Hollywood Divorces • Hollywood Wives: The New Generation

by Jackie Collins

  ‘An’ that’s exactly the way it should be,’ said Mr Sure of Himself.

  Linc didn’t remember a thing, not one fucking thing. He staggered off the bed, fully dressed, red-eyed and sick to his stomach. He just about made it into the bathroom where he caught sight of himself in the mirror. As usual, after a major bender he looked like crap.

  Drinking fucked up his mind, his body and his soul.

  Christ! What had happened last night? As far as he could recall, he’d taken Lola to Mario’s, Mama Mario had been all over him, and that was it. The rest was a blank. He couldn’t remember a goddamn thing.

  Blackouts were dangerous shit.

  It was all because of Shelby and the stupid photo of her in a magazine with some asshole she’d gone out with years ago. Why had that upset him so much?

  Because the asshole was Pete, that’s why. And Pete was desperate to fuck with him.

  He made his way into the living room and picked up the call sheet from the desk. One o’clock. By one o’clock he had to be looking human. Yeah, lots of luck.

  What time was Shelby arriving from L.A.? He’d forgotten. Maybe five or six, something like that.

  He spied an empty Scotch bottle and a dirty glass. He called maid service and ordered them to send somebody in to clean up. Then he forced himself back into the bathroom and stood under a cold shower for ten minutes.

  By the time he emerged, he was ready for his first snort of coke. Getting high meant he’d feel better, and it sure beat the hell out of drinking.

  No more drinking.

  Carefully he laid out the white powder and snorted a couple of lines. Without warning his nose started to bleed. He hurried into the bathroom, grabbed a damp washcloth and held it to his nose.

  Jesus Christ! What was happening to him? He was falling to pieces.

  As soon as the bleeding stopped, he paged his dealer and told him to come right over. Then he called room service and ordered eggs, bacon and a Bloody Mary to take away the fuzziness.

  A half-hour later the room-service waiter delivered breakfast. The sight of food made his stomach turn, and the only thing he could get down was the Bloody Mary.

  Soon after that his dealer arrived, the smarmy real-estate agent with a know-it-all attitude. Linc wanted him in and out, but the man always attempted to stay around and talk. Unfortunately he had to deal with him personally–it was safer that way.

  They exchanged pleasantries, money and coke, and after the guy left, Linc went into the bedroom and lay on the bed until it was time to leave for the studio.

  Lola greeted him in the makeup trailer. ‘You’re late,’ she said, in her low-down, throaty voice. ‘And Tony is pissed about our photo.’

  ‘What photo?’ he said, not in the mood for light conversation.

  ‘You haven’t seen the newspapers?’ she said, drawing him over to a corner where they couldn’t be overheard.

  ‘No, I haven’t seen the goddamn newspapers,’ he growled. ‘What’s the deal?’

  ‘I’ve no idea who alerted the photographers, but they were there when we left the restaurant last night. And let me remind you, you were feeling no pain. You pulled me into a clinch in front of them.’ A long beat. ‘It upset me, Linc. That’s why I had Big Jay put you in a cab. You were impossible. I couldn’t deal with you.’

  ‘You put me in a cab?’ he said, hardly believing she would do such a thing.

  ‘I had to.’

  ‘Great! I was suffering from some kind of twenty-four-hour flu an’ you put me in a cab. Thanks a lot for caring.’

  ‘It wasn’t the flu, Linc. You drank too much.’

  ‘I hardly drink, Lola,’ he said, stony-faced.

  ‘Last night you did. Tony’s furious about the photo, he’s threatening to beat you up.’

  ‘I could throw Tony Alvarez in a grinder and make mincemeat out of him.’

  ‘You can’t blame him. Tony’s a Latino man and I am his woman.’

  ‘Jesus Christ!’ Linc groaned, his head pounding.

  Everything was going from bad to worse, and the last thing he felt like doing was acting. Light romantic comedy was not his genre. He wanted to get back to doing what he excelled at. Action adventure. At least in action movies he didn’t have to endure endless closeups and turn on the charm.

  ‘I’ll see you on the set,’ Lola murmured.

  Bitch! They were all bitches.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Merrill Zandack was in a talkative mood. Shelby had hoped to have time to herself on the plane, but when the host was aboard, conversation became a necessary occupation–one of the hazards of flying privately.

