Читать книгу Black Diamond - Havana Adams - Страница 11

CHAPTER 1

SEVENTEEN YEARS LATER

By the end of the night, Lola Wilde would be back to her bad old ways.

But for now she was a vision in a sparkly Gucci mini dress that by her past form was remarkably modest. The terrace of her mother’s home in the Hollywood Hills was decorated in twinkling fairy lights and the lit pool sparkled an iridescent blue in the cool Californian night. The glass doors into the house had been thrown open and Lola stared at the gathered crowd of her mother’s people. To call them friends would be overstating, Lola thought, Scarlet never really made friends. She just seemed to collect hangers-on, ex-husbands, wannabes.

Lola stared at the tall Christmas tree that sparkled inside the house and she sighed deeply and wished she might be anywhere but here. The murmur of conversation drew Lola’s gaze and she stared without interest at the guests that had gathered for Scarlet’s annual holiday party. It was the usual crowd of industry people – actors and producers who had long since passed their peak, rather like her mother. The uncharitable thought caused a smile to spread across Lola’s face. As she continued to scan the crowd, a deep, masculine laugh drew her attention and she turned in the direction that the sound had come from. Lola stared at the tall, broad back of a young man in a white shirt who commanded the attention of a pair of blondes, all three were still laughing. Lola shifted slightly to get a better look at the man. He was tall and his Afro hair was shaved low. Something about his profile was familiar and a memory teased at the corner of Lola’s mind. As though sensing her scrutiny, the man turned to stare directly at Lola. Surprise lit up her face. It was Lucas, the pesky kid from next door who had followed her around one summer after he’d developed a crush on her. When had Lucas filled out and shot up? The last time she had seen him he’d barely grazed her shoulders, now he resembled some young male model fresh off the European catwalks. Not that she should be surprised. Lucas Carter’s equally beautiful parents formed the band The Carters, and they were Soul legends, Motown Hall of Famers. Lucas was always going to grow up pretty. Her surprise must have shown on her face, because Lucas raised a glass with a small smirk and Lola had no choice but to raise her own back in a silent toast. For a moment, she thought he might come over but he turned back to his two companions and Lola felt an unexpected burst of rejection.

“What the hell are you doing?” Lola’s attention was wrenched away from Lucas and she barely had time to react to the words before the glass she held in her hand was grabbed by Scarlet. Lola watched as her mother took a sip from the glass that she’d been slowly nursing all night. She saw the grimace of surprise on her mother’s face. “Water,” Scarlet said.

Lola gave her mother a challenging stare and then her gaze drifted up and down to appraise Scarlet’s body, which was sheathed in an eye-catching red creation that made her look like Jessica Rabbit.

“Nice dress,” she drawled. Lola watched her mother’s eyes narrow and then Scarlet handed the glass back to her.

“I paid a fortune for that rehab clinic, so stay away from the champagne.”

“Of course, Mother.” The last word was laced with malice and Lola smiled as she saw her mother wince. They’d agreed, when Lola was five years old, that she would always call her Scarlet and there was nothing quite like going back on that rule to make Scarlet furious. And Lola suddenly realised that she wanted to make Scarlet furious, she wanted to goad her mother into some sort of reaction. Lola took another sip of water and flicked her long, straightened brown hair over her shoulders, turning her back on Scarlet. She stared at the glittering white lights that illuminated the grid of streets of downtown Los Angeles and forced a soothing breath out of her chest as she tried to relax. She’d spent three long months in the Arizona desert with no one to talk to, no phone, no TV, no contact at all with the outside world and she felt a seductive desire to lash out at someone.

“It was nice of you to visit me,” Lola said as she turned around to face her mother again. As they stood toe to toe, Lola felt a thrill of realisation; she and Scarlet were now the same height, when had that happened?

“Don’t turn this into a big deal,” Scarlet muttered looking everywhere but at her. At her mother’s words Lola felt a wave of anger, she had an overwhelming desire to upend the contents of her glass over Scarlet’s head but instead she took a deep breath and tried to remember the calming techniques that they’d discussed in group therapy.

“You look pretty in that dress, I picked that for you.”

Lola shook her head with a small smile, always the same Scarlet. Why bother with an apology when a pointless compliment might do the job? Lola felt the anger drain out of her. She was done being Scarlet’s trophy, she had her own life to lead and a plan that she had set in motion months ago.

“I’m moving to New York next year,” Lola said firming her shoulders. “I’ll get my GED and I’m going to NYU, to the drama school.” For a long moment, mother and daughter stared at each other and then Scarlet spoke.

“Do I get a say?”

“No,” Lola replied and then stopped as Scarlet reached for her, her mother’s hand snaking out to grasp her forearm. They so rarely touched each other that it surprised Lola and she looked into Scarlet’s eyes surprised by what she saw. Scarlet seemed almost regretful.

“Lola, the thing is…”

“Heeeeey!” Both Scarlet and Lola jumped at the squealed interruption and even as Lola was stepping away from her mother, another body was launching herself at her, flinging skinny arms around her neck. “You’re back.” Amber. Lola smiled and turned to her best friend of ten years, barely noticing that Scarlet had disappeared back into the house, melting away into the throng of party guests.

