Hollywood Wives - the New Generation (11 page)

Usually men came on to her big-time. But not Brian. Oh, no. He acted
as if she didn't exist. And it was really weird because he obviously
loved women since he was always with a different one.

So what the hell was wrong with
her
?

'Brian doesn't like me,' she announced in the car on their drive
back to the house.

'Why would you say that?' Evan asked, popping a breath mint.

'He never
says
anything to me,' she complained.

'He never says anything to me either.'

'That's nuts,' she said, shuddering the BMW to a sudden halt at a
stop sign. 'You two work together.'

'Yeah, talk about a laugh a minute,' Evan said caustically. 'All
Brian does is bitch, get stoned and complain about everything.'

'Then maybe you
shouldn't
be working together.'

'We've had this discussion, Nicci,' Evan said, tightening his
seat-belt as she gunned the accelerator and took off again. 'Whatever
it is we have, it works. Can't argue with
that
?

She was silent for a moment, thinking about the fact that they
were
brothers, twins, and it would be impossible to separate them unless
that's what they both wanted.

'Was this trip difficult?' she asked.

'It's always difficult,' he said. 'Brian and I fight about
everything.'

'You do?'

'Yeah, but what comes out on the screen is special, and believe me,
that's the bottom line.'

'Hmm…' she said, overtaking a Mercedes on the turn into the freeway.
'Maybe we should invite him over to the house for dinner with one of
his many girlfriends.'

'Why would you want to do that?'

Yes, why would I want to do that
? 'Cause he's about to be
my brother-in-law
and
your best man,' she said, hitting the
freeway at full speed.

'I was forced into that by my mother,' Evan grumbled. 'When Mom
wants something…'

'Oh, right, your mother,' Nicci said, sliding over to the fast lane.
'She'll be pleased to hear that I've got everything organized for our
wedding.'

'That's great,' Evan said, looking genuinely pleased. 'I knew you
could do it.'

'The woman at the venue is getting it all together for me. She's
like totally into details.'

'Mom'll be very happy. Did I tell you she'll be here soon?'

'She's not staying with us, is she?' Nicci questioned, so alarmed
that she almost veered out of her lane in front of a fast-moving
Cadillac.

'She
always
stays with me when she comes to L.A.,' Evan
said patiently. 'There's no way I'd allow her to check into a hotel.'

The thought of having Evan's overbearing mother staying in the house
with them was quite terrifying.

'Now that I'm living with you, won't it be awkward?' she said,
thinking,
Oh, God! How will I deal with this
?

'What's awkward about it?' Evan said casually. 'Mom loves you.'

No, she doesn't. She's putting up with me because I'm marrying
one of her precious sons. And you don't get it, 'cause when it comes to
your mom, you think the sun shines out her big,
interfering ass.

'By the way,' Evan added. 'She's looking forward to meeting Lissa,
so set something up.'

Crap
! Nicci thought.
Lissa and the mother-in-law from
hell. That's gonna be a laugh a minute
. 'Anyway,' she said,
quickly reverting to her dinner-party idea, 'I think I'll ask Brian
over tomorrow night.'

'Why?' Evan said, frowning. 'He'll probably turn up with some
brain-dead bimbo.'

'Who cares?' Nicci said, crossing lanes, barely glancing in her
rear-view mirror. 'It'll give me a chance to get to know him.'

'If you're serious, put together a group. There's no way I can take
Brian on his own.'

'Like who did you have in mind?'

'Is Saffron seeing anyone?'

'Well… she's met some new stud, and there's a gay guy she hangs
with. Maybe I'll tell her to bring him.'

'That'll go down well with Brian,' Evan said with a short, brittle
laugh. 'He's homophobic, you know'

'
Brian's
homophobic?' she said, totally startled by this
new information. 'In
this town?
In
his
business?'

'You got it.'

'How do you know?' she said, cutting off a truck as she exited the
freeway.

'I'm his brother, remember?'

'Oh, yeah,' she said, almost rear-ending a small van.

