Hollywood Divorces / Hollywood Wives: The New Generation (34 page)

Deidra was building him to a nice climax as she massaged his penis. Slowly did it. He had to admit he’d missed her seasoned touch.

‘I’m nearly there, baby,’ he muttered. ‘Get down on your knees. Put my cock between your tits.’

‘Hold that thought, Gregg. I’ll be right back.’

And before he could stop her, she ran out of the dressing room.

‘Where are you going?’ he yelled. ‘I’m almost coming, for crissakes!’

And then he heard her strident cries. ‘Rape! Rape!’ she shouted. ‘That son-of-a-bitch just tried to rape me.’

As soon as Taylor arrived at the luxurious spa, she reached for a phone and called Oliver. ‘Did you say anything to Larry about us meeting before he entered the picture?’ she asked, in a low voice.

‘No way,’ Oliver said. ‘Why d’you ask?’

‘Because Larry said something, and it seemed odd. Are you
sure
you didn’t mention that you’d seen the script before?’

‘Whaddaya think I am–a moron?’

Yes,
she thought.

‘He’s probably fishing,’ Oliver said.

‘For
what?
’ she said waspishly. ‘I never give him cause to be suspicious.’

‘That’s good, then.’

‘I suppose so.’ A beat. ‘Anyway, as soon as I get back we’ll sit down and go over the script. I know you don’t think much of it, but it does have great potential.’

‘Larry wants me to work with
him
on it, Tay.’

‘He does?’

‘Isn’t that what you wanted?’

‘Not if he’s taking over completely.’

‘It’s good for you. We’ll get the script right, then you’ll move in and play the lead.’

‘This is
my
movie, Oliver,’ she said vehemently. ‘Mine!’

‘You were always bitching about Larry not helping you,’ Oliver pointed out.

‘Okay, okay,’ she said impatiently. ‘I’ll talk to you when we get back. And by the way…’

‘What?’

‘Next time you come out with us, kindly don’t bring a date.’

‘It’s cool if I have a date. Larry won’t get suspicious.’

‘Larry is
not
suspicious,’ she said irritably. ‘He made a stupid remark for no reason. And if he
were
suspicious of me, it certainly wouldn’t be about someone like you.’

‘Thanks!’

‘Don’t mention it.’

Thank God she was at a spa. If there was one thing she needed, it was to immerse herself in an afternoon of total pampering.

It was almost four thirty when Brian dropped Nicci back at the house. They’d spent a wonderful day together, both of them enjoying it immensely. They’d had lunch at a seafood restaurant on the beach in Santa Barbara, wandered around the shops, browsed the bookstore and record store, where Brian had insisted on buying her a stack of CDs.

Then they’d raced home, because she’d suddenly realized it was getting late, and any moment Saffron might be picking her up.

Now, as he pulled up outside the house, she was reluctant to say goodbye.

‘Have fun tonight,’ Brian said. ‘Try not to get too wasted.’

‘I’ll try,’ she said. ‘Can’t promise.’

‘And remember, no touching the strippers.’

‘No touching, huh?’ she said, grinning.

‘It’s not allowed,’ he said good-naturedly.

‘Who says?’

‘Me.’

‘Oh, you do, huh?’

‘Maybe one light touch.’

‘Do I have your permission?’

‘Go for it, Nic.’

‘I guess I’d better get moving,’ she said, still reluctant to leave him.

‘Yup.’

‘Uh…Brian.’

‘What?’

‘I’m definitely thinking of breaking it off with Evan.’

‘Don’t let
me
influence you.’

‘You’re not,’ she said quickly. ‘It’s just that I think I’m gonna tell him we should wait until I’m like
twenty.
I mean, this obsession with his mother and everything–it’s scary.’

‘Maybe you shouldn’t trust Evan as much as you do.’

‘What does
that
mean?’

‘Listen, Nic, I feel real close to you lately, and it’s shit if you go walking into something with your eyes closed. So…watch out for yourself.’

‘Like how?’

‘Ask Evan about Abbey.’

‘Who’s Abbey?’

‘The actress in our movie.’

