Hollywood Wives--The New Generation

by Jackie Collins

  “I was thinking about you the other day,” Gregg remarked, taking off his pants.

  “What were you thinking?” she asked, removing the Armani suit pants from their hanger.

  “I was thinking about those nipples of yours, and how much I miss them.”

  “I see.”

  “I see,” he mimicked. “Gonna play it cool with me, Deidra? Is that it?”

  “You played it pretty cold with me when you walked out that night,” she said accusingly.

  “I was drunk and upset. Didn’t realize what I was doing. Sorry.”

  “Are you?” she said.

  “Come over here,” he said. “And I’ll show you how sorry I am.”

  “How’ll you do that?”

  “Get down on your knees, put my dick between your tits, an’ I’ll give you my best apology.”

  •

  THE MOMENT LISSA ARRIVED at lunch, she sensed an atmosphere. “Hi, everybody,” she said, sitting down. “I’m so pleased you all made it.”

  “Wouldn’t miss it,” James said, very uptight.

  “Only for you would I come to this place,” Larry said, also uptight.

  “Stella’s not here yet, she’s giving birth,” Taylor announced. “She’s flying in later.”

  “Is it twins?”

  “Yes.”

  “You mean she’s leaving her babies to come here?”

  “Stella is not exactly Earth Mother two thousand and one,” James sniffed.

  “I can’t imagine Stella playing mommy,” Taylor said. “I’m sure she’ll hire a houseful of nannies.”

  “How are rehearsals going?” Claude asked.

  “Terrific,” Lissa said warmly. “It’ll be different from my last show. I’ve added a couple of numbers I think you’ll like.” She sipped a glass of apple juice. “What do you think of the hotel, Claude?”

  “Quite impressive,” he replied.

  “Vulgar,” James said, shooting Claude a spiteful glare.

  “I’ll have to introduce you to the owner,” Lissa said. “He’s throwing the party after the show. His wife is quite a character. She had on these hooker shoes the other night, and when I admired them, she sent me twenty pairs!”

  “Does she wear lots of jewels?” Kyndra drawled.

  “Loaded with them.”

  “Do you think if I admire them, she’ll hand me a necklace or two?”

  Everyone laughed, breaking the tension.

  “You look particularly glowing,” James said, moving close and talking quietly. “Is that dancer still in your troupe? The good-looking Italian?”

  “You mean Sergio? Yes, he’s still there. Why?”

  “Straight or gay?”

  “What is this, a game?”

  “I’m simply asking.”

  “Sergio is straight.”

  “I see. Hmm . . .”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means you’re looking very sort of ‘I’ve just had great sex’ish.’ ”

  “Y’know, James,” she said, laughing. “You really do have the wildest imagination.”

  “Do I now?”

  She glanced over at the nearby table where Michael was sitting with Chuck. Their eyes met for an instant. She smiled. He smiled back. God, if she didn’t have her show tonight, she’d blow off everything and spend the day with him.

  •

  “STOP CALLING ME,” Saffron said warningly.

  “Why?” Nicci said.

  “ ’Cause you’re only trying to pump me about tonight. Wear something sexy and shut up.”

  “What are you wearing?”

  “It doesn’t matter what I’m wearing.”

  “Then tell me what time kickoff is?”

  “It’s a surprise. Now will you stop calling. I’m not talkin’ to you today.”

  The moment Brian swung by to take her to breakfast, she felt better.

  “Hi,” she said, running out of the house to meet him. He looked hot in jeans, a denim shirt, and a baseball cap.

  “Is this Miss Appetite of the Year?” he asked, grinning.

  “Breakfast is the most important meal of the day,” she informed him.

  “Sure. And according to you, so is lunch, tea, and dinner.”

  “I spoke to Evan,” she said, jumping into his Porsche.

  “What did he have to say?”

  “He sounds weird. Not like his usual self.”

  “Yeah?”

  “I offered to go to the airport and meet him tomorrow. He told me not to bother, he’s flying in with a couple of the actors.”

  “Which ones?”

