Lovers & Players by Jackie Collins

demeanour, he soon had her totally hooked–not only sexually, but sometimes he let her sing with his group, a real high. He also encouraged her to keep writing her songs, which she did with great enthusiasm.
    Once again she thought she’d found the perfect boy.
    ‘Watch it, girl,’ Cindi had warned her. ‘Stud’s a player–I’m on it every time.’
    Liberty didn’t care whether he was a player or not. He had her juices flowing–creative and otherwise–and that was enough.
    But, of course, Cindi was right. He turned out to be just another bad boy, who gave her a dose of the crabs and left her for a skanky teenage stripper with huge fake boobs.
    She never did move back to the Diamond mansion, although Mama asked her to on many occasions. It was more real hanging with her aunt and cousin, both of whom enjoyed having her around.
    Mama visited once a week on Sunday, her day off. Sometimes Liberty felt that Aretha was her mom, and her real mom was just a distant relative, someone she didn’t know that well. Aretha was nurturing and caring, showering both girls with equal amounts of love.
    Now, seven years after leaving, she found herself stuck in her mama’s cramped apartment with a sprained ankle and a burned arm.
    Great! She could just imagine the lectures she would have to endure for the next few days.
    It simply wasn’t fair.
    Surely it was time she scored a break?

Chapter Six
     
    A fter settling into Sam’s apartment, Jett started making calls. After a three-year absence he wasn’t planning on spending his first night back in New York hanging out by himself, especially with the thought of seeing Red early in the morning looming over him. Dear old Dad. What a trip he was.
    In a way Jett was wary of a face-to-face. On the other hand, what the fuck? He was no longer a snivelling little kid lurking in the background, waiting for his father to beat the shit out of him. Screw Red Diamond. He could handle anything the old man dished out.
    Checking out his Palm, he avoided calling any of his former pals who, at the time he’d left, had been heavily into the drug scene. This didn’t leave him with many options, but after a couple of calls he connected with Beverly, a striking make-up artist originally from Guiana. Beverly was an ex-girlfriend of Sam’s, and she’d been in on his intervention.
    ‘How’re you doin ’?’ she asked, sounding as if she might really care.
    ‘Not too bad,’ he replied. ‘Thanks to you and Sam and a few others who gave a fast crap whether I lived or died.’
    ‘Hey, you were such a screw-up we needed to get you outta here.’
    ‘Don’t remind me.’ He groaned, not anxious to revisit old memories. There were too many, and they were too embarrassing.
    ‘Okay, okay,’ Beverly said, laughing. ‘I won’t go there.’
    ‘Thanks.’
    ‘Anyway, word is you’re doin’ fine in Italy, so it all worked out.’
    ‘Yeah, mainly ’cause of you,’ he said gratefully, for it was Beverly who had arranged the introduction to the Italian modelling agency who’d signed him.
    ‘It was your time to catch a break, an’ I’m psyched it happened for you,’ Beverly said warmly.
    ‘I guess this means I owe you, so I was thinking that maybe I can buy you dinner tonight. Like an old-friends kinda deal.’
    ‘Me and my new guy?’
    ‘There’s a new guy?’
    ‘Honey, there’s always a guy. An’ you’ll like him.’
    ‘I will?’
    ‘Would I stick us with a dud?’ she said playfully.
    ‘It’s happened,’ he countered.
    ‘How would you know?’ she said, laughing again. ‘You were always so outta it…’
    ‘Hey, Bev, I might’ve been stoned, but there’s certain things a person never forgets.’
    ‘Okay, okay,’ she admitted, ‘there could’ve bin a couple of short-term losers.’
    ‘A couple ?’ he exclaimed, snorting with laughter.
    ‘Thanks, Jett,’ she said, mock-serious. ‘But I gotta tell you–this one’s a keeper.’
    ‘Bring him. Where d’you wanna