Hollywood Divorces / Hollywood Wives: The New Generation (28 page)

BOOK: Hollywood Divorces / Hollywood Wives: The New Generation
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The only bad thing was her affair with Oliver Rock. And how bad could that be? Larry would
never
find out.
She
wasn’t about to tell him, and Oliver certainly wouldn’t.

By seven fifteen, they were on their way to the restaurant. Larry was driving and full of conversation. ‘I read through the script myself today,’ he said, ‘and I have a few suggestions for Oliver. You and I should definitely sit down and discuss it this weekend. You’re not working, are you?’

‘No,’ she said. ‘I only have another few days on the film, then it’s over.’

‘You’re enjoying it, aren’t you?’ he ventured.

‘I should have never given up my career, Larry,’ she said fervently. ‘I
love
acting.’

‘I can tell.’

‘Going to lunches, and working on all those charity events with a bunch of women who have nothing else to do except bitch about each other doesn’t do it for me. All that is
so
boring.’

‘It’s my fault,’ he said, nodding to himself. ‘I should have realized you needed more.’

‘Well, as I suggested,’ she said, choosing her words carefully, ‘we can always work together. We’ll be doing it on my project, and then, if you
do
decide to cast me in one of
your
films, there’d
be
no separations. And we both know that if there’s one thing that’s bad for a marriage, it’s separations. Especially in this town.’

‘We’ve never been apart,’ Larry said confidently, ‘and we have a great marriage.’

‘That’s probably why. Togetherness is what’s important. You see all these divorces taking place. Usually it’s because one person’s off on location, and their partner’s not with them. I want to be here for you all the time, Larry, but I also want to act. I have to be true to myself, don’t I?’

‘Yes, my darling,’ he said. ‘I understand.’

When they walked into the restaurant, Taylor was shocked to see that Oliver had brought a date: a young, pale girl with lank yellow hair, a blank expression and a nipple ring–quite evident through her almost see-through silky top. Taylor wondered if it was the same girl she’d spotted lying naked on his mattress the day she’d surprised him. And if it was, would the girl remember seeing her? Oh God, how stupid could this guy get?

‘Mrs Singer,’ Oliver said, playing his part properly. ‘Nice to see you again.’

‘Please call me Taylor,’ she said, shooting Larry a look as much as to say,
Why has he brought his girlfriend with him?

‘I will,’ Oliver said. ‘This is Kimberly.’

‘Hi, Kimberly dear,’ she said, suddenly feeling incredibly old.

Larry didn’t seem to notice anything was amiss as they settled into a booth and ordered the famous Spago smoked salmon pizza.

‘We’re happy you’re on board, Oliver,’ Larry said. ‘This could turn out to be an exciting project. As you know, Taylor’s been trying to get it going for some time, but the writers she chose to work with have been too…what’s the word I’m looking for?’

‘Cautious?’ Oliver suggested.

‘Yes, that’s it, cautious. The script has to have more edge.’

‘A dash of Tarantino,’ Oliver said.

‘Let’s not go that far,’ Larry said. ‘We don’t want violence.’

‘Of course,’ Oliver agreed, not about to argue with the great Larry Singer.


I
’m planning to direct,’ Taylor said, asserting herself. She did not appreciate them discussing her script as if she wasn’t there.

‘Have you directed before?’ Oliver asked.

As if the little prick didn’t already know. ‘No,’ she said, giving him a dirty look.

‘Could be a mistake,’ Oliver said.

She felt her cheeks flush with anger. ‘
What
?’ she said tightly.

‘I know what Oliver means,’ Larry interjected, oblivious to his wife’s mounting fury. ‘Playing the lead
and
directing on your first outing–it’s too much responsibility. Plus it’ll make it a lot tougher for the studio to commit.’

‘Yeah,’ Oliver said, playing kiss up. ‘You’re right, Larry.’

Taylor could not believe that the two of them seemed to be in cahoots. Was this fair?

‘Wait a minute,’ she said curtly, ‘this is
my
project, and
I
plan to direct
and
star.’

‘Yes, honey, I know,’ Larry answered soothingly, ‘only wouldn’t it be safer if you concentrated on acting this time out? Especially as I’m coming on as executive producer. I’ll hire a director I know I can control, and that way you’ll be in on everything.’

