The Movie (10 page)

How Cindy must be seething. How Linda must be livid.

As if she gave a damn!

It was all she’d ever dreamed about. As far as she was concerned, all that kissy-kissy, babe-canIborrow-your blusher, Naomi-loves-Christy crap was the purest bullshit. And she was sure all the girls secretly felt the same. This wasn’t about there being enough work for everyone, this was about supremacy. About who was top. Who could beat offthe new girls - Brandi, Amber, Megan, Shalom et al - the longest.

And at Alessandro’s little shebang, she, Koxana Felix,

had simply walked over the pack of them in her made-to measure sandals.

o why wasn’t that enough? She couldn’t figure it out,

truly. She just couldn’t see why the sweet sense of victory had lasted such a very short time, such a mere heartbeat of space, before all the demons had come back, all those ugly, nagging black feelings she had to work so hard to bury…

Koxana shook her head, hard. No. She wouldn’t think

about that now. Just take it as a given that although the new contracts

she’d signed since the Alessandro sensation would keep her in fist-class seats for the rest of her life, that simply wasn’t enough. As she’d found out when David Tauber called her from LA to tell her of the problem.

Sam Kendrick International had put her forward as a contender for female lead in the Zach Mason vehicle, to be directed by Fred Florescu. Merely the sound of his voice, hearing him say ‘Zach Mason’ and ‘Fred Florescu’ and her

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in the same sentence, had sent shivers down her perfect, jaded little spine. Zach Mason[ She loathed that dreadful music Dark Angel spewed out, she’d had to endure it screaming from the speakers at enough of the ultra-hip shows. In fact music in general left her cold. Most things left her cold. But Zach Mason was a god to billions of kids around the globe, a sex god and soothsayer rolled into one. People she knew had reacted to Dark Angel splitting up as though it was John F. Kennedy getting shot in Dallas all over again. He defined his generation. And Fred Florescu was not only the hottest, most commercial director around after Spielberg, he was by far the most credible, the only Generation X-er to really make a mark on the American consciousness.

To play opposite Zach Mason in a Fred Florescu

She would no longer be a clotheshorse. She would be more, even, than the biggest celebrity in the world. Yeah, 1Loxana thought, maybe that was what she had realized that as a model, it was her perfect face and her perfect body that were famous, not her. She was nobody. Nobody cared what her opinions were on anything, what she planned to do after she’d fmished modelling. My God, she thought, I might as well be unknown.

To be a movie star would give her more than celebrity. It would give her fame. And immediately she realized this, she’d realized that she must have it. The demons had swarmed up in a black cloud like bats. Any lingering pleasure over the Alessandro triumph had become so many ashes in her mouth. And it was just at that moment when Tauber informed her that Artemis had said they weren’t interested, but he’d try to get them to look at some tests.

‘I guess I didn’t hear you right,’ she’d said, her heart hammering with blind panic. ‘I thought you said you were going to try to get them to look at my tests?’

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Her voice had been colder than liquid nitrogen. Tauber sounded placatory, but he’d stood his ground. Bob Alton fainted dead away when she used a tone like that. ‘Yeah, I did. And I will try my absolute hardest, loxana, but I can’t guarantee they will see yourtests.’

‘You’re telling me that I have to take a screen test? Do

you know how many commercials I’ve done? And you’re telling me that even if I accept this insanity, Artemis may not even look at them? Does this Eleanor Marshall have me mixed up with somebody else?’

Tauber hadn’t flinched. Tm - we’re-incredibly thrilled

to be representing you, P,.oxana. You’re the most beautiful woman alive, and/know you’re one of the most talented.’ The implication was not lost on her. ‘But unfortunately, the motion picture industry needs a whole new set of skills. We’re gonna have to persuade them that you have what it takes.’ His tone was as warm as his words were chilling.

‘You’re saying I can’t go in at the top.’ Her words were a

flat monotone. Disbelieving.

Tauber had changed tack, gone for intelligent candour. ‘loxana, I told you I would never bullshit you’ - she rolled her eyes- ‘and I won’t. This is the truth. The talent I see in you, talking to you, other people out here don’t. We have to prove it to them and that’s gonna take a little work,’ and then he’d added the magic phrase, ‘but I know you love a challenge.’

