Married Lovers (26 page)

A
rmed with a list of suggestions for Lucy’s forthcoming dinner, Mandy turned up at
Mr Chow
ten minutes early. She was in an excellent mood, looking forward to Evie and her kids being gone by the time she got home. What a nightmare it had been having three wild boys running throughout her house screaming and breaking things. Ryan hadn’t seemed to mind, but then he’d always loved kids.

Sometimes she felt guilty about her failure to provide him with an heir–because everyone knew that’s what all men wanted–a little mirror image of themselves. But it wasn’t meant to be. She’d tried, hadn’t she? It wasn’t her fault things hadn’t worked out. Although…if she really thought about it, which she didn’t like to do, maybe it
was
her fault.

From the beginning of their marriage Ryan had always wanted children. Unbeknownst to him, having babies was the last thing on her mind, but of course she didn’t tell
him
that. Instead, after they’d been married a year, she informed him she was pregnant–a lie–and then eight weeks later she informed him that sadly, she’d experienced a miscarriage–another lie.

He was so considerate and caring that it had made their marriage even better. Men were so naive and pliable–it was ridiculous.

Eighteen months later when she was planning on pulling the same stunt again, she discovered to her horror that she was actually pregnant. Panic ensued; she did not want kids under any circumstances. No! No! No! She’d seen what having children had done to some of the women she knew. None of them ever properly recovered their pre-baby shape, and–in spite of legions of nannies who came and went on a regular basis–they were always exhausted and sleep-deprived. Quite frankly, having babies made them incredibly boring.

Mandy hatched yet another of her devious plans. After telling Ryan the good news, she lived with it for a few weeks–quite enjoying the attention and love he lavished upon her, all the while waiting for him to go off on a four-day location shoot. As soon as he left, she high-tailed it to a doctor in Mexico who came highly recommended, and went through a quick abortion.

When Ryan returned from his trip he found her in bed with more sad miscarriage news. The disappointment on his face was palpable, but once again he rallied and was totally there for her.

Then three years ago, Hamilton had summoned her to his house and told her quite bluntly that he required a grandson, and if she didn’t drop a baby within the next year, he’d marry a woman young enough to give him as many children as he wanted, and those kids would be the ones to share her inheritance.

Get pregnant or share her inheritance! No! That was impossible. So after much thought she’d decided that she’d better have a baby, and fast. Filled with a steely determination, she’d immediately set about conceiving.

Within three months she was pregnant. Triumphant, she suffered through eight and a half uncomfortable and infuriating months before giving birth to their baby. And shockingly their baby–a son–was stillborn.

It was devastating. To think that she’d gone through so much and the result was a baby who apparently had died in her womb.

Over the next few months she couldn’t help wondering if it had anything to do with the abortion she’d never told anyone about, especially when her doctor informed her that because of certain complications she would not be able to conceive again.

Was this God’s way of punishing her?

She refused to entertain the thought.

Once again Ryan was there for her, but this time it wasn’t enough. Slowly they began drifting apart, cumulating with their discussion in the car when Ryan had mentioned that they should consider going to couples counseling. Anyone with half a brain knew that couples counseling was the beginning of the end, so Mandy had determined to make things right, but it wasn’t proving to be easy. Ryan was becoming more and more distant, and the nicer she was to him, the more he drew away.

It wasn’t the perfect situation, and for once she was not quite sure what she could do to correct it.

Somehow there had to be a solution, there always was.

For the second day
Paradise
was packed. Looking around the crowded gym, Cameron experienced a shiver of pure joy. She’d done it! She’d actually done it. She’d opened her own place and it was a big success. What a sensational feeling.

Who would’ve thought that everything would move onto the fast track from day one. They’d only been open for two days and each trainer was fully booked for the rest of the week. It was amazing what a little publicity achieved, although she could’ve done without the damn tabloids.

Cole was working with an actress client; Dorian was watching Roger–his favorite closeted actor–lift weights; Cherry was bouncing around with a couple of her younger clientele; and Reno was conducting a spinning class out on the terrace.

Over at the front desk Lynda was valiantly trying to man the phones–which never stopped. She was also attempting to organize the membership paperwork.

Cameron could see that Lynda desperately needed someone to help her out, and Penni was not exactly that someone. The young teenager was fine for running errands, fetching coffee and picking up the tabloids, which Cameron was trying to forget about. It was obvious that they had to hire more help.

Glancing at her watch, Cameron realized it was now noon and Don had not called. Was she expecting him to?

Yes. They’d had sex, hadn’t they? They’d spent the night together in
her
bed–that was a first.