‘How ’bout me?’ Oliver said, with a cheeky grin. ‘I’m
dying
to direct.’

‘I don’t think so,’ Taylor said, her tone icy.

‘Let’s not get into that now,’ Larry said, adjusting his glasses, which had an annoying habit of sliding down his nose. ‘First we get the script right,
then
we decide on a director.’ He leaned forward, full of enthusiasm. When Larry committed to a project he was one hundred percent involved.
‘Now,’
he said, ‘here are some of my ideas.’

 

The only positive thing about having Lynda Richter in the house was that Nicci had managed to find out the truth about Evan and his previous fiancée. Yes, he’d been engaged to a script girl from one of their movies, just as Brian had said.

‘So what went wrong?’ Nicci asked Lynda, trying to sound as casual as possible.

‘She was after his money,’ Lynda said. ‘I could tell it the moment I set eyes on her. She moved into the house and changed things–which, as you can imagine, did
not
please me. She actually
sold
a piece of furniture I’d bought, and Evan
never
saw the money.’

‘You mean she lived
here
?’ Nicci said, startled. ‘In this house?’

‘For six months. It wasn’t until
I
came out here that I was able to show him what she was up to.’

‘How long were they together?’

‘Over a year. Surely Evan told you?’

‘Oh, yes,’ Nicci said quickly, ‘but, you know Evan, he doesn’t like talking about personal stuff.’

‘My Evan,’ Lynda said fondly. ‘He was always a sensitive boy.’

Nicci decided this was even worse than she’d thought. Not only had Evan not mentioned the girl, but they’d been together for over a year,
and
she’d lived in his house for six months. The same house Nicci was in now.

She couldn’t believe that he’d kept it a secret. She was confused and angry, and couldn’t
wait
to confront him in person.

In the meantime, what was she supposed to do about his mom? Lynda apparently didn’t know anyone in L.A. All she wanted to do was hang around the house changing everything and annoying the help.

‘Uh, listen,’ Nicci said, ‘my dad’s in town, and I’ll be having dinner with him tonight.’

‘Where are we going?’ Lynda asked.

‘Sorry?’

‘Where are we going?’ Lynda repeated. ‘Somewhere nice?’

Nicci frowned. ‘Uh…you can’t come with us,’ she explained. ‘I haven’t seen my dad in two years, so I need to spend time with him by myself.’

‘Oh,’ Lynda said, frosty-faced. ‘I see. You’re leaving me alone here, are you?’

‘We’ll do something together tomorrow,’ Nicci promised.

‘If you’re sure you can spare the time,’ Lynda said caustically.

I spared the time last night,
Nicci thought.
Took you to Hamburger Hamlet and you nagged your way through
two
hamburgers and a giant slice of chocolate cake. I’m certainly not subjecting Antonio to that kind of torture.

‘Of course I can,’ Nicci said sweetly.

And she couldn’t wait to leave the house.

Chapter Thirty-two

A
fleet of limos was waiting at the airport to greet Lissa and her entourage when they flew into Vegas.

‘You’ll come in the car with me, Michael,’ she said, as they got off the plane.

Four white stretch limos were lined up, all emblazoned with the name of the hotel in gold along the side. Michael climbed in the first one with Lissa. The interior was carpeted with white rugs, and white and gold leather-upholstered seats.

A pretty girl in a Millennium Desert Princess Hotel uniform immediately offered them champagne and caviar.

‘Too early in the morning for me,’ Lissa said, smiling slightly.

‘Me too,’ Michael said, feeling uncomfortable, like some kind of consort. But then, on the other hand, he had to remember he was working. This was strictly work, and he shouldn’t take it any other way.

The silence that had started on the plane lasted all the way to the hotel. Michael was damned if he was going to break it, and Lissa didn’t say a word.

Rick Maneloni, the manager, was waiting to greet her at a private entrance. He was Mister Slick, all dressed up in a shiny blue suit with brown, moussed hair, and heavy matching eyebrows. He wore a lot of macho gold jewellery,
and carried a small silver phone. ‘Miz Roman,’ he gushed. ‘Lissa–if I may call you that. We are delighted to welcome you to the Desert Millennium Princess. It is our pleasure to have you here, and anything you need–anything at all, twenty-four hours a day–please feel free to summon your personal concierge.’

