Hollywood Divorces

by Jackie Collins

  “It has nothing to do with you,” Pete assured her. “This would’ve happened anyway.”

  “Not if I’d given up my career and been by his side.”

  In the car on the way to the airport she decided to tell him about the baby. “There’s something you should know, Pete,” she said in a low voice. “Yesterday I found out I’m pregnant.”

  “Oh Jesus! Now I know why you’ve been in such a funk about everything.”

  “I have to go back to Linc,” she said, nodding to herself. “You’re a wonderful man, and I’ve enjoyed our time together, but Linc is my husband and I love him, so I am going back.”

  Pete nodded, although he was dying inside. “I understand.”

  At the airport he informed her that he was coming with her on the plane to New York.

  “It’s not necessary,” she said. “I’ll manage.”

  “No,” he said, watching her closely. “I’m flying with you. You can’t be by yourself.”

  “You don’t have to do that,” she said softly.

  “Yes, Shelby. I do.”

  He purchased both their tickets, and they caught the next flight out.

  Later, sitting on the plane, Shelby was frozen with fear. She kept on remembering the good times and the bad. The happiness and despair. Life with Linc had never been dull. And now . . . What if he didn’t pull through? What would she do then?

  She had to stop thinking about it. The only positive thing she could do was hope that he made it.

  • • •

  As soon as Nick and Cat walked into the Hard Rock, the front desk alerted the manager, and he came running out to meet them and escort them to a complimentary suite, where Amy and Jonas were already settled.

  Amy, clad in yellow-and-black striped leggings and an oversized tee shirt, was sitting cross-legged on the terrace eating a bowl of cereal and sliced banana. “Wow!” she exclaimed, jumping up. “What happened to you two? You look like you’ve been through a garbage dump and come out the other side.”

  “Thanks,” Cat said, stealing a slice of banana. “Guess I’d better go take a shower.”

  “Lead the way,” Nick said, regarding her with affection.

  “Oh,” Amy said knowingly, “so it’s like that, is it?”

  Nick and Cat exchanged an intimate look, both of them unable to wipe the smile off their faces.

  “That’s cool,” Amy said casually. “It means you won’t be too knocked over by our news.”

  “What news?” Nick asked. “And where’s Jonas?”

  “He’s downstairs buying me a—”

  “Buying you a what?”

  “Hmm, you’d better take a look at these and have a guess,” Amy said, handing them a couple of photos.

  Cat and Nick viewed the photos together. They were of an overstuffed Elvis impersonator in a white suit, holding a Bible, standing under a sign that read THE ELVIS WEDDING CHAPEL. Opposite him were Jonas and Amy, hand in hand, with huge smiles on their faces.

  “Don’t tell me you—,” Nick began.

  “Yup,” Amy yelled excitedly. “We did!”

  “You did!” Cat screamed. “And you had Elvis! How cool is that?”

  “Couldn’t help ourselves,” Amy said. “We got here way before you guys, and we had nothing to do— except gamble, which Jonas doesn’t. So . . . since we were celebrating—”

  “Celebrating what?” Nick asked.

  “Merrill made Jonas a producer on his next movie.”

  “That’s fantastic!” Cat exclaimed.

  “Anyway,” Amy continued. “So we kinda sorta . . . y’know, decided to get married.”

  “Holy shit!” Nick exclaimed.

  “Insanity obviously runs in the family,” Cat remarked.

  “I’ll tell you something,” Nick said, indicating Cat. “If my girl wasn’t already married, we’d probably be doin’ it ourselves.”

  “We would?” Cat said.

  “Yeah, we would,” Nick said, challenging her to argue.

  “I dunno about that.”

  “I do.”

  “I don’t.”

  “You always have to be the boss, don’t you?”

  “Yeah, as a matter of fact I do.”

  “What you need is a man who can control you.”

  “And I suppose you’re that man?”

  “Looks like it.”

  “Children! Children!” Amy chided, as Jonas walked in.

  “Hey,” Jonas greeted. “You’re here.”