‘Abbey
Christian?
’

‘That’s right.’

‘Are you saying—’

‘I’m not saying anything. All I’m telling you is to ask Evan.’

She felt a shudder of apprehension. Abbey Christian was a movie star. If Evan was having a thing with her, there was no way she could compete. Who wanted to anyway?

‘This is too strange for me, Brian,’ she said, not prepared to get into a long discussion. ‘I’m having fun at my bachelorette party tonight whether I’m getting married or not.’

‘What time does Evan arrive tomorrow?’

‘He didn’t say.’

‘Call me if you wanna do the breakfast thing again. This time I promise we’ll stay in L.A.’

‘What’re
you
up to tonight?’ she asked.

‘Trying to figure out whether I should have the blonde, the redhead, or the brunette,’ he quipped. ‘I’d better get on the cell.’

‘You’ve forgotten Miss Russia,’ Nicci said, playing along. ‘She certainly had lust in her eyes every time she looked your way–which was every second!’

‘If I didn’t know any better,’ he said, laughing, ‘I’d think you were jealous.’

‘Oh,
pu-lease
,’ she said scornfully. ‘Your ego grows bigger every time I see you.’

‘And that’s not all,’ he said, with a sly wink, helping her out of the car with her packages. ‘If you get home and it’s past midnight, call me.’

‘Huh?’

‘You can call me any time,’ he said, getting back into his car. ‘I wanna hear about your evening.’

‘I’ll do that.’

She stood and watched him as he sped off.

Brian Richter. It was time she faced up to the truth.
He
was the one she really wanted.

She was marrying the wrong brother.

As Brian drove off, he failed to notice the battered old green Chevrolet parked a few feet down the street.

Nicci didn’t see it either as she ran into the house, carrying her packages and singing quietly to herself. She felt great–excited and happy. Brian had that effect on her.

Eric Vernon watched in sullen silence as Nicci entered the house. He’d been sitting in the car with Big Mark, Davey and Little Joe for two and a half hours. The stench was unbearable. Didn’t any of them ever take a shower?

‘Who are we waiting for?’ Big Mark kept on asking. ‘And where is she?’

‘She’ll be here,’ Eric said, determined to remain calm. Because if the bitch didn’t show, his plan would be shot to hell.

When she finally arrived home, Eric nudged Big Mark into action. ‘That’s her,’ he said. ‘Wait till the Porsche has left, then go do it.’

‘She looks young,’ Little Joe mumbled, peering out the car window. ‘Didn’t know we was snatchin’ a young one.’

‘She
is
young,’ Eric said. ‘She’s young and strong, which means nothing will happen to her if you all do your job right.’

‘Who is she?’ Davey asked. ‘Must be somebody rich living up here in this fancy neighbourhood.’

‘Of course she’s rich,’ Eric said scathingly. ‘I wouldn’t be snatching her if she wasn’t, would I?’

God, they were morons. He couldn’t wait to be rid of them.

Big Mark and Little Joe got out of the car and headed for the house. Big Mark pulled a stocking mask over his heavy features, while Little Joe soaked a cloth pad in chloroform.

Eric watched the street to see if there were any nosy neighbours observing. As far as he could see, it was deserted. It wasn’t as if the houses were next to each other, they all had spacious grounds and trees around them. Besides, the house was up in the hills and quite remote.

In minutes his plan would be put into action.

He took a deep breath. It wasn’t long before he’d be a rich man.

As soon as Nicci slammed the front door, the doorbell rang.

What does Brian want now
? she thought, dropping her purse and packages on the floor.
More stories about Evan?

She flung open the door.

A man stood there in a stocking mask. A man so large and frightening-looking that she almost cried out.

For a moment she was paralysed, then, as she attempted to slam the door on him, his large foot jammed it open, and before she could stop him, he pushed his way inside the house and grabbed her in a choke-hold.

Next he placed a chloroform pad over her mouth and nose, and she felt her world crumbling as she fell into a deep unconscious state and slumped helplessly to the ground.