Oh yes, loxana thought, yes, indeed I do. And this

will be as nothing compared with the real challenges I’ve already faced. Challenges that you can’t even begin to. dream about, California boy, not in your worst nightmares.

‘I’ll do those tests, David,’ she said calmly. ‘You just

husde them at Artemis. They’ll get seen.’

Already she had flashed onto Howard Thorn, one of the

many hugely powerful, hugely stupid, hugely married names in her little black book. Men she threw a mercy fuck

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at now and then, who provided her with favours as needed. Howard Thorn was one of the most useful. Chained to his wife by billion-dollar handcu, he was guaranteed not to give her any trouble or bother her overmuch, and his massive holding conglomerate, Condor Industries, had helped her up the ladder with magazines, cosmetic .contracts and many kind little whispers in smoky clubs. Naturally, Howard was besotted with her, and every time she screwed him she made sure it was better than the last. And like all her other sugar daddies, Howard thought he was the only one.

Thank God, Ioxana thought contemptuously, ,for the fact that a girl can rely on some things in this life. The vanity of men was one world resource that would never run out.

Howard Thorn had bought faCteen per cent of Artemis Studios only last year.

‘They’ll get seen?’ Tauber repeated, questioningly. ‘Yes, they will.’

‘OK,’ Tauber answered, not pushing it.

She was glad they understood each other. Because she found herself in a position that she hadn’t known for years - helplessness. She couldn’t threaten David Tauber with firing him because, unlike at Unique, she wasn’t Sam Kendrick Interuational’s only client. Jesus, from the sounds of it she wasn’t even an important client. And anyway, Sam Kendrick had Zach Mason and Fred Florescu, and that was the pect movie, the one she wanted to be in. Already she knew that much. A movie would be no problem. But it was this’movie she wanted. The movie.

That was why she’d taken time out last week to do the test, and shown that jerk banker a little bit of nirvana this morning. She was already working for it, struggling for it. Roxana needed this ftlm, and if laying Howard Thorn was what it took, laying Howard Thorn was what she would’

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do. She loathed him, but this morning she’d fucked him

like she was Scheherazade and her life depended on it.

The plane banked and dipped, preparing for the descent

into LAX. P,.oxana Felix gazed out at.the glittering grid of the city, laid out before her in a jewelled web of light,

sparkling against the darkness. It was a strange thing. She was frightened.

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Jordan Cabot Goldman was in an agony of indecision.

She twirled in front of her floor-to-ceiling mirrors, ignoring the reflection of the palatial bedroom behind her - the kingsize four-poster, an Elizabethan original imported from England, the carpet of delicate Chinese silk and the sunkenjacuzzi she’d had installed at the foot of the bed. Silver vases were scattered in a careful way about the room, crammed to overflowing with white and yellow roses, flowers that were changed every morning. The huge bay windows had a pofished mahogany window seat, laid out invitingly with soft downy cushions, embroidered in Scotland. The whole effect was an absolute triumph of wealth over taste, in the grand tradition of the Duchess of Windsor’s jewels, and Jordan was very proud of it, just as proud as she was of their ultra-neat gardens, which she’d had equipped with the very latest in both sprinkler and security systems. Tom Goldman had taken a while to get married, but Jordan Cabot Goldman was here to see that he never regretted that decision. Not for an instant. Hence the jacuzzi in the bedroom and the cupboard full of erotic paraphernalia hidden behind a bookshelf. And hence Jordan’s own slender, toned, worked-on young body that was bouncing so gratifyingly as she twisted about, pretending not to watch herself, holding up first the pink Chanel suit and then the navy Bill Blass dress. Both suchgroum-up designers. But Jordan knew it was her duty to reflect the status of her husband in the outfits she wore. She no longer’

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owned a pair of jeans, even designer ones. It was so annoying that she couldn’t get Tom to do the same thing. Hugo Boss chinos. That was what he should be wearing when he needed to go casual.

The pink was more attractive, it set offher tan and her blonde hair and her dazzlingly white teeth, but the navy had more gravitas, made her look older. She could be twenty-eight in that navy.

Isabelle wouldn’t hesitate for a moment, Jordan thought, jealously. She’d know exactly what to wear. She’d know before she even got to the closet.

