Hollywood Divorces / Hollywood Wives: The New Generation (14 page)

‘There’s not much to tell.’

‘There must be
something
,’ she insisted, fixing him with an intent look. ‘When did you get divorced?’

‘I guess you could say that technically we never did. She ran off to L.A. while I was still living in New York.’ He was silent for a moment before adding, ‘Later she was found…murdered.’

Lissa sat up straight. ‘Are you
serious
?’

‘She got involved with the wrong people. Rita had a way of doing that.’

‘Michael…I’m so sorry.’

He shrugged. ‘It was a difficult time.’

‘I
bet
it was.’

Christ! If he kept this up, she’d think he was the world’s worst loser. First the alcoholic thing, and then the murdered wife. ‘Uh…‘listen,’ he said, ‘if you don’t mind, I’d sooner not discuss it.’

Hmm
, Lissa thought,
a man who doesn’t want to talk about himself. How unusual.

‘Tell me about you instead,’ he said, determined to change tracks.

‘I’m sure you’ve read all about me.’

‘I’m probably one of the few who hasn’t,’ he replied, ‘and I’d like to know.’

‘Why?’

‘Do I have to come up with a reason?’

‘Well…’ she said slowly. ‘How about I give you the condensed version?’

‘Go ahead.’

She started the recital, a tale she’d told hundreds of times–usually to journalists. ‘I ran away from home at sixteen. Went to New York to be a dancer, married a boy my age, moved to L.A. where we lived in one room with three other people for a year.’ She grimaced at the memory. ‘Naturally he cheated on me, so we got divorced. Then a few years later I was discovered.’

‘Discovered?’

‘Oh, you know, “I’m gonna make you a star” kind of discovered. There was a producer who liked me–he put me in a movie, and after that my career kind of took off.’

‘Sounds like you made all the right moves.’

‘Not really,’ she said wryly. ‘I met Antonio, husband number two, when I was nineteen, and before I could even think about it we were on a plane to Vegas where we got married. Nine months later I had a baby girl.’

‘Makes you a young mother.’

‘Raising a child is such a big responsibility.’ She sighed. ‘I know I haven’t devoted enough time to Nicci. She spent most of her teenage years with her father in Europe.’ Another long sigh. ‘We’re not as close as we should be.’

‘It’s never too late to do something about that,’ he said, finishing his ice cream and taking a quick peek at his watch. ‘Gotta go,’ he said, standing up. ‘You get some sleep. I’ll be back in the morning to drive you home.’

‘I don’t want to be alone, Michael,’ she said, suddenly panicking. ‘Not in a hotel. Not tonight. Can’t you stay?’

He wasn’t quite sure if she was coming on to him or not. But he reasoned that even if she was, he had to keep this on a business level. Quincy would kill him if he got involved with a client.

And yet…he wasn’t made of stone, and Lissa Roman was an incredibly vibrant and sexy woman. Although, at this particular moment in time, she was also a very vulnerable woman, and the worst thing he could do would be to take advantage of the situation.

‘Y’know, Lissa,’ he said slowly, ‘I’m not good at sleeping on couches. I’ll come back tomorrow.’

She gave him a long, lingering look. ‘And I’m not good at taking no for an answer.’

‘I can believe that,’ he said, as he headed briskly for the door. ‘Eight o’clock too early?’

‘You’re a hard man,’ she murmured softly, liking him even more because he didn’t jump, and most men usually did.

‘I have to be in my profession,’ he said.

And then he was gone. Leaving her thinking that he was probably the most interesting man she’d come across in a long time.

W
hen Nicci’s boyfriend arrived back in town, it put Eric in a foul mood. The things they got up to were making him ill. They were disgusting, perverted sexual sickos. It was all he could do to force himself to watch.

And watch he did. Day and night.

He watched them bouncing around like a couple of acrobats doing things he’d imagined only took place in porno movies. He was outraged. Nicci was a slut and a whore–like her mother. She deserved everything she was about to get.

In his mind he knew Nicci better than she knew herself. He knew her favourite clothes, what she liked to eat, her reckless driving, how she hardly ever saw her famous mother. He even went through her trash on a daily basis.

