Feelings of Fear Read Online Free

she was an extra in some surfing movie and he was assistant script-editor. Well, more like assistant to the assistant script-editor’s assistant. But Susan had thought that he was somebody important, and so she had agreed to go out with him. He had practically emptied his bank account taking her to The Palm in West Hollywood. They had made love the same night; and again the next day; and by the time Susan realized that he wasn’t much more than a glorified gofer, she liked him too much to care.
    He sat alone with his head in his hands and thought that he should have remembered those days, when love was more important than ambition.
    She didn’t go to see Hazel. Instead she went to the Café del Rey onAdmiralty Way in Venice Beach for no other reason except that she and Jeff used to go there almost every week when they were first dating, and there was a bar where singles could eat or drink alone. She ordered a Chardonnay spritzer and sat looking out at the lights of the marina. She didn’t know if her cheek was still red but she untied her hair and drew it across her face so that nobody could see.
    The barman had a huge black quiff and looked like Frankie Avalon from one of those 1950s beach-party movies. “You want to eat?” he asked her. “We have ikura caviare with spicy miso vinaigrette. Or maybe you’d care for the black pepper hamachi carpaccio.”
    Susan shook her head. “I’ve had enough of food for one lifetime,” she said.
    â€œYou look upset if you don’t mind my saying so.”
    â€œDo I? I think my marriage just finished and I don’t really know why.”
    â€œCome on. You know what Scarlett O’Hara said.”
    Susan pushed her glass across the counter. She felt bruised and miserable and she didn’t really want to get drunk but she didn’t know what else to do. In the corner a woman cellist with long swinging hair was playing an absurdly mournful version of “Yesterday”. She felt like crying but she knew that if she started she wouldn’t be able to stop, and what could be more embarrassing than a woman sitting on her own with a flaming red cheek and tears pouring into her drink?
    The barman passed over her spritzer and said, “There you go. It’s on the house.”
    She had taken only one sip before she became aware that a man was standing close to her elbow. He was huge, the size of a wall, and he was darkly suntanned, with improbably blond hair. He was wearing a white linen suit and a bright turquoise shirt.
    â€œYou looking for some company, ma’am?” he asked her.
    Susan shook her head. “I’m sorry. Not right now.”
    â€œWell, that sure is a pity. Mr Amberson wants to know if you’d like to join him tonight.”
    â€œWhat?” asked Susan. She turned around on her stool. There – on the opposite side of the restaurant, flanked by two more enormous bodyguards – sat a short, stocky man in a wildly patterned Hawaiian shirt. His head was rather too large for his body, but he was handsomein a raddled, worn-out way, with devilish eyebrows and an equally devilish grin. He raised his glass to her and called out, “
Salut
!”
    â€œIs that Jack Amberson the movie actor?” she asked.
    â€œYou’d better believe it, ma’am. And he’d really like to make your acquaintance. In fact, he insists.”
    â€œI don’t know,” said Susan. “I haven’t had a good day. Will you tell him I’m very flattered, but no thanks.”
    The man bit his lip. “Listen, I can’t tell him that.”
    â€œWhat do you mean, you can’t tell him that?”
    â€œMr Amberson isn’t the kind of man who takes no thanks for an answer, ma’am. Especially when it comes to his favorite.”
    â€œHis favorite?”
    â€œTall blondes, ma’am. Just like you. Especially when they’re taller than him.”
    â€œWell, I’m