  The moment she got on board, Merrill invited her to join him at the round table he always sat at. She could hardly refuse, in spite of the heavy cigar smoke swirling around him, which made her feel slightly sick. After takeoff, he handed her a stack of reviews in a leather folder embossed with her name and the date. ‘Had ’em put together in case you haven’t seen ’em all,’ he said.

  ‘How thoughtful of you, Merrill,’ she said, accepting the folder. ‘You shouldn’t have.’

  ‘I know how most producers treat the actresses in their movies. Your PR shows you this, the studio shows you that. Problem is you never get to see everything. Read and learn.’

  ‘Learn what?’ she asked curiously.

  ‘Learn that you’re at the peak of your career, the place every actor dreams about–the big one.’

  ‘The big one?’

  ‘Yeah. For Tom Cruise it was Risky Business. Julia Roberts, Pretty Woman. For you it’s Rapture. From here on out, every other movie you make, you’ll have to live up to your performance in Rapture.’

  ‘Wonderful,’ she said drily. ‘Why does that make me feel so depressed?’

  ‘It’s not a bad thing, Shelby,’ he said, indulging in a short coughing fit. ‘Caught is the right kind of movie for you to do now. Halle Berry followed Monster’s Ball with a Bond movie. Now that was an excellent choice.’

  ‘Are you saying that I can never live up to my performance in Rapture?’

  ‘No, I’m sayin’ that you gotta take advantage of this time. You’re married to a famous man, you gotta make sure he doesn’t try to hold you down.’

  ‘Linc would never do that,’ she said confidently. ‘He encourages me.’

  ‘You say that now. But I know what’s likely to happen.’

  ‘You do?’

  ‘There’s gonna be professional jealousy,’ Merrill said, nodding to himself. ‘It’s only human nature.’

  ‘Not between me and Linc.’

  ‘I’ve been in this business a long time, kiddo. When husband and wife are both actors an’ one does better than the other it always gets tricky.’

  ‘Linc’s not at all jealous of me.’

  ‘He’s never had to deal with you being more successful than him.’

  ‘I’m not,’ she said, frowning.

  ‘Wait until you get your nomination,’ Merrill said, blowing a stream of acrid smoke into the cabin.

  ‘What nomination?’ Shelby asked, perplexed.

  ‘You heard it from me first. You’ll get nominated for Rapture.’

  ‘It would certainly be a great honour. However, I’m not at all sure.’

  ‘Wanna bet money on it?’

  ‘I don’t bet, Merrill.’

  ‘Be smart–listen to what I’m telling you and watch out.’

  ‘For what?’

  ‘For Linc, goddamn it. He’s your biggest enemy right now. One way or the other he’ll try to sabotage you.’

  She’d had enough. The last thing she needed to hear was Merrill Zandack’s view of her husband’s behaviour. ‘Will you excuse me, Merrill?’ she said, getting up from the table. ‘I think I’ll try and take a nap. Do you mind?’

  ‘Unhappy with what I’m saying, huh?’ he said, his double chins bobbing up and down. ‘Can’t say I blame you.’

  ‘It’s not that,’ she said, making excuses. ‘I’m tired. I’ve had an i
ncredibly busy week.’

  ‘Read your reviews. It’ll make you feel better.’

  ‘Thanks,’ she said, moving to a seat as far away from him as possible.

  After an early lunch at the Ivy at the Shore, Jonas seemed more like himself.

  ‘You were very uptight last night,’ Cat remarked, nibbling a chocolate chip cookie. ‘Did you have a problem?’

  ‘No problem.’

  ‘Maybe you miss being Merrill’s assistant,’ she teased.

  ‘That’s a given.’

  ‘There’s no way you can go back to your old assistant job. After we wrap you must insist to Merrill that he puts you on all his future movies.’

  ‘You think he’d do that?’ Jonas asked tentatively.

  ‘Why not? After all, I’m sure he calls you twice a day to check up on me. Am I right?’

  ‘Of course he does.’

  ‘And what do you tell him?’

  ‘That you’re a genius.’

  ‘Thanks,’ she said, with a mischievous grin. ‘Exactly what I wanted to hear.’