Isabelle Kendrick was Jordan’s lunch date. Married to Sam Kendrick, she had been a social powerhouse in the city for fifteen years, and Jordan was in awe of her. She

‘ didn’t like her, of course, but that didn’t matter. The fact was that Isabelle sat on every important charity committee in LA, gave the definitive Oscar night party since Swifty Lazar had passed away, and somehow, invisibly, imperceptibly, marked out every new girl on the scene and ranked her desirability. It drove Jordan crazy; after all, wasn’t she the wife of a studio head? And Isabelle only the wife of an agent, even if he was a fairly heavyweight agent. But there was no getting away from reality, and in LA the reality was that Isabelle ruled. From Cedars-Sinai to the San Francisco Opera House, she sat on every important board. Her little soir6es were the most sought-after, reported-on dinner parties in the city. And at her big spectaculars once a season - there was the summer ball coming up at the end of this month - more business got done than at Cannes. If President Clinton came to town and wanted to eat with somebody besides David Geffen, Mrs Samuel Kendrick was the second name on his list. With her own ears Jordan had heard Isabelle chatting to the First Lady on the telephone as though she were an intimate friend. ‘Yes, Hillary, Irish salmon.’ ‘No, Hillary, I promise I’ll keep.the cholesterol down.’

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It was all fantastic, and Jordan wanted it for herselŁ. She was Tom’s wife and she should get that respect. Well, she knew how jealous they all were of her, even the ones that were nearly as young and nearly as attractive as she was. And the older women were just green. Too bad, Jordan thought maliciously, surveying her large, firrn breasts and slimline thighs. You had your chance once, and now it’s my turn.

After all, nobody had dared to actually snub her, much though they might have liked to. It was Los Angeles, and when all was said and done, she was the wife of a studio chairman, and thus unsnubbable. Plus,Jordan had a certain survivor’s instinct that had served her very well all her life. She knew better than to try to compete with Isabelle Kendrick. No, she had to carve out a new place for herself, a complementary place, as the queen of the new generation. Jordma had started to support the more modem charities, giving nice little dances for AIDS research, sponsoring walks for the war against drugs, and throwing well-attended dinners at five thousand bucks a plate for whatever issue was in the news. Her last one had been a minor victory: An Evening to Stop the Killing, raising money for the struggle against gang warfare in South Central LA. They’d played hardcore rap music very quietly over the speakers while entertainment industry big shots sipped Dom Prign0n and toyed with their caviar and blinis. It was too bad that she hadn’t been able.to get Spike Lee to attend - or, indeed, even answer her gilt edged invitation - but then everybody knew how difficult he could be. Her Serene Highness Princess Caroline of Monaco had been guest of honour. Such a step up from that little tramp Stephanie. Yes, it had been quite a triumph, and Jordan hadbeen able to seat Isabelle next to her and bask in her approval.

There was only one aspect of that evening to mar her enjoyment of it, the reason she’d pleaded with Isabelle for

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some time today. But deftly positioning herself alongside, and not against, Isabelle Kendrick on the LA circuit,Jordan Cabot Goldman had acquired a major advantage. Isabelle was becoming her mentor.

With a flounce of her nicely tanned ass, cheeks high and tight in the mirror as she turned round, Jordan tossed the navy dress over a P,.egency armchair and selected the Chanel. Just the thing for lunch. Surely you couldn’t go wrong with Chanel.

‘Mrs Kendrick, how good to see you. Won’t you step this way,’ gushed the maitre d’, leading Isabelle deftly into the main restaurant and up to the second-best table. Normally, she might have protested; Isabelle had huge clout at

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Morton’s, but her practised eye settled almost instantly on Madonna and Abel Ferrara sitting at the place she normally occupied.

Oh well, thought Isabelle. C’est la vie.

She smoothed down the featherweight cashmere of her lalph Laurenjacket, supremely confident in the elegance of her look. At thirty-eight, Isabelle graced every best dressed list in the country; her hair was a smooth, beautifully penned cap of chestnut brown, with the tiny grey streaks in it marvellously covered over every month by Dino Castoni, this year’s favoured Beverly Hills stylist. Her dermatologist ensured that her skin had excellent elasticity for its age, arid while Isabelle would have died at the vulgarity of a public gymnasium, Liz Xanthia, her fanatically discreet private trainer, and Margot Guise, the Kendricks’ vegetarian chef, between the two of them kept her in wonderfully svelte form.