“I am fucking back,” Lola replied taking a look at Amber who was spilling out of a Tom Ford for Gucci dress, with a giant cut-out side that exposed her tiny waist.

“Six months goes so fast,” Amber said. Lola grimaced.

“Not if you’re the one locked up in hell.”

“Sorry sweetie, God was it awful? Did they keep you on lockdown and give you sponge baths, did someone try to make you their bitch?” As always, words seem to leap out of Amber’s mouth, as though she didn’t need to pause for breath or even thought. Lola smiled, she was back.

“Amb, it was a $4000 a night rehab facility not prison. Trust me there were hot showers, cordon bleu chefs and more than a few Teen Beat heart throbs.”

“For real?” Amber squealed. “Let’s blow this place, get a drink and you can tell me everything.” Noting the tightening of Lola’s expression, Amber shrugged. “Fine, you’ve changed, I’ll drink and you can be our designated driver.”

“I can’t blow this place yet. Scarlet wants me to mingle and be the perfect daughter.” Amber sighed.

“Fine, I guess I can get wasted here.”

“For sure,” Lola smiled as they moved towards the house together.

They were turning heads.

Lola and Amber had always turned heads, from grade school to high school, wherever they went. It was no surprise given that they were total opposites. Where Lola was black, tall with curves that supermodels went under the knife to achieve, Amber was tiny, only just hitting 5ft, with freckled, milky-white skin and fire-engine red hair. What she lacked in height, Amber more than made up for in curves and personality. It helped too that both Lola and Amber were as close to royalty as Hollywood got.

Lola, as the only child of actress Scarlet Wilde, always commanded interest and though Scarlet had largely disappeared from the public eye, Lola still raised interest among the Californian elite in which she’d been raised. Her adoption, her expulsions from various prep schools and her notoriously rocky relationship with Scarlet, who’d realised too late that you couldn’t back out of motherhood when it started to impinge on your social life, had become the stuff of legend. Lola’s first arrest had briefly made it on to the Entertainment Weekly round-up, on a slow news day. Like her mother before her, it was said that Lola knew how to put the wild in Wilde. As for Amber Logan, daughter of the renowned cinematographer Lucien Logan and the deceased Alicia Logan, Playmate of the Year 1987, she too had had a similarly documented childhood. Like her best friend, Amber was known to play hard but unlike Lola, Amber’s greatest skill lay in her ability to never get caught.

“So you’re being a good girl tonight.”

Lola grimaced as she felt the whispered words against her ear and a persistent hand stroking her shoulder. She should have stayed in the living room, in full view of the other guests. On the deserted back patio, Lola glared at Stefano, step-father number three or was it number four? She stepped away giving herself some distance from Stefano who, even in his days as her “daddy”, had always had a touch that lingered too long.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Lola replied sharply and looked back into the kitchen window, where she could see Amber was glugging down another Absinthe cocktail while holding court with some producers. Lola had had enough. “I’m going,” she told Stefano shortly and began to walk back into the house. She felt his clammy paw on her arm, pulling her back and she had no choice but to stop.

“Lola, you break my heart,” Stefano said, throwing a hand to his head in a melodramatic flourish. Stefano’s melodramatic flourishes had won him several awards as a musical composer but Lola had always been wary of him.

“Stefano, I’m going,” she repeated as firmly as she could without causing a scene. She tugged at her arm and after a moment Stefano let her go. Without a backward glance Lola marched towards Amber, determined to get them away from the party.

“Oh Jesus Amber,” Lola stepped back and watched as her friend emptied the contents of her stomach into the toilet bowl. Lola held up a hand towel to her friend as Amber washed her face in the basin and then stumbled out of the en suite into her bedroom, where she sprawled onto Lola’s bed.

“Sleep,” Amber muttered and within seconds, her eyes were closed, her chest rising and falling evenly.

“Shit,” Lola muttered and, with a sigh, she turned the lamp down, leaving only a small orange glow in her large bedroom and then she exited the room, closing the door gently behind her. From downstairs, Lola could hear the dull murmur of conversations and the occasional clink of glasses and bursts of laughter. She contemplated heading back to the party, when suddenly, in the darkened hallway, she felt arms on either side of her body. Immediately, Lola froze and then she began to struggle against the warm heavy bands that caged her against the door.

“It’s only me.” Stefano’s slurred words came against her ear and Lola recoiled as he tried to kiss her.

“Stop it,” she shouted but almost immediately his hand was against her mouth, smothering her words.

“We don’t have to pretend any more.”

With a muffled scream of fury, Lola forced her mouth open and she sank her teeth into Stefano’s fingers. He let out a scream and in that split second, Lola raised her knee to his groin and felt a wave of satisfaction as he doubled over.

“You fucking bitch,” Stefano screamed. He lashed out with one of his arms but Lola ground down on his foot with her stiletto and watched him yelp in pain.

“You are a disgusting pig and I wouldn’t fuck you if you were the last man on earth. I am going to New York and I don’t ever want to see you near me. You ever come near me again and I will call the cops. ” Lola started for the stairs, knowing that Stefano’s inebriated fog was clearing. It was the furthest he had ever gone and she could already see him starting to rationalise his actions.