T
he Mahoneys had lived in their apartment for thirty-two years. It wasn’t a luxurious place, but the sturdy brown building had withstood earthquakes, floods and riots. Mrs Mahoney, a happy soul, worked as a cleaner to a rich family in Sherman Oaks. Mr Mahoney lived off his pension and stayed home a lot watching TV. They had no children, never felt the urge. They did have a cat, a small yappy dog, a parrot, and two fish.

On Saturday afternoon, Mrs Mahoney emerged from her apartment and came face to face with two policemen, one white and one black. With them was the ruddy-faced man who owned the bar around the corner.

‘Morning, Sam,’ Mrs Mahoney said, recognizing him immediately. ‘What’re
you
doing here?’ She stared at the two cops. ‘And what’re
they
doing here?’

The small yappy dog started to bark, tugging at the bottom of the white cop’s trousers. He attempted to kick the dog away.

‘Lookin’ for Pattie,’ Sam said. ‘She ain’t been in for two days. Not like her. No phone call, nothin’. I tried reachin’ her. Started thinkin’ there coulda bin foul play, so I called the cops.’

‘Foul play?’ Mrs Mahoney said, eyebrows rising. ‘I’ve never heard of such a thing. In
our
building?’

‘You don’t happen to have a key to this apartment, do you, ma’am?’ the black cop asked, indicating the apartment across the hall from the Mahoneys.

‘No,’ Mrs Mahoney said. ‘I don’t care for that girl. She’s too noisy, and she drops garbage in the hallway.’

‘She’s a slag,’ Sam said, ‘everyone knows that, but we still gotta find out why she ain’t come to work.’

‘Where can we reach the janitor?’ the white cop asked.

‘My husband has a key to all the apartments,’ Mrs Mahoney said. ‘Why? Are you going in?’

‘Yes, ma’am.’

‘Aren’t you supposed to have a warrant or something?’

‘You’ve been watching too much TV,’ the black cop said.
‘Law and Order, NYPD?’

Mrs Mahoney went back into her apartment and interrupted her husband, who was busy drooling over Pamela Anderson on a
Baywatch
rerun. ‘They want to get into the apartment opposite,’ she said. ‘Where’s the key?’

‘Why they going in there?’ he grumbled.

‘Something about the woman who lives there not showing up at work.’

Reluctantly, Mr Mahoney heaved himself off the couch, walked into the bedroom and grabbed a bunch of keys from the top of his dresser. ‘They’re numbered,’ he said, handing them to his wife.

She took them out to the cops, and stood there while they opened the door.

As soon as the door swung open, her little dog darted past everyone and raced into the apartment. It immediately started barking and scratching at the closed bathroom door.

Gingerly, the cops entered the apartment, followed by Sam and Mrs Mahoney.

‘What’s that smell?’ Mrs Mahoney asked. ‘It’s disgusting.’

‘Dunno,’ Sam said, sniffing the air like a bloodhound.

‘She must be away,’ Mrs Mahoney said. ‘I haven’t heard that loud music she plays lately.’

The cops exchanged glances. They checked out the small living room and kitchenette, peered into the bedroom, and finally they turned to the closed bathroom door, where the dog was still furiously scratching.

‘I got one of my feelings,’ the black cop said.

‘Yeah,’ the white cop agreed. ‘Me too. Sometimes I hate this job.’

They opened the door.

Pattie was hanging from the shower rail, tethered by her wrists. She was naked and covered in dried blood. Her throat was slit.

A
nd so they poured into Las Vegas for the official opening of the Desert Millennium Princess Hotel and Lissa Roman’s show. There was the big action star, who’d spent his entire life pretending to be straight. The innocent-looking
ingénue
, who was into whips and chains. The TV executive, who screwed around on his wife with the stars of his shows. The mother-daughter combination, who’d double-teamed their way to the top by blackmailing certain studio executives. The hot young actor hopelessly addicted to crack cocaine. The skinny TV actress with a bad case of bulimia. The other skinny TV actress with an even worse case of anorexia. And the madam, whose little black book was worth more than anybody would care to guess.

Lights, music, action. When Lissa Roman hit the stage, it was a major event. The audience was jam-packed with celebrities all jostling for the best seats.