‘I have a personal concierge?’ Lissa asked.

‘Two. They’ll be waiting in your suite, which we will escort you to right now. You must be tired from your journey.’

‘Hardly,’ she murmured. ‘L.A. is only an hour away.’ She indicated Michael. ‘This is Mr Scorsinni, my personal security. I’d like him to be close.’

‘Certainly, Miz Roman. We have our own excellent security here for you, but it’s quite understandable that you travel with your own.’

‘And my other people, you’ll take care of them?’

‘We have the entire Penthouse One floor reserved for you, Miz Roman,’ Rick said. ‘I do believe you’ll find the accommodations adequate. You have your own roof-top swimming pool, a miniature golf course and, of course, a sauna and gym.’

‘Of course I do,’ she murmured.

Then they were all whisked into a private elevator and taken to the top floor.

The view from the Penthouse was astounding. The whole of Las Vegas was laid out before them.

‘Wait until you see the view at night,’ Rick boasted.

‘I’m sure it’s magnificent,’ Lissa said.

‘Mr Walter Burns, the owner of the hotel, wondered if you would care to dine with him and his wife tonight, bringing whoever you like.’

‘I’ll let you know,’ Lissa said.

This was the first time Michael had been in her company where she was treated like the megastar she was. It made him realize all the more how far out of her league he was.

He strolled over to Chuck. ‘You do know she requested either myself or Quincy to come along on this trip,’ he said. ‘I understand you’re usually in charge of her personal security, and I respect that. I also know you’ve been doing a first-rate job, so I hope you don’t think I’m invading your territory.’

‘No worries,’ Chuck said. ‘I work for her
all
the time. Havin’ you around don’t bother me.’

‘You’re sure?’

‘Listen, man,’ Chuck said, shrugging, ‘whatever she wants, she gets. She’s the star, okay?’

‘Yeah,’ Michael agreed. ‘She’s the star.’

‘Everyone can get settled,’ Lissa announced. ‘I’m planning to relax today, so all of you go off and do your own thing. Danny, please be sure to deal with the clothes when they get here, make sure the jewellery is put in the hotel safe, and double-check that everything’s set for tomorrow’s rehearsal.’

‘Yes, Miz Roman,’ Danny said, almost bobbing a curtsy. He was desperate to explore Sin City.

‘Michael,’ she said offhandedly, ‘I’m sorry I can’t give you time off.’

‘I wasn’t expecting it,’ he replied evenly. ‘I’m here to watch out for you, right?’

‘So,’ she said, ‘do you want to watch out for me at dinner?’

‘Where?’

‘The owner of the hotel has requested dinner with me. I’m certainly not going by myself. Let’s say we’ll meet here at eight o’clock.’

‘Got it. In the meantime,’ he said, handing her a pager, ‘if you need me, buzz–I’m in the room next door. And, Lissa, don’t go anywhere on your own.’

‘I wasn’t planning to.’

‘I’ll see you at eight.’

He spent the rest of the day playing solitaire on a computer in his room. He thought about phoning Carol, then decided against it. It was enough that he was seeing her on Monday night.

In his mind he went over what he was going to say to her. Yes, he’d be there for her. Yes, he’d pay financial support for the baby. Yes, he wanted to be part of the baby’s life, but he did not plan on continuing with their relationship. It wasn’t fair to either of them.

He wondered how she’d accept it. The truth was he didn’t really care–that’s the way it was going to be.

At seven o’clock he took a shower and put on a clean white shirt and a Charvet tie–a gift from a grateful client. Next he took out his dark blue Armani suit, his one big extravagance. Wearing the suit made him feel like a million bucks–which he didn’t have and never would.

He started thinking about why Lissa had wanted him to accompany her to Las Vegas. She had Chuck, and there was all the security in the world at the hotel, but no, she’d insisted he come too. Maybe she was playing some kind of weird movie star game with him, and even though they were both aware of being attracted to each other, it couldn’t possibly go anywhere. And if she thought he was about to be a weekend fling, she was very much mistaken.

