Bitch [Paperback]

Jackie Collins (Author)

Book Description

Publication Date: December 7, 1984

The Bitch

Las Vegas. A carousel town set in the middle of the desert. Blazing neon signs promise all the vices known to man, and then some. Devastatingly handsome ladies' man Nico Constantine hits town to make a killing at the casinos. But instead of tripling what's left of his dwindled fortune, he ends up owing the mob -- big time.

The Bitch

Gloriously beautiful Fontaine Khaled has shed her filthy rich husband for the life she really wants: a riotous whirl of champagne, designer clothes, and the hottest, sexiest men. But the never-ending party comes with a price, one even her ex-husband's outrageous alimony payments can't afford.

The Bitch

When Nico collides with Fontaine, their mutual lust is immediate and intense. Nico will need to use her if he wants to stay alive. Fontaine fears she's met her match. Love is the last thing on their minds, but it may be their fate -- if their creditors don't get them first.

--This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title.

Editorial Reviews

About the Author

With 190 million copies of her books sold in more than 40 countries, Jackie Collins is one of the world's top-selling writers. In a series of sensational bestsellers that began with The World Is Full of Married Men, she has blown the lid off Hollywood lives and loves. All of her fifteen novels have been New York Times bestsellers, and not one has ever been out of print.Many of her books have been made into movies or television miniseries, including the international sensation Hollywood Wives and the famous Santangelo novels: Chances, Lucky, and Lady Boss. Ms. Collins lives in Los Angeles, California. Her hobbies include photography, soul music, and exploring exotic locations to use as material for future books. --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

Chapter One:

Nico Constantine rose from the blackjack table, smiled all around, threw the pretty croupier a fifty-dollar tip, and pocketed twelve shiny gold five-hundred-dollar chips. A nice round six thousand dollars. Not bad for a fast half hour's work. Not good for someone who was already down two hundred thousand.

Nico surveyed the crowded Las Vegas casino. His intense dark eyes flicked back and forth among the assembled company. Little old ladies in floral dresses exhibiting surprising strength as their skinny arms pulled firmly on the slot machines. Florid couples -- weak with excitement and too much sun -- picking up a fast eighty or ninety dollars at the roulette tables. Strolling hookers -- blank eyes alert for the big spenders. The big spenders themselves, in polyester leisure suits, screeching away in middle-American accents at the crap tables.

Nico smiled. Las Vegas always amused him. The hustle and the bustle. The win and the lose. The total unreality.

A carousel town set in the middle of arid desert. A blazing set of neon signs housing all the vices known to man. And a few unknown ones. In Las Vegas -- if you could pay for it -- you could get it. Just name it.

He lit a long narrow Havana cigar with a wafer-thin gold Dunhill lighter, and smiled and nodded at the people who went out of their way to catch his eye. A pit boss here, a cigarette girl there, a security guard on his rounds. Nico Constantine was a well-known man in Vegas. More important -- Nico Constantine was a gentleman -- and how many of those were there left in the world?

He looked good. For forty-nine years of age he looked exceptionally good. Black hair-thick, curly, with slight traces of gray that only enhanced the jet. Black eyes -- unfairly surrounded with thick black lashes. A strong nose. Dark olive skin beautifully tanned. A wide-shouldered, thin-hipped body that would make many a younger man envious.

However, the most attractive thing about Nico was his style -- his aura -- his charisma.

Hand-finished, tailor-made three-piece suits in the very finest cloth. Silk shirts of exquisite quality. Italian-made shoes in glove-soft leather. Nothing but the best for Nico Constantine. It had been his motto since he was twenty years of age.

"Can I get you a drink, Mr. Constantine?" A cocktail waitress was at his side, long legs in black cobweb stockings, a wide mouth smiling and full of Las Vegas promise.

He grinned. Naturally he had wonderful teeth, and all his own, with just one vagabond gypsy cap. "Why not? I think vodka, on the rocks, be sure it's 90 proof." His black eyes flirted with her outrageously, and she loved every minute of it. Women always did. Women positively adored Nico Constantine -- and he, in his turn, was certainly not averse to them. From a cocktail waitress to a princess, he treated them all the same. Flowers (always red roses); champagne (always Krug); presents (small gold charms from Tiffany in New York, or, if they lasted more than a few weeks, little diamond trinkets from Cartier).

