“A hard-on and a smile,” he joked, not at all intimidated by the sexy actress. He was in good shape due to five hundred push-ups a day, an hour on the treadmill, plus lifting weights. For a man his age he looked pretty damn good. Not that he was old, but you had to be twenty-two in Hollywood these days.
“What’s under your robe?” he asked.
You bastard! she thought. If you had any kind of memory you’d know exactly what was under my robe. “Wouldn’t you like to know,” she said, faking a sexy smile.
Maybe. If I wasn’t married, he thought.
When it came time for a rehearsal, Fitch suggested that they both keep their bathrobes on.
“Why?” Lola demanded. “If we want to get this right, let’s do it properly.” She stood up, shedding her bathrobe and handing it to the wardrobe woman, who gave her a fluffy white towel in exchange. Very slowly and sensuously she wrapped the towel around her almost naked body.
An audible gasp went around the crew. “Holy cow!” the focus puller muttered. “What a woman!”
The scene took place in a bedroom, with Lola emerging from the bathroom clad only in the towel.
Fitch was settled behind the camera, issuing instructions. “Linc, enter the shot, grab Lola, and as you both fall on the bed, take her towel away, making sure you block her body.”
“Think I can do that,” Linc said.
“Keep your bathrobe on until you get her to the bed, then she’ll take it off you.”
“No, no!” Lola said heatedly. “She rips it off him. This woman is impatient.”
“That’s not how it’s written in the script,” Fitch said.
“Words,” Lola scoffed. “I know this character. This woman is passionate—like me. And since this is their first time together, she can’t wait to feel the heat of his skin against hers.”
“We’ll try it your way, Lola,” Fitch agreed, not about to argue with the fiery actress, who seemed to know exactly what she was doing. “That okay with you, Linc?”
“Sure,” Linc said.
The moment the scene started, Lola was all over him. As he started to pull the towel away from her, she grabbed him and they began kissing.
Linc immediately felt himself beginning to get erect. This woman was some kisser, plus she had her almost naked body pressed against him real close, and he hadn’t seen his wife in over a week.
After a few moments he knew he’d better slow things down. “Somebody call cut,” he yelled.
“This is a rehearsal,” Fitch said. “What’s your problem?”
“The colonel is saluting—if you get what I mean.”
The entire crew broke up laughing.
Lola smiled a slow, seductive smile. “I’m sorry, Linc,” she said demurely. “Is it something I did?”
“I’ll get over it,” he said, unable to keep his eyes off her spectacular body.
“Don’t feel embarrassed, it happens with most of my co-stars,” Lola murmured innocently. Hmm . . . Mr. Blackwood. You’re going to be easy . . .
“I’m sure it does,” he said. Christ! If Shelby knew about this she’d be most unhappy. He took Fitch to one side. “This could be an ongoing problem,” he muttered.
“Your problem is my problem,” Fitch agreed. “We should take a short break.”
“You mean—”
“Yeah,” Fitch said, man to man. “I mean, go take care of it and let’s get this shot in the can.”
Lola had the best afternoon. Not only was Linc hot for her, but so were the rest of the crew, staring and panting and probably all fantasizing about her. It put her in an excellent mood to meet Tony that night; she was primed and ready.
When Tony arrived at the hotel he had a minion call her suite to inform her that he was waiting in his limo downstairs. Lola was excited; hanging with Tony Alvarez was a kick. He surrounded himself with bodyguards and a mixed entourage of friends and hangerson, creating a stir wherever he went. Tonight would be no different.
She took one last critical look in the mirror. Not much else she could do, because without false modesty she knew she looked amazing. Her chestnut hair was swept up in a sexy tumble of curls, her Versace dress was fabulous, her Jimmy Choo stilettos emphasized her long legs, while her white mink coat and the sparkling diamond bracelet and earrings that Cartier had sent over that afternoon added major glamour. It was all good.
This was the first time since they’d gotten back together that she was seeing Tony as herself and not as one of their favorite playacting characters.