 

Contessa Bianca de Morago looked like Sophia Loren–elegant, beautiful, and definitely over sixty. Antonio was as handsome as ever–he hadn’t changed a bit.

‘My
cariño
!’ Antonio said, grabbing Nicci in a huge embrace as they met in the lobby of the Peninsula Hotel. ‘I wish to present my wife, the Contessa Bianca de Morago. Bianca,’ he added formally, ‘this is my daughter, Nicci.’

Bianca smiled and proffered a languid hand. Nicci was dazzled by the size of the huge diamond solitaire ring on
her engagement finger. Obviously
not
a gift from Antonio, who certainly didn’t have that kind of money.

‘Hi,’ she said, still checking the woman out so she could give a full report to Lissa.

‘Antonio has told me much about you,’ Bianca said, in a deep, throaty, accented voice. ‘It is a pleasure to come to California and finally meet you.’

‘Uh, thanks,’ Nicci said, mentally adding up the cost of the diamonds this woman had on–discreet earrings, a firebird brooch, an impressive bracelet, and the ring. Nicci reckoned Bianca was standing there in over a million dollars’ worth of jewels.

‘We leave your car here,’ Antonio announced. ‘Our driver will take us.’

Nicci had booked a table at Spago–not her usual hang-out, but she’d thought it was the place they’d want to go. She was right–even Bianca had heard of the famous restaurant.

Somehow Nicci felt strangely shy in the presence of her father. Maybe it was because she hadn’t seen him in two years. ‘How’s Adela?’ she asked, inquiring after her stern Spanish grandmother.

‘The same,’ Antonio replied airily. ‘Difficult.’

Nicci thought about Lynda. Nobody could be as difficult as her soon-to-be mother-in-law from hell.

‘And Lissa?’ Antonio asked, as they walked outside to a discreet black town car complete with a uniformed driver. ‘Your dear mama is well?’

‘She’s getting divorced,’ Nicci blurted.

‘I heard.’ Antonio sighed. ‘Poor Lissa–she never has luck with men.’

‘I guess she didn’t have much with you,’ Nicci said, unable to stop herself from making a sly dig.

Antonio laughed. Nothing seemed to faze him, with Bianca and her money by his side, he owned the world.

They all got in the car.

‘Have you been to L.A. before?’ Nicci asked the Contessa.

‘This is Bianca’s first trip to America,’ Antonio said. ‘I am to show her the sights. After L.A. and your wedding, we visit the Grand Canyon and Niagara Falls.’

‘Antonio! Those are totally tourist places.’

‘I know, I know,’ he said, gazing fondly at his wife, ‘but my Bianca wishes to see them.’

Bianca smiled–she had very big teeth. ‘I read about such places in school,’ she said. ‘That was a long time ago, now I must see for myself.’

‘Tomorrow we fly to Vegas,’ Antonio said. ‘We have chartered a plane, and I have tickets for Lissa’s show.’

‘You do?’ Nicci said, wondering how Lissa would take the news.

‘I thought Bianca should visit the gambling capital, and it will be nice to see your mother’s show. Perhaps you will alert her that we are coming.’

‘I’m sure she’ll be surprised,’ Nicci said.

‘Yes, I’m sure she will,’ Antonio said. ‘I would love for my Bianca to meet her.’

Nicci nodded blankly, wondering what kind of a trip
he
was on.

‘You wish to come with us?’ Antonio asked.

She shook her head. ‘No, no, I can’t. I have a bachelorette night going on this Saturday. My friend, Saffron, is throwing me a magical mystery tour–it’ll be awesome.’

‘A bachelorette night?’ Bianca questioned. ‘Surely that is something only men do?’

‘No, in America girls do it too. You know, we’ll be like goin’ out and gettin’ wild–eyeballing crazy strippers and stuff.’

‘You look at female strippers?’ Bianca said, obviously shocked.

‘No, male ones.’

‘You have male strippers in America?’ Bianca inquired, quite startled.

‘They have many things in America you know nothing about,’ Antonio said, taking her hand.