  “He didn’t say, but apparently the studio’s sending a car, and I guess he wants to ride with them. I told him we had to talk about his mom.”

  “How’d he take that?”

  “He didn’t sound pleased.”

  “He’s not gonna like it, Nic.”

  “I don’t care if he does or not,” she said defiantly. “This is something we have to discuss, otherwise—what was it you said? Oh yeah, I’ll be like digging my own grave.”

  “Y’know,” Brian remarked as they headed down the hill. “You’re ruining my sex life.”

  “What’re you talking about?”

  “I’m spending more time with you than I am chasing pussy.”

  “Nicely put. Anyway, I’m certainly not like forcing you to spend time with me.”

  “Yes, you are.”

  “How’s that?”

  “ ’Cause I gotta be truthful—I like spending time with you. You’re different.”

  “Different how? I got horns?”

  “No, you’re easy to get along with. Y’know, some of the girls I take out have no conversation. It’s like when their tits get inflated, their brains get smaller.”

  “You’re obviously dating the wrong kind of girl.”

  “Maybe you can find me someone like you.”

  “Like me, huh?” she said, pleased.

  “Yeah, you.”

  “I’m an original.”

  “That’s what I thought.”

  “Where are we going for breakfast?” she asked as he raced his Porsche along Sunset.

  “The beach,” he said. “I know a great little place for waffles.”

  “I can’t stay out long,” she warned. “I’ve gotta get back and prepare myself for my big evening.”

  “No problem,” he said, failing to tell her that the beach he was taking her to was in Santa Barbara.

  •

  DEIDRA’S NIPPLES were as chewable as ever. Gregg had missed them. Being with her in the fitting room at Barneys was quite an erotic experience. The first thing he did was unbutton her blouse, unclip her bra, and bury himself in Nipple City. He had a genuine hard-on, not the halfhearted son he managed with Belinda.

  Deidra was into it, he could tell. Oh yeah, he certainly had a magic touch with women. After the way he’d spoken to her, he’d thought she’d never have anything to do with him again. But no, here she was, begging for more.

  Women! He’d never met one he couldn’t nail if he put a little effort into it.

  Deidra was building him to a nice climax as she massaged his penis. Slowly did it. He had to admit he’d missed her seasoned touch.

  “I’m nearly there, baby,” he muttered. “Get down on your knees. Put my cock between your tits.”

  “Hold that thought, Gregg. I’ll be right back.”

  And before he could stop her, she ran out of the dressing room.

  “Where are you going?” he yelled. “I’m almost coming, for crissakes!”

  And then he heard her strident cries. “Rape! Rape!” she shouted. “That sonofabitch just tried to rape me.”

  •

  AS SOON AS Taylor arrived at the luxurious spa, she reached for a phone and called Oliver. “Did you say anything to Larry about us meeting before he entered the picture?” she asked in a low voice.

  “No way,” Oliver said. “Why d’you ask?”

  “Because Larry
said something, and it seemed odd. Are you sure you didn’t mention that you’d seen the script before?”

  “Waddaya think I am—a moron?”

  Yes, she thought.

  “He’s probably fishing,” Oliver said.

  “For what?” she said waspishly. “I never give him cause to be suspicious.”

  “That’s good. So there’s nothing to worry about then.”

  “I suppose so.” A beat. “Anyway, as soon as I get back we’ll sit down and go over the script. I know you don’t think much of it, but it does have great potential.”

  “Larry wants me to work with him on it, Tay.”

  “He does?”

  “Isn’t that what you wanted?”

  “Not if he’s taking over completely.”

  “It’s good for you. We’ll get the script right, then you’ll move in and play the lead.”

  “This is my movie, Oliver,” she said vehemently. “Mine!”

  “You were always bitching about Larry not helping you,” Oliver pointed out.

  “Okay, okay,” she said impatiently. “I’ll talk to you when we get back. And by the way.”

  “What?”

  “Next time you come out with us, kindly don’t bring a date.”

  “It’s cool if I have a date, Larry won’t get suspicious.”

