Hollywood Divorces / Hollywood Wives: The New Generation (11 page)

He cast an appraising eye over her. ‘Lookin’ foxy, Nicci,’ he said, licking his dry lips. ‘Shouldn’t walk around like that. One of these days somebody’s gonna take advantage of you.’

‘And it sure as hell ain’t gonna be my stepdad, is it?’ she said sharply, wishing she’d worn something more substantial than low-rider shorts and a stomach-baring tank.

Christ! He had a hangover from hell, and now he had to listen to this little cunt’s smart mouth. Things were going to have to change around here. He deserved some respect, and Lissa better make sure he got it. ‘Your loss, baby,’ he said, getting into his Ferrari, a wedding gift from Lissa.

Turning her back, Nicci entered the house, encountering Nellie, Lissa’s long-time housekeeper. Nellie, a stout, capable woman who originally came from Germany, lived to take care of her famous boss.

‘Mom around?’ Nicci asked.

‘In her bedroom,’ Nellie replied, adding a stern, ‘Knock before you enter.’

Nicci headed for the master suite and barged right in.

Lissa was sitting in the darkness on the side of the bed speaking on the phone. The drapes were drawn tightly shut and she was still in her robe. As soon as she saw Nicci, she covered the mouthpiece with her hand. ‘What are
you
doing here?’ she asked.

‘Nice greeting,’ Nicci remarked, plucking a handful of grapes from a dish on the bedside table. ‘Your own daughter, and that’s all I get?’

‘I didn’t mean it that way,’ Lissa said, slightly flustered. ‘Usually you call when you’re coming over.’

‘I’ve got something to tell you,’ Nicci said, perching on the end of the bed. ‘Didn’t want to get into it over the phone.’

‘Right now?’

‘I thought this would be a good time.’

‘Well, it’s not,’ Lissa said, thinking that her daughter’s timing couldn’t be worse. ‘You’ll have to wait outside while I finish this call.’

‘Whatever,’ Nicci said, getting up and slouching out of the room. She always slouched when in the company of her mother. Lissa was so freaking amazing, that she made Nicci feel totally insignificant in the looks department.

Shutting the door behind her, she stood outside and attempted to listen.
Hmm…very interesting,
she thought.
Gregg’s on his way out, and Mom’s on the phone. Maybe she’s getting it on with another guy.
Damn those big heavy doors! She couldn’t hear a word.

Wandering into the kitchen, she opened the fridge, removed a carton of orange juice, and swigged from the carton.

‘Your mommy wouldn’t like that,’ Nellie scolded, busily polishing the granite counter.

‘I’m not Mommy’s little girl anymore,’ Nicci reminded her.

‘No, but you certainly act like it,’ Nellie muttered disapprovingly. ‘And you’re too damn skinny. You need to put some flesh on those bones.’

‘God! Why do I feel like I’m still living at home?’ Nicci complained, pushing back her long bangs. ‘Now I know why I left.’

‘It wouldn’t hurt you to drop by for a decent meal once in a while,’ Nellie nagged.

‘I eat like a pig,’ Nicci said. ‘Can’t help it if my metabolism keeps me this way. Anyway, Nellie, only
you
think I’m too thin.’

After a few minutes Lissa emerged from her bedroom. She was now dressed in a white silk shirt, casual pants and Nikes, her platinum hair piled on top of her head, opaque black wraparound sunglasses covering her eyes.

‘Whassup?’ Nicci demanded. ‘You’re like so
mysterious
this morning. And how come you’re wearing shades in the house?’

‘Let’s go sit in the den,’ Lissa said, her face serious.

Nicci followed her mother into the den and flopped into a chair.

Lissa shut the door. ‘Here’s the situation,’ she said tensely. ‘And this information is for you only.’

‘I thought
I
was the one who came here to tell
you
something,’ Nicci said, wondering what was up.

‘I’m throwing Gregg out,’ Lissa said, sighing deeply.

‘Nooo?’

‘The locks are being changed, his things will be packed up. By the time he gets back this evening, everything will be taken care of.’