Lissa made her entrance on a golden swing, wearing a daring red catsuit slit down to her navel. With her platinum hair and gorgeous face she looked like she could conquer the world. The audience went crazy as her dancers surrounded her for the opening number.

Standing by the side of the stage, Michael watched her in wonderment. He was trying to be logical about everything, but the truth was that he’d fallen hard, and
what was he planning to do about
that?
Right now everything was fine, but maybe he
was
Rebound Man, and maybe she
was
going to regret the fact that she’d taken him into her bed.

Christ! Carol was pregnant in L.A., Quincy would shake his head, and Amber…well, he didn’t even want to think about what Amber would say.

Anyway, what was he worrying about? Lissa would probably say goodbye the moment they hit L.A. So he may as well take it for what it was–a weekend romance. Exactly what he’d tried to avoid.

He checked with the rest of security via his two-way radio. Everything seemed to be under control. The more he thought about it, the more likely it seemed that it was Gregg who’d sent her the threatening letter. It was exactly the kind of attention-getting stunt he’d pull. What an asshole he must be.

Fabio grabbed Michael as he walked past. ‘Isn’t she divine?’ Fabio gushed. ‘
The
most
beautiful
woman.
The
most
talented.
Isn’t she
unbelievable?
She
belongs
to her public, see how they love her.’

That’s all Michael needed to hear. He was sleeping with a woman who belonged to her public. Great.

The show went by fast, and since the audience was in such a frenzy, screaming and stamping for more, Lissa performed three encores.

When she finally came off she was coated in a thin film of sweat. Two dressers rushed to attend to her. Michael hovered outside her dressing room next to Danny, who held the official guest list of who was allowed in and who wasn’t.

He’d already checked out her dressing room, which was huge–bigger than his entire apartment in L.A. There was the inner sanctum, then there was a large reception room where tables were loaded with caviar and champagne for her visiting guests.

James and Claude were the first to appear.

‘Hello, Mr St Lucia,’ Danny grovelled, almost bowing as he ushered them in.

‘Who was that?’ Michael asked.

‘The tall one is Madam’s
best
friend,’ Danny confided. ‘And the other gentleman is Claude St Lucia, the record mogul.’

Michael found Danny’s choice of words quite archaic. Who used the phrase ‘record mogul’?

He recognized a few of the celebrities as they began filtering in. The very pretty Britney Spears, James Woods with a young date, singing star Al King, Lucky Santangelo, Dennis Hopper, Lara Flynn Boyle, Nick Angel, Hugh Grant. A mixed bag all paying their respects.

It made Michael realize how much he was
not
a part of her world. There was no way this could be anything other than a one or two night fling. No way at all.

And yet…he didn’t regret anything.

‘I’m in jail,’ Gregg yelled over the phone.

‘
What?
’ Belinda said.

‘I
said
I’m in fucking
jail,
’ he repeated, at full shout. ‘Get me a fucking lawyer.’

‘What are you doing in jail?’

‘That’s a stupid question.’

‘Do you want to tell me?’

‘For crissakes, later. Just get me the fuck out.’

Belinda put down the phone and immediately called Patrick. ‘I think we might have another hot story,’ she said.

‘I’ll be right over.’

Lissa recovered from her show in the inner sanctum, attended by her dressers and Fabio, who began putting her back together, fussing with her hair and makeup as she changed into a slinky black dress. She felt exhausted and
triumphant and happy, and she wished she could share her happiness with Michael.

Soon she was greeting the well-wishers and accepting congratulations before being whisked off to her party, which was in the Desert Millennium Princess’s Infinity Room–a circular rooftop space with an unbelievable view of Las Vegas.

Surrounded by her friends, she looked around to see if she could spot Michael. Surely he was watching her? After all, it
was
his job.

Stella was carrying on about her twins. Taylor was confiding that Larry had finally agreed to help her with her movie. Kyndra was talking about the clothes Lissa had worn in her show, and how she was planning on using the same designer. And James was busy complaining about Claude.

Then she saw Michael, and everything stopped for a moment.

