Books : Thrill : Excerpts

PROLOGUE

Here's the truth of it -- I can have any woman I want any time I want. No problem. Every one of them is ripe and ready, waiting to hear the magic words that'll persuade them to do anything. Married, single, older, younger, desperate, widowed, frigid, horny -- point 'em out, and they're mine.

You see, I know what to say, I discovered the key, and believe me it opens the lock every single time.

My mother was a hot-looking natural blond from Memphis who got herself murdered when I was seven. For a while the cops suspected my old man, they even took him into custody for a day or two. But he had an airtight alibi, he was in bed with his mistress at the time, a long-legged redhead.

My dad had a handsome face and the attitude of a gangster. He was an extremely snappy dresser -- only the best for him. He wore the finest Egyptian cotton shirts, silk ties, hand-tailored suits, gold cuff links and a Rolex watch. The man could have any woman he wanted, and he did. When I was growing up I used to watch him operate. He owned a fancy restaurant, and cock-walked the room, flirting with all the female customers. Women were his for the taking, and from an early age I got an education, observing him in action. He always had plenty of pussy, but after my mom died there were more women than ever. They felt sorry for him, and he ate it up.

He was a heavy drinker. At the start of the evening he looked like dynamite, halfway through the night he was a wreck and by the time his restaurant closed he was falling down drunk.

My dad didn't care what the women he slept with looked like, he used to say, "Get an ugly one between your legs, an' she'll really show you what it's all about."

He didn't have much time for me, so I became a loner. Instead of having other kids over, I joined a gang at school and began getting into trouble. Running the streets stealing cars and knocking off liquor stores was more of a kick than sitting in an empty apartment waiting for my dad to stagger in whenever he felt like it.

I started following in his footsteps. Fuck 'em and leave 'em was his motto. Why shouldn't it be mine, too?

By the time I hit fifteen and he was fifty, the restaurant was long gone and so were his looks. His handsome face was puffy and bloated. He had a big beer gut and rotten teeth -- too chickenshit to visit a dentist, he simply let 'em fall out.

One memorable day I asked him something I'd wanted to for years. I demanded to know if he'd killed my mother.

He whacked me so hard he split my lip. Still got the tiny scar to prove it. "Leave my fucking house," he screamed, his bloodshot eyes bulging with fury. "I don't ever wanna see your ugly face again."

Fine with me. I had two steady girlfriends and plenty of contenders.

I chose to move in with Lulu, a twenty-year-old stripper. Of course, she had no idea I was only fifteen, on account of the fact I looked about nineteen and pretended to be twenty.

The best thing about Lulu was that she didn't care that I had no job; she was happy to indulge me. When she wasn't working, we spent all our time at the movies, both getting off on the fantasy. Hollywood -- the ultimate dreamland. "You're so talented," she was forever telling me. "You should be a movie star."

Brilliant idea! As far as I could tell, movie stars didn't have to do much except stand around looking macho, and women worshiped them. And from what I read in Lulu's fan magazines, they made plenty of big bucks.

Lulu found out about an acting class and even sprung for the bucks for me to go. Nobody could ever accuse her of not being a sport.

After we'd been together a year, I came home early one day and caught her in bed with another guy. My dad had warned me not to trust women. I figured he was wrong on that score, but then I'd never imagined they'd screw around on me.

Big surprise. There was Lulu with her legs in the air, moaning and groaning.

I pulled the guy off her, and he ran. Lulu lay there, thighs spread, naked and scared, begging my forgiveness.

I knew then I had the power. I didn't even slap her, although she deserved it. Instead I packed my things and made a fast exit. No woman was ever going to get one off on me again. Next time I'd make sure I did it first.

She chased me down the hallway, naked, yelling her guts out. "It was a mistake! You can't go! Please! Don't leave me!"

Too late. By that time I'd figured out what I wanted, and it wasn't some cheating bitch who didn't even know how to be faithful.

I wanted to be a movie star; then I could own the whole fucking world.

I was sixteen, what did I know?