Breaking Hollywood (42 page)

It took thirty seconds at a pace to reach the room, throw the door open and . . .

Wow. Model porn 101. Carmella, in a short, pleated miniskirt and tank, was bent over the make-up station, while Jack Gore, trousers at his ankles, exposing a large rose tattoo on his right
buttock, was fucking her from behind.

‘Davie . . .’ Carmella sang, and he could see immediately that she was completely wasted.

What the hell kind of world was this that he lived in? No wonder his karma was shot to fuck.

Time to clean it up.

‘Hey, man, what the hell—’ started Jack, who had pulled out and was now standing there, flaccid dick dangling in the breeze. Obviously not a man who liked an audience.

‘Don’t mind me,’ Davie replied, as he pulled a thick wad of paper out of the folder he was carrying. ‘Jack, you perverted, pathetic piece of crap, this is your contract
for
Beauty and the Best
,’ he announced, at exactly the same moment as he removed a Zippo from his pocket, lit the stack of papers and dropped it in the metal trash can.
‘I’ve recalled your payment from escrow and I’m donating it to Chloe’s Care. Sue me if you like. It would be career suicide, but do your worst, mate. And, Carmella . .
.’

To his relief, Carmella had attempted to stand and was now being held up by the wall. He always felt it was easier to give his employees constructive criticism and advice when their vagina was
not in his direct line of sight.

‘Carmella, you’ve still got the show, but there are two conditions. You need to dump this douchebag, and you’re going to rehab. Mellie will set it up. Fail on either and
I’ll replace you. I’ve always wanted to do a show with Naomi Campbell.’

Carmella’s wail illustrated that although she may well be a floating chemical soup, she definitely understood the threat.

‘Who the fuck do you think—’ Jack Gore started, an offensive that seemed less menacing with the whole dangling dick thing.

‘Jack, save it. You’re a loser. Mirren McLean was far too good for you. And let me tell you, if you cause her one more moment of pain or embarrassment, I’ll bury
you.’

‘That’s intimidation and harassment,’ Jack bleated.

‘No, it’s not,’ Davie countered. ‘It’s karma. And a promise.’

As he strutted out of the studio, fire alarms wailing thanks to a smoking litter bin in dressing room 2, he just hoped the gods of karma were paying attention.

Because if Marilyn McLean was around, they were going to need all the divine intervention they could get.

‘Chasing Cars’ – Snow Patrol

Mirren

‘This is like the most screwed-up family vacation ever,’ Zander said, smiling, as he pulled his suitcase out of the trunk of the Dodge Durango.

Mirren knew he was just trying to keep everyone positive and she appreciated it.

Hollie jumped out of the other side of the Durango, just as Davie and Sarah drew into the space next to them.

All three cars present and accounted for. They’d driven in convoy from LA, after persuading Davie and Sarah to give Cabo a miss and come with them. They hadn’t taken much
convincing.

Lou had bailed out, though. With only days until the Oscars, it was her busiest time, with endless features and speculation about winners, losers, movies, futures and box-office receipts.
Besides, Lou was under no threat. Marilyn wouldn’t be interested in her. Mirren. Zander. Davie. That was who she would blame.

Mirren only blamed herself.

A few years before, Marilyn had contacted her a couple of times, asked for money and to meet the kids. Mirren had returned the letters with a ‘Do not contact’ to a PO box in
Liverpool. If only she hadn’t done that. If only she’d used them as a way of keeping Marilyn on side, or at least establishing where she was and what she was doing, but at the time,
she’d been too busy with Chloe, too busy trying and failing to keep her family together.

Davie and Sarah alighted from the Veyron and Mirren couldn’t help but laugh. They were escaping danger, keeping a low profile, avoiding harm, and he still came in a million-dollar car with
tiny boot space for luggage.

‘I know exactly what you’re thinking,’ Sarah told her. ‘I’ll be wearing the same clothes for as long as we’re here.’ Sarah then turned to Logan, who was
pulling a backpack out of the trunk of Mirren’s car. ‘Hey. Are we OK? You know, I’m so sorry it went down that way.’

For a moment, Mirren worried that Logan would resist the olive branch, but she should have known better. Her boy was way too decent for that.