He also knew that even though they weren’t close, once he had her precious daughter, Lissa Roman would pay. Oh, yes. Because if she didn’t…

That night, crouched in the bushes with his usual view of the house, he was surprised to observe that Nicci and her boyfriend were entertaining. He could see everything–he even spotted the chef pissing in their salad dressing. He almost laughed aloud at
that
little scenario. It reminded him of the times
he
’d pissed in other people’s food.

The kick was seeing their dinner guests sitting around
the dining table, thinking they were being grandly entertained, while the chef was in the kitchen pissing in their salad! The things you saw when people lived in glass houses.

When Lissa herself arrived, he was surprised.

Lissa Roman. Money-cow. Slut. Whore.

The following afternoon he went with Arliss to the building where he worked as caretaker. The skinny man had done an excellent job of setting up an escape-proof room in a gloomy, windowless basement buried at the bottom of the building. Arliss was quite proud of himself. ‘See? I put an old cot bed in the corner,’ he boasted. ‘An’ a bucket for pissin’. An’ over there’s an orange crate for puttin’ food on.’

He’d also affixed two heavy-duty locks and a padlock to the door, plus he’d fashioned a crude peephole, which pleased Eric. It meant he could watch her at close quarters whenever he felt like it.

‘Good work,’ Eric said.

Not used to praise, Arliss preened.

This is going to be easy,
Eric thought.
Why didn’t I come up with this idea years ago?

Tonight they were recruiting the others. Arliss had set up a meeting, warning everyone beforehand that something was about to go down that could make them big bucks. By the time Eric arrived at the bar that night, Arliss had Little Joe, Davey and Big Mark all settled in a booth.

‘Hiya, big boy,’ Pattie said, accosting him on his way in.

Why don’t you put on some clothes
? he wanted to say.
What kind of a job has you standing around with your tits hanging out
? Instead he nodded curtly and headed for the booth.

Arliss jumped up as he approached. ‘You know everyone,’ he said, chewing on a strand of straggly hair.

‘I certainly do,’ Eric replied, his flat, cold eyes carefully checking them out. ‘How about I buy you boys a round of drinks?’

‘Sounds good to me,’ Davey ‘The Animal’ said. He’d got the nickname ‘The Animal’ because he resembled a ferret, and whenever he spoke he made disgusting snorting noises in the back of his throat.

‘Me, too,’ said Little Joe, a rotund, short man, with pop eyes and a moth-eaten moustache.

Eric knew everything about both of them. Little Joe worked as a male orderly in a mental home, and Davey toiled in a wrecking yard. Two useful jobs for what Eric had in mind.

He clicked his fingers for Pattie.

‘Yes, hon?’ she called, hurrying to the booth, pleased that he’d summoned her. Eric was about the only gentleman she’d ever encountered, so she paid him extra attention. The trouble was, he never seemed to notice she existed, a sad fact she planned on doing something about.

‘Drinks for everyone,’ Eric said magnanimously. ‘Give ’em anything they want.’

‘Oooh,
you
’re a big spender tonight,’ Pattie said archly, sticking her droopy tits in his direction.

Eric ignored her.

Big Mark shifted in his chair. ‘When we gonna find out what’s on yer mind?’ he said, reaching down to scratch his balls with an over-large, hairy hand.

‘Any minute now,’ Eric said smoothly, thinking that if anyone was going to give him grief, it would be this huge hulk of a man. ‘
If
I bring you in, I expect loyalty all the way. We’ll work as a team, which means anyone who doesn’t care to be involved, should get up and leave now.’

Big Mark looked like he might do just that. But then he changed his mind and stayed put.

It was at that moment that Eric knew he had them exactly where he wanted them.

Greed had drawn them in.

And very soon it would be time to put his plan into motion.

L
issa’s dumping of her fourth husband hit the airwaves with a vengeance. And Gregg Lynch was not about to depart quietly. Angry and out for revenge, he’d decided to be more than vocal, trying to sell his story to every magazine and television programme that would pay him. According to him, Lissa Roman was a selfish, obsessed, career-crazy bitch, with absolutely no concern for anyone except herself.

