Hollywood Wives--The New Generation

by Jackie Collins

  Belinda lined up three of Lissa’s old diaries and began checking them out. “What’s all this ‘I hate her’ crap?” she asked.

  Gregg shrugged. “That’s what I don’t know. They match the red exclamation points.”

  “You’re right,” Belinda said. “It is some kind of code. Hmm . . . did you go through the rest of the stuff?”

  “Naw, it’s all junk.”

  “Maybe not.”

  “You do it. I’m bored.”

  “Oh, so now I’m working for you—is that it?” she said tartly.

  “You do it,” he said, “an’ I’ll tongue your pussy till you scream for me to stop.”

  She gave a dirty laugh. “Dream on! I’ll never ask you to stop.”

  Gregg went back into the bedroom, lay down on the bed, switched on the TV, and found a ball game. He enjoyed watching sports, it was pure, mindless entertainment—the best kind. He also enjoyed making a bet or two, but right now he didn’t have the money.

  “Hey, Belinda,” he called out. “You got a bookie?”

  “No,” she answered. “Why?”

  “I wanna place a bet.”

  “Don’t you have one?”

  “I owe him.”

  “Can’t help you, honey.”

  Screw her! The sooner he got out of this house, the better. He was beginning to feel stifled. It was so fucking boring, and she was way too old for him. Everything belonged to her, nothing was his. He couldn’t even make a fucking bet.

  He wished he had some coke. Teddy had given him some primo coke at the studio. He’d snorted a few lines, and it had made his voice sound amazing. Belinda didn’t do drugs of any kind. How boring could one person get?

  An hour later, Belinda walked into the bedroom. “Guess what?” she said, looking very pleased with herself.

  “What?”

  “You’re about to become a very rich man.”

  Chapter Thirty-five

  * * *

  MICHAEL ORDERED a bacon sandwich and a Caesar salad. Then he lay down on the bed, switched on the TV, and channel surfed, waiting for the fight to start on cable. He thought about Carol and the baby. And then he thought of Lissa and how much he was attracted to her. At some point he must’ve dozed off, because a loud knocking at the door woke him up.

  “Who’s there?” he called out.

  “Room service.”

  He got off the bed, opened the door, and standing outside was Cindy, holding aloft a bottle of champagne and a tray of hors d’oeuvres. In civilian clothes she was even prettier than she’d appeared on the plane.

  “Hey,” he said, surprised but not displeased.

  “I’m room service,” she said, sauntering into his room and putting down the hors d’oeuvres and champagne. Then, catching him off guard, she turned around and threw her arms around his neck, kissing him full on the lips.

  This was too fast for Michael. He immediately removed her arms and backed away. “What’s going on?” he asked suspiciously.

  “I’m a present from the hotel,” she said blithely. “They’re very concerned about keeping their guests happy.”

  “Are you serious?” he said, thinking that Vegas was definitely a crazy place.

  “No,” she said with a slight smile. “It’s just that you’re a very sexy man. And I figured if you’re in Vegas with nothing to do tonight, why shouldn’t we do nothing together?”

  Something didn’t ring true, he was used to women throwing themselves at him, but not this rapidly.

  “Shall I open the champagne?” she offered. “It’s Cristal.”

  “I don’t drink,” he said, rubbing his chin.

  “Oh, so you’re being a good little boy?” she teased, shooting him a provocative look. “I prefer naughty ones myself. Should Mommy spank you?”

  “I’m not into that either.”

  “Hmm . . .” Cindy said. “You wouldn’t be involved with the star, would you?”

  “What’s the deal here, Cindy?” he asked, deciding he’d had enough. “You a hooker?”

  “That’s nice, isn’t it?” she said indignantly. “A girl always loves that question. No, I am not a hooker. I’m simply out for a good time, and you look like a good time.” Then she was all over him again, throwing her arms around his neck and nuzzling his ear.

  It occurred to him that she was indeed supplied by the hotel. This seemed like a setup.

  “You know what?” he said, pushing her away again.

  “What?”