  ‘Did you speak to Jump this morning?’

  ‘Yeah. His latest threat is to throw all my stuff out on to the street.’

  ‘What’re you doing about that?’

  ‘A few months ago my girlfriend, Luanne, was staying at our loft with her baby. I’ll call her, ask her to do me a favour and pack up my stuff.’

  ‘Sounds like an idea.’

  ‘I guarantee Jump’ll claim all our CDs and books, which is a drag ’cause I bought most of them.’

  ‘Perhaps you’ve heard of Tower Records and Book Soup?’ he said offhandedly. ‘Not to mention Amazon.’

  ‘You’re so practical, Jonas. That’s what I like about you.’

  ‘So now it’s my practicality you like?’

  ‘Nothing wrong with that,’ she said, taking another cookie. ‘Now, all we’ve got to do is find you a girlfriend, ’cause all work and no play—’

  ‘You can talk,’ he interrupted.

  ‘I’ve no time for a guy.’

  ‘That makes two of us.’

  ‘What? You’ve no time for a guy either?’

  ‘She’s such a joker.’

  ‘I try to keep it real,’ she said, signalling for the check.

  They left the restaurant and drove to the location early. Cat stood around conferring with some of her crew who were already there. Then she went into her trailer and continued working on the storyboards.

  After a while there was a knock, and Nick put his head round the door. ‘Hey,’ he said, all tousled hair and cocky grin, cigarette glued to his bottom lip. ‘Didja enjoy yourself last night?’

  ‘You’ve got some interesting friends,’ she offered.

  ‘Yeah, I do, don’t I? We all moved to L.A. at the same time. I was the one who got lucky, which means that right now I’m the one pickin’ up everyone’s tab. The second they make it, it’ll be their turn.’

  ‘Sounds fair.’

  ‘What didja think of the girls?’

  ‘Lovely,’ she said, vaguely sarcastic. ‘Which one got unlucky? Oops, sorry! I mean lucky.’

  ‘Both of them,’ he boasted.

  ‘Did you have enough to go round?’

  ‘Seems like you haven’t heard about my reputation,’ he said, with a knowing wink.

  ‘Is it as big as you seem to think it is?’ she retorted.

  ‘Wanna find out?’

  ‘No, thanks.’

  He chain-lit another cigarette. ‘How long you and your old man been split?’

  ‘Not that long. Why?’

  ‘You caught him with another girl, right?’

  ‘I’m not sharing the details.’

  ‘You gotta be feeling way horny.’

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘I said, you must be feeling horny.’

  ‘Y’know what, Nick?’ she said impatiently. ‘I’m trying to work here.’

  ‘Got it,’ he said, with another jaunty wink. ‘See you on the set.’

  Somehow Shelby harboured a romantic fantasy that Linc would be at the airport to meet her. Unfortunately, her romantic fantasy was exactly that–a fantasy. There was no Linc. Instead there was a car and driver who delivered her to the hotel.

  Flying always made her anxious, and she was tired. She hoped that Linc had not made any plans for that evening.

  The manager of the hotel was waiting in the lobby to greet her. ‘We are delighted you will be staying with us this weekend, Ms Cheney.’

  ‘Please call me Mrs Blackwood,’ she said, as he helped her with her hand luggage.

  ‘Certainly, Mrs Blackwood. Your husband is enjoying his stay with us. I hope you will too. We do our best to please.’

  ‘I’m sure you do.’

  ‘If you’re ready, I’ll escort you up to Mr Blackwood’s suite.’

  It was large and luxurious. Linc wasn’t there–he was probably still working. Shelby didn’t mind because she wanted to take a shower and freshen up before she saw him.

  A knock on the door heralded a bell-boy with flowers and a huge basket of fruit.

  For a moment she thought the flowers were from Linc, but the note accompanying them was a ‘welcome to New York’ gesture from the producer of Rapture.

  She tipped the bell-boy and began to unpack. When she’d finished, she took a shower and put on a simple white dress, one of Linc’s favourites.

  For a moment she thought about calling his cellphone, then decided not to bug him.

  He’d be there soon enough, and she’d be waiting.

  ‘I’m coming right up,’ Tony announced.

  ‘I thought we were on our way out,’ Lola responded. ‘I’m all dressed and ready.’