To Lissa’s great relief, he’d not shown up at the house except the first night when he’d arrived to find the locks changed and his possessions stacked up outside. Fortunately, thanks to Michael, she’d not been there to witness his fury.

Exactly as Michael had predicted, Gregg had gone straight to the media. What a publicity whore
he
’d turned out to be. She hated the fact that she’d actually
married
the asshole. Another big mistake. When was she going to learn?

She instructed her lawyer to arrange the quickest divorce on record.

Michael had put on extra security in case of trouble. Two ex-cops who worked part-time for the agency patrolled the grounds of her house, making sure she was not bothered by the hordes of paparazzi and TV crews
who’d taken up residence outside her gates–all thanks to Gregg, who kept on promising them a public showdown.

A public showdown. Who the
hell
did he think he was?

She
knew exactly who he was. A dead-beat songwriter, with no money, a vicious temper and a big dick. Like
he
could create a public showdown.

Unfortunately, she was well aware that if he wanted to, he could. She vaguely remembered an Oscar-nominated English actress whose long-time husband had created a horrible scene outside the Oscar ceremony because he wasn’t invited. The press had gone berserk, writing about the event as if it was headline news. Lissa dreaded that kind of publicity. She didn’t mind promoting her movies and music, but when it came to anything personal, she cringed.

Her friends rallied as soon as they found out. James came to the house and spent hours counselling her on how she’d done the right thing. He claimed he knew Gregg had been screwing around for months.

‘Then why didn’t you tell me?’ she’d wanted to ask. But she didn’t, because what good would it do to get on James’s case?

Stella dropped by and talked incessantly about the impending birth of her twins, the perils of using a surrogate, and the movie she was in pre-production on. ‘I hope he signed a pre-nup,’ were Stella’s final words before departing.

‘Of course,’ Lissa said, silently thanking her lawyer for insisting that Gregg sign.

‘He’ll try to break it,’ Stella warned. ‘They always do.’

Kyndra phoned. So did Taylor. They both promised to visit soon. Danny, Chuck and Nellie were great–her faithful home team–anticipating anything she wanted and protecting her in every way. She was lucky to have them.

A huge number of acquaintances tried to reach her, but she refused to take any calls, realizing that all they were after was juicy gossip they could pass around.

She threw herself into rehearsals for her Vegas show, and attempted to ignore the publicity blitz.

Max was beside himself. ‘Why didn’t you warn me?’ he complained, almost jumping up and down in frustration. ‘I need an immediate statement from you,
something.
Your soon-to-be ex is shooting his mouth off everywhere.’

‘I can’t help that,’ Lissa answered, feeling surprisingly calm. ‘In a few weeks this’ll all go away.’

‘Bullshit,’ Max grumbled. ‘Gregg is money-hungry and vindictive, a bad combination. He’s out to destroy you, Lissa, and
you
don’t get it.’

‘Do you really think he can, Max?’

‘No. However, I’d sooner you gave me a statement showing him up for the liar he is. The press loves you, but you gotta give ’em
something
.’

‘I have no intention of indulging in a public showdown,’ she said coolly. ‘You know that’s not my style.’

‘A brief statement does not make it a showdown,’ Max spluttered. ‘Say nothing, an’ the press’ll
never
leave you alone.’

‘Okay,’ she said reluctantly. ‘I’ll come up with a statement.’

‘Soon,’ Max warned. ‘We’d better get some kind of lid on this before your Vegas appearance.’

‘I understand, Max. I’ll get something over to you today.’

The reporter was small, blonde and compact, with an ageless, well-preserved air about her. Her name was Belinda Barrow, she’d been on television for quite a number of years, and considered herself equally as important as the stars she interviewed. Currently she was the on-camera
talent for a weekly half-entertainment, half-reality show called
The Real News.

Gregg looked her over and decided she was easy pickings. He needed a score and she could be it.

They made polite conversation before the cameras started to roll, he gave her the sincere act, and she seemed to go for it.

As soon as the red light came on, Belinda switched into interviewer mode. ‘So tell me, Gregg,’ she said, an eager, almost hungry look in her guileless hazel eyes, ‘you were married to Lissa Roman for almost two years. If she was as difficult as you
say
, then how come you stayed married for as long as you did?’

