She made little effort to conceal what she was all about. She had no desire to spend time with him alone, on picnics, at the movies, or taking walks on the beach. Such things were not public enough for her. What she wanted was to be taken to the Flamingo Club or one of the other clubs frequented by the stars. She wanted exposure. She wanted to be seen in the company of Jake Kingsley and photographed in the company of Jake Kingsley and to be catered to by Jake Kingsley.
"How come nobody is taking pictures of us?" she'd asked less than thirty minutes into their first date, as they'd taken to the dance floor of The Flamingo for the first time.
"They're not all that interested in me anymore," Jake explained with a shrug. "Ever since Mindy Snow and I broke up the photographers have hardly given me a second look."
"That's awful," she said, genuinely appalled.
"Not really," Jake answered honestly. "I kind of prefer the privacy."
This was a concept Kelly had been completely unable to grasp. Why wouldn't one want one's picture constantly appearing on nationally syndicated publications?
She fucked him after that first date, mostly because she seemed to think she was obligated to. And an obligation was exactly how she'd treated it. They went back to Jake's place after the Flamingo closed, she kissed him for a few minutes, and then mechanically removed her clothing and put herself upon his bed. Jake considered himself to be a much better than average lover. He had had lots of practice at the art during his lifetime and had always made the pleasure of his partner (or partners) his main consideration. But Kelly simply laid in place during the entire event, groaning mechanically when it seemed expected of her, and moving in a manner that seemed designed to get things over with as quickly as possible. He had licked and sucked at her vagina for the better part of twenty minutes but had been unable to draw anything other than a few obviously fake orgasms from her. He had pounded into her body using his best strokes, utilizing every bit of knowledge he'd gained and all this managed was a few more faked orgasms. Finally, when it seemed like she was actually going to go to sleep from boredom, he'd given up and let himself go. Very rare was the sexual episode where he felt he would have had a better time simply masturbating while looking at her body, but this was one of those times.
She fucked him after every other date they shared in pretty much the same manner, although it seemed her impatience with the act grew with each encounter. During their last encounter — after rutting against her for better than twenty minutes and enduring six fake orgasms — he'd simply given up. He stopped mid-thrust, pulled out of her, ripped off his condom and thrown it across the room, and started jacking off over her heaving breasts.
"What the fuck are you doing?" she yelled, disgusted.
He didn't answer, he simply sprayed his semen all over her, an act that infuriated her and made her rush to the shower to cleanse herself. She'd stormed out without saying a word and Jake had thought he'd seen the last of her but she'd called him later that evening, acting as if nothing had happened, and had asked if they were still going to the Flamingo for the New Year's Eve party. He said he would. After all, he'd promised.
He pulled his Corvette into a visitor spot in front of her West Hollywood complex now, carefully locking up and making his way to her upstairs apartment. She answered the door to his knock and greeted him politely, giving him a brief, emotionless kiss on the lips and inviting him inside.
"You look very nice tonight," he told her. And she did. She was wearing a strapless royal blue dress that clung to her curvy body in a most appetizing way and showed off a little more cleavage than was exactly fashionable.
"Thanks," she said, flashing a phony smile. "Do you think there will be photographers there tonight? I mean, with it being New Year's Eve and all?"
"Probably," he said, and there would. Of course, they probably wouldn't be all that interested in Jake Kingsley or the cute cop he was with. Jake was below the radar at the moment and would continue to be as such until something newsworthy happened with him.
"I certainly hope so," she huffed. "I've told all my friends I'm going to be there tonight with you so there'd better be some pictures of it in the entertainment magazines next week."
"Anything is possible," he said, suppressing a sigh, wishing that the evening were already over.
"Be sure to give me a big kiss at the stroke of midnight," she said. "Maybe they'll take a picture of that."
"Maybe they will."
She went to the television set and picked up her matching royal blue purse. As she hefted it onto her shoulder something seemed to occur to her. "Oh yeah," she said, opening it. "I got that information you asked me for. The stuff on that Hadley bitch."
Jake's interest perked up immediately. "You do?"
That "Hadley bitch" she was referring to was Angelina Hadley, or, Angie, as he had known her. Though he had not spoken to her or heard from her in any way since that day he'd climbed on the bus for the Descent Into Nothing tour, she had never quite left his mind. She had been someone he had loved, someone he had enjoyed being with, someone he had abandoned without explanation, and he had always felt guilty about that, had never been able to put her memory to rest. When he started dating Kelly it had occurred to him that she was a potentially valuable source of information about Angie's current whereabouts. Kelly was, after all, a Los Angeles police officer and had access to computerized information that mere citizens — even famous ones — could never hope to see. So, on their third date, during one of the more sedate portions of the evening (which had been right after they'd finished fucking) Jake had asked Kelly if she could look Angie up in that system and learn what there was to learn about her.
"Who is she?" Kelly asked, as she lay naked on his bed, smoking a cigarette and sipping from a bottle of beer.
"Just someone I used to hang out with," he replied. "I haven't seen her in a while and I'm just curious what's she's doing."
Kelly shrugged. "Sure. Why not? What's her name, date of birth, and last known address?"
He'd given it to her and had mostly forgotten the request until now, figuring that Kelly had just been jerking him off when she'd said she would do it. But apparently she hadn't been.
"Yeah," Kelly said. "She's a real skank-o-rama, ain't she? You didn't used to fuck her or anything, did you?"
"Skank-o-rama?" Jake asked. "What does that mean?"
"It means she's a whore," Kelly said. "And a druggie too. She's been busted three times for prostitution and twice for possession of rock cocaine, all in the last six months."
Jake swallowed, feeling almost sick to his stomach. "Are you sure you have the right Angelina Hadley?" he asked slowly.
"It's her all right," she said. "Brown and brown, one-twenty, DOB of whatever it was you gave me, previous address that matches what you gave me. They had that restaurant you were telling me about listed in the system but she ain't working there anymore, hasn't in more than a year. She was living in some shithole motel up until about a month ago but now she's living in the county jail. Her last bust bought her a hundred and twenty days in the slam."
Jake felt like someone had punched him in the stomach. He was worried for a moment that he might actually vomit. "My god," he whispered.