  “Larry is not suspicious,” she said irritably. “He made a stupid remark for no reason. And if he were suspicious of me, it certainly wouldn’t be about someone like you.”

  “Thanks!”

  “Don’t mention it.”

  Thank God she was at a spa. If there was one thing she needed, it was to immerse herself in an afternoon of total pampering.

  •

  IT WAS ALMOST four-thirty when Brian dropped Nicci back at the house. They’d spent a wonderful day together, both of them enjoying it immensely. They’d had lunch at a seafood restaurant on the beach in Santa Barbara, wandered around the shops, browsed the bookstore and record store, where Brian had insisted on buying her a stack of CDs.

  Then they’d raced home, because she’d suddenly realized it was getting late, and any moment Saffron might be picking her up.

  Now, as he pulled up outside the house, she was reluctant to say good-bye.

  “Have fun tonight,” Brian said. “Try not to get too wasted.”

  “I’ll try,” she said. “Can’t promise.”

  “And remember—no touching the strippers.”

  “No touching, huh?” she said, grinning.

  “It’s not allowed,” he said good-naturedly.

  “Who says?”

  “Me.”

  “Oh, you do, huh?”

  “Maybe one light touch.”

  “Do I have your permission?”

  “Go for it, Nic.”

  “I guess I’d better get moving,” she said, still reluctant to leave him.

  “Yup.”

  “Uh . . . Brian.”

  “What?”

  “I’m definitely thinking of breaking it off with Evan.”

  “Don’t let me influence you.”

  “You’re not,” she said quickly. “It’s just that I think I’m gonna tell him we should wait until I’m like twenty. I mean, this obsession with his mother and everything—it’s scary.”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t trust Evan as much as you do.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Listen, Nic, I feel real close to you lately, and it’s shit if you go walking into something with your eyes closed. So . . . watch out for yourself.”

  “Like how?”

  “Ask Evan about Abbey.”

  “Who’s Abbey?”

  “The actress in our movie.”

  “Abbey Christian?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Are you saying—”

  “I’m not saying anything. All I’m telling you is to ask Evan.”

  She felt a shudder of apprehension. Abbey Christian was a movie star. If Evan was having a thing with her, there was no way she could compete. Who wanted to anyway?

  “This is too strange for me, Brian,” she said, not prepared to get into a long discussion. “I’m having fun at my bachelorette party tonight whether I’m getting married or not.”

  “What time does Evan arrive tomorrow?”

  “He didn’t say.”

  “Call me if you wanna do the breakfast thing again. This time I promise we’ll stay in L.A.”

  “What’re you up to tonight?” she asked.

  “Trying to figure out whether I should have the blonde, the redhead, or the brunette,” he quipped. “I’d better get on the cell.”

  “You’ve forgotten Miss Russia,” Nicci said, playing along. “She certainly had lust in her eyes every time she looked your way—which was every second!”

  “If I didn’t know any better,” he said, laughing, “I’d think you were jealous.”

  “Oh pu-lease,” she said scornfully. “Your ego grows bigger every time I see you.”

  “And that’s not all,” he said with a sly wink, helping her out of the car with her packages. “If you get home and it’s past midnight, call me.”

  “Huh?”

  “You can call me anytime,” he said, getting back into his car. “I wanna hear about your evening.”

  “I’ll do that.”

  She stood and watched him as he sped off.

  Brian Richter. It was time she faced up to the truth. He was the one she really wanted.

  She was marrying the wrong brother.

  •

  AS BRIAN DROVE OFF, he failed to notice the battered old green Chevrolet parked a few feet down the street.

  Nicci didn’t see it either as she ran into the house, carrying her packages and singing quietly to herself. She felt great—excited and happy. Brian had that effect on her.

  •

  ERIC VERNON watched in sullen silence as Nicci entered the house. He’d been sitting in the car with Big Mark, Davey, and Little Joe for two and a half hours. The stench was unbearable. Didn’t any of them ever take a shower?

  “Who are we waiting for?” Big Mark kept on asking. “And where is she?”