'Jesus, Nicci,' Evan said, clutching onto the dashboard, 'has anyone
ever told you that you drive like a maniac?'

'All the time,' she said, with a quick smile.

'Maniac or not, I missed you,' he said, patting her on the knee.
'And I love you.'

'You too,' she responded automatically.

How nice it was to find a man who could actually express his
emotions. She couldn't imagine Brian being able to do that.

'I know, I'm irresistible, aren't I?' Evan said, with a big, goofy
grin.

'Let's not get carried away,' she answered, grinning back. 'There's
love and then there's irresistible.
You
come somewhere in the
middle.'

Evan laughed. 'It's good to be home,' he said.

And Nicci sped off along Sunset, still thinking about Brian.

The first thing Lissa did when she opened her eyes on Thursday was
check to see if Gregg was home.

Yes, he was there, asleep on the far side of their California King
custom-made bed.

She gazed across at him for a moment, remembering how in the early
days of their romance she'd loved watching him sleep. He always slept
naked, but now she couldn't stomach the sight of his hairy balls and
limp cock.

She experienced a brief Lorena Bobbitt moment before throwing a
sheet over him. Then she hurried into her bathroom and put on her yoga
clothes. Her private instructor was arriving soon, and after an hour of
uplifting yoga, she planned on spending the rest of the day rehearsing
for her upcoming Vegas show.

Last night she'd realized it was about time she started
concentrating on work again. Gregg had been slowing her down, filling
her with self-doubt. Now she had to get herself together, remember who
she was and what she'd achieved.

Over the last six months Gregg had taken great pleasure in
constantly calling her stupid and dumb, while picking on everything
from her clothes to her choice of scripts and songs.

Too bad for him she was so resilient, a true survivor.

When Gregg was history there'd be no more men coming into her life,
spending her hard-earned money and telling her what to do. She wanted
to enjoy more time with her friends and Nicci. Lately she'd been
lamenting that they weren't as close as they should be. Nicci was
getting married soon, and it certainly wasn't too late to become more
involved.

Once Gregg was gone, she had big plans.

Somehow or other Carol ended up spending the night. Michael hadn't
intended for her to stay, but one thing led to another and before he
could think about it she was in his bed.

He made love to her automatically. As far as he was concerned there
was no passion left in their relationship, the sex was a series of
going-through-the-motions moves, and he was pissed at himself for not
ending it sooner.

The sad truth was that if he finished with Carol, he'd be alone
again, and sometimes spending time with the wrong person was better
than being alone. He also realized that if they broke up, he'd
probably start with somebody new, leading to the same old dance.

Rita, his deceased wife, had ruined his trust in women. Rita had
lied to him from day one, going so far as to pretend that the baby she
was pregnant with when they got married was his. For five years he'd
thought he had a daughter, until one day he'd found out the real truth.
Bella was not his daughter, Bella was the child of his low-life
brother, Sal. And when Rita moved to L.A. she'd decided to send Bella
back to New York to live with Sal and his wife. Only nobody had told
him. He'd found out by accident - well, more like he'd paid for the
information from a stripper pal of Rita's who'd been desperate for
money. As soon as he'd found out, he'd flown straight to his brother's
house in New York where he'd beaten the crap out of Sal and had the
story confirmed. It had been the worst day of his life.

'I wish I didn't have to work today,' Carol said wistfully, as she
stood in his small kitchen cooking bacon, eggs and sausage for
breakfast. 'Maybe on Saturday we can drive to Santa Barbara for lunch.
Can we, Michael?'

'I'll be working this weekend,' he answered, wishing she wasn't so
needy.

'All weekend?' she said, making a disappointed face.

'Looks like it.'

'How come?'

'High-profile client. Needs plenty of attention.'

'Who?'

'You know our policy, Carol. No names.'

'Oh, come
on
, you can tell me.'

'Fraid not.'

She was about to say something, thought better of it, and went back
to pouring him more coffee.

Smart girl, Carol. Knew when
not
to push it.