The cocktail waitress went off to get his drink.

Nico consulted his Patek Phillipe digital gold watch. It was eight o'clock. The evening was ahead of him. He would sip his drink, watch the action, and then he would step once again into the fray, and fate would decide his future.

Nico Constantine was born in 1930 in a poor suburb of Athens. He was the first brother to three sisters, and his childhood had been that of a small boy caught up in a sea of femininity. His sisters fussed, bullied and smothered him. His mother spoiled him, and various female relatives kissed, cuddled and catered to him at all times.

His father was away a lot, being a crewman on one of the fabulous Onassis yachts -- so Nico became the little man of the family. He was a beautiful baby, a cute little toddler, a devastating young boy, and by the time he left school at fourteen, every female in the vicinity loved him madly.

His three sisters, not to forget his mother, guarded him ferociously. To them he was a prince.

When his father decided to take him away on a trip as a cabin boy, the entire family rebelled. No way was Nico to be allowed out of their sight.

Absolutely no way.

His poor father argued, but to no avail, and Nico was given a job in a nearby fishing port, on the small dock, not a hundred yards from where one of his sisters worked scraping fish. She watched him like a hawk. If he so much as even talked to a member of the female sex she would appear, bossy and predatory.

The Constantine family desired to keep young Nico as innocent and untouched as possible. They worked on it as a team.

Nico meanwhile was growing up. His body was developing, his balls were dropping, his penis was growing, and most of the time he felt as horny as hell. Well who wouldn't, living in close proximity to four women? His sexual senses were assailed on every level. Naked breasts. Body hair. Creamy female smells. Underclothes hanging up to dry every way he turned.

By the time he was sixteen he was desperate. To jerk off was his only relief, but even that had to be planned like a military operation. Female eyes watched him constantly.

He realized he must run away, although it was a difficult decision to make. After all, leaving behind all that love and adoration...

It had to be done though. He was being smothered, and it was the only answer. The only way he could become a real man.

He left on a Sunday night in December, 1947, and arrived in the city of Athens two days later, cold, tired, hungry, certain he had made a wrong move, and already anxious that his family would come chasing after him.

He had no idea what to do, how to get a job, or even what kind of a job to look for.

He wandered around the city, freezing in his thin cotton trousers and shirt, with only an oilskin to keep out the biting ice and sleet.

Finally he took shelter in the entrance of a large apartment building, and stayed there until a chauffeured car pulled up, and two women in furs got out, chattering and laughing together. Instinct told him to attract their attention. He coughed loudly, caught the eye of one of the women, smiled appealingly, winked, projecting unthreatening vulnerability.

"Yes?" the woman asked. "Do you want my autograph?"

He was always quick, and without hesitation said, "I have traveled three days to get your autograph!" He had no idea who she was, only that she was mysteriously beautiful, with soft pale curls, a slender figure beneath the open fur and a sympathetic smile.

She walked over to him and he inhaled sweet perfume. It reminded him of the womanly smells of home.

"You look exhausted," she said. Her voice was magical, vibrant and comforting.

Nico didn't answer. He just looked at her with his black eyes until she took him by the arm and said, "Come, you shall have a hot drink and some warm clothes."

Her name was Lise Maria Androtti. She was a very famous opera singer, thirty-three years old, divorced, extremely rich, and the most wonderful person Nico had ever met.

Within days they were lovers. The seventeen-year-old boy, and the thirty-three-year-old woman. She taught him to love her exactly as she had always wanted. And he was a willing learner. Listening, practicing, achieving.

"God, Nico!" she would exclaim in the throes of ecstasy, "You are the cleverest lover I have ever had." And of course, after her expert tuition -- he was.

Her friends were scandalized, and warnings abounded. "He's hardly more than a child." "There'll be an outcry!" "Your public will never stand for it!"

Lise Maria smiled in the face of their objections. "He makes me happy," she explained "He's the best thing that ever happened to me."

Nico wrote a short formal note to his family.

He was fine. He had a job. He would write again soon. He enclosed some of Lise Maria's money. She had insisted; and every month she made sure he did the same again. She understood how painful losing Nico must have been to them. He was truly a wonderful boy.

On Nico's twentieth birthday they were married. A ceremony Lise Maria tried to keep private, but every photographer in Greece turned up, and the small ceremony became a mad circus. The result was that Nico's family finally found out where their precious boy was, and they rushed to Athens, and added to the scandal Lise Maria had tried so calmly to ignore.