  “And I always thought you were so introverted and careful,” Cat said, shaking her head. “Obviously I was totally wrong.”

  “She told you,” he said sheepishly.

  “She sure did! I’m proud of you, Jonas. Get your butt over here—the bridegroom owes me a kiss.”

  “Here’s the plan,” Nick said. “We’ll grab a couple of hours’ sleep, then we’re gonna blow this town wide open. We got some major celebrating to do. It isn’t every day my little sis gets married!”

  • • •

  She’d been lying to him. Lola Sanchez loved Tony Alvarez. She did not love Matt Seel.

  The bitch had been lying to him all along.

  Matt prowled around the house while his wife slept in the luxurious bedroom she wanted him out of.

  Matt out.

  Tony in.

  It was that simple.

  Goddamn spic. Matt hated his guts. If it wasn’t for Tony Alvarez everything would be all right between him and Lola. They’d stay married. Probably have kids to cement the deal. And he, Matt Seel, would become a superstar.

  Jesusfuckingchrist! Tony Alvarez was the devil. He’d lured Lola away with his devilish powers.

  Matt walked to the bar and took a bottle of beer from the fridge. He drank it down in several big gulps, then opened another one.

  Did she honestly expect him to leave again? Leave, so that she could get all cozy with the spic?

  Of course, she wasn’t exactly a pure American girl. She was a spic herself, if the truth was known. And the truth was known, she didn’t try to hide it.

  Lola Sanchez. The Latina sex bomb.

  Lola Sanchez. Cheating bitch!

  So the two spies wanted to be together and have little spic kids, was that it? While he, Matt Seel, a pureborn American, was left out in the cold.

  He’d had enough.

  Tony Alvarez was not going to come between him and his future.

  No fucking way.

  • • •

  Cat closed her eyes and gave herself up to the moment. Nick was a skilled lover, with all the right moves. They had a rhythm going, a fantastic, wonderful rhythm. Being in bed with him was almost as if it was their first time together. Making love on the beach earlier seemed like some kind of distant crazed adventure.

  This had all started as a revenge fuck; now she was in bed with Nick Logan in Las Vegas and enjoying every minute of it. They were totally compatible.

  “You do know that you’re fuckin’ gorgeous, don’t you?” he said, pumping away.

  “Such a way with words,” she murmured, moving out from under him so that she could get on top.

  He began to laugh as she straddled him. “Always gotta be in charge, huh?” Then his laughter turned to heavy breathing as she rode him to an incredible climax.

  “Jesus!” he exclaimed when they were both finished. “That was the greatest.”

  “Mmm,” she agreed, rolling off him. “You’re not bad.”

  “Seems like you’ve had a practice run or two,” he said, reaching for a cigarette.

  “And I’ve got a feeling you’ve done this before,” she murmured.

  “A few times,” he said, lighting his cigarette. “Never with anyone like you.”

  “And he knows what to say, too.”

  “Hey, the first time I saw you I knew this was gonna happen.”

  “I didn’t.”

  “You certainly did,” he said, blowing smoke rings toward the ceiling. “You were trying to ward me off ’caus
e you were my director, so it wasn’t cool to hop into bed with your main actor. Right?”

  “Your ego is out of control.”

  “Took a lotta willpower, though, didn’t it?”

  “Don’t flatter yourself.”

  “There’s nothing like the real thing, huh?” he said, turning toward her.

  “I thought casual fucking was your bag.”

  “Then I met you.”

  “Hmm . . .”

  “Hmm, what?”

  “Until the next one comes along.”

  “You’re wrong, blondie. Very, very wrong.”

  “We’ll see,” she said, not prepared to believe a word he said. “Only don’t sweat it, ’cause casual sex suits me just fine right now. We can make it as casual as you like.”

  CHAPTER

  * * *

  44

  Something awoke Lola. She wasn’t sure what it was—a noise, a bump, or maybe it was a car starting.

  She sat up and glanced at the clock. It was almost six in the morning.

  Hmm . . . if there was an intruder on the premises, Big Jay would’ve been on the case. Big Jay slept above the garage in his own apartment, and there was also a guard on duty down by the front gate.