‘We’re cool,’ he told her. ‘To be honest, I’m glad. Jonell is gonna hate me, but at least it’s not all on me now.’

Mirren took a deep breath and said a silent prayer that the intervention worked. She’d spoken to Deeko, the band manager, and set him up with a couple of the addiction specialists at
Chloe’s Care. They were working on a plan. Mirren was just glad it no longer involved her son. Had he been stupid? Sure. But he was nineteen and his heart was in the right place. That, she
could live with.

‘This place looks incredible,’ Zander said, scanning the view. A huge ranch, and several outhouses, in the middle of green land that stretched in every direction, horses roaming free
in many of the fields.

At that moment, the door of the main building behind them opened and a stunning woman in jeans, a plaid shirt and cowboy boots walked towards them, arms outstretched.

‘You finally came to visit!’

‘Cara, thank you so much for letting us come. Sorry it’s such short notice. Cara, this is Zander and Hollie, Davie and Sarah, and of course you’ve met Logan. Everyone, this is
Cara Callaghan, who owns this place. Her husband, Lex, is the Clansman.’

‘You’re the one who should be the movie star,’ Davie told her honestly, even if it came off as totally cheesy.

Beside him, Sarah groaned. ‘Cara, I’m sorry. He’s been in Hollywood too long. He’s now coated in smarm.’

Cara’s eyes crinkled as she laughed, making her even more attractive. Lex Callaghan was a lucky guy, Mirren thought for the umpteenth time.

‘I’ll check, but I’m sure we’ve got a programme that will help him with that,’ Cara carried on the joke.

If Mirren had questioned whether or not this was a good idea, here was her answer. They’d all been through such crap lately, they knew the extent of the threat, and they knew it
wasn’t over, yet up here it felt like they could breathe. That was all she wanted – not to feel like every moment was an exercise in fear.

They were here, they were together, and this gave Mike Feechan and Brad Bernson and their teams space and time to find the bitch.

‘So how long are you staying? You’re very welcome to hang for as long as you want.’

‘Thank you, but just a few days. As you know, we’ve all had some . . . issues . . . back in LA and we just needed some fresh air.’

Mirren had outlined the situation when she’d called Cara to ask if they could come. A stalker, she’d told her, before filling her in on Davie’s house and the whole
shooting-at-his-gates incident. She also told her about Zander’s apartment being ransacked. The intention wasn’t to freak her out, but to be open about the fact that there might be some
danger.

On the phone, Cara hadn’t hesitated. ‘Honey, up here, we’ve had pimps and we’ve had dealers. We preach serenity and calm, but we know how to handle it if it goes the
other way.’

Cara worked with addicts of all ages, many of them referred to her by the more progressive judges, who understood the benefits of equine therapy. It didn’t always work. Chloe had been up
here once, but no amount of healing can fix a soul that doesn’t want to be fixed.

Now, Cara was just as understanding, hugging Mirren again. ‘This is the place to find it, honey. Stay as long as you want. My next group of clients don’t arrive for another couple of
weeks, so there’s just me and a few of the hands here. You’ll pretty much have the place to yourselves.’

The fact that there wouldn’t be others around reassured Mirren even more, as there was less chance of a sneaky photo of Davie or Zander ending up on Instagram.

‘Why don’t you all come on into the house and we’ll get you some food and show you your rooms? Davie, you’re in the Anti-Smarm Suite.’

They were all laughing as they started to cross the front yard, until the sound of another approaching vehicle stopped them. When it came to a halt and the dust settled, they watched the
newcomer climb out of the car. Mirren shielded her eyes from the sun as she walked to greet the new arrival.

She hadn’t been sure about this at first, but Logan had told her how important it was to him and she didn’t have the heart to refuse him. He needed this, needed some balance to
counteract the darkness in which he’d been living. And if her boy needed that, she wasn’t going to be the one who stood in his way. The only condition had been that the Marilyn
situation wasn’t mentioned, that the reason they were here would be described as a holiday.

Mirren held out her hand, making a concerted effort to be as welcoming as possible. It was the least she could do for Logan.

‘Hi, I’m Mirren. Logan’s mum.’

A hand met hers; a smile mirrored her own.

‘So pleased to meet you. I’m Lauren. Logan’s girlfriend.’