Of course there was nothing they could do. It was too late. Besides which, Nico and Lise Maria seemed so unbelievably happy together.

For nineteen years they remained locked in a state of bliss. The age difference seeming to bother neither of them. Only the world press made much of it.

Nico grew from a gauche young male into a sophisticated man of the world. He developed a taste for the very best in everything, and Lise Maria was well able to afford the millionaire life style they adopted together.

Nico never bothered to work, Lise Maria didn't want him to. He traveled everywhere with her, and taught himself fluent English, French, German and Italian.

He dabbled on the world stock market, and occasionally did well.

He learned to snow ski, water ski, drive a racing car, ride horses, play polo.

He became expert at bridge, backgammon and poker.

He acquired an expert knowledge of wine and cuisine.

He was a faithful and ever-expanding lover to his beautiful, famous wife. He treated her like a queen right up until the day she died of cancer in 1969, aged fifty-five.

Then he was lost. Set adrift in a world he did not wish to live in without his beloved Lise Maria.

He was thirty-nine years old and alone for the first time in his life. He had everything -- Lise Maria had bequeathed him her fortune. But he had nothing.

He could no longer stand their Athens penthouse, their island retreat, their smart Paris house.

He sold everything. The four cars. The fabulous jewelry. The homes.

He said goodbye to his family, now ensconced in a house in the very center of Athens, and he set off for America -- the one place Lise Maria had never been accepted as the superstar she was all over Europe.

America. A place to forget. New beginnings.

"Here's your vodka, Mr. Constantine," the cocktail waitress twinkled at him, "90 proof -- not our regular cra . . er stuff." She met his eyes with a bold glance, then reluctantly retreated at a signal from a surly blackjack player.

Las Vegas. A truly unique place. Twenty-four-hour-non-stop gambling. Lavish hotels and entertainments. Beautiful showgirls. Blazing sunshine.

Nico remembered with a smile his very first sight of the place. Driving from Los Angeles in the dead of night, and after hours of blackness suddenly hitting this neon-lit fantasy in the middle of nowhere. It was a memory that would always linger.

Was it only ten years ago? It seemed like forever....

Nico had arrived in Los Angeles with twenty-five pieces of impeccable Gucci luggage in the summer of 1969.

He had rented a white Mercedes, taken up residence in a bungalow attached to the famed Beverly Hills Hotel, and sat back to see if he liked it.

He liked it. Who wouldn't in his position?

He was rich, handsome, available.

He was jumped on within two minutes of settling himself in a private cabana beside the pool.

The jumpee was Dorothy Dainty, a sometime-in-work starlet with a mass of red hair, thirty-eight-inch silicone tits, and an unfortunate habit of talking out of the corner of her mouth like a refugee from a George Raft movie. "You a producer?" she asked conspiratorially.

Nico looked her over, treated her with respect, and allowed her to show him the town.

To her annoyance he didn't try to fuck her. Dorothy Dainty was amazed. Everyone tried to fuck her. Everyone succeeded. What was with this strange foreign creep?

She took him around. The Bistro. La Scala. The Daisy. The Factory. One visit and Nico and the maitre 'd were the best of friends.

After two weeks he didn't need Dorothy. He sent her a gold charm inscribed with a few kind words, a dozen red roses, and he never called her again.

"The guy has to be a fag!" Dorothy told all her friends, "Has to be!"

The thought of a man who didn't actually want to fuck her threw her into a decline for weeks!

Nico had no intention of screwing the Dorothy Daintys of this world. His wife had been dead three months, and he certainly felt the physical need of a woman, but nothing would make him lower his standards. He had had the best, and while he accepted the fact that he would never find another Lise Maria -- he certainly was looking for something better than Dorothy Dainty.

He decided young girls would be best for him. Fresh-faced beauties with no track record.

He had never been to bed with a woman other than his wife. During the next ten years he made up for lost time and made love to one hundred and twenty fresh-faced beauties. They lasted on an average four weeks each, and not one of them ever regretted having been made love to by Nico Constantine. He was an ace lover. The very best.

He bought himself a mansion in the Hollywood hills, and settled down to having a good time.