She tried to recall how they’d left it.

They were sitting in her kitchen drinking coffee, when he’d suddenly glanced out the kitchen window which overlooked the street, and yelled–“I’m getting a goddamn ticket. I don’t believe it!” And with that, he’d thrown her a quick kiss and made a run for his precious Ferrari.

Goodbye, Don Verona
.

Now she knew how Mary Ellen felt. Or did she? Unlucky Mary Ellen splashed across the tabloids again, portrayed as loser girlfriend of the month. It wasn’t very nice. And Cameron was partly to blame.

But hey–it wasn’t as if she’d stolen him. Don had told her quite clearly that he and Mary Ellen were not an item, except she’d witnessed the actress emerging from his bedroom early one morning.

Sighing, she wondered if she’d made a mistake. And as she was wondering this, three dozen purple roses arrived with a note that read–
You’re not bossy, you’re organized. And I’m definitely in like. See you later? D.

What was the question mark all about? Did it mean that
she
was supposed to call
him?

I told you not to get involved. I warned you it would be a
distraction. Weren’t you better off with Marlon where it was just sex for sex’s sake?

No. I have no regrets. I knew exactly what I was doing.

Before she could think about it further, Charlene Lewis walked in, followed by a sallow-faced man who Cameron presumed was Charlene’s bodyguard–someone had to watch the diamonds.

“Too busy to come to me,” Charlene scolded, resplendent in a lime-green cat suit and full makeup. Clouds of
Angel
enveloped anyone who ventured within two feet of her. “I’ll try it here once,” Charlene continued, wagging a finger at Cameron who was standing by the front desk contemplating her flowers and Don’s note, “but I’m sure you’re aware how much I cherish my privacy.”

Her huge diamond ring caught the light, blinding Lynda, who scowled at Charlene–one of her least favorite clients.

“Are you Cameron Paradise?” the bodyguard asked, shoving his way in front of Charlene.

“Yes,” Cameron said, thinking how rude the man was. “And if you’d like to wait—”

Before she could finish her sentence, he thrust an official-looking document at her. “Consider yourself served,” he said, and swiftly departed.

It was a busy day at
The Grill
. Ryan found himself stopping at almost every table before he made it to Phil and Don, who were already seated.

“You’re late,” Don said, tapping his watch. “I can only spare an hour. Got to get back to the studio. Don Rickles is on tonight–for him I have to prepare.”

“Rickles is something else,” Phil said admiringly. “A true original. I presume you’re ready to have the shit insulted out of you?”

“Ready and happy about it,” Don said, waving a greeting at fellow talk-show host, Craig Ferguson, who was sitting at a nearby table. Craig and Jon Stewart were the only late-night shows he made an attempt to watch–their monologues were always insightful and sometimes quite brilliant.

“What’s new?” Ryan asked, noting that Don seemed particularly relaxed–a sure sign that he’d recently gotten laid.

“What’s new is that my insane wife is insisting we throw one of those dumb-ass dinner parties that you all seem to like so much,” Phil complained. “People wandering all over our house, crapping in our toilets, disturbing the animals. On top of which I have to feed a bunch of ungrateful assholes. I’m not happy about it, I’m not in favor of it—”

“But you said yes,” Don interrupted with a knowing grin. “She had your balls in the palm of her hand, and before she squeezed—”

“I said yes,” Phil admitted, stroking his beard which looked like it was in dire need of a trim. “’Cause what’s a fellow supposed to do if he’s after a little peace in his everyday world?”

“I thought you had yourself a little piece every morning,” Don quipped. “That’s the word on the street.”

“Had to fire her,” Phil grumbled. “Lucy didn’t like me doing it so close to home.”

“How
do
you get away with it?” Ryan asked, ordering a Jack Daniel’s because he felt like it.

“Drinking–in the middle of the day?” Don said, raising a caustic eyebrow. “What’s going on with you?”

“You sound like a fuckin’ A.A. sponsor,” Ryan snapped. “And since I’m not an alcoholic–keep your shit to yourself.”

“Somebody needs to get laid,” Phil said, guffawing.

“Aw, leave him alone,” Don said good-naturedly. “He’s trying to work something out. Right, buddy?”

Damn!
Ryan thought.
He slept with her. I know it. It’s written all over his too-handsome-for-his-own good goddamn face.

Fucking asshole.

Fucking prick.

Why did he have to include Cameron in his long list of conquests?

Why the
fuck?

“How many people are you thinking of inviting?” Mandy asked, casually dipping a shrimp in plum sauce and popping it in her mouth.