  ‘No, I wanna come up,’ Tony said insistently.

  She’d recently got off the phone to her mother, always a downer. Mama was so damn critical of her relationship with Tony. It almost made her want to marry him and really piss the family off. Not that he’d asked her since they’d got back together. But if she really wanted him to–he would.

  Hmm…Mrs Tony Alvarez. Sounded good. Or how about Lola Sanchez Alvarez? Even better.

  She checked herself out in the mirror. She had on a tight scarlet dress plunging in the front, Jimmy Choo stilettos, ruby chandelier earrings, and her hair was wild and sexy, the way Tony liked it.

  Big Jay hovered in the lobby of her suite. ‘Mr Alvarez is on his way up,’ she informed him. ‘When he gets here, make yourself scarce.’

  ‘Sure, Miss Lola. I’ll be outside if you need me.’

  ‘Thanks. You always know what I want, don’t you?’

  Big Jay let loose with a rare smile. He’d been Lola Sanchez’s personal security for two years and he’d savoured every minute. Who wouldn’t?

  Tony entered, smiling, looking sharp in a white suit and black shirt. ‘Music, babe. I’m in the mood for Marc Anthony.’

  ‘I’m always in the mood for Marc Anthony,’ she said, smiling back at him.

  ‘You, my sexy little witch, look hot. Guess who was on my mind in New Orleans? An’, believe me, there’s some freako babes in that city.’

  ‘Not to mention the imported babe you had with you. You’re such a bastard!’

  ‘I kicked her to the kerb real fast.’

  ‘I should hope so.’

  ‘C’mere, Lola-Lola, lemme take a long look at you.’ She sashayed toward him. ‘Get me vodka,’ he ordered.

  ‘Do I look like the room-service waiter?’ she asked imperiously.

  ‘Get me one of those bottles from the mini-bar.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘’Cause I’m gonna suck it off your fine nipples, baby. Go to it.’

  ‘Tony!’ she exclaimed. ‘I’m all dressed and ready to go out. I thought we were planning to salsa the night away.’

  ‘We’re gonna salsa the night away all right,’ he said, with a wolf-like grin, ‘only first I gotta have those nipples in my mouth, so go fetch the vodka. Go, girl, go!’

  ‘No
, Tony,’ she said stubbornly. ‘You’ll spill it on my dress.’

  ‘Do it!’ he said darkly. ‘That’s an order, woman.’

  There was something exciting about a man who wouldn’t take no for an answer. She did as he asked, fetching a miniature bottle of vodka from the mini-bar.

  As she walked back towards him, she realized that she was already sexually aroused. Tony had a way of turning her on like no other man.

  He took the vodka from her and, with a practised flick of his wrist, undid the halter on her dress, peeling it down until her breasts were exposed.

  ‘You’re such a bad boy,’ she said, catching her breath.

  ‘You got the finest tits in the world,’ he said admiringly. ‘Take everythin’ off.’

  She didn’t need asking twice. Wriggling out of the tight material, she placed her dress carefully on the back of the couch.

  The shades were not drawn. She didn’t care who was watching, it was all good.

  Naked, apart from a black lace thong, she pressed her body against his.

  ‘You’re somethin’, babe,’ he said, thrusting his fingers into the delicate sides of her thong and pulling it down. ‘Look at you with your shaved pussy and your big juicy tits. You do it for me, babe. Every time. I wanna see you in nothing but diamonds and high heels. My baby was made for bling-bling. That’s it.’ Grinning, he opened the bottle of vodka with his teeth. Then slowly he began pouring the cold liquid over her bare breasts, sucking and licking it off.

  She came almost immediately.

  Tony Alvarez was surely the sexiest man in the entire world.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Linc did not trust himself to go back to the hotel. They’d finished filming for the day, but he had no urge to leave his trailer. Instead he snorted a few more lines of coke, before deciding that one drink was a necessity. Too bad if Shelby discovered he’d been drinking–she was hardly in a position to criticize.

  He hoped she hadn’t seen the New York papers. Tomorrow they’d be old news, somebody’s cat litter.

  He was still furious about the photo in People, and about her movie, which everyone seemed to be talking about. And he hadn’t forgotten the USA Today story where she’d trashed him.