?’

‘My brother keeps a can of gasoline out back.’

Robbie held his hands up, as if he could repel the force of her suggestion. ‘Laura, no.’

‘Just think about it a second—’

‘No.’

She touched his face. ‘Don’t you get it? My brother’s so drunk most of the time he doesn’t even know who he is. He could burn this place down all by himself. Nobody around here would ever know … Robbie, they’d expect it.’

She paused. ‘Do you hear what I’m saying? We have to destroy the evidence, all of it–it’s the only way.’

Robbie shook his head, but she could see him flipping it over, feeling its edges, trying it out.

‘We can’t.’ His eyes were black, serious. ‘What about the future? What about Vegas? How could we ever live with ourselves—?’

Laura kissed him. He kissed her back and for seconds they forgot. Tonight wasn’t happening; it was just a terrible dream from which they would soon wake up.

‘We will live, Robbie. And this is how. I’m not letting him ruin the rest of my life. I’m not letting him ruin us.’ Her voice cracked. ‘I’m not.’

He kissed her again. I’d do anything for you,’ he said, and she believed him. ‘But I know you and I know how you think. I can’t walk into this now if it means you realising in a year’s time that we made a mistake—’

‘That won’t happen.’

‘It might. ‘

‘It won’t.’

He shook his head and laughed emptily. ‘You can’t be sure of that.’ He held her shoulders, forcing her to look at him. ‘We go to the police—’ When she opened her mouth to object, he put a finger to her lips. ‘We go to the police and explain what happened. It was self-defence, just like you said. We’ve done nothing wrong.’ He swallowed, turned away. ‘You haven’t, at least.’

Laura shrugged him off and got to her feet. He would never convince her, however hard he tried. She knew he would carry the weight of the punishment and if there was anything in her power that could stop that happening, she would do it.

He followed her round the back of the trailer, watched in silence as she rummaged in a heap of cans.

‘Don’t,’ he said. ‘It’s not the right decision. You can’t see it now, but I promise you, it’s a mistake.’

‘Forget promises, Robbie.’ She found what she was looking for, freed it with a violent tug and unscrewed the cap. A sweet, stinging smell rose up from its neck. ‘You promised me we’d get away from here, you promised me that, too, remember?’ Fighting tears of panic, she wiped a sleeve across her nose. It left a sooty black mark. ‘I’m not letting you go down. This is our only way out and I’m taking it. For once, I’m fighting back. Just tell me: tell me you trust me.’

His answer came straight away. ‘I trust you.’

Laura took a deep breath, bolstered by his confidence even though she knew he would have played it differently. ‘You don’t have to be a part of it,’ she said.

He reached for a pack of matches on a decrepit ladder of wooden shelves behind her.

‘I am a part of it.’

When she took them from him, they both knew there was no going back.