  “She’ll be here,” Eric said, determined to remain calm. Because if the bitch didn’t show, his plan would be shot to hell.

  When she finally arrived home, Eric nudged Big Mark into action. “That’s her,” he said. “Wait till the Porsche has left, then go do it.”

  “She looks young,” Little Joe mumbled, peering out the car window. “Didn’t know we was snatchin’ a young one.”

  “She is young,” Eric said. “She’s young and strong, which means nothing will happen to her if you all do your job right.”

  “Who is she?” Davey asked. “Must be somebody rich living up here in this fancy neighborhood.”

  “Of course she’s rich,” Eric said scathingly. “I wouldn’t be snatching her if she wasn’t, would I?”

  God, they were morons. He couldn’t wait to be rid of them.

  Big Mark and Joe got out of the car and headed for the house. Big Mark pulled a stocking mask over his heavy features, while Little Joe soaked a cloth pad in chloroform.

  Eric watched the street to see if there were any nosy neighbors. As far as he could see, the street was deserted. It wasn’t as if the houses were next to each other, they all had spacious grounds and trees around them. Besides, the house was up in the hills and quite remote.

  In minutes his plan would be put into action.

  He took a deep breath. It wasn’t long before he’d be a rich man.

  •

  AS SOON as Nicci slammed the front door, the doorbell rang.

  What does Brian want now? she thought, dropping her purse and packages on the floor. More stories about Evan?

  She flung open the door.

  A man stood there in a stocking mask. A man so large and frightening looking that she almost cried out.

  For a moment she was paralyzed, then, as she attempted to slam the door on hi
m, his large foot jammed it open, and before she could stop him, he pushed his way inside the house and grabbed her in a choke-hold.

  Next someone placed a chloroform pad over her mouth and nose, and she felt her world crumbling as she fell into a deep unconscious state and slumped helplessly to the ground.

  Chapter Thirty-eight

  * * *

  THE MAHONEYS had lived in their apartment for thirty-two years. It wasn’t a luxurious place, but the sturdy, brown building had withstood earthquakes, floods, and riots. Mrs. Mahoney—a happy soul—worked as a cleaner for a rich family in Sherman Oaks. Mr. Mahoney lived off his pension and stayed home a lot, watching TV. They had no children, never felt the urge. They did have a cat, a small, yappy dog, a parrot, and two fish.

  On Saturday afternoon, Mrs. Mahoney emerged from her apartment and came face-to-face with two policemen, one white and one black. With them was the ruddy-faced man who owned the bar around the corner.

  “ ’Morning, Sam,” Mrs. Mahoney said, recognizing the barman immediately. “What’re you doing here?” She stared at the two cops. “And what’re they doing here?”

  The small, yappy dog started to bark, tugging at the bottom of the white cop’s trousers. He attempted to kick the dog away.

  “Lookin’ for Pattie,” Sam said. “She ain’t been in for two days. Not like her. No phone call, nothin’. I tried reachin’ her. Started thinkin’ there coulda bin foul play, so I called the cops.”

  “Foul play?” Mrs. Mahoney said, eyebrows rising. “I’ve never heard of such a thing. In our building?”

  “You don’t happen to know the whereabouts of the tenant in that apartment, do you, ma’am?” the black cop asked, indicating the apartment across the hall from the Mahoneys.

  “No,” Mrs. Mahoney said. “I don’t care for that girl. She’s too noisy, and she drops garbage in the hallway.”

  “She’s a slag,” Sam said in agreement. “Everyone knows that. Still we gotta find out why she ain’t come to work.”

  “Where can we reach the janitor?” the white cop asked.

  “My husband has a key to all the apartments,” Mrs. Mahoney said. “Why? Are you going in?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Aren’t you supposed to have a warrant or something?”

  “You’ve been watching too much TV,” the black cop said. “Law & Order, NYPD Blue?”

  Mrs. Mahoney went back into her apartment and disturbed her husband, who was busy drooling over Pamela Anderson on a Baywatch rerun. “They want to get into the apartment opposite,” she said. “Where’s the key?”