Hollywood Wives--The New Generation

by Jackie Collins

  “Miz Roman,” he gushed. “Lissa—if I may call you that. We are delighted to welcome you to the Desert Millennium Princess. It is our pleasure to have you here, and anything you need—anything at all, twenty-four hours a day—please feel free to summon your personal concierge.”

  “I have a personal concierge?” Lissa asked.

  “Two. They’ll be waiting in your suite, which we will escort you to right now. You must be tired from your journey.”

  “Hardly,” she murmured. “L.A. is only an hour away.” She indicated Michael. “This is Mr. Scorsinni, my personal security. I’d like him to be close.”

  “Certainly, Miz Roman. We have our own excellent security here for you, but it’s quite understandable that you travel with your own.”

  “And my other people—you’ll take care of them?”

  “We have the entire Penthouse One floor reserved for you, Miz Roman,” Rick said. “I do believe you’ll find the accommodations adequate. You have your own rooftop swimming pool, a miniature golf course, and, of course, a sauna and gym.”

  “Of course I do,” she murmured.

  Then they were all whisked into a private elevator and taken to the top floor.

  The view from the penthouse was astounding. The whole of Las Vegas was laid out before them.

  “Wait until you see the view at night,” Rick boasted.

  “I’m sure it’s magnificent,” Lissa said.

  “Mr. Walter Burns, the owner of the hotel, wondered if you would care to dine with him and his wife tonight, bringing whomever you like.”

  “I’ll let you know,” Lissa said.

  This was the first time Michael had been in her company where she was treated like the megastar she was. It made him realize all the more how far out of her league he was.

  He strolled over to Chuck. “You do know she requested either myself or Quincy to come along on this trip?” he said. “I understand you’re usually in charge of her personal security, and I respect that. I also know you’ve been doing a first-rate job, so I hope you don’t think I’m invading your territory.”

  “No worries,” Chuck said. “I work for her all the time. Havin’ you around don’t bother me.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Listen, man,” Chuck said, shrugging, “whatever she wants, she gets. She’s the star, okay?”

  “Yeah,” Michael agreed. “She’s the star.”

  “Everyone can get settled,” Lissa announced. “I’m planning to relax today, so all of you go off and do your own thing. Danny, please be sure to deal with the clothes when they get here, make sure the jewelry is put in the hotel safe, and double-check that everything’s set for tomorrow’s rehearsal.”

  “Yes, Miz Roman,” Danny said, almost bobbing a curtsey. He was desperate to explore Sin City.

  “Michael,” she said offhandedly, “I’m sorry I can’t give you time off.”

  “I wasn’t expecting it,” he replied evenly. “I’m here to watch out for you, right?”

  “So,” she said, “do you want to watch out for me at dinner?”

  “Where?”

  “The owner of the hotel has requested dinner with me. I’m certainly not going by myself. Let’s say we’ll meet here at eight o’clock.”

  “Got it. In the meantime,” he said, handing her a pager. “If you need me, buzz. I’m in the room next door. And Lissa—don’t go anywhere on your own.”

  “I wasn’t planning to.”

  “I’ll see you at eight.”

  He spent the rest of the day playing solitaire on a computer in his room. He thought about phoning Carol, then decided against it. It was enough that he was seeing her on Monday night.

  In his mind he went over what he was going to say to her. Yes, he’d be there for her. Yes, he’d pay financial support for the baby. Yes, he wanted to be part of the baby’s life, but he did not plan on continuing with their relationship. It wasn’t fair to either of them.

  He wondered how she’d accept it. The truth was he didn’t really care—that’s the way it was going to be.

  At seven o’clock he took a shower and put on a clean white shirt and a Charvet tie—a gift from a grateful client. Next he took out his dark blue Armani suit, his one big extravagance. Wearing the suit made him feel like a million bucks—which he didn’t have and never would.

  He started thinking about why Lissa had wanted him to accompany her to Las Vegas. She had Chuck, and there was all the security in the world at the hotel, but no, she’d insisted he come too. Maybe she was playing some kind of weird movie-star game with him, and even though they were both aware of being attracted to each other, it couldn’t possibly go anywhere. And if she thought he was about to be a weekend fling, she was very much mistaken.