‘No shit!’ Nicci exclaimed. ‘You only married him two years ago. What’s the deal?’

‘As we both know,’ Lissa said, brushing back a loose
strand of platinum hair, ‘my history with men is not exactly stellar. Unfortunately, once again I found out things I refuse to put up with. I can’t take another confrontation, so this is the clean and easy way of getting rid of him.’

‘I never liked him,’ Nicci remarked. ‘Thought he was a lech.’

‘Nor did any of my friends,’ Lissa admitted.

‘Well, gee, this
is
a surprise,’ Nicci said. ‘And now I’ve got another one to lay on you.’

‘You’re pregnant,’ Lissa said quickly, the thought flying into her head.

‘No way,’ Nicci said, annoyed that her mother would think she was stupid enough to get knocked up. ‘Antonio’s coming to town. He’s giving me away at the wedding.’

‘I guess it’s better than being pregnant,’ Lissa said, relieved that she was not about to become a grandma. Lissa Roman. Movie star. Sexy singing superstar. Four-time divorcee. And…
grandma.
What an image-breaker
that
would be.

‘And,’ Nicci added, glad that Lissa was taking it so calmly, ‘he’ll probably be with his new wife.’

‘
What
new wife?’

‘Antonio’s getting married again.’

‘When?’

‘He’s doing it this week.’

Lissa couldn’t help feeling a tiny frisson of jealousy. Antonio was about to get married, and she was about to get divorced. Again. What a failure she was at marriage, she simply couldn’t get it right. ‘Who’s he marrying?’ she asked.

‘Dunno,’ Nicci said casually. ‘Some older
rich
woman. Adela will like totally
freak
!’

‘How do
you
know all this?’

‘’Cause I called and invited him to my wedding.’

‘You did?’

‘Hey,
somebody
has to walk me down the aisle, and it sure as hell wasn’t gonna be Gregg. And in view of the circumstances, I’m
sooo
glad I called Antonio.’

‘He can’t stay here,’ Lissa said hurriedly.

‘She’s rich, Mom, they’ll probably take a bungalow at the Beverly Hills Hotel.’

‘Good,’ Lissa said, wondering what it would be like to see Antonio again–another cheating son-of-a-bitch.

‘Hey, Mom, you okay?’

‘Well…this
is
kind of upsetting,’ Lissa admitted. ‘I suspected Gregg was seeing someone for months. Hiring a private investigator was merely confirmation.’

‘A PI!’ Nicci exclaimed, wrinkling her nose. ‘Gross!’

‘Anyway,’ Lissa said sadly. ‘The PI found out everything.’

‘Like
what
?’ Nicci demanded, dying to hear the whole sordid story.

‘For God’s sake,’ Lissa said snapped. ‘Don’t expect me to go into details. It’s bad enough that this will eventually become tabloid fodder.’

‘Great.’ Nicci groaned. ‘Once again I get to read all about my mom in the supermarket.’

‘Maybe not,’ Lissa said, wishing that her daughter would show a little more sympathy.

‘You
know
they’re gonna nail you.’

‘Perhaps,’ Lissa said vaguely, her mind on other things. ‘Anyway, it’s good to see you, Nicci. Is everything on track for the wedding?’

‘Zoomin’ along.’

‘I wish I could help more.’

‘No, you don’t,’ Nicci said matter-of-factly. ‘You’re hopeless with arrangements.’

‘I’m glad you understand. You know I’ll pay for everything. Have all the bills sent to my business manager.’

‘Thanks.’ Nicci hesitated a moment before continuing. ‘Uh…I know you think I don’t appreciate all the stuff
you’ve done for me, but, uh…I do.’ A beat. ‘And I’m sorry about Gregg. So…if you need anything, call me.’

At last some compassion. ‘Thanks, sweetheart,’ Lissa said. ‘I appreciate that.’

‘I’ll get out of your way now,’ Nicci said. Stopping at the door she added an impulsive–‘We’re having a dinner party tonight. You’re welcome to come.’

‘
You
’re throwing a dinner party?’ Lissa said, surprised. ‘You’re not actually
cooking
?’