  She wondered if Matt was still asleep in the guest bedroom. Had she been too harsh on him?

  No. Why pretend? He was about to walk away with a lot of money, and a case of half-assed fame. Women would want to be with him simply because he was the ex-Mr. Lola Sanchez.

  She clicked on the TV, switching to the security channel, where she could see the gate.

  There was a car leaving the driveway. Her car. Her Bentley.

  Oh shit! Matt had taken her Bentley again. He’d gone and taken her car. Damn! She couldn’t believe his nerve; he knew how pissed off she’d be.

  Oh well, too late to stop him now.

  Did this mean that she’d have to give him another settlement and the Bentley? Because it was unlikely that Otto would get it back for her a second time.

  Her thoughts shifted to Tony. Today she’d call him and tell him of her plan. “I think we should get married,” she’d say. “Dump the puta and let’s get serious here. I’ll arrange a fast divorce, and I promise I’ll never run out on you again.”

  Yes, that’s what she’d say. And Tony would forgive her, because if he wasn’t prepared to forgive her, he wouldn’t have lured her into the bedroom at the party, locked the door, and forced her to her knees.

  Not that he’d had to force her. She loved giving Tony Alvarez head. He was the best-tasting man in the world. A prince, a king. He was her man. And she loved everything about him.

  Was it too early to call him? Yes. Tony was a night person. When he wasn’t working he usually slept until noon.

  Was Maria lying next to him?

  Unlikely, because after she’d told him about catching his girlfriend with Raja, he’d probably dumped her. Tony was not the kind of man who’d put up with sloppy seconds.

  She got out of bed and went into the bathroom. It was almost light outside, and she didn’t feel like going back to sleep. She thought about driving over to her mother’s. Claudine always arose early, and sometimes she could be persuaded to fix pancakes with crispy bacon and homemade jam.

  Yes, she’d go over to Mama’s house, corner her in the kitchen, and tell her very calmly that she did not love Matt, that there was no way she was staying with him—and if Tony would have her, they were getting married.

  If Claudine threw a shit fit, it was too damn bad.

  • • •

  Matt drove Lola’s Bentley as though he was a general about to go to war.

  Oh, Lola would be so angry when she noticed her precious car was gone.

  He couldn’t care less. After all, he was only borrowing it. He’d bring it back, because very soon she’d want him back.

  He’d dressed all in black and found his ski mask, which he’d placed on the passenger seat. He also had on a knit cap pulled low on his forehead. His outfit made him feel powerful and invincible—like a Ninja warrior.

  Whistling softly under his breath, he headed for the Hollywood Hills.

  • • •

  “There’s no way I can sleep,” Cat said, suddenly sitting up in bed. “I’m way too hyper.”

  “Me, too,” Nick agreed. “Wanna go play?”

  “It’s six A.M.,” she pointed out.

  “So?” he said, yawning. “There’s no clocks in casinos. Nobody gives a shit. I’ll set you up with a bunch of dollar bills and you’ll play the slots.”

  “Oh,” she said tartly. “You think I’m playing the slots while you sit at the blackjack table having fun with the grown-ups?”

  He reached for a cigarette. “You’ll have fun playing the slots.”

  “Who do you think I am, a little old lady on a walker?” she said, jumping on top of him. “I insist you teach me blackjack.”

  “I can’t believe you’ve never played,” he said, rolling her off him.

  “I used to hang out in the casinos in Cannes and Monte Carlo with my dad,” she said, remembering her unconventional childhood. “It was major boring. Full of incredibly ancient people hunched over the tables. I used to sneak off to the bar and persuade the barman to slip me a drink.”

  “What didja have to do to persuade him?”

  “Well,” she said, grinning, “remember that technique I demonstrated earlier?”

  He put up his hand. “Don’t wanna hear where you learned it.”

  “It was pretty good, huh?” she said, still grinning. “Gives a whole new meaning to the word ‘French.’ ”

  “Oh yeah,” he said, laughing and dragging her out of bed. “C’mon, let’s get dressed and go downstairs.”

