Hollywood Wives - the New Generation (18 page)

As soon as room service delivered, Michael stepped outside and
brought the cart in.

'This is crazy.' Lissa sighed, settling on the couch and kicking off
her shoes.

'Crazy how?' Michael replied.

'Me, in a hotel room,' she said restlessly. 'Do you realize how much
work
I've got coming up? There's my Vegas show, a book I'm
supposed to be collaborating on, a new CD to plan. I don't have time to
sit around in a hotel doing nothing.'

'Hey, listen,' he said, trying not to stare, because in spite of the
black eye well-disguised with makeup, she truly was
the
most
breathtaking woman he'd ever seen. 'You wanted your husband out, right?'

'Yes.'

'Then that's what you got.'

'Fine, but please can I go home in the morning?'

'You can,' he said, dipping into the ice cream. 'And if it's okay
with you, I'd like to put on extra security for a week or two.'

'You don't think he'll do anything crazy, do you?' she asked
anxiously.

'He'll probably use the media to get to you. He can hide behind 'em.'

'You don't even know Gregg, yet you imagine the worst of him.'

'I've dealt with this kind of case before - you're not my first
famous client.'

'I'm not, huh?' she said, mildly flirting because she couldn't help
herself. 'And I was under the impression I was special.'

'You
are
special.' A long beat. 'All of our clients are
special.'

She did not appreciate being lumped together with the entire roster
of Robbins-Scorsinni's clients. 'How's the ice cream?' she asked,
finishing her brandy.

'Pretty damn good.'

She got up and helped herself to another small bottle of brandy from
the mini bar. 'I used to make ice cream from scratch when I was a kid,'
she said, remembering one of her few happy childhood memories.

'Hidden talents, huh?'

'You could say that,' she replied, settling back on the couch.

He felt tense and yet comfortable in her presence. There was
something about her that kept drawing him closer.

'Tell me about your ex-wife,' she said, slowly sipping her brandy.

'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.

When 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.

Lissa'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.