Private Lives (26 page)

‘Wayne, what are you doing here?’ Anna said, changing the subject. ‘I’d have thought it was like Dracula walking over consecrated ground.’

‘Doing a job for your boss, aren’t I?’

‘For Helen?’ she said, wondering why she hadn’t heard about it.

‘The other one, Matty D,’ said Wayne, tucking his shirt into his tight jeans.

‘Really? What sort of job?’

Wayne tapped the side of his nose.

‘Privileged information, darling. You wouldn’t want me to abandon my principles, would you?’ He glanced at his chunky Jacob & Co. watch. ‘Must fly, sweetheart. Car’s on a meter.’

‘Let me guess – the badly parked Ferrari?’

‘That’s her. Any time you fancy a quick spin, my door’s always open.’

Anna couldn’t help laughing.

‘I’ll bear it in mind,’ she said, watching him prop up reception to try his luck on Sherry, the telephonist.

Anna walked slowly, thoughtfully, past her own office towards Matt Donovan’s and lingered at the door. She hadn’t really spoken to him since their showdown in the kitchen and had no desire for a rematch, but given that he was, as Wayne had helpfully reminded her, the boss and she needed to hold on to her job, it would be good politics to try and help him out. She looked inside – Matthew was bent over his computer screen, tapping away at the keys, his brow furrowed.

‘Dipping your toe into the shark-infested waters of media law, are we?’ said Anna with a smile. Matthew glanced up.

‘Why do you say that?’

‘I’ve just seen Wayne Nicholls, puppet-meister of the paparazzi, hanging around the entrance.’

‘He’s helping me with something,’ said Matt casually, looking back at his computer. Anna knew she was being dismissed, but curiosity had got the better of her.

‘Anything I should know about?’

He looked at her, unsmiling. ‘Checking up on me again, are you?’

Anna flushed. He was obviously still annoyed about her advice regarding Rob Beaumont’s visit to the office, but she was bothered he was about to make the same mistake twice.

‘No, not snooping, just wondering if I could help. I know Wayne and he’s not, shall we say, the most trustworthy of individuals.’

‘I think I can make up my own mind about that, thanks,’ said Matthew, not looking up.

‘Yes, of course, it’s just—’

‘If you must know, I’ve been trying to track down some information about Kim Collier.’

‘How come?’

‘Kim wants to take their son to live in Miami. Rob has no idea why, so we’re trying to find out in the hope that it might give us some leverage in the divorce, which is turning nastier by the second.’

‘And you want
Wayne
to help you?’ said Anna, trying not to sound judgemental.

‘Actually he’s done a bloody good job,’ said Matt, sliding some photographs across to Anna. They were shots of Kim Collier in a car, coming out of a shop, having lunch in a restaurant, the usual paparazzi fare you found in celeb mags.

‘Well, there doesn’t seem to be much here,’ said Anna.

‘Exactly,’ said Matt. ‘She’s had five meetings over the last forty-eight hours. Her manager, her friend from school, her make-up artist, nothing at all controversial. Certainly nothing Wayne Nicholls can sell on to the tabloids, if that’s what you’re worried about. Besides, I made it clear that if he screws us over, we’ll come down on every single set of pictures he takes like a ton of bricks.’

Anna frowned. Paparazzi were better at following celebrities than conventional private eyes as they had a network of drivers, waiters and doormen to tip them off, but it was a risky strategy.

She hesitated. ‘I’m just worried that Wayne will have worked out that you’re a divorce lawyer, and as you have him following Rob Beaumont’s wife, he’ll put two and two together and “Kim and Rob Love Split” will mysteriously be all over the the
Sun
tomorrow morning.’

Matthew gave a small smile. ‘I had, of course, thought of that,’ he said. ‘I’ve drafted a confidentiality agreement so tight not even Houdini could get out of it.’

‘I still don’t like using Wayne Nicholls, though,’ she said.

‘As it happens, having her followed has paid off.’

He leaned over and tapped one of the photographs; a middle-aged man in a leather jacket was sitting with Kim in a café.

‘Fabio Martelli. Hotelier. Businessman. Old friend of Kim’s.’

‘So?’

‘That’s what Wayne said. Why shouldn’t she be having a drink with an old friend? You could see from Wayne’s face that he was secretly pleased his paps hadn’t found anything; that way he was getting ten grand from me while I got nothing. But Wayne doesn’t have the other piece of the jigsaw.’