‘Lissa is a very insidious woman,’ Gregg said, playing to the camera. ‘She gets off on drama. Whenever I attempted to leave, she always managed to pull me back in.’

‘How so?’

‘Well…she kinda threatened suicide, told me she couldn’t live without me, that sorta thing.’

‘How soon after you were married did you try to leave?’

‘It must’ve been on our honeymoon. I immediately realized she was unstable. I stayed because I felt sorry for her. And naturally, I loved her.’

‘I see,’ Belinda said. ‘So you stayed with her because you felt sorry for her?’

‘Yeah, that’s right.’

‘Do you realize how many men watching this programme will be pulling their hair out to hear you say that? After all, Lissa Roman is one of the most beautiful and talented women in movies today.’

‘Beauty’s only skin deep, Belinda,’ Gregg said, liking the sound of his own cliché. ‘It’s what’s within that matters. And within Lissa Roman there lurks a black soul.’

‘Isn’t that rather harsh?’ Belinda asked, playing up the sympathy angle.

‘She threw me out on the street in the middle of the night with no warning, nothing,’ Gregg complained. ‘Now I’m virtually penniless. Not only did I give up my career to help her, I also spent all my own money on her.’

‘That’s too bad, Gregg,’ Belinda murmured.

‘None of this seems to bother Lissa Roman,’ Gregg continued angrily, ‘although I hope it bothers her fans. I hope that when they realize the kind of woman she is, they’ll stop buying her music and watching her movies.’

‘That’s not a very charitable thing to say, Gregg,’ Belinda said, not wishing to come across as a bitch.

‘
You
didn’t have to live with her for two years,’ Gregg snapped.

And so the interview continued in the same vein.

When they were finished, Gregg leaned across to Belinda, feeling quite pumped up with his own importance. ‘When does this air?’ he asked.

‘Next week,’ she said, shuffling her notes. ‘I’ll edit later.’

‘You’ll leave in the plug for the CD I’m about to record?’ he asked eagerly.

‘Well…’

He decided she needed some extra attention. ‘Can I buy you a drink, Belinda?’

‘Sure,’ she said, slightly flustered. ‘I guess that’s possible.’

‘Anything’s
possible
, right?’

And she nodded her neat blonde head.

A week after their disastrous dinner party, Evan left for another location. Fortunately his bad mood had not lasted past that one evening. Since then he’d returned to his normal self–he’d even bought Nicci a present from Tiffany’s, an exquisite diamond butterfly pin with emerald wings. She already had a diamond engagement ring (six carats), which, much to Evan’s annoyance, she
wore on a black ribbon hanging around her neck, claiming that wearing it on her engagement finger was too traditional.

‘What’s this for?’ she’d asked suspiciously, when he’d given her the pin.

‘For promising to marry me,’ he’d said.

How could she have ever experienced any doubts? He was amazing. They were destined to be deliriously happy. One wedding coming up.

Antonio had sent her an e-mail informing her of his arrival. It so happened that on the day he was flying in, Lissa was leaving for Vegas.

Gregg was behaving as badly as everyone had expected, literally hogging the headlines. He’d even managed to drag Nicci into some of his stories, calling her the poor little neglected daughter.

Poor little neglected daughter indeed! How
dare
the creep involve her? She was beyond furious. Gregg Lynch was an untalented piece of crap. Why did her mom have such bad taste in men?

And yet Lissa had taught her well.
Ignore the tabloids. Do not answer back. Keep a dignified silence.
Which is exactly what she did, failing to return the many calls she received from the press.

Saffron dropped by, waving a copy of
Truth & Fact
, a particularly scurrilous rag. ‘Get an eyeful of
this
!’ she announced, thrusting the magazine at Nicci.

On the front page there was a picture of Ramone Lopez in a shirt opened to the waist, multiple gold chains and tight black jeans. He was leaning against a wall, leering at the camera. The headline read:
My Night of Bliss With Lissa Roman.

‘Oh…my…God!’ Nicci gasped, horrified. ‘I don’t believe it!’

‘
You
don’t believe it,’ Saffron snorted, tossing back her
dreadlocks. ‘How do you think
I
feel?
I
’m the sucker who brought him into your house.’