  “I’m not in the mood.”

  “You’re not?” she said, giving him a long, smoldering stare. “Is there anything I can do to make you in the mood?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And that would be?”

  “Go home.”

  “God, you’re boring!” she exclaimed, not used to rejection.

  “Listen,” he said, “you are a very attractive girl, and I’m sure you’re well paid, only this is too strange for me.”

  She shrugged. “I’ll probably get fired because of you.”

  “How’s that?” he asked, trying to figure out if Walter Burns had sent her—or maybe she was a gift from Rick Maneloni?

  “I’m supposed to keep the hotel guests satisfied at all times. Our motto is ‘from the plane to the tables and back to L.A.—satisfaction all the way.’ ”

  “I’m not a gambler, Cindy.”

  “No, you’re a babe,” she said, licking her lips. “Most of the guys I get to entice are either fat and old or Japanese.” She gave him another sexy look. “C’mon, Michael,” she coaxed. “You wouldn’t want to get a girl fired, would you?”

  For a split second he was tempted. Jesus Christ, he was a man, after all. Then again, did he really want to hate himself in the morning?

  He picked up the bottle of champagne and handed it to her. “I’ll keep the snacks,” he said. “How’s that?”

  She shook her head in amazement. “You don’t know what you’re missing.”

  He opened the door and steered her outside toward the elevator. As he did so, Lissa emerged from her suite, catching the action immediately. A girl leaving his room clutching a bottle of champagne, it didn’t look good.

  “I was paging you,” she said coolly.

  “Didn’t hear the buzz.”

  “There must be something wrong with your pager.”

  “I’ll be right there,” he said, embarrassed at having been caught.

  But caught doing what? Exactly nothing.

  He pushed Cindy into the elevator, went back into his room, grabbed his jacket, and made his way to Lissa’s suite.

  She was pacing around the living room. “Is it too much to ask for your full attention while we’re here?” she said. “Or do you have to get laid immediately?”

  “It’s not what it looks like,” he replied, realizing how lame that sounded.

  “Do you know how many times I’ve heard those words?” she said. “From all my husbands.”

  “What was I supposed to do? Cindy turned up at my door, compliments of the hotel.”

  “Cindy turned up at your door, did she? How convenient. Did you buy her the champagne, or perhaps she brought it with her?”

  “Brought it with her, and I’m telling you—she was paid for by the hotel. Got a hunch they like making their guests happy.”

  “Hmm . . . you get a real live hooker, and I get a dozen pairs of hooker shoes,” she said, almost smiling as she indicated a row of brightly colored, outrageous new shoes lined up against the wall. There were at least twenty pairs.

  “Jeez!” he said.

  “Yep,” Lissa joked. “Evelyn came through.”

  “She sure did.”

  “Y’know, Michael,” Lissa said restlessly, “I’m beginning to feel like I’m cooped up in an ivory tower—Vegas style. I was hoping that we could sneak out somewhere, just you and me.”

  “What did you have in mind?” he asked, thinking she was hardly a movie-and-hamburger type of woman.

  “How about one
of those funky downtown casinos where I can play the slot machines without getting stared at?” she suggested, eyes gleaming. “Do you gamble?”

  “Gave it up when I ditched drinking. Addictive habits are not for me.”

  “I understand. So you can watch.”

  “Thanks.”

  “C’mon, Michael,” she said persuasively. “Let’s do it.”

  “If that’s what you want.”

  “Well . . . I’m sure you wouldn’t appreciate me going out by myself, would you?”

  “I get it, Lissa. I’ll organize a car.”

  “No! The whole point is to sneak out of here, take cabs, act like a couple of tourists. I’m so tired of being treated like a star.”

  “I’d better tell Chuck.”

  “Why—can’t you handle me?” she asked, her blue eyes challenging him. “You think you’ll get in trouble if it’s only the two of us?”

  “Sure, Lissa,” he said sarcastically. “I can see you’re big trouble.”

  “Then let’s go, Michael. It’ll take me two minutes to put on my disguise.”