The bachelors of the Beverly Hills community flocked around to be his friend. He had everything they all wanted. Class. Style. Panache. The money wasn't so impressive, they all had money, but he had that indefinable quality -- a charm that was inborn.

For ten idyllic years Nico lived the good life. He played tennis, swam, messed around on the stock market, gambled with his friends, invested in the occasional deal, made love to beautiful girls, sunbathed, saunaed, hot bathed, went to the best parties, movies, restaurants.

It was a grave shock to him when his money finally ran out.

Nico Constantine broke. Ridiculous. But true. His late wife's lawyers in Athens had been warning him for two years that the estate was running dry. They had wanted him to invest, diversify his capital. Nico had taken no notice -- and gradually he had spent everything there was.

The thought of having no money appalled him. He decided something must be done immediately. He was a brilliant gambler, always had been -- and the lure of Las Vegas was so very close.

He thought about his situation carefully. How much money did he need to maintain his present life style? He supported his entire family in Athens, but apart from them there was only himself to think about. If he sold his mansion, and rented instead, he would have a substantial lump sum of money, and cut his weekly expenditure immediately. It seemed like a wonderful idea. He could take the money from the sale of his house, and in Vegas -- with his luck and skill -- he would double it -- triple it -- certainly build it into a substantial stake that he could invest and then live off the income.

Nico had been in Las Vegas exactly twenty-three hours. Already he was down one-hundred-and-ninety-four thousand dollars.

Copyright © 1979 by Jackie Collins --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title.

Product Details

• Paperback: 156 pages
• Publisher: Pan Books; Revised edition (December 7, 1984)
• Language: English
• ISBN-10: 0330285300
• ISBN-13: 978-0330285308
• Product Dimensions: 6.8 x 4.3 x 0.6 inches
• Shipping Weight: 3.5 ounces
• Average Customer Review: 3.4 out of 5 stars  See all reviews (7 customer reviews)
• Amazon Best Sellers Rank: #2,827,026 in Books (See Top 100 in Books)

More About the Author

Jackie Collins has been called a "raunchy moralist" by the late director Louis Malle, "Hollywood's own Marcel Proust" by Vanity Fair magazine and "the Victor Hugo of our time" by Simon Doonan in the New York Observer. With over 400 million copies of her books sold in more than 40 countries, and with some twenty-two New York Times bestsellers to her credit, Jackie Collins is one of the world's top-selling novelists. She is known for giving her readers an unrivaled insiders knowledge of Hollywood and the glamorous lives and loves of the rich, famous, and sometimes bad! "I write about real people in disguise," she says. "If anything, my characters are toned down -- the truth is much more bizarre."
Jackie Collins started writing as a kid, making up steamy stories her schoolmates paid to devour. Her first book, The World Is Full of Married Men became a sensational bestseller because of its open sexuality and the way it dealt honestly with the double standard. After that came The Stud, Sinners, The Love Killers, The World is Full of Divorced Women, Lovers And Gamblers, Chances, and then the international sensation, Hollywood Wives -- a #1 New York Times bestseller, which was made into one of ABC's highest-rated miniseries starring Anthony Hopkins and Candice Bergen.

The Stud and The World is Full of Married Men were also filmed -- this time for the big screen. And Jackie wrote an original movie, Yesterday's Hero, starring Ian McShane and Suzanne Somers.

Reader's couldn't wait to race through Lucky, her next book -- a sequel to Chances -- and the story of incredibly beautiful, strong woman, another New York Times number one.

Then came the bad boys of Hollywood in the steamy Hollywood Husbands -- a novel which kept everyone guessing the identities of the true-to-life Hollywood characters.

Jackie then wrote Rock Star -- the story of three rock superstars and their rise to the top, followed by the long-waited sequel to Chances and Lucky -- Lady Boss -- tracking the further adventures of the wild and powerful Lucky Santangelo as she takes control of a Hollywood studio.

Both Lucky and Chances were written and adapted for NBC television by Jackie, who also executive produced the highly successful six-hour miniseries Lucky/Chances, starring Nicollette Sheridan and Sandra Bullock.

In 1992 she produced and wrote the four hour miniseries, Lady Boss, which became another huge ratings success for NBC. Lady Boss starred Kim Delaney. Next came American Star, a love story, which the Los Angeles Times described as "classic Collins."

And then the dangerously close to the truth Hollywood Kids -- a story of power, sex, danger and ambition among the grown offspring of major celebrities.