‘Which is?’

‘Martelli owns four homes, in New York, London, Milan and Miami, where he’s opening a live entertainment venue at Christmas and where he intends to base himself full-time in preparation for the launch.’

‘
Miami
. Where Kim Collier’s taking her son.’

‘He doesn’t know it, but your pal Wayne has been very helpful.’

Anna couldn’t help smiling to herself as she left Matthew’s office. Wayne Nicholls
helpful
. That was a first. She had to admit, however, that she had underestimated Matthew. Maybe there was more to him than met the eye after all.

As she walked into her office, she frowned. Her windows overlooked the street and she could hear yelling and swearing coming from that direction. She peered down and was pleased to see the irate figure of Wayne Nicholls standing next to his Ferrari, waving his arms at two burly men in overalls. Behind them in the street was a pick-up truck labelled ‘Secure Towing Co.’.

Giggling to herself, she ran back down the stairs and out into the sunshine.

‘Little problem?’ She smiled innocently.

‘Thank God! A lawyer!’ Wayne said. ‘These meatheads are refusing to release the Ferrari from this bleedin’ truck. Tell him I’ll sue them.’

The first clamper merely raised his eyebrows. He’d clearly heard it all before.

Anna was tempted to let them carry out their threat, but she had an idea forming in her mind, and for that she needed Wayne on side.

‘Listen, Wayne, let me have a word,’ she said. ‘I’ll see what I can do.’

She went over to talk to the clampers. What Wayne didn’t know was that the towing company was employed by Donovan Pierce to prevent people parking outside their office building – Larry had wanted it kept clear so he could park his Bentley.

‘Yeah, and don’t come back, either!’ shouted Wayne as they drove off. He turned to Anna and winked. ‘Cheers, darling.’

‘Actually, I need a favour.’

If Matthew Donovan could use the pap boss to his advantage, why shouldn’t she? Anna knew a lot about Wayne’s organisation. When she’d sued him as often as she had, it paid to know the background. Thanks to the explosion in demand for celebrity pictures over the past few years, he had expanded and diversified: a photographic studio and a model agency that specialised in glamour girls.

‘It’ll cost you,’ he said playfully.

‘How about you do it just to get on my nice side?’

‘How nice is your nice side exactly? Because I actually quite like the uptight bitch thing.’

‘Your model agency, FrontGirls? Do you know many of the models yourself?’

‘Shagged half of them,’ he said proudly. ‘I mean, what’s the point being the boss otherwise?’

‘I need to speak to someone. A blonde called Mandy.’

‘Mandy Stigwood? Incredible knockers?’

Anna smiled thinly.

‘What do you want to speak to Mandy for? What’s she done?’

Anna leaned in, whispering. ‘It’s just one of my clients fancies her. I thought I could have a word. Play Cupid.’

‘You? The ball-breaker. Playing Cupid? Come on, I wasn’t born yesterday.’

‘Is she one of your girls?’

‘Yes, she is.’

‘How often do you see her?’

‘Not often. But she’s got a shoot at my studios sometime this week, I think. Always make a note of which girls are popping down to the studios. I like to welcome them. Give it the personal touch.’

‘I’m sure. Can you sort it out, then? A quick chat between me and Mandy.’

He sighed deeply. ‘Go on. Seeing as you just sorted out the motor. We’ve got each other’s number. I’ll call you.’

‘Thanks, Wayne, you’re a star,’ she said, pecking him on the cheek.

He looked genuinely flustered.

‘And go easy on me next time you’re trying to stiff me in court, all right?’

‘Only if you don’t go trying to stiff Donovan Pierce,’ she said, resuming her cool.

‘What are you talking about?’

‘Your job for Matthew. He might think a non-disclosure agreement will hold you, but we both know you’ve got the morals of a jackal.’

Wayne gave a wicked laugh.

‘That’s what you love about me.’

‘I mean it. Don’t mess with me or I’ll come after you, and I won’t stop until the damages you have to pay to my clients run your business into the ground.’

Anna turned on her heel to go back to the office. She glanced behind her and watched Wayne disappear into a coffee shop. She didn’t trust him. There was no way she was going to let him shaft Matthew. It was time to fire him a warning shot.

Seeing a council parking attendant in his green uniform, she crossed the square to speak to him.