  “You have a disguise?”

  “It’s a killer,” she said with a wicked grin. “Just you wait!”

  How could he say no to her? The problem was that she’d managed to get under his skin with a vengeance, and he wanted to make her happy.

  He hurried to his room, picked up some money and then his gun, just in case. Five minutes later he returned to her suite.

  She was standing there in a short, dark wig, tinted granny glasses, jeans, a denim shirt, and sneakers. “Do I look like a small-town hick?” she asked, twirling around in a circle.

  “You sure as hell don’t look like Lissa Roman,” he said, thinking she looked like a little kid about to play truant.

  “That’s good, isn’t it?” she asked anxiously. “It means no one will recognize me.”

  “Okay, here’s the plan,” he said, getting into it. “We’ll take the service elevator down, walk through the casino and out the front entrance. All you gotta do is hold my hand, keep your glasses on, and pretend you’re my wife.”

  “Your wife, huh?”

  “Hey—if we’re going on an adventure, we gotta play the parts.”

  She dazzled him with her smile. “I like it, Michael.”

  This, he decided, was much more interesting than being with the tall, sexy blonde.

  •

  “SO, THE WICKED WITCH has cast her bad, bad spell on you, huh?” Brian said.

  They were sitting in a small restaurant on the beach, drinking frozen margaritas, sharing a giant lobster and a large dish of french fries.

  “I’m sorry to say this about your mom, Brian,” Nicci said earnestly. “But she’s a walking, talking monster. How did you manage to turn out so normal?”

  “Oh, so now I’m the normal one,” he said, laughing. “I thought you said I was a total fuckup.”

  “You’re normal apart from the fact that if it walks and breathes and looks vaguely human, you fuck it.” “Who told you that?” he said, chewing on a succulent piece of lobster. “My brother?”

  “Every time I see you you’re with a different girl.”

  “Don’t you get it?” Brian said sarcastically. “That’s ’cause none of them live up to Mommy.”

  She started to laugh. “You are so totally full of it.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s gotten me through life,” he said, finishing his second margarita. “Y’know, while Evan’s busy making all the business deals and bringing the moguls to their knees, I’m the one who’s writing the scripts and getting them on the screen.”

  “I thought Evan helped with ideas,” she said, reaching for a french fry.

  “Is that what he told you?”

  “Kind of.”

  “We do make for a good partnership,” Brian said thoughtfully. “I’m creative, he’s the business brain. Unfortunately, the rest of his growth was stunted by Mom.”

  “You know, I got your mom to tell me about Julia.”

  “You did, huh?”

  “She said Julia was common.”

  “Common! Jeez! That woman lives in a different era.”

  “Tell me about it. I’m the one she’s currently living with.”

  “You gotta get Evan out from under her influence, Nic,” he said, his face serious. “Otherwise, you’re gonna end up in deep shit.”

  “Uh-huh,” she said, leaning her elbows on the table. “Y’see, Brian, here’s the thing—I’m uh . . . beginning to have some doubts.”

  “Then don’t do it,” he said casually. “Don’t marry him.”

  “How can I not?” she exclaimed. “Everyone’s expecting me to. My dad’s even flown in from Spain.”

  “It’s your grave you’re headin’ for, babe.”

  “That’s a nice, cheerful remark.”

  “I tell it like it is.”

  “At least Evan’s a good guy,” she said, trying to convince herself. “I mean, he doesn’t screw around on me, he’s . . .”

  “Yeah? What?” Brian said tersely.

  “Well, he’s . . . he’s always there.”

  “That sounds like a lot of fun ten years down the line. Even five. And how d’you know he doesn’t screw around?”

  “Can you imagine Evan doing that? He won’t even do drugs, there’s no way he’d screw around, I know it.”

  “You do, huh?”

  “Yes, I do,” she said stubbornly, quite unnerved by Brian’s cavalier attitude.

  He summoned the waiter and ordered another drink. “Wanna go to a rave?” he asked casually.

  “No, thank you.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Positive.”