‘Who, me?’ Nicci said, grinning. ‘Like no way. I’ve hired a chef.’

‘Sounds like fun.’

‘It’s only like, y’know, a few people. Saffy’s showing up with her new boyfriend.’

‘Saffron has a new boyfriend? Has Kyndra met him?’

‘Kyndra’s exactly like you, Mom,’ Nicci said patiently. ‘She doesn’t give a rat’s ass.’

‘That’s not a very nice thing to say,’ Lissa said, frowning. ‘Of course I care. I’m just not your average mother.’

Hmm
, Nicci thought.
That’s the understatement of the year.
‘Yeah, yeah,’ she said. ‘I’m sure you care in your own way, but let’s not get into it now.’

‘Get into what?’ Lissa said tightly.

‘Nothing,’ Nicci said quickly. ‘So…’ she added. ‘Maybe I’ll see you later?’

Lissa nodded. The prospect of being alone tonight was not an appealing one. Perhaps she
would
go to Nicci’s dinner party–it might make a welcome change. Anything to block out the nightmare of the last few days.

S
everal weeks previously Eric Vernon had quit his job so he could concentrate fully on the task at hand. Shortly after that, he’d driven to San Diego and held up a bank–enabling him to fully finance his project. The pickings were good. Not good enough. Eric was on track for the big score, and he knew that to achieve his objective, everything had to work perfectly. There could be no screw-ups. Kidnapping Nicci Stone was his one chance at the big time, and he’d kill anyone who blew it.

Arliss was on board. Eric had picked him because of the huge deserted building he looked after. It was the perfect place to stash the girl until the ransom was paid. Eric had given him enough money to set up a soundproof and secure room. A room with no windows and no way out.

When he’d told Arliss what the job was, the skinny man had blanched. ‘Kidnapping,’ he’d whined. ‘That’s a federal offence.’

‘Not unless you transport the victim to a different state,’ Eric had said, reassuring him. ‘We’ll hold the victim no more than twenty-four hours–less if the ransom’s paid fast enough. Before we make a move, every detail has to be in place.’

‘What kinda ransom you askin’?’ Arliss had inquired, a greedy expression distorting his thin face.

‘That’s for
me
to know,’ Eric had answered. ‘Your cut’ll be twenty-five grand. If we bring the other guys in, they’ll each get ten grand.’

‘Cash?’

‘Cash,’ Eric agreed.

‘Do we get the money up-front?’ Arliss had wanted to know, licking his cracked lips in anticipation.

‘No. You’ll have to trust me.’

‘The others’ll never go for it.’

Eric had given him a long, cold stare. ‘If they want in, that’s the way it has to be.’

Eric continued to track Nicci on a daily basis, noting her every move. There was a place in the steep brush outside the back of her boyfriend’s house where he could watch everything she did. With no shades on the large glass windows he got an unobstructed view as he crouched in the bushes for hours on end. He even bought night-vision goggles to observe her more intimate moments, such as when she was taking a bath or preparing for bed.

Nicci Stone was a sexy young piece, and sometimes Eric found her getting to him–even though he’d sworn off women.

Damn her! Experiencing sexual feelings put him out of control, and above all else, Eric knew he had to stay in control. No weaknesses. Weaknesses led to mistakes. And Eric could not afford to make any mistakes.

He kept in touch with Danny, leading him on with a story he’d concocted about a mystery boyfriend with whom he was involved. Danny was a sympathetic listener, especially when Eric was buying the drinks.

Danny was also a talker, and Eric heard all about how Lissa was planning on dumping her current husband, preparing for her Vegas show, and attempting to get closer to her daughter. The more information he could find out the better.

The next step was recruiting Arliss’s three friends, which he did not consider a difficult task. Offer enough money, and people were inclined to say yes to anything.

It was only human nature after all.

L
issa was a wreck watching Michael Scorsinni and Danny methodically packing up Gregg’s clothes and other personal possessions. In spite of the fact that her soon-to-be ex had turned out to be a cheating, violent son-of-a-bitch, it all seemed so final. And when he was gone, once more she’d be alone. Although she’d already decided that being alone was certainly better than spending one more moment in Gregg’s company.