  •

  CONTESSA BLANCA DE MORAGO looked like Sophia Loren—elegant, beautiful, and definitely over sixty. Antonio was as handsome as ever, he hadn’t changed a bit.

  “My cariño!” Antonio said, grabbing Nicci in a huge embrace as they met in the lobby of the Peninsula hotel. “I wish to present my wife, the Contessa Bianca De Morago. Bianca,” he added formally. “This is my daughter, Nicci.”

  Bianca smiled and proffered a languid hand. Nicci was dazzled by the size of the huge diamond solitaire ring on her engagement finger. Obviously not a gift from Antonio, who certainly didn’t have that kind of money.

  “Hi,” she said, still checking the woman out so she could give a full report to Lissa.

  “Antonio has told me much about you,” Bianca said in a deep, throaty, accented voice. “It is a pleasure to come to California and finally meet you.”

  “Uh, thanks,” Nicci said, mentally adding up the cost of the diamonds this woman had on—discreet earrings, a firebird brooch, an impressive bracelet, and the ring. Nicci reckoned Bianca was standing there in over a million dollars’ worth of jewels.

  “We leave your car here,” Antonio announced. “Our driver will take us.”

  Nicci had booked a table at Spago—not her usual hangout, but she’d thought it was the place they’d want to go. She was right, even Bianca had heard of the famous restaurant.

  Somehow Nicci felt strangely shy in the presence of her father. Maybe it was because she hadn’t seen him in two years. “How’s Adela?” she asked, inquiring after her stern Spanish grandmother.

  “The same,” Antonio replied airily. “Difficult.”

  Nicci thought about Lynda. Nobody could be as difficult as her soon-to-be mother-in-law from hell.

  “And Lissa?” Antonio asked, as they walked outside to a discreet black town car complete with a uniformed driver. “Your dear mama is well?”

  “She’s getting divorced,” Nicci blurted.

  “I heard,” Antonio sighed. “Poor Lissa—she never has luck with men.”

  “I guess she didn’t have much with you,” Nicci said, unable to stop herself from making a sly dig.

  Antonio laughed. Nothing seemed to faze him; with Bianca and her money by his side, he owned the world.

  They all got in the car.

  “Have you been to L.A. before?” Nicci asked the Contessa.

  “This is Bianca’s first trip to America,” Antonio said. “I am to show her the sights. After L.A. and your wedding, we visit the Grand Canyon and Niagara Falls.”

  “Antonio! Those are totally tourist places.”

  “I know, I know,” he said, gazing fondly at his wife. “But my Bianca wishes to see them.”

  Bianca smiled, she had very big teeth. “I read about such places in school,” she said. “That was a long time ago, now I must see for myself.”

  “Tomorrow we fly to Vegas,” Antonio said. “We have chartered a plane, and I have tickets for Lissa’s show.”

  “You do?” Nicci said, wondering how Lissa would take the news.

  “I thought Bianca should visit the gambling capital, and it will be nice to see your mother’s show. Perhaps you will alert her that we are coming.”

  “I’m sure she
’ll be surprised,” Nicci said.

  “Yes, I’m sure she will.” Antonio said. “I would love for my Bianca to meet her.”

  Nicci nodded blankly, wondering what kind of a trip was he on?

  “You wish to come with us?” Antonio asked.

  She shook her head. “No, no, I can’t. I have a bachelorette night going on this Saturday. My friend Saffron is throwing me a magical mystery tour—it’ll be awesome.”

  “A bachelorette night?” Bianca questioned. “Surely that is something only men do?”

  “No, in America girls do it too. You know, we’ll be like goin’ out and gettin’ wild—eyeballing crazy strippers and stuff.”

  “You look at female strippers?” Bianca said, obviously shocked.

  “No, male ones.”

  “You have male strippers in America?” Bianca inquired, quite startled.

  “They have many things in America you know nothing about,” Antonio said, taking her hand.