  He grinned. “One of these days you’ll be beggin’ me t’get you outta the house.”

  “No. I won’t.”

  And even though she said it with conviction, she wasn’t at all sure.

  •

  LISSA AND MICHAEL covered Vegas from one end to the other. She held onto his hand and allowed herself to act like a nonfamous person. It was exhilarating.

  “I cannot remember having such a good time in years,” she said, eyes bright as they headed into yet another downtown casino. “These places are so grungy. I’m finally seeing America.”

  “I wouldn’t say this is typical America,” Michael said, amused.

  “I guess not. Hmm . . .” she said, observing the action. “There sure are a lot of fat people in Hawaiian shorts and ‘I love Mom’ T-shirts.”

  “You only think they’re fat ’cause everyone in L.A. is thin.”

  “Ah yes, L.A.,” she said, grinning. “Capital of the body beautiful. To some people working out is a religion.”

  “I bet you look good naturally.”

  “Not true,” she said, shaking her head. “I spend plenty of time at the gym doing all the things that keep me looking good. I practice yoga and Pilâtes, and sometimes I starve myself to squeeze into something stunning.”

  “That’s ’cause you’re a movie star. You have to.”

  “How about you, Michael?” she said. “You look as if you work out.”

  “Gotta be fit in my job.”

  “Can we go play another slot machine?”

  “Lissa,” he said sternly. “You’ve lost two hundred dollars on the slots.”

  “Do you know what they’re paying me tomorrow for one show?”

  “I’ve heard a rumor.”

  “So I can lose two hundred dollars, can’t I?”

  “I should be getting you back to the hotel.”

  “Why?” she said, taking off her glasses and staring at him.

  “You’ve got a heavy day tomorrow,” he said, “and put those glasses on, someone will recognize you.”

  “I promise I’ll leave soon, but first,” she said, putting her glasses back on. “Do you see what I see?”

  “What?” he said, hoping it wasn’t another cash machine.

  “An all-you-can-eat-for-ten-bucks buffet,” she said t
riumphantly.

  He shook his head. “You’re a nut.”

  “Takes one to know one,” she said, grabbing his hand and pulling him toward it.

  “I give up.”

  “Excellent,” she said, smiling broadly. “Let’s go eat.”

  •

  “SO ANYWAY,” Nicci said, thinking that she might be talking too much, but unable to stop. “My dad married this much older woman, and he seems pretty happy. She’s mega loaded, y’know, big-bucks city.”

  “Hey—I could go for big bucks,” Brian said.

  “You’ve got your own big bucks,” Nicci said.

  “How d’you know?”

  She grinned. “I saw them when you got out of bed that fateful morning.”

  “Ooh!” he burst out laughing. “You’re a bad girl.”

  “Not really. The truth is that since I’ve been with Evan, I’ve turned into a good girl. I used to be a wild child.”

  “Yeah?”

  “I was into you show it to me—I’ll try it. Drinking, drugs, staying out all night.”

  “Sounds normal to me.”

  “I lived in Europe during most of my growing-up years.”

  “That must’ve been interesting.”

  “It was.” She sighed wistfully. “Y’know, I was kind of looking forward to settling down with Evan.”

  “You were?”

  “Yes. Only I’m not about to settle down with him and his mom.”

  “Don’t blame you,” he said. “D’you want dessert?”

  “Anything chocolate.”

  “You read my mind.”

  “So, Brian,” she said anxiously. “How often do you think she’ll visit?”

  “Hasn’t he told you?”

  “What?”

  “She’s planning on living with you.”

  “Oh, come on.”

  “I’m serious, Nic. She says she can’t take the New York winters anymore, so she’s moving somewhere warm. And that somewhere warm is good old L.A.”

  “I know you’re teasing me,” she said, horrified at the thought.

  “Marry him and you’ll see.”

  •

  IT WAS ALMOST midnight when Lissa and Michael arrived back at the Desert Millennium Princess. They stood outside for a minute, watching the incredible water displays and Lissa’s name in giant neon lights.

  “How does it feel seeing that?” he asked.