By the time Taylor arrived at Oliver's it was past noon. She'd
planned on a morning visit, but it was not to be, too much stuff going
on that she had to deal with. She was on the board of several charities
and - because of her position - they were always asking her to do
something. 'Can you get us Ricky Martin to perform at an upcoming event
honouring Tom Hanks?'

'How about a signed script from Steven Spielberg for our auction?'

'Would Larry be willing to donate a walk-on role in his next movie?'
Stupid requests. But she was who she was, and occasionally she was able
to oblige.

Sometimes in the morning she joined Lissa and her private yoga
instructor. Today she didn't have time because a facial, manicure and
pedicure were definitely more important. Not to mention a Brazilian
bikini wax.

When she finally arrived at Oliver's, he was on his cellphone pacing
up and down in front of his beach-view window,
speaking animatedly. He waved her away when she attempted to hug him,
which kind of pissed her off. He should be kissing her ass, because not
only did they have great sex, but she was paying him to work on her
script.

It looked like he'd been entertaining, there were empty bottles of
beer everywhere, several overflowing ashtrays, and empty pizza boxes
piled high.

She watched him as he talked on the cellphone. He was clad in a torn
USC T-shirt and dirty khaki shorts. His outfit didn't matter, he still
looked hot.

Idly she wondered how risky it would be to check into Shutters At
The Beach and spend some quality time together. Not to mention clean
sheets and a working shower.

Too risky. Much too risky.

This morning, before leaving for the studio, Larry had asked what
her plans were for the day. She'd answered him vaguely.

'No more visiting writers in bad neighbourhoods,' he'd admonished
sternly. 'In future have them come to the house. You can use my office.'

'Thanks, sweetie,' she'd said, imagining herself naked in her loving
husband's office, making crazed, passionate love to a horny,
out-of-work screenwriter.

Now here she was at Oliver's, impatiently waiting for him to get off
the phone.

'It's, uh… like friggin' unreal,' Oliver said into the phone. 'I'll
be there pronto.'

'Be where?' Taylor asked, as soon as he clicked off.

'You're not gonna friggin'
believe
this,' he said
excitedly.

'What?'

'My agent sold my spec road-trip script for a million friggin'
bucks!'

Concentration was everything. At least her parents had taught her
one
useful lesson.
Work hard and don't expect thanks
. Well, yes,
she worked hard all right, but she got
plenty
of thanks. Her
fans loved her. They adored her. They
never
let her down.
Unlike her parents, who had no idea of the success she'd achieved.

Or maybe they did, and had no desire to contact her. It made her
angry and sad when she thought about them, so she tried not to do so.

Lissa easily outpaced her dancers at rehearsal: she had enough
stamina to keep going all day without a break.

'You're the bomb, honey,' her sleek black female choreographer
informed her admiringly. 'Dunno how you do it.'

Hard work. That's all it takes.

She kept going until six, then lingered at the rehearsal studio
going over stuff with her publicist. Max had all kinds of television
and magazine interviews lined up for her. She said yes to some, nixed
others.

She knew she should inform Max about her impending break-up, but
somehow she couldn't bring herself to mention it. Another divorce made
her feel like such a loser, and yet she knew that wasn't true. Gregg
was the loser, not her.

When she finally arrived home, there was a message from Gregg saying
he'd be working late again. She was relieved. If only she'd known, she
could have arranged to have him thrown out sooner.

Tomorrow was the big day, and with any luck she'd never have to see
him again.

Taylor was in a dazed state of confusion. She was in her car,
driving home, trying to figure out what the hell had just happened.
Oliver,
her
writer,
her
lover, was about to get
paid one million dollars for a spec script. While she, Taylor Singer,
married to
the
Lawrence Singer, was still struggling after
two years to get her lousy movie made.

And she wasn't too happy about Oliver's attitude either. He'd
hustled her out of his house as if she had the goddamn clap!

'What about
my
script?' she'd asked, as he'd shoved her
towards the door. 'Have you even looked at it?'