Hollywood Wives - the New Generation (10 page)

After that, prison. Six long, grim years. Years he would never
forget. Years of harsh punishment and pain.

Revenge was a good thing.

Money was even better.

At thirty-two, Eric knew it was time to make the big score.

And that score was soon to be Nicci Stone.

By the time Lissa recovered her composure and came downstairs, she
found Gregg lounging in the den watching football on the satellite TV
as if nothing bad had happened.

Out of all her husbands he was definitely the worst. She'd married
her first husband when she was a kid, so he didn't really count. Number
two, Antonio, was a charming womanizer who simply couldn't help
himself. And number three, the Washington businessman, had turned out
to be more interested in business than her.

Yes, Gregg took the prize big-time. Not only was he screwing around,
spending her money
and
putting her down, but he'd actually
forced
himself upon her,
raped
her, and she'd accepted it because
she wanted to ease him out quietly.

She couldn't wait until Friday. Couldn't wait to never have to set
eyes on him again.

'We're supposed to go over to James and Claude's tonight,' she said,
forcing herself to speak in a civil fashion. 'They're running the new
Mel Gibson film.'

'You go,' Gregg said, barely glancing at her. 'It's not my scene
hanging out with a bunch of fags. Anyway, I'm working tonight.'

'Really?' She couldn't help herself. 'What are you working on now?'

'Don't you ever listen?' he fired back. 'Oh, I forgot,' he added
sarcastically. 'Unless it's about
you
, Miss Famous Movie Star
never hears a thing.'

'So tell me again,' she answered calmly.

'A friend of mine is interested in me scoring his movie. He's
running a rough cut.'

Gregg's lies were a joke. Up until now she'd accepted them because
she hadn't wanted to face up to the truth of another failed marriage.

'Would this be the same friend who tells you you're the best lover
in the world and have the most beautiful cock?' she wanted to ask. But
she didn't, she remained silent, remembering her promise to Michael
that she wouldn't initiate a fight. 'Okay,' she said, keeping it light.
'I'll see you later.'

She didn't feel like going to James and Claude's by herself, and she
certainly had no desire to sit through a movie. But it sure beat the
alternative, which would be watching Gregg get ready for a rendezvous
with his latest girlfriend. And that, she knew, she couldn't stand.

'You're distracted,' Carol said, busily loading the dishwasher.
'What's up?'

'Huh?' Michael answered. They had recently finished an early steak
dinner, which she'd cooked, and now they were contemplating catching a
movie.

'Distracted,' Carol repeated. 'Not here with me.'

Michael had a strong suspicion it was time for the speech.
You're
too good for me. I'm not ready for a relationship. I don't want to hurt
you. You'll find someone better than me
. Sooner than anticipated,
but he had a feeling that if he allowed Carol to get any closer, she'd
be hard to shake.

Not that there was anything wrong with her. She was thirty-two, an
attractive redhead with a pleasing personality and a good body. She was
successful at her real estate job, not too bitter about failing as an
actress, an excellent cook, and very fond of him.

Too fond. He knew that any second she was about to come out with the
L word, and he had to avoid that at all costs.
No thankyouverymuch
.
The L word smacked of commitment, and Michael Scorsinni was a loner.
That's the way he liked it, and that's the way it had to stay. 'I'm not
distracted,' he said vaguely. 'Just thinking.'

'About what?' Carol asked, as she finished loading the dishwasher.

'About what movie we should see,' he replied, annoyed that she was
attempting to invade his private thoughts.

'Oh,' she said mockingly. '
Such
concentration.'

He couldn't stand it when she tried to be cute. Carol was definitely
beginning to grate.

'I wouldn't mind seeing the new Mel Gibson movie,' he said,
wondering why he always allowed himself to get caught in a trap.

'It doesn't open until Friday,' she said, taking off her apron.

'Clint Eastwood's got a new one,' he suggested.

'Too violent for me.'

'Hey,
you
choose,' he said, thinking that's what she was
doing anyway.

'Julia Roberts, of course,' she said with an irritating smile. 'The
critics claim her latest is a woman's film, but you can sleep if you
get bored.'