She remembered their first meeting at a friend’s house in Malibu. Gregg had seemed so easy-going, warm and sexy. He hadn’t been in awe of her, like most men, and in spite of the ten-year age gap, they’d fallen into a fast and exciting relationship. She’d thought that this was it. True love at last. And yet, after a while, he’d turned out to be like all the rest. Worse than the rest, because he was also an abusive bully, and now she could add rapist to his list of credits.

‘You shouldn’t be here,’ Michael finally said, noticing how agitated she was getting. ‘I suggest you check into a hotel for the weekend, or go stay with a friend. By Monday Gregg Lynch’ll be history, and you can come safely home.’

‘You don’t know Gregg, he won’t give up easily,’ she said, thinking that when Gregg realized what she’d done, he’d go berserk.

‘Here’s another suggestion,’ Michael said. ‘How about next week I move into your guest room, make
sure
he doesn’t give you any trouble?’

‘You’d do that?’ she asked, quite liking the thought of having Michael Scorsinni permanently on the premises. He made her feel secure and safe.

‘You’re paying me, Lissa, I’ll do whatever you want.’

‘Really?’ she said in a sexy voice, teasing him.

‘Within reason,’ he countered.

‘Oh, nuts!’ she joked, laughing. ‘And I thought I could have my way with you.’

Michael didn’t smile: he was too angry. He had a strong urge to get hold of Gregg Lynch and beat the crap out of him. Men who hit women were the lowest, and although Lissa refused to reveal anything, the black eye she was featuring told its own story.

‘Did that son-of-a-bitch hit you?’ he’d demanded, as soon as he’d walked in.

‘I ran into a door,’ she’d replied, too embarrassed to tell the truth.

He’d stifled a desire to reach out and hold her close. But of course he couldn’t do that–as he kept on reminding himself–this was business, personal feelings were not allowed.

Why not
? his inner voice demanded.

Because she’s a client, and she’s also a movie star. And movie stars are different.

By late afternoon, Danny had booked her into the Peninsula under an assumed name. A short drive later she was ensconced.

‘Maybe I’d better stay here for a while,’ Danny said, quite concerned as he fussed around the suite making sure there were flowers and wine and a large fruit basket.

‘That’s okay,’ she said, dismissing him. ‘Have Michael call me later.’

Reluctantly Danny left.

Filled with mixed feelings, Lissa wandered around the luxurious suite, pacing from the living room to the bedroom, feeling like a caged tiger.

It was so strange being in a hotel in her own town. So strange and lonely. And yet she knew this was what she had to do, because after Gregg’s behaviour last night there was no going back. Her husband had turned into a frightening stranger–she was lucky to have got away with only a black eye.

‘Did you send those people a gift?’ Larry inquired, standing over Taylor.

She was sitting at her desk, trying to sort through the stack of invitations that arrived daily. She glanced up at her husband. Here was this man, this Oscar-winning
genius,
and all he cared about was whether she’d sent the fictitious neighbours something. Go figure.

‘Yes,’ she said shortly. ‘I took care of it.’

‘It’s good karma to give back,’ Larry remarked.

He was home early because his best friend from college, Isaac, was celebrating his birthday, and Isaac’s wife, Jenny, was throwing him a party. And even though Isaac, whom Taylor had only met on a few occasions, lived in the wilds of Calabasas, Larry had insisted they go.

Taylor had tried to get out of it–in vain. ‘They don’t want to see
me
,’ she’d said modestly. ‘It’s
you
everyone’s interested in.’

‘Taylor,’ Larry had assured her, ‘I wouldn’t
dream
of going anywhere without you.
You
are my reason for getting up every day. I love you so much. You do know that, don’t you?’

Like she didn’t feel guilty enough. If Larry ever found out she was screwing around it would destroy him. Earlier today she’d driven over to Oliver’s, only to find no one
home. She’d hung around for a while, hoping he’d put in an appearance, and when he didn’t appear, she’d driven home in a sulk.

Since that time, she’d called him several times. Receiving no answer had put her in even more of a sulk.