  “Should we do anything about Amy and Jonas?”

  “No. They’re a honeymoon couple, let ’em sleep.”

  • • •

  Lately Tony Alvarez had been doing a lot of thinking about Lola. She was hot, she was sexy, but sometimes her fame was too much of a good thing. Everything she did was scrutinized. Everywhere they went, people stared.

  Not that he minded the staring so much—he was well known in his own right. But the constant wave of publicity that followed her everywhere got on his nerves, plus he hated being picked to pieces by the tabloids. Maybe if he didn’t keep on getting back with Lola, they’d leave him alone.

  On the other hand there was Maria. Young, pliable Maria. Not famous yet, she was always available, and certainly not as contrary as Lola. One moment Lola was leaving her husband, the next she was back with the prick. He never knew where he stood with her.

  This kind of drama did not appeal to Tony, although if he made the decision not to see her again, he’d miss her soft lips, voluptuous body, and their very special private games.

  Knowing Lola, he wouldn’t have to give her up entirely. If she stayed with her husband, she’d still want to get together on the side.

  On the way home from the party, he’d questioned Maria about Raja.

  “How could I say no?” Maria had answered, all wide-eyed and exceptionally pretty. “She was the guest of honor, Tonee. My parents taught me to be polite.”

  Sweet.

  “Sometimes, Tonee,” she’d added slyly, “you might enjoy two girls together? I have a friend who will come over and spend the rest of the night with us.”

  Even though Lola had given him spectacular head in Jorge’s private bedroom, he was always up for more.

  “Go ahead and call her,” he’d said.

  Maria’s friend had come to his house. She was a Caucasian beauty with long blond hair down to the top of her thighs. The three of them had played in Tony’s bed until the early hours.

  Later, both girls had fallen asleep draped all over him.

  He hadn’t minded. Why would he?

  The only problem was that Lola was on his mind, and he couldn’t sleep.

  • • •

  Lola hurriedly put on a tracksuit and baseball cap, then
ran downstairs.

  Big Jay was still not up, nor was her housekeeper.

  She peeked into the den to see if Matt had collected all his personal possessions, such as his collection of sports DVDs and the script he’d been writing forever.

  She noticed that her personal organizer lay open on the desk. She didn’t remember opening it herself, so she walked over and picked it up. The organizer was open to the letter A, where Tony’s address and private numbers were listed. Somebody had slashed a thick red X through his name.

  Why would anybody do that?

  Matt, of course, showing off his venom.

  How pathetic.

  She was about to leave the room when it occurred to her to wonder why Matt was looking up Tony’s address. Not that Matt would ever do anything foolish. But still. . .

  Returning upstairs, she checked out Matt’s closet to see if he’d taken his clothes.

  No. Everything was still there, hanging neatly.

  Hmm . . . he’d left early in the morning without taking anything. She had a lingering feeling that something was not quite right.

  Maybe she should call Tony just in case.

  No, she decided, absolutely not. Tony would not appreciate being awoken so early.

  She picked up the phone and called her mother instead. “Pancakes, Mama?” she asked hopefully. “I’m starving.”

  “For you, Lucia—of course.”

  “I’m on my way.”

  • • •

  “Can I get you anything?” the flight attendant inquired. She was a faded pretty girl with tight brown curls and a tired smile.

  “No, thanks,” Pete said, indicating Shelby, who’d fallen asleep with her head on his shoulder. “Ms. Cheney is sleeping.”

  “Do you think I can get her autograph when she wakes up?” the flight attendant asked, brightening slightly.

  “This is not a good time.”

  “It’s not?”

  “Ms. Cheney is dealing with a personal crisis.”

  “So an autograph won’t be possible?” the flight attendant said, bristling slightly.

  “I’ll ask her for you.”

  “I’d certainly like to get one.”

  Pete rolled his eyes as the woman walked away. When it came to celebrities, people didn’t care what was going on in their personal lives. As far as the general public was concerned, celebrities were their rightful property.