‘This is unreal!’ Nicci said, starting to read the story aloud. ‘Our eyes met and I knew there was something between us that could never be forgotten. Lissa looked at me and said, ‘You are the man I’ve been searching for.’” Like what planet is this asshole from?’

‘Wait till you read the rest of it,’ Saffron said, opening the fridge and helping herself to a Sprite. ‘According to Ramone, they’ve formed a bond for the rest of their lives, and she’s starring him in her next video.’

Nicci threw the magazine down in disgust. ‘I’m sure Mom’s lawyer will have a major party when he sees this crap.’

‘And speaking of parties…’

‘Don’t tell me
you
’re entertaining?’

‘Better than that,’ Saffron said, with a secretive smile. ‘Very shortly
you
are being kidnapped.’

‘Huh?’

‘Kidnapped, babe,’ Saffron crowed. ‘One spectacular bachelorette night coming up, so be prepared. You’ll be blindfolded, taken out of your house, and you’ll have no
idea
what is gonna happen. Cool?’

‘Wow!’ Nicci said, thinking it sounded like a blast. ‘What’ll I wear?’

‘Anything you like. You may not be keeping it on all night.’

‘Will I be leaving the state?’

‘Maybe,’ Saffron said mysteriously.

‘You gotta tell me more than that.’

‘I don’t gotta do anything,’ Saffron said, laughing. ‘It’s all one big surprise.’

‘Fine.’

‘How’s Lissa doin’ with all this bad publicity?’

‘She’s cool.’

‘You goin’ to Vegas to see her show?’

‘She doesn’t think it’s a good idea.’

‘How come?’

‘Cause of all the press,’ Nicci explained. ‘Lissa has always tried to keep me out of the papers.’

‘That’s ’cause having a nineteen-year-old daughter makes her feel old.’

‘Lissa,
old
?’ Nicci burst out laughing. She’s only forty, Saff, an’ looks unbelievable.’

‘I’m tellin’ you–having having a grown kid makes ’em nutto,’ Saffron insisted. ‘Kyndra’s the same way, she’d
love
to keep me under wraps–it pisses her off when I’m in
People
an’ shit. But I’m an actress, so I need all the publicity I can get.’

‘Okay, so back to my special night,’ Nicci said, decidedly psyched at the thought of a wild night on the town. ‘Tell me when, and gimme the guest list.’

‘It’s a kidnap, babe,’ Saffron said succinctly, revealing nothing. ‘Everything that happens is a
big
mystery.’

‘As long as you don’t have Ramone strip for me.’

‘Girl,
believe
me,
that
’s a promise.’

Gregg knew there was one place he was in complete control, and that was in bed. Nobody had ever accused him of being a dud between the sheets. He’d always been lucky in that respect, and women were so stupid that they always fell for his boyish charm and bullshit lines. All he had to do was turn it on.

Gregg was well aware that he’d better get himself into a new relationship fast, because since Lissa had thrown him out, he’d been forced to move into a crummy hotel due to lack of funds. Lissa had controlled the money. Miss Moneybags’s business manager had doled him out an allowance, which came to an abrupt halt the minute his luggage was shoved out the door. All he had going for him was his Ferrari.

Man, would he like to show the cunt a thing or two. But
what he needed now was somewhere to stay, and money, so he could hire himself a sharp lawyer and start figuring out what to do next. Belinda seemed a likely prospect.

‘Where do you live?’ he asked, as they entered the Polo Lounge.

‘I have a house in the Hollywood Hills,’ she said.

Sounds promising
, he thought.

They sat in the Polo Lounge drinking martinis, and he listened as she poured out her woes. Naturally she had many, considering she was a woman of a certain age who lived and worked in Hollywood. He reckoned that although she looked pretty good–probably on account of major plastic surgery–she had to be at least fifty-two or-three.

They talked for two hours. Or, rather, he allowed her to ramble on. She let it all out, telling him how she’d been married three times and how her last husband, a sometime actor, had run off with the pool man. Then she revealed that her station manager didn’t like her, and she’d had to leave her last job because her co-presenter would not quit coming on to her. And finally she complained about what a struggle it was to stay young and fresh-looking–a prerequisite for any woman on TV.