He shot her a look. 'Big of you.'

'I'll call the theatre, see what time it starts,' she said, leaving
the room.

Why did she have to call? Why couldn't she look up the time in the
paper like everyone else?

All night long he'd been thinking about Lissa Roman, wondering what
was going on at her house. Was she doing okay? Should he phone and
check?

No. That wouldn't be cool. What if the husband answered? He had a
bad feeling about Gregg Lynch. The guy was a jerk. How could any sane
man cheat on Lissa? She was so talented and beautiful, and on top of
that she seemed genuinely nice. A rare combination. Michael had come
across a
few
movie stars in his line of work, and as far as
he could tell, they were all neurotic wrecks who looked better on the
screen than off.

Carol came back in, a sweater knotted loosely across her shoulders.
'We'd better get a move on,' she said briskly. 'It starts in ten
minutes.'

So now he had to sit through a woman's movie. Great. But it was
probably easier than giving Carol the break-up speech. He had to
prepare himself for that. It took time and courage, and he wasn't quite
ready.

Claude St Lucia's mansion in Hancock Park was lavish in the old
Hollywood style. There was an enormous entry hall, an old-fashioned
sweeping limestone staircase and several entertaining rooms all filled
with an over-abundance of French Baroque furniture.

Dinner at James and Claude's always included a mix of interesting
and gifted people, most of whom were regulars. They dropped by once a
week to have dinner and see the latest movie before it hit the theatres.

Lissa knew almost everyone. She circulated, trying her best to look
as if she was having an enjoyable time. Mel Gibson's agent, the always
charming Ed Limato, was there. Lissa often wished he was
her
agent because he was the best, but so far she'd remained loyal to Craig
Lloyd, the agent who'd negotiated her first big deal. She also spotted
Anne and Arnold Kopelson, the superstar producing team. And across the
room was the statuesque actress Anjelica Huston, one of Hollywood's
finest, with her imposing husband, the famed sculptor, Robert Graham.

James was the only one who sensed she wasn't her usual self.
'Something wrong?' he asked, putting his arm around her shoulders.

Now was not the time to tell him, he'd find out soon enough.
'Everything's fine, James,' she said lightly. 'Why wouldn't it be?'

'Where's Gregg?' he asked, peering at her knowingly.

Out fucking his new girlfriend.

'Uh… collaborating on the score for a movie.'

'Isn't
that
good news? Makes a pleasant change to hear
he's working.'

'Don't be bitchy.'

'Why not?' James said archly. 'Surely you know it's my thing.'

'And he's proud of it too,' said Charlie Dollar, joining in. Charlie
was a permanently stoned, award-winning movie star, with droopy eyelids
and a lopsided grin. Charlie had been hitting on Lissa for years, but
so far she'd resisted his fifty-something charms.

'I got a movie for you an' me't' do together, kiddo,' Charlie said
with a sly wink. 'An updated version of
Last Tango
. You an'
me, babe, add a pound or two of butter, an' it's got mega-hit written
all over it.'

'Think I'll pass, Charlie.'

Another sly wink. 'You're makin' a big mistake.'

'I don't think so,' James said, hustling her away from Charlie's
lecherous leer.

Somehow she got through the evening, and when she arrived home she
was relieved to find that Gregg was still out.

Only one more day and night
, she thought.
I can do it.
And I will
.

Early Thursday, Nicci sped out to the airport in her BMW to meet
Evan. She was excited about seeing him. Even more excited about seeing
Brian - although her attraction to him was her deep dark secret, a
secret she wouldn't admit to anyone.

She watched the private jet land, and when the brothers alighted,
trailed by Teena, she raced across the tarmac, arms outstretched.

Evan grabbed her in a bear hug and twirled her around. He genuinely
loved her, she knew
that
. At least she was sure of
something
.

Brian, walking behind, nodded in her direction. 'Hey,' he said
abruptly.

'Hey, Brian,' she said, matching his mood. 'Need a ride?'

