Thrill! (46 page)

Morgan Creedo was a sonofabitch. He made Lara Ann into his love slave. And because he wasn't a star, he let out all his frustrations on his young innocent bride. Lara Ann had no one except him, and he liked that. He kept her to himself, never allowing her to speak to anyone else.

As she grew older, so she became more beautiful - which Morgan considered an added bonus. When he hit her - and he did so often he made sure he never touched her gorgeous face. In the back of his mind he thought that one day - when his career was over - he'd get her a job in porno movies. With her looks she could make enough money to keep them both in luxury.

"Ever thought about acting?"

he asked one day.

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She shook her head,.

"Tou got what it takes, bon,} he said, unzipping his fly and pushing her to her knees.

The following week he started taking her to movies so she could study the famous actresses on the screen.

She fell in love with the moving images and the actors she observed. Meryl Streep and Robert Kedford. Al Pacino and Jessica Lange. They were all so magical. They inspired her - making her realize that there was another life out there. Oh God, how she yearned for another life.

By the time she was nineteen, Morgan was fed up. She might be beautiful, but she was also boring. She never answered back; let him get away with anything; serviced him whenever he wanted. He needed fire in a woman, not docile obedience. Maybe if he put her on the road to porno stardom she'd become more exciting.

Lara Ann was also fed up - but for different reasons. She'd thought Morgan really cared for her, but as each day passed she understood that she was no more than his servant. The way he treated her, she might have been better off staying with Aunt Lucy.

One day he informed her they were going to Hollywood.

"I've got the number of a producer who's promised to give you a break."

"A break at what?"

she asked.

"To be a movie star, dummy. That's what you want, isn't it?"

"Ifyou say so."

They got in his old Cadillac and set off.

Halfway to Los Angeles, he stopped the car in a lay-by and told her to service him the way he liked.

"No,'she said.

""No"?"

he repeated, as if he couldn't believe she was turning him down.

"Do it, bitch. An'don't argue."

"Idon't want to."

Once again he repeated her words.

""Tou don't want to.3" Then he grabbed her by the hair with one hand, unzipped his fly with the other, and forced her head into his lap.

The novelty of her saying no made him come even faster than usual, and when he released her, she got in the back of the car and

321 curled up on the seat, tears in her eyes, planning in her mind that when they reached LA she had to get away from Morgan and start afresh.

God made it easy for her.

Ten miles outside of Barstow, Morgan fell asleep at the wheel. Seconds later their car skidded under a huge truck parked illegally on the highway.

Lara Ann woke up in a hospital two days later.

"Where's Morgan ?"

she asked.

"Where's my husband?"

Morgan was dead. He'd been decapitated in the accident.

Once again she was by herself.

ft ft ft

"Are you all right, Lara, dear?"

The English wardrobe woman stood in front of her, a concerned expression on her homely face.

She glanced up, leaving the vividly real memories behind. Tm fine,"

she murmured.

" j*

"I was knocking on the door for ages."

f

"Guess I must've fallen asleep."

"Mick says you're finished for the day. Can I help you gft dressed?"

"That's OK. Can you please make sure my driver's outside."

"He's there, dear."

"Thanks."

She couldn't wait to get home to the safety of Joey's arms. He was the only one she could truly depend on.

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^^^.Jf^ JOEY PROWLED around a fashionably rundown ^^I^PI^P^^* pool hall on Sunset. Most of the guys were intent on the game, except a few who were checking out the eager girls sitting in a row at the bar, hoping to be picked up.

Joey was edgy - for the first time in his life he realized he cared about someone, and this completely threw him. How had it happened? The instant he'd seen Lara he'd known it was going to be a whole other trip.

And yet, he was using her - living in her house, going to her agent, allowing her to get him a part in Revenge. Before, when he'd been with a woman, he'd always had a reason. Now everything was different. Shit! He didn't want to use her in any way.

What was he going to do? Harden himself against her? Get it back to where it should be?

He eyed the female talent at the bar. There were some pretty girls, but none of them came close to Lara.

He zeroed in on the prettiest, a curly-haired brunette in a white micro-dress sipping a Margarita. She was very young - too young.

"Hi,"

he said, approaching her.

She looked him over, liking what she saw.

"You'd better not hit on me,"

she warned, flirting anyway.

"I'm with my date, and he gets real mad."

"Which one's your date?"

She pointed out a short balding guy across the room, intent on the game.

323 "I've seen competition,"

Joey said with a dry laugh,

"an"

I got a feelin"

he ain't it."

She giggled, fluttering her long eyelashes, getting off on the attention.

"I'm Tina. Who're you?"

"Bob,"

he lied.

"Hi, Bob,"

she said, small pink tongue snaking out to lick the rim of her Margarita glass in a suggestive fashion.

"Hi, Tina,"

he replied, giving her intense eye contact.

Could this vampy little brunette persuade him to forget Lara? Could she make him fall out of love?

He sincerely doubted it.

"What's your phone number, Tina?"

he asked, deciding he'd pursue it anyway.

"I can't give you that!"

she said, shrieking with laughter.

"I told you, I'm with my date."

"Yeah, but what if you break up with him tonight?"

he said, giving her the full intense stare.

"Wouldn't you be sorry you hadn't given me your number?"

She thought that one over.

"Well . . . OK, but if he sees, he's gonna kill me. And you."

Furtively she scrawled her number on a packet of book matches and handed it to him.

Score one. He'd probably never call her. Who gave a shit?

