Hollywood Divorces / Hollywood Wives: The New Generation (7 page)

‘Can’t wait.’

Michael left their house, stopping for a hamburger on his way to the office. Lissa Roman was still on his mind. It worried him that she’d be alone in her house with a man she
knew
was cheating on her. Would she be safe? Could she handle it?

Yes. Of course she could. She was rich and famous, she could probably handle anything.

A
fter returning the rental car to the Saks parking lot, Lissa hurried back to Barneys, entering through the front entrance and exiting through the back, where Chuck waited with her car.

As she walked through the makeup department, she couldn’t help wondering if one of the girls working behind the counters was Gregg’s lover. They were all attractive, young and stylish.

She glanced around, her eyes hidden beneath her dark glasses.

Which one was Gregg’s choice? The Chinese girl with the glossy black hair? The pretty blonde in the unsuitable-for-work skimpy top? The languid redhead who seemed to throw her a malevolent glare?

Who knew? Who cared? Gregg Lynch was soon to be history.

Arriving home she found Gregg lying out by the pool putting in time on his year-round tan.

Gregg Lynch. Thirty years old. Handsome in an all-American, dirty-blond, football-hero way.

Songwriter–talentless, in spite of her valiant efforts to steer him in the right direction.

Lazy–she supported both of them.

Charming–when he cared to turn it on.

Sexy–sometimes.

Was that why she’d married him? Because he was good in bed?

Oh, God, she hoped not. She’d married him because he’d seemed so easy-going, was fun to be around, and quite frankly, in spite of all the glamorous trappings she’d been lonely, and after husband number three, a Washington businessman who’d refused to commute, she’d needed a man to share her life with. A man who would be there for her all the way, supporting her in everything she did.

Wrong again, dammit.

‘Hi, babe,’ Gregg said, sitting up and flexing his considerable muscles. ‘How’s my hard-working little movie star with the big tits?’ Lately he’d taken to talking to her as if she was a hooker.

‘Fine,’ she answered coldly, wishing she could smash his lying face in. ‘And how’s my lazy-ass little hubby with the big cock?’

This surprised him, he was not used to Lissa tossing it back at him. ‘Don’t be vulgar, it doesn’t suit you,’ he said cuttingly.

‘Oh,
sorry
,’ she said, with a sarcastic edge. ‘I thought cock and tits went nicely together.’ And with that she marched into the house before he could come up with an answer.

Better take it easy,
she warned herself.
It’s not clever to signal that you know.

She hurried upstairs to her dressing room, where she stripped down to her bra and panties. Her masseuse was due at the house soon, and she wanted nothing more than to feel a strong pair of hands releasing the built-up tension in her shoulders and neck. It was tough constantly playing the wronged woman.

Just as she was reaching for her robe, Gregg sauntered in.
‘You’
re in a pissy mood today,’ he remarked.

‘I’m tired,’ she said, turning away from him.

‘Tired, huh?’ he said, dodging in front of her, preventing her picking up the robe.

‘Move,’ she said sharply.

‘Why? Can’t I get an eyeful of my wife in her sexy undies?’ he said nastily. ‘Or is that sight reserved only for Madam’s faithful fans?’ And before she could stop him, his hands went for her breasts, pulling up her bra with one swift move so that they were bared yet trapped by the bra above them.

‘Great tits for an old broad,’ he said. ‘You
sure
you never had ’em done?’

She recognized his mood. It was his ‘I’ll bring this bitch down to size’ mood. The one where he tried to get even with her because she was successful and he wasn’t.

‘Stop it, Gregg,’ she said, trying to stay calm.

‘Stop it, Gregg!’ he mimicked. ‘Miss Famous Tits an’ Ass wants me to stop it.’ And he shoved his hand down her panties and began fingering her.

‘No!’ she said sharply, attempting to fight him off.

‘You’ve been holding out on me, babe,’ he said, ‘and now I’m taking a piece of what belongs to me.’

She struggled, but to no avail. He was strong. Too strong. He bent her back across a stool, ripped off her panties and began thrusting himself inside her with a grunting intensity.

Lissa was so shocked that she didn’t know what to do. How could she scream in her own house and accuse her husband of raping her? Because that’s what the son-of-a-bitch was doing.

He finished quickly, thank God, stood up and hoisted his swimming trunks back into position.

‘Not bad,’ he said condescendingly. ‘And I thought you were getting frigid on me. See you later, hon.’

