Lovers and Liars by Brenda Joyce Read Free Book Online Page B

determined to do something about it. Jack’s past still lived with him. It had scarred him. She knew she was making judgments she wasn’t qualified to make; after all, she wasn’t a psychologist. But she didn’t care. She loved Jack.
    She had loved him from the first moment she had ever laid eyes on him.
    She would never forget it. She had just moved into a run-down studio in West Hollywood and was working in the publicity department of a small firm. She had been living in her apartment for a week and had assumed she had only four neighbors. The fifth apartment on her floor appeared to be vacant. It was Saturday, around noon. She was coming up the stairs with two bags of groceries, and so was he.
    He was red-eyed, staggering slightly, unshaven, and smelled distinctly of beer and sex. He was beautiful. His smile was instinctive—and sensual. As she put down her bags she watched him fumble with his keys, cursing mildly, swaying against the wall. Her next-door neighbor was a drunk—but the handsomest drunk she had ever seen.
    A week later she had run into him again and introduced herself. This time he wasn’t so far gone—maybe slightly high but impeccably dressed, shaved, and cologned. They had wound up chatting. He was, of course, an actor. Their friendship grew in small stages from there, despite the constant trooping of women in and out of Jack’s apartment. Sometimes they would share a beer or a joint, if they ran into each other after work.
    The night Jack was thrown in jail, it was Melody he had called.
    And it was Melody as much as AA who had helped him through withdrawal.
    When he had straightened out and she began to realize his potential, it had been her idea to manage Jack on her offworkhours. She had been with him from practically the beginning, and she would be there until the end.
    Melody climbed into bed. It was the best time of the night. Once she was under the sheets, she pulled off her T-shirt, letting it drop on the floor. She fondled her breasts and thought about Jack. She closed her eyes, her fingers teasing her nipples into erectness, imagining Jack’s mouth on them, sucking and tugging. In her fantasy he was crazy with desire for her, telling her how beautiful she was, how much he wanted her, how he loved her. She slid her hand between her thighs. She could almost feel Jack’s mouth, his tongue. She moaned his name when she finally found release.
    As she lay waiting to fall asleep she thought about what she really wanted, what she was really hoping for. Certainly not a reconciliation between Jack and his mother. But Jack had to face her and the past in order to leave it behind.
    And then what?
    Maybe he’d stop fooling around with eighteen-year-old bimbos and find a mature woman he could love and trust.
    Like her.

10
    S he hadn’t returned his calls.
    Vince Spazzio padlocked the gate on the construction site and sauntered over to his truck. He threw his shirt on over his broad, gleaming chest, heavily slabbed with a dozen year’s accumulation of muscle. He climbed in the cab, lit a cigarette, and checked his mirror, pulling out.
    Belinda hadn’t called. A vast disappointment filled him.
    She only called him at work, of course, because of Mary. Maybe she would call tomorrow. He hadn’t seen her in four days. He could barely stand it.
    He was almost tempted to drive over to her place, but he knew better. She’d have a fit if he appeared uninvited.
    He wondered what Mary would have for dinner. He was starved. He was always ravenous after a hard day’s work. Belinda. God, he loved eating her. She was beautiful. More than beautiful. He loved and hated her at the same time. He wondered what she was doing tonight.
    Didn’t she want to see him?
    Traffic was usually a steady five miles per hour on the San Diego Freeway when Vince commuted, but not tonight. He had worked until dark, fiercely. It was not so much to avoid going home to Mary as it was to take his mind off Belinda. But that was