‘Excuse me?’ she said, pointing over at Wayne’s Ferrari. ‘That red car’s been parked up on the pavement for hours. It’s blocking a fire exit too. I think you should call a tow truck.’

She took out her mobile and texted Wayne.

‘I’m watching you. PS. Stop drinking coffee and get to your car.’

24

‘You ready?’

Lauren Silver stood at the door of Sam’s house in the Hollywood Hills, an architectural triumph on stilts that overlooked the whole of the LA bowl.

Sam whistled through his teeth. She was wearing a black silk cocktail dress that hugged her curves and had a see-through mesh back panel that hinted at a smooth, creamy expanse of skin.

‘Someone’s looking very va-va-voom tonight,’ he laughed, not attempting to hide the soft spot he had for the vice president of marketing for Oasis, the studio behind his latest movie.

‘Don’t get any ideas, lover boy,’ said Lauren, turning on her heel and heading back towards the limo waiting on the drive. ‘I’m your babysitter, remember, not your date. And we’re late, so hop to it.’

Sam looked at his watch as he pulled on his suit jacket, a bespoke Anderson & Sheppard that felt like a suit of armour. It was already five o’clock. The premiere was due to start in an hour and the traffic was usually chaotic when there was an event in town. He jumped into the car beside Lauren and sat back as they raced down the windy lanes towards the City of Angels.

‘So are you prepared for this?’ Lauren asked, giving Sam a sideways glance. ‘This will be your first time out in public since
Billington
. The press are going to go crazy.’

‘They won’t be looking at me, not with you by my side,’ said Sam, sounding more confident than he felt. For the past forty-eight hours he’d felt so sick with panic, convinced that the crowd were going to pelt him with eggs, that he’d even suggested hiring a stand-in from the lookalikes agency to make a quick appearance on the red carpet. The studio chiefs had other ideas, and had sent Lauren along to hold his hand.

‘I’m serious, Sam,’ she said. ‘You need to be on your A-game tonight. All charm and smiles.’

‘What do you think I’m going to do? Try and touch up the reporter from Fox News?’

‘Who knows? The last time you went out in public you were arrested on battery charges.’

‘That was different,’ said Sam sulkily. He was still smarting at having been charged with assault for the supposed attack on the paparazzo backstage at the
Billington
show and had to return to court in New York at the end of the month.

‘We just want to keep things tight. Secure.’

Sam looked out of the window.

‘You make it sound like I rob banks.’

Lauren’s expression was firm. ‘We just can’t afford any more bad press on this movie, Sam. You know how it works. This isn’t about you, it’s about the money. The studio needs a hit and so do you.’

Sam fell into a brooding silence. He knew he’d be feeling more relaxed if he had actually seen the movie in question. Despite shooting
Robotics
almost twelve months earlier, he’d yet to view a final cut. He’d been shown a worrying version of the sci-fi film two months earlier, and had not been surprised when he’d been told that it had gone back into the editing suite for revisions and additional CGI. Ordinarily that would have worried him, but he knew
Robotics
was one of the studio’s ‘tent-pole’ movies; it had cost over two hundred million dollars to make, and apparently had another hundred million spent on marketing. No, the studios could not, would not let it fail.

The butterflies in his stomach kicked up a gear as the limo slid in front of the Village Theater in Westwood. From the protected womb of the car he could hear the screams of a thousand fans pressed up against the crash barriers. The driver opened the door and the heat and sound crashed over him like a tidal wave. As if on autopilot, his face lit up with his thousand-watt smile and for an instant he was overwhelmed by the moment. It was impossible not to be. Over the past decade he’d been to so many of these things they were almost routine, but the thrill of turning up to your own movie premiere never lost its magic.

The photographers were going crazy. ‘Sam! Sam! Over here!’

‘Give us a smile, buddy.’

‘Where’s Jessica tonight? Can you look sad for us?’

Keep it together, he said to himself, trying not to flinch as the whirr of the camera shutters filled the air like gunfire. Just do what you always do.

‘Keep moving,’ said Lauren into his ear.

‘Who’s that? Your new hooker?’ shouted a voice from the back of the crowd. Sam tried to turn back, but Lauren kept a grip on his arm.

‘Keep smiling,’ she hissed. ‘Charming and lovable, remember?’ She tugged at his hand, pulling him towards the theatre’s entrance. ‘Perfect,’ she whispered in his ear.