Over dinner Nicci learned more about the Contessa. She had been married for forty years to a captain of industry, and when he’d died a year ago, he’d left her his fortune. She and Antonio had met at a party, and apparently fallen in love. She had three grown children, all of whom had never left Spain.

Nicci wondered how they felt about her marriage to Antonio, who was at least fifteen years her junior.

Bianca seemed nice enough, and that pleased Nicci because it was about time Antonio had some stability. And not only was he getting stability, he was getting money too.

The evening passed quickly. On the way out, Nicci stopped to say hello to her mother’s friends, Taylor and Larry Singer, who were dining in the neighbouring booth. Sitting with them was Kimberly, a friend of hers from high school.

‘Hey, Kim,’ she said.

‘Hey, Nic,’ Kimberly said, jumping up.

‘What’s the deal?’ Nicci asked.

‘New guy,’ Kimberly whispered. ‘He’s a hottie.’

Nicci took a discreet peek at Oliver. ‘Cute,’ she whispered back. ‘What are you doing with the Singers?’

‘He’s writing a script for them.’

‘Cool.’

‘I’ll see you Saturday,’ Kimberly said.

‘You’re coming?’

‘Wouldn’t miss it!’

‘Can’t wait!’

Lynda was still up when Nicci got home. She had decided to reorganize Evan’s closet, and his clothes were lying around everywhere.

‘You shouldn’t do that without asking Evan,’ Nicci said. ‘He’s very particular about his stuff.’

‘When you know Evan better, dear, you’ll realize I do a lot of things he doesn’t have time to do for himself,’ Lynda said in a patronizing voice. ‘I’m sure, over time, I can train you to help.’

Nicci shook her head in amazement. Brian was right. Lynda Richter was a piece of work.

 

After the pool man had dropped Gregg back at his car, he loaded the boxes into the trunk. Then he set off for the recording studio, where he was paying a young, black producer an exorbitant amount of money to record his latest composition.
I should’ve called it ‘Bitch’,
he thought as he drove to the studio,
and dedicated it to her.

He was well aware that timing was everything, and soon he’d be running out. He had to cash in on his publicity, take that fifteen minutes and shove it up everyone’s ass.

Belinda was in agreement that he should do everything he could. ‘Maybe I can perform it on your show,’ he suggested, expecting her to jump.


I
don’t decide what goes on,’ she answered. ‘My producer does.’

‘You mean if you said you wanted me on, singing my song, he’d say no?’

‘We’re not a musical show, Gregg.’

‘It’s a no-lose segment,’ he argued. ‘The guy that got away. The public’ll eat it up.’

‘I’ll bring it up at the next production meeting.’

‘You do that,’ he said, more than a little irritated.

He was getting bored with Belinda, she was the kind of woman who needed servicing, and he didn’t feel like being the in-house service stud. Especially when he wasn’t getting anything back.

At the studio he flirted with the girl behind the
reception desk, an ex-groupie with cock-sucking lips and bitter eyes.

‘What studio am I in today?’ he asked.

‘Studio three, Gregg,’ she replied.

‘See you later, then,’ he said, heading up the stairs, filing her away for another day.

He’d hired the producer he was working with when he and Lissa were still together. Teddy was not at the top of his game, but he was on his way. Gregg reckoned that Teddy could easily become the new Baby Face: he had edge, something Gregg needed. Teddy was costing him money he didn’t have, so he had to make sure the deal he was working on with the tabloid came through. Fortunately, Teddy was not bugging him for money.

‘Ran inta your old lady the other day,’ Teddy remarked when he came in.

‘Yeah? Where was that?’ Gregg asked, walking over to the coffee-maker and pouring himself a cup.

‘The Domingos’ party. Thought I’d see you there, man.’

‘I had something else going on,’ Gregg said, livid because he hadn’t been invited.

Naturally, all of Lissa’s dear, close friends had dropped him the moment he’d left her. Okay with him, he’d never liked any of them anyway. Kyndra was an overblown diva with a fat ass. Taylor was an ambitious bitch busy playing professional wife. And Stella was too assertive and tough for her own good. As for James, no words could describe him. Gregg had always loathed Lissa’s
best
friend.

BOOK: Hollywood Divorces / Hollywood Wives: The New Generation
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