‘Better Man’ – Paolo Nutini

Zander

The early morning sun was beating down on the back of his head. Had been that way for a while, but he wasn’t ready to move. No one else around. No noise. Just him.

And he felt . . . nothing.

Just nothing.

Numb.

‘You OK there?’ He looked round to see that Cara was only a few feet away, heading towards him. She climbed up beside him, sitting on the top spar of the wooden fence that surrounded
the paddock. In the middle distance, four horses, three of them gambolling, the other one standing to the side, looking out to the other field.

‘I’m—’ He stopped. What was he? Good? The usual flippant answer?

Why? What was the point?

She watched him. ‘You don’t know, do you?’ she told him calmly.

There was a tenderness in her voice, a care. This wasn’t a Hollywood conversation. An all-is-fine-an’-yeah-I’m-great. Or a therapist conversation in which they looked for
clichés of desperation so that they could spout some psychobabble tosh.

She was listening. Watching.

‘I don’t,’ he admitted. ‘I have no idea.’ He shrugged it off, embarrassed. ‘Look, I’m sorry. It’s just been a crazy time. Got a lot on my
mind.’

‘You know what, it’s OK to tell yourself that if you want to,’ she said.

His eyes narrowed. ‘And what if I don’t?’ he answered, suddenly weary.

She let that hang there for a moment and he didn’t rush to explain. Opening up wasn’t what he did, especially to a stranger, a beautiful woman he’d known for five minutes.

Yet she had a serenity, a calm that made him want to tell her everything. This wasn’t a flirtation or a physical attraction. It was something else, something he’d never felt
before.

Neither spoke, both looking out at the horses wandering in the morning sun, their breathing strangely synchronized.

‘I see you,’ she said softly.

His eyes went to the horse that was alone, limping now along the perimeter fence. ‘Am I that one?’ he asked, the words catching in his throat. ‘The broken one?’

Her black hair barely moved as she gently shook her head. ‘No, Zander. You’re that one over there.’ He followed her eyes off into the distance, where a solitary Friesian stood,
his graceful silhouette black against the sun. ‘You’re lost,’ she said quietly.

‘So what do I do? How do I find my way?’

Why was he asking her? She didn’t know him. Knew nothing about where he’d come from.

‘You have to find a home. Not a house, a home. A place to belong. A place of love. And then you can start building a life – one that is for you, not anyone else. One that makes you
whole. It’s not about career, or fame, or any of that other stuff. It’s about you. It’s your choices.’

He thought about what she said. What was it about her? What was it about this place? He wanted to hold this, grasp on to this moment of pure peace.

‘I met someone else like you once. A damaged soul.’ Her smile was wide, warm.

‘What happened to him?’

‘I married him,’ she said, her eyes full of love. ‘And he found a balance. Found a way to make his life work.’

He paused, thinking. He didn’t want this to end. This was what life was about. Peace. Quiet. The only other time he felt like this was when he was out in the middle of the ocean, nothing
else for miles, just him and his board.

Now he’d found that on land. And he’d found someone who understood that. In his life, he didn’t think he’d met anyone with the peace and wisdom of Cara Callaghan.

‘I don’t want to leave here,’ he told her honestly.

‘I get that, but you have things to do, things that you need to fix. Running away won’t do it, but you don’t need me to tell you this. You don’t need me to fix you. You
just need to find your way back.’

She leaned over, hugged him. ‘Come back anytime. Lex and I will always be here for you. When you’re ready to heal, we’re here.’

Jumping down, she squinted against the sun. ‘Slow and steady. Your friend over there needs that too. Slow and steady.’

She headed back inside. He wasn’t sure how much later it was when Hollie appeared from the same direction.

‘Thought I’d better come rescue you. You’ve been walking that horse round in circles for an hour,’ Hollie pointed out.

She looked less stressed up here too, even if she hadn’t quite got with the whole ‘at one with nature’ thing – as evidenced by the fact that she still had a cell phone in
one hand and an iPad in the other. However, she’d made a concession to the casual environment by pulling her hair into a ponytail and donning a pair of denim cut-offs and a pale blue vest
– not an outfit she’d generally wear in the city because, in her words, she was a curvy goddess in a sea of size zeros. Zander had no idea why she cared about that shit, but apparently
she did.