Lucy shrugged. “I haven’t really thought about it.”

“Well, think,” Mandy said, in full bossy mode. “I can’t advise anything unless I know how many guests are on your list.”

“Hmm…” Lucy frowned. She knew she wanted to launch her script–but the group shouldn’t be too large. “Maybe twelve including Phil and me,” she said at last. “Our big table just about accommodates twelve.”

“Then two chefs, three waiters, a barman, valet parking, and two helpers,” Mandy said briskly, ticking off the amount of help on her fingers. “I’ll e-mail you the number of my party organizer, she’ll do everything for you.”

“God!” Lucy exclaimed, imagining Phil’s face when she handed him the bills. “It sounds expensive, Phil will be pissed, he hates spending money.”

“What man loves it?” Mandy observed. “Men are all tightwads unless they happen to be a big spender–and there’s not very many of those around–not in this town.”

“True,” Lucy agreed.

“Have you ever known an actor to pick up a check?” Mandy continued. “Believe me, that’s a rarity–unless you’re out with Michael Caine.”

“I worked with Michael once,” Lucy said, remembering the English movie star and his exotically beautiful wife, Shakira. “He was a sweetheart–he taught me so much about acting.”

“And as I said–generous,” Mandy added.

Lucy gave a vague nod, she was busy thinking about who she should invite to her dinner. The Richards, of course, and Don with a date, Hamilton and his new wife–although she wouldn’t mention she was asking them to Mandy–one never knew with Mandy, it might not be a popular move. She’d also invite a couple of key producers who might be interested in her script. Maybe Anne and Arnold Kopelson–producers of such successful movies as
Seven
and
The Fugitive
. Or the Bruckheimers, although Jerry was knee-deep in übersuccessful TV shows such as the
CSI
series–so he might not be available.

Marlon–she decided–would be her surprise guest. She’d bring him out over dessert, introduce him to everyone, and then they’d hand out copies of the finished script.

She might even do a reading. Yes, that was a brilliant idea, although she’d need an actor to read with her. Hmm…someone who wouldn’t send Phil into a jealous rage.

It never occurred to her that Marlon might set her possessive husband off.

“You’re so quiet,” Mandy remarked. “Don’t tell me you’re worried about Phil spending money, the man is
loaded
. What’s he saving it for? Dinner parties are fun, and if you listen to me and hire the right people, yours will be great.”

Lucy nodded her agreement. Yes, it would be. She’d make sure of it.

A
t first Anya wasn’t sure what she wanted from Seth. Was it his money?

No, because he was certainly not rich.

Was it his power?

He didn’t have any power. He was a hardworking lawyer at a big law firm
.

Was it his life?

Ah…to be an American housewife with a baby and a husband to look after. Was that her dream?

She didn’t have dreams anymore, they’d all been shattered the day she’d watched the soldiers slit Svlenta’s throat, and shoot the girl’s parents in the head, then set their house on fire while she cowered in a corner, whimpering with fear. No more dreams after that as she was passed around from man to man, all of them relentlessly using her. No more dreams
…

Seth Carpenter would be her stepping stone to better things. She had to start somewhere, and he was it.

Before Velma had so cruelly deserted her–leaving her to the mercies of Joe–Velma had drummed into her head the three things to say to a man that would ensnare him for however long a girl wished to keep him around.

Anya had not forgotten Velma’s wise words.

Your cock is so big.

You’re the best lover I’ve ever had.

You make me come so hard.

She tried the first line on Seth after they’d made love on the bed he shared with his wife while the baby was asleep in the other room. It was lunch-time, and the rain was pounding down outside. She’d opened her legs and welcomed him inside her as if he was the first man she’d ever allowed to visit such a sacred place.

They’d been building toward this moment for weeks. He’d been coming home at lunch-time almost every day, and very slowly she’d drawn him in, until he was so desperate to have her that she was quite certain he couldn’t wait a moment longer.

“Your cock is so big.” The admiring words made him swell up with pride.

Actually, his cock was not big at all, but Anya could see how the words worked magic.

After the first time it was easy to leave telling clues around the apartment—an earring in the bed, a pair of black lace panties in the bedroom
.

Diana was not stupid–it didn’t take her long to discover what was going on
.

By this time Anya had Seth exactly where she wanted him. He was besotted with her, and could not imagine spending another day without her, so when Diana fired her and threw her husband out, Seth did exactly as Anya hoped he would, he suggested that he rent an apartment, and that she should move out of the hostel and come live with him
.

Step one accomplished. An American man of her own
.

It was a promising start
.