‘Shouldn’t you be getting dressed?’ Larry asked.

‘What
is
the dress code for Calabasas?’ she drawled sarcastically.

Larry didn’t appear to notice her sarcasm. ‘It says California casual on the invite, so wear that white outfit I like.’

Sure,
Taylor thought.
There’s no way I’m wasting Valentino on a trip to the boondocks.

Larry went upstairs. Taylor reached for the phone and tried Oliver one last time.

If he didn’t pick up soon, she was asking for her money back.

The chef Nicci had hired–sight unseen–arrived late. He was a gaunt, scruffy-looking man, with dyed black hair greased into submission, an off-white chef’s jacket worn with stained white bell-bottoms, and orange hiking boots.

At least he’s here
, Nicci thought,
although he’s not exactly what I had in mind.

She was upset, because the flowers she’d ordered had not arrived, and, according to Evan, the wine she’d purchased at the market was cheap crap. If this is what entertaining was all about, she would not be doing it again any time soon.

‘
You
should’ve picked up the wine,’ she informed Evan, who for the first time in their short relationship was starting to bug her. ‘Men are supposed to take care of things like that.’

‘Dinner parties are
your
job,’ he answered, between phone calls. ‘Besides, you’re the one who wanted to do this.’

Earlier he’d told her that their director was having a nervous shit-fit, and he’d been on the phone most of the day trying to deal with it.

‘My
job,
’ she retorted, outraged. ‘My fucking
job!
I don’t work for you, in case you haven’t noticed.’

‘Don’t start, Nicci,’ he said, shooting her a filthy look.

Christ! He sounded like her
mother.
Tight-lipped, she left the room before she told him to shove it up his ass with bells on.

The chef was in the kitchen unpacking supermarket bags, a cigarette dangling loosely from the corner of his slack lips.

‘I thought we’d sit down to dinner around nine,’ she said, trying to sound as if she’d done this before.

‘You got it, sweetbuns,’ he answered, with a jaunty wink.

Sweetbuns!
What was
that
all about? ‘You’re serving steak and salad, right?’ she said, deciding it was best to ignore his overly familiar attitude.

Another wink. ‘You’re gonna
love
my meat,
sweetbuns
,’ he said, cigarette ash falling on the counter top.

She hurriedly left the kitchen and retired to the privacy of their bedroom, where she lit up a joint, even though Evan–who didn’t do drugs of any kind–had asked her not to smoke in there.

Too bad. She was giving this lousy dinner party to make
him
happy, and he had the temerity to criticize her!

She stalked into her closet and picked out the one dress she owned. A short, backless, red Azzedine Alaïa. Very sexy. Especially when she added Jimmy Choo heels, making her six feet tall. Evan would not appreciate her towering over him–he claimed it made him feel inadequate.

That was his problem. Tonight she was doing whatever she felt like.

Around six Michael phoned the hotel, using Lissa’s alias to get through to her. ‘Everything’s in place,’ he said. ‘His stuff’s outside, the locks are changed, I’ve sent your housekeeper to stay with relatives for the weekend, and your security guard knows Mr Lynch no longer has access to the premises.’

‘Are you
sure
I can do this?’ she asked nervously.

‘You checked with your lawyer, didn’t you?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then you know it’s okay.’

‘I suppose so,’ she said listlessly.

‘It’s your house, Lissa, not his,’ Michael said, his voice low and reassuring.

‘I realize that.’

‘Then what’s the problem?’

‘No problem,’ she answered quickly.

‘So, what are you up to in your luxury suite?’ he asked, attempting to lighten the situation.

‘Becoming a television junkie,’ she said, switching channels as she spoke, keeping the volume on mute.

‘Sounds like fun.’

‘If you like TV.’

‘Do you?’

‘No.’

‘Hey, don’t go getting depressed on me,’ he said cheerfully.

‘I’m not.’

‘You’re sure?’

‘Positive.’

‘And you’re okay being in a hotel by yourself?’

‘Of course I am,’ she lied.

‘Then there’s nothing else I can do for you tonight?’

‘Nothing.’