Filled with sexual anticipation, she rode the elevator downstairs with Big Jay in close attendance. Once there, Big Jay escorted her through the lobby and outside to the sidewalk, where a sleek white limousine waited. Tony had a thing for white limos, the bigger the better.
A bevy of photographers sprang forward. There was a rumor in the air that Tony Alvarez might be in the car.
“Who’re you with, Lola?” called one of the photographers. “Who’s in the limo? Is it Tony?”
She smiled at the cameras and posed for a few fleeting seconds. “Wouldn’t you like to know,” she said, teasing them.
Then Big Jay guided her into the limo and slammed the door shut, leaving everyone wondering.
Tony was leaning back against the leather seat, smoking. He had on a pale beige Armani suit, a black silk shirt, plenty of Bling Bling, including an enormous diamond stud embedded in his earlobe. His teeth were whiter than white, his black hair curled over his collar. Lola was turned on just looking.
“I finally get to see the beautiful Lola Sanchez,” he drawled, flashing a sexy smile. “The real Lola Sanchez.”
“I hear tell you’ve been meeting with several friends of mine,” she replied, also smiling.
“Ain’t nothin’ like the real thing,” he sang.
“Here I am,” she purred.
“Gotta say I missed you, babe,” he said, reaching out to pull her close. He smelled of a rich, musky aftershave.
“Careful,” she said, eluding him. “I wouldn’t want to get lipstick on you.”
He removed a white silk monogrammed handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her. “Wipe it off. You know what I want.”
“This is not exactly private,” she said, indicating the driver and Tony’s martial arts bodyguard, both sitting up front.
Tony pressed a button, and the black dividing glass slid into place, separating them from everyone. “C’mere, baby, an’ do it just for me,” he coaxed, leaning even farther back and unzipping his pants.
She obliged. What better way to start a memorable evening?
CHAPTER
* * *
21
Shelby drove herself over the Canyon to meet Pete for lunch. She was not into bodyguards and minders; that wasn’t her reality. And since she’d never had to deal with any serious threats from deranged fans, she still felt comfortable driving around on her own.
It was no big deal, even though Linc didn’t like it when she took off to the dry cleaners or the market. “We’ve got people to do that for us,” he’d said.
“No, Linc, you don’t understand,” she’d explained. “It’s important for me to feel normal.”
“Sweetheart,” he’d insisted, “you’re not normal, you’re a movie star, and movie stars have people who do everything for them. Okay?”
She begged to differ. She did not want to be one of these actresses who were surrounded by assistants and minders, publicists and stylists, with everyone laughing at their jokes and telling them how wonderful they were. Besides, she certainly did not regard herself as a movie star until seeing Rapture. And even now, the term “movie star” was far too Hollywood. She would much rather be regarded as an accomplished actress.
The night before, she’d spoken to Linc on the phone, omitting to mention that she’d run into Pete or their upcoming lunch. Linc wouldn’t approve; he had a wild jealous streak, which he didn’t exhibit often, but when he did, it was not pretty.
Actually, she saw nothing wrong in mee
ting up with Pete. He’d been a good friend to her when she’d first arrived in Hollywood, and she didn’t see why they couldn’t continue to be friends.
She was happy that Linc was obviously enjoying his movie in New York and seemed to be staying sober. It was good for him to be involved in a different kind of project; perhaps it would force the critics to realize how talented he was.
“What’s Lola Sanchez like?” she’d asked.
“A spitfire,” he’d replied. “All the guys on the set are hot for her.”
“And you?” she’d asked teasingly.
“Me, honey? I’m a married man.”
She’d laughed softly. “I’ll be there next weekend. Can’t wait to see you.”
“Don’t overwork yourself,” he’d said.
“I’m not a delicate little flower, Linc,” she’d reminded him. “I’m a big, strapping English girl.”
“Not so much with the strapping,” he’d said with a quick laugh. “I’ll be waiting for you.”