And with that he ambled out of her dressing room as if nothing had happened.

She was stunned. What kind of a man was he anyway?

A bullying monster, that’s what kind.

And the sooner she was rid of him the better.

Later in the day Saffron and Nicci sat side by side in a Korean beauty shop on Westwood Boulevard enjoying manicures and pedicures.

‘I was thinking of inviting Evan’s brother to dinner at the house when they get back,’ Nicci said, wriggling her bare toes.

‘Why?’ Saffron asked. ‘You told me he was a totally into getting laid jerk–and now you want to have him for dinner. What’s the scam?’

‘He
is
about to be my brother-in-law,’ Nicci pointed out, determined not to reveal her crush, although she was dying to confide in someone, and who better than Saffron? ‘So this will be my major peace move.’

‘How come?’ Saffron demanded, stretching out her elegant fingers as a short Korean woman applied gold polish to her long nails. ‘Did you two get into a fight?’

‘No. It’s just that Brian’s kind of cold towards me,’ Nicci explained, as a second Korean woman placed her feet in a bowl of warm water. ‘I know it’s ’cause I’m marrying his brother and that probably doesn’t
thrill
him. They may not look alike, but they
are
twins. And I’ve heard twins have this kind of cosmic karma–like if one gets married the other one feels deserted.’

‘Twins. Very close,’ the manicurist painting Saffron’s nails said, in a low, sing-song voice.

‘I don’t get it,’ Saffron said, yawning. ‘You can’t even cook. So what’s the deal?’

‘I’m planning on hiring a chef for the night.’

‘Oh, wow.’ Saffron giggled. ‘Now you’re going Hollywood on me.’

‘I can’t do it without you, so you’d better show up.’

‘Yeah, yeah–wouldn’t miss it. That’s if I can find a sitter for Lulu.’

‘Doesn’t your mom ever sit?’

‘Get real!’ Saffron exclaimed, hooting with laughter. ‘Can you
imagine
the great Kyndra sweeping into my tiny house and
babysitting
? Oh, when she has a free moment she takes Lulu. But you know what? That woman
never
has a free moment–exactly like Lissa.’

True,
Nicci thought.
My mom always has something going on. If it’s not work, it’s a man.

‘Will you bring Mac?’ she asked.

‘I cannot
only
be seen with screaming gay men,’ Saffron said. ‘I might bring a studly actor I met at an audition last week.’

‘Studly actor good,’ the manicurist interjected, nodding knowingly.

‘How come you haven’t mentioned him?’ Nicci asked.

‘Cause you’re always too busy catering to Evan.’

‘I do not cater,’ Nicci said crossly.

‘Yes, you do.’

‘I so
don’t.’

‘Whatever,’ Saffron said, admiring her manicure.

‘Coffee? Tea?’ the manicurist asked.

‘No, thanks,’ Nicci answered, as the other woman gently dried her feet with a towel.

‘Can somebody run out and get me a Jamba Juice?’ Saffron said, tossing back her long dreadlocks. ‘Raspberry with all that health stuff in it. I need energy.’

‘So, have you come up with any ideas for the bridesmaids’ dresses?’ Nicci asked.

‘I was thinking short and muted purple. Something way sixties with an edge.’

‘Sounds cool.’

‘Maybe you should approve them?’

‘When do I have time?’

‘It’s
me
you’re talking to, Nic. You got the time to do anything you want, it’s not like you have a
job.
’

‘Organizing a wedding
is
a job.’

‘I mean a
proper
job.’

‘I’ve
tried
a million and one jobs. Anyway,
you
can talk, all
you
do is go on auditions and
never
get the part.’

‘Thanks for reminding me,’ Saffron said huffily. ‘It’s
so
good to have encouraging friends.’

‘Sorry!’ Nicci said quickly, realizing she’d stepped into a sensitive area.

‘Anyway, let’s get real,’ Saffron said. ‘We’re both supported by our families.’

‘True,’ Nicci admitted. ‘Only
I
’m marrying Evan, so no more hand-outs.’

‘Then
he
’ll support you,’ Saffron said. ‘What’s the difference?’

‘There’s plenty of difference,’ Nicci said irritably. ‘And anyway, how come that big dumb basketball player doesn’t give you more money? Lulu
is
his daughter.’

‘’Cause I don’t care to take money from him,’ Saffron said, her face hardening. ‘If I accept his money, then he’ll think he has some big fat claim on her.’

