L.A. Dead

Chapter 47

Charlene kept Stone waiting for only fifteen minutes. When she emerged from her dressing room she was wearing flowing cream-colored silk pants and a filmy patterned blouse. Stone noticed in a nanosecond that the blouse was so sheer that nipples were readily in view.

"So that's what L.A. women wear to dinner parties." He laughed, kissing her.

"They do if they have the right equipment," Charlene replied, wrapping a light cashmere stole around her shoulders.

"You're going to be very popular tonight," Stone said.

"With the men, anyway. Whose house are we going to?"

"It's a surprise."

"I love a surprise," she said, settling into the car. "This is Vance's car, isn't it?"

"It is. I borrowed it."

"Such an incestuous town," she said.

With Charlene's help he found the house, or rather, estate, in Holmby Hills. Stone was beginning to believe that everybody in L.A.

lived on four or five acres. He stopped in the circular driveway, and a valet took the car. As they approached the house, the front door was opened by a butler, and they stepped into a large foyer. From across the living room beyond, Lou Regenstein headed toward them.

"Oh, my God," Charlene said under her breath.

"What's wrong?"

"I'll tell you later," she whispered.

"Stone!" Lou cried, his hand out. "And Charlene!" He looked a little panicky. "What a surprise!"

"For me too, Lou," she replied, accepting a peck on the cheek. She whipped off the stole, handed it to the butler, and swept into the room at Stone's side, her back arched, breasts held high.

Lou led them toward a tall, handsome woman of about fifty, who was talking to another couple. "Livia," he said. "You haven't met Stone."

"How do you do?" the woman said, taking Stone's hand. Then she turned toward Charlene, and her eyes narrowed.

"And of course, you know Charlene Joiner," Lou said.

"Of course," she replied icily, then turned and walked away.

There was something going on here, Stone thought, and he wasn't sure he wanted to know what it was.

Lou quickly turned to the couple Livia had been talking to. "And this is Lansing Drake and his wife, Christina."

Stone took the man's hand. "It's Dr. Drake, isn't it?"

"Yes, and your name?"

"I'm sorry," Lou said, "this is Stone Barrington, a friend of Vance's and Arrington's."

For a split second, the doctor looked as though he had been struck across the face, then he recovered. "Nice to meet you," he mumbled, then turned to Charlene. "And of course, I know you," he said, chuckling, his eyes pointing below her shoulders.

"Of course you do," Charlene said.

Lou's attention was drawn to the front door, where other guests were arriving. "The bar is over there," he said to Stone, pointing across the room. "Please excuse me."

Dr. Drake and his wife had suddenly engaged someone else in conversation, so Stone lead Charlene toward the bar.

"Pill pusher to the stars," Charlene said.

"Yes, I've heard of him; he's Arrington's doctor. What were you talking about at the front door?"

"If you hadn't been surprising me, I'd have warned you," she said.

"Warned me about what?"

"Livia; she hates me with a vengeance. Poor Lou is going to get it between the shoulder blades tonight."

"Who is she?"

"Lou's wife."

"I didn't know he even had a wife. Nobody's ever mentioned her to me.

"Nobody ever does, least of all Lou. They've had an arm's-length marriage for twenty years. Word has it they occupy different wings of this house. They're only seen together when he entertains here, or at industry events, like the Oscars."

"And why does she hate you?"

"You don't want to know."

"You're probably right." They reached the bar; Charlene had a San Pellegrino, and Stone had his usual bourbon.

"Did you see the look on the doctor's face when he met you?" Charlene asked.

"Yes; I thought he was going to break and run for a minute."

"This is going to be a very weird evening," Charlene said.

Stone looked toward the front door and nearly choked on his drink. "You don't know how weird," he said.

Charlene followed his gaze. "That, I suppose, is the fabled Dolce."

"It is," Stone replied, "and the man with her is her father, Eduardo."

Charlene linked her arm in Stone's. "Well, come on, then," she said. "I want to be introduced."

There was nothing else for it, Stone thought; may as well brazen it out. He walked toward the two, wishing to God he were on another continent. "Good evening, Eduardo," he said. "Hello, Dolce."

Eduardo took his hand, but not before a shocked glance at Char-lene's highly visible breasts. "Stone," he managed to say.

Dolce said nothing, but shot a look at Charlene that would have set a lesser woman on fire.

"Eduardo, this is Charlene Joiner. Charlene, this is Eduardo Bianchi and his daughter, Dolce."

"I'm so pleased to meet you both," Charlene said, offering them a broad smile, in addition to everything else.

"Enchanted," Eduardo said stiffly.

"Oh, yes," Dolce said dryly, looking Charlene up and down. "Enchanted."

"Charlene is one of Lou's biggest stars," Stone said, because he could not think of anything else to say.

"I never go to the pictures," Eduardo said, "but I can certainly believe you are a star."

"Oh, Eduardo, you're sweet," Charlene giggled. She turned and snaked an arm through his. "Come on, and I'll get you a drink." She led him away, leaving Stone suddenly with Dolce, the very last place he wanted to be.

"Alone at last," Dolce said archly.

"Dolce, I…"

"Are you fucking her?"

"Now, listen. I…"

"Of course you are. That's what you do best, isn't it?"

"Will you listen…"

"I'm sure she's very good in the rack."

"Dolce…"

"Is she, Stone? Does she give good head?"

"For Christ's sake, keep your voice…"

"I'll bet she's spent more time on her knees than Esther Williams spent in the pool."

"Dolce, if you don't…"

"Oh, good, a martini," Dolce said, as a waiter approached with a tray. She took one, tossed it into Stone's face, returned the glass to the tray, and walked away.

The room was suddenly silent. Then Charlene's laugh cut through the quiet. "I don't believe you," she was saying to Eduardo, who, uncharacteristically, seemed to be laughing, too.

"Dinner is served!" the butler called out, and the guests began filtering toward the dining room.

Charlene came, took Stone by the arm, and turned him toward dinner.

"Let's get out of here," Stone said, dabbing at his face with a handkerchief.

"Are you kidding?" Charlene laughed, dragging him toward the dining room. "I wouldn't miss this dinner for anything!"