“Linc?” she’d said hesitantly. “Are you sure everything’s okay?”
“Stop with the questions. If I wasn’t okay, you’d hear it in my voice, right?”
“I suppose so.”
“You know so.”
“What are you doing every night?”
“Sitting around in my hotel playing cards and ordering room service. Exciting, huh?”
“I miss you,” she’d said wistfully.
“You too, sweetheart.”
She’d hung up the phone reassured that he was doing well. Yes, she realized it was naive of her to think that a few days in a Malibu rehab center had cured him of drinking forever, but maybe this movie was what he needed. Something different, something to show the public that he was capable of more than over-the-top action films.
She parked her car in the lot next to Jerry’s Deli, and entered the crowded delicatessen. Dressed in casual slacks and a silk shirt, large blackout sunglasses covering her eyes, and her long hair tied back in a ponytail, she could often get away with not being recognized.
Pete was already there. As soon as he saw her, he jumped up from his table and waved. She strolled over.
“You made it,” he said, obviously pleased.
“Yes,” she answered, dazzling him with her smile. “All the way to the Valley. Aren’t I a clever girl?”
“It’s great to see you, Shelby,” he said, a touch awkward. “I’m glad we’re doing this.”
“So am I,” she said, settling into her seat as a waitress came over with menus.
“What do you feel like having?” he asked. “They make a helluva sandwich here.”
“Giant sandwiches,” she replied, perusing the menu. “You Americans eat enough for three people.”
“That’s ’cause we need our energy.”
“So you can fight the rest of the world?”
“Low blow.”
“Sorry,” she murmured, deciding on a tuna melt.
Pete went for a hamburger with everything on it and a side of french fries.
“I’m sure you’re aware that you have a few stunts in our movie,” he said, after the waitress left their table. “I’ll be coordinating your stunt double, which means we’ll be working together quite a bit. I was thinking you should build up your strength.”
“Why would I want to do that?”
“In case you decide to try some of the stunts yourself.”
“Me?”
“Is there a reason you can’t?”
“I’ve never done anything like that before,” she said hesitantly.
“Now’s the time,” he said, full of enthusiasm. “ ’Cause I got a hunch you’ll love it.”
“I will?”
“I could start you on a training program,” he said. “Nothing too strenuous.”
“I don’t know . . .”
“C’mon,” he said encouragingly. “I’ll take you to my gym in Santa Monica, work out a program for you to follow.”
“You have a gym now?”
“A chain of ’em.”
“That’s terrific,” she said, picking up her glass and taking a sip of water. “You know, I am kind of interested in learning about self-defense. Would you be able to teach me?”
“How about shooting a gun?”
“Let’s not get carried away,” she said, laughing softly. “I’m hardly planning on appearing in a cowboy movie.”
“The way the world’s going, learning to shoot is not such a bad idea.”
“Guns scare me,” she said, remembering Linc’s graphic stories about the night his father shot himself in the head.
“Not when you know how to use ’em.”
Their order arrived, and Pete began attacking his burger as if he were a starving man.
Shelby leaned forward, stealing a french fry from his plate. “So tell me, Pete,” she said, attempting to sound casual. “Are you married?”
“No,” he answered, giving her a long, penetrating look. “Truth is, Shelby, I gave up trusting women after you.”
She lowered her eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“I’ll be honest,” he said, speaking slowly. “After you ran off an’ married Linc, I have to admit I was kinda bitter for a while. ’Cause, well . . . you’re not exactly easy to get over.”
“I wish I could make you understand how overwhelming it was for me when I met Linc. We fell in love and I was . . . helpless.” She paused for a moment, wondering what her life would’ve been like if she’d stayed with Pete. Different, that was for sure. “Y’know, Pete,” she continued, her eyes meeting his, “it was never my intention to let you down.”
He nodded. “I know that.”
“I would be so happy if you and Linc could be friends again. I hate thinking it was me who came between you.”