In 1996 Vendetta -- Lucky's Revenge was published -- and became an immediate New York Times bestseller.

And then in 1998, Thrill!, a psychological thriller for the nineties, in which Jackie created her signature mix of unputdownable characters.

In the summer of 1998, Jackie hosted her own daily television show, "Jackie Collins Hollywood." A combination of fun, style and interviews, Jackie talked to everyone from George Clooney to RuPaul!

After that she wrote L.A. Connections -- a four-part serial novel published one per month -- Power, Obsession, Murder and Revenge.

In 1999 came Dangerous Kiss -- the return of Lucky Santangelo in a bestselling novel about relationships, addiction, fear and lust.

In the year 2000, Lethal Seduction became the first bestseller for Jackie Collins in the new millennium. This tale of erotic suspense and glamorous intrigue featured Madison Castelli, a character first introduced in the L.A. Connections series.

Hollywood Wives -- The New Generation became a blockbuster bestseller in 2001, following in the footsteps of the original Hollywood Wives. Hollywood Wives -- The New Generation featured a brand new cast of characters and a totally fresh perspective on how women pursue power, love, sex and success in Tinseltown today.

In 2002, New York flash, L.A. trash and a Mafia don met head-on in Deadly Embrace, a sexy tale of dangerous passion and suspense featuring heroine Madison Castelli that was both a prequel and a sequel to her adventures in the bestselling Lethal Seduction.

2003 marks the return of Jackie Collins to prime-time television with a brand-new two-hour CBS TV movie Jackie Collins' Hollywood Wives: The New Generation, starring Farrah Fawcett, Melissa Gilbert, Robin Givens and Jack Scalia and produced by Collins. And in December 2003, comes her twenty-third novel, HOLLYWOOD DIVORCES, a sizzling, glam-drenched novel of lust, infidelity and revenge featuring all-new characters navigating Hollywood's treacherous trail of divorce.

Ms. Collins lives in Los Angeles, California. Her hobbies are photography, soul music, and exploring exotic locations so she can write about them later.

There have been many imitators, but only Jackie Collins can tell you what really goes on in the fastest lane of all. From Beverly Hills bedrooms to a raunchy prowl along the streets of Hollywood; from glittering rock parties and concerts to stretch limos and the mansions of the power brokers -- Jackie Collins chronicles the real truth from the inside looking out.

Customer Reviews

Most Helpful Customer Reviews

1 of 1 people found the following review helpful:

2.0 out of 5 stars not nearly as good as her others, November 22, 2003

By 

ashley aten (Hill AFB, UT) - See all my reviews

This review is from: The Bitch (Mass Market Paperback)

This book didnt really come out to me. It was an alright book, but definantly not one of my favorites. Save your money for chances, and the whole santangelo books!

3 of 4 people found the following review helpful:

4.0 out of 5 stars Another Trashy Novel by the Queen of Trash, October 26, 2001

By 

Ratmammy "The Ratmammy" (Ratmammy's Town, CA USA) - See all my reviews
(VINE VOICE)   

Amazon Verified Purchase

This review is from: The Bitch (Mass Market Paperback)

THE BITCH is the story of two characters: Nico Constantine who married into wealth at a young age, and Fontaine Al Khaled, who also married into wealth. Both of them are single by the time they meet accidentally on an airplane. Instant attaction....

The novel of course has several subplots weaving in and out, with lots of gratuitous sex and outrageous plot twists. But that's expected from a Jackie Collins novel. Nico finds he's dead broke and spends the rest of the novel trying to get himself out of this mess (big time gambling debt). Fontaine in the meantime is trying to rejuvenate her London night club, while at the same time ignores all advances from Nico, although deep down she is very attracted to him.

For a quick light read and some trashy writing, THE BITCH is recommended.

2 of 3 people found the following review helpful:

3.0 out of 5 stars wasn't impressed, July 16, 2002

By 

R. Graff (South Windsor, CT United States) - See all my reviews
(REAL NAME)   

This review is from: The Bitch (Mass Market Paperback)

This was much better than The Stud, but still not good. I just wasn't into the plot, and the characters were too generic and boring for you to really care about them.

Read this and The Stud when you have read all other Jackie Collins novels. It seemed this novel was trying to do for Fontaine what Lucky would later do for Lucky Santangelo.