  Over dinner Nicci learned more about the Contessa. She had been married for forty years to a captain of industry, and when he’d died a year ago, he’d left her his fortune. She and Antonio had met at a party and apparently fallen in love. She had three grown children, all of whom had never left Spain.

  Nicci wondered how they felt about her marriage to Antonio, who was at least fifteen years her junior.

  Bianca seemed nice enough, and that pleased Nicci, because it was about time Antonio had some stability in his life. And not only was he getting stability, he was getting money too.

  The evening passed quickly. On the way out, Nicci stopped to say hello to her mother’s friends Taylor and Larry Singer, who were dining in the neighboring booth. Sitting with them was Kimberly, a friend of hers from high school.

  “Hey, Kim,” she said.

  “Hey, Nic,” Kimberly said, jumping up.

  “What’s the deal?” Nicci asked.

  “New guy,” Kimberly whispered. “He’s a hottie.”

  Nicci took a discreet peek at Oliver. “Cute,” she whispered back. “What are you doing with the Singers?”

  “He’s writing a script for them.”

  “Cool.”

  “I’ll see you Saturday,” Kimberly said.

  “You’re coming?”

  “Wouldn’t miss it!”

  “Can’t wait!”

  Lynda was still up when Nicci got home. She had decided to reorganize Evan’s closet, and his clothes were lying around everywhere.

  “You shouldn’t do that without asking Evan,” Nicci said. “He’s very particular about his stuff.”

  “When you know Evan better, dear, you’ll realize I do a lot of things he doesn’t have time to do for himself,” Lynda said in a patronizing voice. “I’m sure, over time, I can train you to help.”

  Nicci shook her head in amazement. Brian was right. Lynda Richter was some piece of work.

  •

  AFTER GREGG had the pool man drop him back at his car, he loaded the boxes into the trunk. Then he set off for the recording studio, where he was paying a young, black producer an exorbitant amount of money to record his latest composition. I should’ve called it “Bitch,” he thought as he drove to the studio. And dedicated it to her.

  He was well aware that timing was everything, and soon he’d be running out. He had to cash in on his publicity while he could, take that fifteen minutes and shove it up everyone’s ass.

  Belinda was in agreement that he should do everything he could. “Maybe I can perform it on your show,” he suggested, expecting her to jump.

  “I don’t decide what goes on,” she answered. “My producer does.”

  “You mean if you said you wanted me on, singing my song, he’d say no?”

  “We’re not a musical show, Gregg.”

  “It’s a no-lose segment,” he argued. “The guy that got away. The public’ll eat it up.”

  “I’ll bring it up at the next production meeting.”

  “You do that,” he said, more than a little irritated.

  He was getting bored with Belinda. She was the kind of woman who needed servicing, and he didn’t feel like being the in-house service stud. Especially when he wasn’t getting anything back.

  At the studio he flirted with the girl behind the reception desk, an ex-groupie with cocksucking lips and bitter eyes.

  “What studio am I in today?” he asked.

  “Studio three, Gregg,” she replied.

  “See you later then,” he said, heading up the stairs, filing her away for another day.

  He’d hired the producer he was working with when he and Lissa were still together. Teddy was not at the top of his game, but he was on his way. Gregg reckoned that Teddy could easily become the new Baby Face; he had edge, something Gregg needed. Teddy was costing him money he didn’t have, so he had to make sure the deal he was working on with the tabloid came through. Fortunately, Teddy was not bugging him for money.

  “Ran inta your old lady the other day,” Teddy remarked when he came in.

  “Yeah? Where was that?” Gregg replied, walking over to the coffee maker and pouring himself a cup.

  “The Domingos’ party. Thought I’d see you there, man.”

  “I had something else going on,” Gregg said, livid because he hadn’t been invited.

  Naturally, all of Lissa’s dear, close friends had dropped him the moment he’d left hen Okay with him, he’d never liked any of them anyway. Kyndra was an overblown diva with a fat ass. Taylor was an ambitious bitch busy playing professional wife. And Stella was too assertive and tough for her own good. As for James, no words could describe him. Gregg had always loathed Lissa’s best friend.