“Me and Linc—friends,” Pete said scornfully. “That’s never gonna happen. I’ll be your friend, not his. There’s no way after what he did to me.”
“Pete,” she said, impulsively reaching across the table and squeezing his hand, “we both did it. Why can’t we be grown-ups and forget about the past?”
“Oh, Shelby, Shelby,” he sighed. “You make it sound so damn simple.”
“It is simple.”
“For you, maybe.”
“For you, too,” she urged. “All you’ve got to do is let go.”
“Easy for you to say.”
“It would mean so much to me.”
He gave her a long, lingering look. “Here’s the big question—does he make you happy?”
“Of course he does,” she replied, once more meeting his gaze. “Linc’s a great guy. I mean, he has his problems, but we’ve managed to work through them.”
“That’s more than most women were able to.do.”
“I promise you, he’s a changed man.”
“Because if he doesn’t make you happy . . .”
“What, Pete?”
“Then he’ll have to deal with me.”
Somehow it was comforting, to know that she had a man who was totally on her side.
• • •
Cocooned in a haze of champagne, grass, and decadence, Lola surfaced slowly. She was naked in Tony Alvarez’s bed in his hotel suite, with Tony asleep beside her. Flung casually across the bed was a mink-lined satin throw, while on the bed were Tony’s black silk sheets—he never traveled without several sets. Tony was an extravagant hedonist.
Thank God it’s Saturday and I’m not on call, she thought, gently touching his back. She could feel the heat still there, vibrating through his dark olive skin. God, Tony Alvarez was an addiction she’d never gotten over.
Naked, she stepped out of bed and padded into the bathroom. What a night! Tony had insisted on exploring all the new Latino supper clubs. They’d covered three or four, with the paparazzi dogging their every step, growing in number as they exited each place. It was exhilarating, running out through back entrances, sneaking into their limo, seeing if they could outrun the paparazzi. Tony, with hi
s sly smile, flashy entourage, and way of doing things with such style.
After she’d gone down on him in the car, he’d presented her with a single ten-carat yellow diamond on a thin diamond chain to wear around her neck. “It’s your slave chain, baby,” he’d said with a cunning smile. “Every time you wear it, you’ll think of me.”
He certainly knew how to please her. But then again, she certainly knew how to please him.
“Where’s your so-called fiancée?” she’d asked, knowing for sure that the girl was history.
“On ice,” he’d replied, pouring more champagne.
End of that story.
They’d started off the evening with Cristal in the limo. It was not until later that he’d begun snorting coke. She was not happy about his habit. “Tony,” she’d pleaded, “you know that’s why I had to leave you last time.”
“You wanna be with me—you take me how I am,” he’d said, full of confidence. “Nobody’s gettin’ busted, baby. I got bodyguards on top of bodyguards.”
“But Tony—”
“Fuck, Lola,” he’d interrupted, his voice hardening. “I’m on probation. You think I wanna go through any legal shit?”
Somehow it added to the danger. Tony, the drugs, the excitement.
Not that she indulged. She’d decided early on that she was never getting into drugs; she knew how they affected people’s looks. She’d watched one actress on a TV series whose face had gotten more bloated and disgusting every time an episode ran. Plus cocaine wasn’t for her, champagne was more her style.
“I don’t understand why drinking doesn’t do it for you,” she’d complained. “What’s the fascination you have with cocaine and the other stuff you’re into?”
“Hey—just know I’m ecstatic you ain’t into it,” he’d said. “Nobody wants to mess with a coke whore. ’Specially not this dude.”
They’d danced the night away with crowds of people watching and surrounding them, clapping them on. They were both fine salsa dancers who took pleasure in excelling. It wasn’t simply because they were famous that they cut such a swath; some couples were meant to be.
Lola knew she should call Otto and warn him that they were back together, and she should certainly inform the formidable Faye. Then she decided the hell with them, it was her decision, she could do whatever she liked.
Hollywood Divorces Page 21