She caught his eye. They exchanged secret smiles, and she couldn’t wait for the party to be over.

Nicci’s eyelids fluttered and very slowly she began to regain consciousness. Her throat felt dry and parched and her eyes were stinging. If this was Saffron’s idea of a joke, she was not amused.

She was lying on a filthy blanket in a windowless, dimly lit room. The light was coming from a weak naked bulb hanging from the high ceiling. Her limbs felt stiff and lifeless and she had a strong urge to throw up.

Shivering, she hugged her arms across her chest. It was freezing, and all she had on was a skimpy tank, low-rider jeans and combat boots.

Shit! Saffron had gone too far this time, and she wanted to put an end to it
now
!

‘Lissa!’

‘Antonio.’

It was a touching reunion as they faced each other after twenty years of separation.

‘Allow me to present my wife, the Contessa Bianca de Morago,’ Antonio said.

‘It’s a pleasure,’ Lissa replied, shaking the Contessa’s rather limp hand. ‘So, Antonio,’ she said, turning to her ex-husband, ‘you finally did it again.’

‘It took me a while,’ Antonio said, flashing his whiter than white teeth. ‘And now I have my beautiful Bianca beside me.’

Lissa checked the woman out. As Nicci had said, she was obviously very rich and much older than Antonio. But still, if he was happy that was the main thing, because in spite of their rocky past she bore him no ill will, and he
was
Nicci’s father.

‘You look wonderful, Antonio,’ she said. ‘You haven’t changed a bit.’

‘Nor have you, my exquisite one,’ Antonio said. ‘And your show–it was divine.’

Bianca nodded her agreement. ‘You are so…how do I say it? Energetic?’

‘Yes, I guess you could say that,’ Lissa said, with a slight smile. ‘It’s a hard show to do. My saviour is that I have a magnificent troupe of dancers around me, and they make me look good, which is what’s important.’

‘So modest,’ Antonio said fondly. ‘My little Lissa, how well you have done.’

‘I met your daughter,’ Bianca said, toying with a thick diamond bracelet clamped around her wrist. ‘She is lovely.’

‘Yes, she is,’ Lissa agreed, smiling proudly at Antonio. ‘We did one thing right, didn’t we?’

‘We certainly did,’ Antonio replied.

‘She looks like you,’ Lissa allowed.

‘Ah, but she has
your
lips,’ he said, his eyes lingering on the mouth he’d once known so well.

‘Is this your first trip to America?’ Lissa asked, turning to Bianca.

‘It is,’ Bianca replied, her mammoth diamond ring catching the light. ‘And I am very happy to see amazing sights such as Las Vegas.’

‘This isn’t typical of America,’ Lissa said, remembering her discussion with Michael about everyone being fat. ‘You’ll have to spend time in L.A. Bring Bianca up to the house, Antonio. I’ll throw a dinner for the two of you.’

‘That would be very generous of you, Lissa,’ he said.

She couldn’t help wondering if he was still the same old womanizer he’d always been. Probably. Leopards never changed their spots, and neither did Antonio.

And as they stood talking, Lynda Richter bore down on them. An imposing woman in a bright orange patterned dress and rhinestone-studded spectacles. ‘I’m introducing myself,’ she said in a loud voice. ‘Lynda Richter. Evan’s mother. Your soon-to-be son-in-law.’

‘Oh,’ Lissa said politely. ‘Nicci’s told me all about you.’

‘Seems like a nice enough girl,’ Lynda said, her voice getting louder. ‘Too independent, but that’ll change when they’re married.’

‘It will?’ Lissa said, frowning.

‘I must say that your show was quite something,’ Lynda continued, oblivious to Lissa’s frown. ‘I don’t know where you get the energy at your age to do all those things you do on stage. You must have been an acrobat in another life.’

‘Not quite,’ Lissa said, hardly warming to the woman. ‘I’d like to introduce Antonio and Bianca. Antonio is Nicci’s father.’

Lynda peered at Antonio, noting his Mediterranean complexion. ‘Are you foreign?’ she asked.

‘Foreign?’ Antonio said, puzzled.