“Lola, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He moved towards her but Lola backed away, ready to strike out at him.

“I’m warning you…” Lola saw something leap in Stefano’s eyes.

“You’re warning me. Stupid little girl, go to New York, go to NYU.” Lola felt a muscle twitch in her eye and she saw the glint of triumph in Stefano’s eyes.

“How do you know about that?” The words were torn from Lola as a dark suspicion took shape in her mind and started to grow. Stefano gave a hoarse laugh still rubbing at his bleeding hand.

“You thought you got in, on your own merit?” Stefano gave another snort of laughter. “Stupid, stupid girl. You didn’t even graduate high school. You’re good for nothing, fucking and screwing maybe, but not much else. Scarlet paid them, promised to build their new drama wing. She wants you gone…” But Stefano did not get to finish his words because Lola’s closed fist had shot out and in a single focused punch she shattered his nose.

Lola staggered down the stairs reeling from Stefano’s revelations. She felt as though the walls were closing in on her and she darted out the front door, avoiding the party guests. She could not see Scarlet, didn’t know what she might do if she had to confront her mother right now. Lola ran towards her car, when suddenly a tall, solid body blocked her way.

“Where are you going?” Wearily, Lola speared Lucas with a glance.

“Go away, Lucas.” For a moment Lola thought he might heed her words but she saw the way his eyes darted over her, saw the tightening of his gaze as he saw the tear in her dress.

“What happened?” He demanded and Lola was startled by how much Lucas had grown. He was still only sixteen and yet he seemed older, commanding even.

“Lucas, leave me alone.” Lola stepped around him and wrenched open the door to her Porsche.

“Whatever you’re going to do, don’t do it. Please.” That last word stilled Lola for a moment, and she caught a glimpse of the boy that had trailed around after her one long, hot summer.

“Lucas, stop trying to be my guard dog.”

“I owe you, remember?”

“You don’t owe me anything,” Lola answered as she slammed into her car and sped out of the driveway.

“Southern Comfort, no ice.”

The barman stared at Lola for a moment and then shrugged, pouring out a measure of the golden-brown liquid into a glass. He set the glass down in front of her, lining it up alongside the growing number of empties in front of her.

“Are you OK?” he asked.

Lola downed the drink in one and smacked the glass down on the oak bar.

“Another,” she said.

“I can’t. Should I call someone to come get you?”

“Another!” Lola demanded, spitting the words uncaring that she was slurring, her eyes bloodshot, her hair a tangled mess.

“I’m cutting you off,” the barman snapped, finally losing patience. He watched as Lola stumbled off the bar stool onto her feet. She swayed for a moment and he wondered if he would have to leap over the bar to stop her crashing to the floor.

“Do you know who I am?” Lola demanded. “Another,” she snapped and she punctuated her demand by slamming her glass back down onto the bar, where it immediately shattered. At the smash of glass, Lola saw that two security guards were already descending on them. “Fuck you then,” she snapped and made for the exit.

Lola slammed out into the cool night air. Her fingers shaking, she drew her keys out of her purse and prowled up the road.

“Hey, you can’t drive,” The barman had followed her outside but Lola shook away the words as she saw her Porsche Boxster. “Hey,” the voice said again. “I’m calling the cops.” But Lola had already jumped into the car and slammed the door shut. For a moment she sat and let her head fall back against the headrest. She felt as though she was on the deck of a boat, on choppy water, rocking from side to side. Lola reached for her cell phone and keyed in her mother’s number.

“I’m not here. Leave a message.”

She wasn’t surprised when Scarlet’s voicemail clicked in. Scarlet never answered her cell, not even for her own daughter.

“You paid NYU, you paid them. This was my thing and you had to fuck it up. Everything you touch turns to shit for me. Maybe you should have left me in that fucking orphanage, maybe you should have left me there to rot. You should have sent me back there when you got bored with me.”

Lola threw the phone over her shoulder into the backseat and then she gunned the engine on. She slammed her foot down on the gas, barely acknowledging the screech of tyres as she pulled sharply into the road and cut in front of another car. Lola gripped the steering wheel and pushed down on the gas pedal, floored it, shooting down Santa Monica Boulevard like a speeding silver bullet. She was already past the red light when she noticed it. Her reactions, dulled by the alcohol, kicked in way too slow to make a difference.

The bus seemed to come out of nowhere. Lola spun the steering wheel as she tried in vain to avoid the collision. She locked the wheel all the way left but suddenly she was out of control. She slammed into the central reservation. The car spun round and round. The Boxster flipped. Lola heard a scream that she realised was her and still the car was spinning and spinning and then coming to a halt, with a screech of metal in the middle of the road. Suddenly, Lola could see another set of headlights, another car heading straight for her. She was dead in the water as these white lights gained on her. She raised her arms up in front of her as though somehow this might save her from the imminent collision. And then, in a smash, she was thrown again, the Boxster was thrown up and she was airborne, hurtling towards she knew not what and then finally there was oblivion.