Part 72 (1/2)

two months since that horrible night, and Brian was still in seclusion.

He wondered if Brian knew that ”Love Lost” was topping the singles

charts and had gone gold. He wondered if it would matter to him.

P.M. knew the police were no closer to finding out who had killed

Darren. He made it a point to stay in touch with Kesselring. It was

the least he could do for Brian, and for Bev.

He thought of Bev, how pale and stricken she had looked on the day of

the funeral. She hadn't spoken a word, not to anyone. He'd wanted so

badly to comfort her. He hadn't known how, and the fantasy he'd had

about taking her to bed, tenderly loving her until her grief pa.s.sed, had

shocked him so much he'd been unable to do more than pat her cold, rigid

hand.

Angie Parks came down the circular stairs in a pink T-s.h.i.+rt that barely

covered her hips. She'd taken the time to add a bit of makeup

-a little mascara, a touch of lip gloss. She'd brushed out the knots

sleep and s.e.x had tied in her long blond hair, then had carefully

arranged it to give it a tousled, bedroom look.

The best way to get what you wanted from a man was with s.e.x. And she

wanted quite a bit from P.M.

She glanced around the big, gla.s.s-walled living room. It was a nice

start, she decided. A very nice start. She'd like to keep it as a

weekend place once she'd talked P.M. into Beverly Hills. That was

where stars lived, and she had every intention of being a star.

P.M. was her stepping-stone. Her romantic liaison with him had already

led to a handful of commercials and a nice supporting role in a TV

movie. She wanted better things, bigger things, and was willing to keep