He left the pool hall and drove to a strip club several blocks down the street, paying an exorbitant price at the door.

The strippers were lacklustre, contemptuous of their patrons, undulating and gyrating with a distinct lack of energy. He concentrated on a sloe-eyed blond, lowering her quivering thighs up and down a steel pole wearing only a G-string and nippleless bra. She didn't do a thing for him.

"Take it off, honey-pot,"

yelled a fat guy sitting to his right.

"Get naked so's I kin get a real good look at those big bouncy jimmy-jammies!"

The girl slithered across the floor to the man who was doing the shouting.

"A hundred bucks'll buy you a private dance,"

she said, provocatively sliding her tongue across pouty lips.

"Honey-pot, I'm buyinT the fat man crowed, sweat beading his upper lip.

"Back room, ten minutes,"

the stripper said, taking a long

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sideways look at Joey. Their eyes met for a moment. He saw the interest start to rise.

"How

"bout you, baby?"

she crooned, with a slight lisp.

"Wanna visit paradise?"

He didn't bother replying. Strippers. They were all into each other, anyway. The ones he'd known harboured a deep hate for the guys who sat and ogled them, referring to them as losers and dorks - guys who couldn't get it up in normal life.

He wondered what Lara was doing now. She must have arrived home and found he was not there. He knew she'd be upset.

Why was he treating her this way? She was so good to him, she didn't deserve it.

Insurance. To make sure she stayed interested.

He got up and left, not even glancing at the sumptuous redhead with giant knockers who was doing unbelievable things to a steelbacked chair.

He sat in Lara's car for a moment before taking out the matchbook with Tina's number scribbled on the flap. Disgusted with himself-he threw them into the gutter.

Why sabotage something so perfect?

if ft ft

Sitting in the back of her limo on the ride to her house, Lara attempted to calm down. Not only had she gone through the ordeal of the rape scene, but when the memories came flooding back, she'd felt a deep sense of sadness and desperation. Over the years she'd become adept at shutting out the nightmares - closing down the moment her mind went in a bad direction - a trick she'd learned to protect herself. Today it hadn't worked.

Enough! a voice screamed in her head. Enough! I'm not thinking about any more of this today.

She inspected her arms, both badly bruised from the mauling Aiden had given her. Maybe Joey was right. Maybe she shouldn't have agreed to appear in Revenge. Still ... it was completely unfair of him to get mad at her.

The dogs greeted her when she arrived home, racing out of the house, barking and wagging their tails, jumping to lick her face,

325 delighted to see her. She fussed them for a minute, thinking that you never had to worry about animals - they always loved you, no matter what.

Mrs Crenshaw came to the front door.

"Everything all right, Miss Lara?"

"Yes, thanks, Mrs C."

"Will you be eating home tonight?"

"Yes. I'd like dinner served in the bedroom on trays. Is Mr Joey upstairs?"

"No, he's not home yet."

"Oh,"

she said, disappointed.

"Did he call?"

"Not that I know of."

She was overwhelmed with a sudden feeling of emptiness. Why wasn't Joey here to say he was sorry for the way he'd behaved, and to tell her he loved her? She had no desire to spend the evening alone, she needed him beside her.

More than a little disturbed, she went upstairs into her bathroom and ran a tub, slowly pouring bubble bath under the running taps. Then she lit scented candles and put a Sade CD on the player. Smooth Operator serenaded her as she pinned her hair on top of her head and slid into the tub, allowing the warm water to soothe her aching body.

It had been some day.

ft ft ft

When Nikki walked into the house she found three irate messages from Richard on the answering machine, each one more angry than the last. The gist of his fury was that he'd heard how graphic the rape scene was, and how could she and her amateur director have put Lara through such an ordeal.

It was like he didn't get it. They weren't together, she was contemplating divorce, yet he acted as if this was merely a temporary separation and he could still tell her what to do.

She wasn't in the mood to call him back. In fact, until the movie was finished, she didn't care to do anything about him at all. Yes, it was lonely in the house without him around, 326

but it was better than putting up with a man who couldn't stay faithful.

She was anxious to see the dailies, her job now was to protect Lara in the editing room, where she planned on looking over Mick's shoulder the entire time.

The phone rang. She reached for it.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?"

Richard yelled, causing her to hold the phone away from her ear.

"Are you trying to ruin Lara's career?"

"What the fuck is wrong with you? she responded heatedly.

"She'll get nominated for this role."

"You're full of shit, Nikki. You have no idea what you're doing."

"Don't talk down to me,"

she answered coldly.

"You remind me of Sheldon."

"Oh, I see. Every time I say something you don't like, I remind you of your ex."

"I don't appreciate being told what to do. I make my own decisions."

"Yes, you do. Decision number one: ruin Lara Ivory's career."

"Why do you keep on saying that?"

"Because it's all over town that she's flashing her snatch in your crummy little movie."

"Excuse me?"

"You don't think there wasn't some spy on the set with a hidden camera?"

he taunted.

"The pictures will be front page on the tabloids next week. You think it'll do my movie any good? My beautiful, gentle romance, and let's take a look at Lara Ivory with her snatch in the air."

"Bullshit."

"For Chrissake, Nikki, wise up. This is Hollywood in the nineties, there are spies everywhere. Jesus Christ! Lara's supposed to be your friend. Why are you doing this to her?"

"I'm trying to make a movie, Richard. I'd appreciate it if you'd leave me alone."