  “It was a happenin’ party,” Teddy offered.

  “Yeah?” Gregg answered, completely uninterested. The last thing he wanted to hear about was a party he hadn’t been invited to. “Let’s get to work here, I haven’t got all day.”

  By the end of their session, he felt pretty high. One more time and they’d have it down.

  Wouldn’t it be something, he thought, if this song makes me a star. Anything’s possible. How would Lissa react to that?

  He drove home and was annoyed to see cars in the driveway. Belinda had a lot of friends and was constantly entertaining. He didn’t like being looked over and inspected. And here he is, folks—the new stud on campus. Fuck that shit.

  Unfortunately, until he had money, there was nothing he could do about it.

  He circumvented the living room and went straight upstairs, carrying Lissa’s boxes, which he placed in the master bathroom.

  Belinda’s bedroom was all chintzy and girly like, much too fancy. She didn’t possess the class and style of Lissa. Belinda was nothing but a ballsy woman who’d made it by climbing over everyone, and probably crushing a few men on her way.

  Before he had a chance to open any of the boxes, Belinda was on the house intercom summoning him. She’d obviously spotted his car in the driveway.

  “Gregg, honey—can you get on down here. I want you to meet someone.”

  Oh yeah, that’s right, Belinda—call me like I’m your pet dog or something.

  Who did she want him to meet now? Her grandmother? Her cousins? Her coterie of Hollywood wives?

  He walked into the living room and came face to face with Deidra Baker.

  “Honey,” Belinda said. “This is Deidra—she’s going to be my personal shopper at Barneys, and since your birthday’s coming up in a couple of weeks, I thought you could go in and choose yourself an outfit. Deidra will help you pick it out.”

  He stared at Deidra.

  She stared back at him.

  They both decided they would not acknowledge that they knew each other.

  He thought of her nipples and got the stirrings of a hard-on.

  She thought of the way he’d walked out on her, the cruel things he’d said, and decided that revenge was long overdue.

  •

  “YOU CLEAN UP NICELY, Michael,” Lissa said lightly,
when he walked into her suite at eight o’clock precisely. “I like your suit.”

  “Thanks,” he answered. “And you—well, I know you don’t want me to tell you that you look beautiful. But if I could, that’s what I’d be saying now.”

  “I was thinking . . .” she said, not acknowledging his compliment. “If you don’t want to come with me tonight, I can always take Fabio or Danny. They’d be happy to escort me.”

  “Lissa,” he said pointedly. “In case you’ve forgotten, I’m here to look after you.”

  “Oh yes, you are, aren’t you?” she said, adding a curt, “You’ll look after me until it’s time for you to run.”

  “Huh?” he said.

  “You know what I mean,” she said, wishing she hadn’t brought it up. It made her look needy, and that’s the last thing she was.

  He didn’t appreciate her attitude. “Shouldn’t we clear something up before we go downstairs?” he said, determined to get it out in the open.

  “And what would that be?” she asked.

  “I’ve tried to say it to you before, Lissa.”

  “Go ahead,” she said in that same cool tone she’d been using lately.

  “We’ve uh . . . got this kind of unspoken thing going on between us, and we both know it. We also know it won’t lead anywhere, so what’s the point?”

  “What’s the point of anything, Michael?”

  He began rubbing his chin, something he always did when he got agitated. “Y’know, Lissa,” he said forcefully, “I can’t allow myself to get all screwed up over you. I’d like to do my job, make sure you’re safe, and if I can do that, we’ll be fine.”

  “I’m glad you feel that way, because I feel exactly the same.”

  “Good.”

  “Do you want to take a look at the view before we go?”

  “I already saw it,” he said irritably, because he had a feeling she wasn’t listening to a word he said. “My room has the same view.”

  “I mean from the terrace. Come, it’s quite spectacular,” she said, walking out to the terrace, which was like an exotic, plant-filled garden with a thirty-foot lap pool in the center.

  He followed her out. The view was spectacular, a panorama of sparkling lights encompassing the entire Strip.