‘He should be giving you plenty,’ Nicci said.

‘I dunno.’ Saffron sighed. ‘Whatever happened to all our feminist vows growing up? We were gonna own the world. Remember?’

‘Yeah, well, all
I
want to own is Evan,’ Nicci said, which wasn’t strictly true because she didn’t want to own him, just be with him. ‘Y’know,’ she mused, ‘it’s like I’ve dated so many bad boys, and finally along comes a good one so I’m bagging him. Nothing wrong with that.’

‘
And
let’s not forget he’s
mega
bucks rich,’ Saffron offered.

Nicci hadn’t really thought about Evan being rich. But then she realized that of course he was.
Oh my God
, she
thought.
Antonio’s marrying a rich woman. Am I doing the same? Copping out just so I’m comfortable for the rest of my life?

No way. I love Evan. And if it wasn’t for Brian
…

‘I mentioned the phone call I had with my dad, didn’t I?’ she said, trying not to think about Brian again.

Saffron nodded. ‘What was Lissa’s reaction?’

‘Haven’t told her yet.’

‘C’mon,
girl. You gotta at least
warn
her.’

‘I will,’ Nicci promised. ‘This wedding’s getting horribly close and I’m nervous. Wouldn’t
you
be?’

‘Don’t worry about it,’ Saffron said, waving her gold nails in the air. ‘I’m planning an
amazing
bachelorette night for you.’

‘You are?’ Nicci said, perking up.

‘Yeah, top secret. You, my dearest friend, are gonna
love
it!’

‘Where were you?’ Larry Singer asked, greeting his wife in the foyer of their Pacific Palisades mansion. He was of medium height, skinny, with a bearded, pleasant face bordering on homely, and a receding hairline. ‘I’ve been going crazy trying to find you. I almost called the police.’

‘It’s a nightmare story,’ Taylor said, rushing toward the stairs. ‘Let me take a quick shower and get dressed. I’ll tell you everything on the way to your event.’

Larry followed her up the stairs into their bedroom. ‘Were you in an accident?’ he asked, removing his glasses and staring at her. ‘You look terrible.’

‘Uh…sort of,’ she replied, running into her bathroom and closing the door.

‘What kind of accident?’ he questioned, opening the door and following her in. ‘Are you hurt?’

‘No, sweetie, I’m fine,’ she answered soothingly, ‘but, please, let me get ready, then I’ll tell you all about it.’

‘Christ, Taylor!’ he said, frowning. ‘I was worried sick.’

She took a moment to placate him. ‘I know, darling,’ she said, patting him on the cheek. ‘Everything’s all right now. I promise. So go downstairs, fix yourself a drink, and I’ll be right down.’

‘Only if you tell me what happened to you,’ Larry said stubbornly.

‘I was, uh…mugged.’

‘
What
?’ he roared, enraged.

‘The main thing is I’m okay,’ she said. ‘And I have exactly fifteen minutes to dress. So…in the car the full story.’ And she pushed him gently out of the bathroom.

Somehow or other she managed to get herself together in record time. Black velvet Valentino strapless gown, Steiger pumps, Bulgari jewellery, hair piled on top of her head, and a regal smile. She was every inch the genius’s wife. Beautiful, caring, a fine partner for such an important and respected man.

Sitting beside her husband in the back of the limo, she wove a web of lies.

I was on my way to see a writer about my script…

Run-down area…

Mugger came out of nowhere…

Knocked unconscious…

Friendly neighbours took me in…

Wow! She was good. By the time she’d finished her story she almost believed it herself.

Larry was very concerned, he wanted to know if she’d called the police. ‘No,’ she said. ‘Who needs that kind of publicity? Certainly not us.’

Then he wanted to know what she’d had stolen.

‘Nothing,’ she answered truthfully. A pause before she came up with more lies. ‘My purse was locked in the trunk, and by the time the mugger tried to pull the rings off my
fingers, the neighbours came running out and scared him away.’

‘Jesus Christ!’ Larry exclaimed. ‘Why didn’t you call me immediately?’

‘Because, my love,’ she answered, leaning over and kissing his cheek, ‘I know how you get, and I didn’t want to alarm you.’

Larry shook his head in amazement. ‘You,’ he said, ‘are my life. If anything ever happened to you…’

Guilt overwhelmed her.

It wasn’t easy screwing around on a genius like Larry Singer.