‘I’ll give you my cellphone number in case you need me.’

‘I won’t,’ she sighed, ‘but give it to me anyway.’

‘You want me to drop by?’ he asked, sensing she was depressed.

‘Not necessary,’ she said, although his company would’ve been most welcome.

‘Just remember,’ he said sternly, ‘do
not
go home.’

‘I have no intention of doing so.’

She put down the phone, then picked it up again and ordered dinner from room service, instructing the waiter to leave the trolley outside the door. She didn’t want anyone knowing she was there, let alone a room-service waiter who probably had a hot line to the
Enquirer.

When the food arrived it did not tempt her. She hated being in this situation, and the prospect of sitting alone in a hotel room all night was a grim one, especially as she felt so vulnerable. She called James. His service informed her he was in New York for the weekend.

Next she tried Kyndra, whose assistant told her that her boss was shut up in the recording studio, and had left instructions not be disturbed unless there was a major earthquake.

Nice. Just when she needed them, her two best friends were unavailable.

She considered phoning Stella or Taylor, then decided against it. Stella was too abrasive, and would lecture her on her bad choice of men, and Taylor was so completely caught up in her movie project that lately she seemed to care about nothing else.

By eight Lissa was completely on edge. She’d watched TV, attempted to read, found she couldn’t concentrate on either, and didn’t know what to do next.

I can’t just sit here
, she thought.
It’s driving me crazy.

Then she remembered that Nicci was having a dinner party.

Maybe I’ll go
, she thought.

Maybe I won’t.

And once more she tried to settle down and watch TV.

The drive to Calabasas was long and boring. Especially as Larry insisted on driving them himself in his new SUV.

‘Can’t we take the Mercedes or my Jaguar?’ Taylor had asked.

‘I think this vehicle suits the occasion better,’ Larry had said.

He was
always
concerned about other people’s feelings, and since his friend, Isaac, was not exactly in the big leagues, it was obvious he didn’t want to arrive in an expensive car, even though it was no secret that he was one of the most successful men in Hollywood.

As she sat in the passenger seat, Taylor steeled herself for the evening ahead. She wasn’t exactly a snob, but on the other hand, she’d worked hard to gain her position among the Hollywood élite, and mingling with Larry’s not quite so successful friends did not interest her.

‘No valet parking?’ she remarked, as they finally drove up to the modest home.

‘Come on, Taylor,’ Larry chided, ‘you’re not in Beverly Hills now.’

‘I was merely thinking that if they’re expecting a lot of people…’ She trailed off, Larry wasn’t buying it.

‘This is a quiet street in a family neighbourhood,’ he pointed out. ‘I’m sure we can find a parking spot.’

‘Maybe we’ll get mugged walking from our car.’

‘No, honey,’ he admonished. ‘That’s what happens in town, not here–remember?’

Isaac Griffith was a tall, good-looking black actor, who had appeared in quite a few movies, only never in the leading role. Larry made sure there was always something for him in every one of his films, another thing that pissed Taylor off. If he could find roles for his friends, why couldn’t he find one for her? She was, after all, an established actress with a long list of credits. They might
not be the best credits in the world, but that was only because of circumstances.

Isaac and Larry hugged each other like long-lost friends, which of course they were.

‘This means so much to me, you two coming out here,’ Isaac said, including Taylor in his greeting.

‘You think I’d miss
your
fiftieth birthday?’ Larry said happily. ‘You are now an official member of the old farts club!’

‘Thanks,’ Isaac responded, laughing. ‘I’ll tell Jenny, it’s her turn next year.’

Both men laughed.

Jenny, Isaac’s wife, was small, thin and white. She resembled an anorexic ghost with her long, blonde hair and exceptionally pale complexion. She and Isaac had met when they’d both done a stint in an off-Broadway production. They’d fallen in love and she’d moved back to California with him. That had been twenty years previously, and they’d been happily married ever since. They had two children and three dogs.

Taylor was aware that Jenny had been a good friend of Larry’s first wife, which did not exactly thrill her. They exchanged cordial greetings, although neither of them was particularly fond of the other.