'Nope, I got one,' he said, striding ahead of them, allowing her an
excellent view of his tight butt in faded Levi's.

She observed that his ride was a short-haired blonde in a
convertible Mustang. 'Hmm…' she said to Evan, as they got in her car.'
Where
does he find them? I've like
never
seen him with the same one
twice.'

'Who cares?' Evan said, throwing his carry-on bag onto the back
seat. 'As long as he doesn't get them from the set.'

'I'm
so
totally psyched you're back!' she exclaimed,
trying to forget about Brian, although every time she was in his
company he got her adrenaline pumping in a most unsettling way. 'I hate
it when you're away'

'You should've come with me,' he said, cracking his knuckles.

'Not when you're working.'

'Why's that?'

'Brian wouldn't like it,' she said, brushing her long bangs out of
her eyes.

He threw her a quizzical look. 'Since when do we care what Brian
likes?'

I care
, she thought,
because even though I love you,
I've got this stupid little crush on your brother, and there's nothing
I can do about it. Sorry, Evan, I'll get over it
.

Eventually.

Lying in bed in her Pacific Palisades fifteen-million-dollar
mansion, Taylor was in a reflective mood. Being Mrs Lawrence Singer was
an easy job on account of everyone kissed her ass big-time.

Taylor knew why, and she also knew what would happen if she stopped
being Mrs Singer. She would be out with a capital O.
Persona
nongrata
. Hollywood ranks would close, and that would be that.

There is nothing colder than the ex-Hollywood wife of a famous,
powerful man. Unless that ex-wife creates her own particular brand of
heat, she is useless to all her former best friends.

Oh, yes, Taylor knew there would be exceptions. Lissa for one. Lissa
had known her when she was a working actress, before she hooked up with
Larry, and in spite of her own enormous fame, Lissa had always been a
loyal friend.

Stella, of course, would take off like a getaway car racing away
from a heist. No way would Stella hang with someone who wasn't in the
upper echelons of the Hollywood hierarchy.

James would be ambiguous. He wouldn't go out of his way to see her,
and yet if they bumped into each other, he wouldn't ignore her.

Kyndra could go either way. There was no anticipating anything
Kyndra did.

Not that Taylor was thinking of ending her marriage. On the
contrary, her marriage was the only secure thing she had. Plain fact of
life - Larry adored her and would do anything she asked.

Well… almost anything. He wouldn't put her in one of his movies -
claimed it would smack of
nepotism. He wouldn't offer to direct
her
movie. He wouldn't
even executive produce. When it came to all things career-wise, Larry
stood firm.

Damn him for that. All she needed was a little help.

Okay, so he'd got her a deal at Orpheus pending script approval, but
he could've done more. He
should've
done more.

That's why I'm having an affair
, she rationalized.
To
punish him for
not
doing more
.

Last night she'd watched him being honoured again. She'd watched
them all bow and scrape and hang onto his every word.

In the limo, on the way home, she'd closed the smoked-glass
partition, shutting off their regular driver, and given Larry the blow
job of his life.

Nobody gave a better blow job than Taylor. If they were giving out
master's degrees for blow jobs, she'd be top of the class.

She'd reduced Lawrence Singer - man of the moment - to a quivering
wreck as her tongue and mouth teased him into an earth-shattering
orgasm, made all the more exciting because they were in the car and the
driver probably suspected what was going on.

When it came to sex, Taylor was in control. She had all the power in
that department, and Larry was her willing slave.

Her thoughts turned to Oliver Rock. Falling asleep at his place
yesterday had been quite dangerous. And the annoying thing was that
they hadn't even got around to discussing her script, which was
supposed to be the reason she was there.

Today would be different. Work first, play second. And to make sure
she didn't fall asleep, she'd take her small Cartier alarm clock with
her.

Oliver Rock.

She couldn't get enough.

Sometimes Nicci wondered if Brian even knew she existed. His
attitude at the airport had been typical, a cool 'Hi' and that was it.
He
never
said more than a few words to her.

Was
that
the attraction? Could it be that he piqued her
interest because he
was
so cool?