‘Antonio is Spanish,’ Lissa said.

‘I didn’t know that,’ Lynda said. ‘Evan never told me there was mixed blood in the family.’

‘Well, now you know,’ Lissa said. How dare she make a thing about Antonio being Spanish? What kind of attitude was that?

‘I’m here by myself,’ Lynda announced. ‘So, since we’re going to be relatives,’ she added, holding onto Antonio’s arm, ‘
you
can look after me.’

Lissa was rescued by James. ‘Meet my new friend,’ he said, with an imperious toss of his head.

‘And who might that be?’ Lissa asked, noting the trim young blond man standing beside him.

‘This is Kane, the magician.’

‘Hi, Kane,’ Lissa said.

‘Kane is headlining at the Rio,’ James announced. ‘We have a mutual friend, so I looked him up, and here we are.’

‘Where’s Claude?’ Lissa asked, remembering James’s vow to get his revenge.

‘Who knows?’ James said with a dismissive shrug. ‘And quite frankly, my dear, who cares?’

Michael circled the party, his eyes ever alert. He would never be able to fit into this kind of lifestyle. All these high-powered people, the women dripping in diamonds and dressed to the hilt, the men talking business deals and movie grosses. It was a whole different scene.

A couple of the women came on to him. One was an extremely thin TV actress whom he immediately recognized. ‘And who are you?’ she asked, giving him an appraising once-over with her flinty eyes.

‘Security,’ he said.

‘You can check
my
security any time you want,’ she said, with a thin smile. ‘What are you up to later?’

‘Busy,’ he said.

‘Are you turning me down?’ she said, surprise written all over her pointy face.

Why was it that whenever he said no to a woman she got insulted? ‘I’m afraid so,’ he said. ‘Got a wife and three kids at home.’

‘Oh,’ she said. He waited for her to add, ‘You don’t know what you’re missing,’ but she was too smart for that.

Ignoring him, she walked away on the lookout for her next victim.

‘I’m leaving,’ Larry said.

‘It’s still early,’ Taylor said. ‘We’re in Las Vegas, Larry. Can’t we play the tables?’

‘I’m going back to the suite. Are you coming with me or not?’

This was not the Larry she was used to. This Larry was bad-tempered and remote. She knew what she needed to do. A session in the bedroom put a smile on his face every time.

‘It seems a shame that we’re only in Vegas for one night, and you’re anxious to get back to the suite,’ she said, touching his arm.

‘You don’t have to come,’ he said flatly. ‘You can go gamble with your friends. I don’t care.’

‘No, no–of course I’m coming with you,’ she said quickly. ‘I’ll run over and say goodbye to Lissa.’

‘Whatever you want, Taylor.’

I want to know why you were asking me about Oliver,
she thought.

Lissa was surrounded by people. It took Taylor a while to get close to her, and when she did, she asked if she was flying back with them the next morning on Claude’s plane.

‘I think I’ll spend an extra day here,’ Lissa said offhandedly. ‘I’ve got things to take care of.’

‘The show was sensational!’ Taylor enthused. ‘I can’t say it enough times. You deserve everything you get.’

‘Thanks, Taylor.’

‘And I’m truly sorry about what happened with you and Gregg. The good news is that he’ll fade away, and you’ll go onto bigger and better.’

I already have
, Lissa thought.

Larry was waiting by the door.

‘Are you all right, honey?’ Taylor asked, as they headed for the elevator. ‘You seem rather quiet.’

‘It’s funny you should ask,’ he said, ‘because I’m
not
all right.’

‘You’re not?’ she asked, full of wifely concern. ‘Do you think you’re coming down with something?’

‘No, Taylor. I’m beginning to see the light.’

‘And what light would that be?’ she asked, wondering what he was talking about.

‘Allow me to show you something,’ he said, fishing in his pocket and producing the cheque Oliver had given her. ‘What’s this?’ he asked, waving it in front of her.

‘Never seen it before,’ she lied.

‘It’s made out to you, and it’s signed by Oliver Rock.’

‘Really?’ she said vaguely. ‘I can’t imagine how that happened.’