Carmen was crying a little bit, and Allegra was consoling her. It was the nature of the beast that loved them. It half hated them too. It owned them, and devoured them, and eventually, if they weren't careful, it destroyed them.
“It's scary stuff,” Allegra said gently. It always unnerved her, and Carmen hated it. It terrified her.
“They're like animals. Did you see those guys?” she said, with tears running down her face as she looked at Alan. “They would have raped me. One of them kept grabbing my boobs, and I swear someone kept trying to slip a hand into my pants. They're disgusting.” She looked like a total innocent as she complained about the invasion. They had been a hungry, lusting, angry mob. Angry that they didn't completely own them. They wanted to take those people home, to be part of them, to touch their bodies and their lives, to be them. “I'm not going bowling ever again,” Carmen said, looking like a kid. “I hate that shit.”
“So do I,” Alan admitted. “Who doesn't?” But he liked to go bowling. It was why so many stars had bowling alleys in their own homes, and sports arenas, and skating rinks and movie theaters, because they couldn't go anywhere, they couldn't go out with their kids, they couldn't do any of the things normal people took for granted.
“You should see what Bram Morrison goes through at his concerts,” Allegra said consolingly. Jeff was still in total admiration of her having had the presence of mind to call 911. But she had seen a lot of that and she knew what she was doing. She sensed almost instantly when it was going wrong, and it usually did, especially when it involved a woman. She had warned Carmen of all of that, told her what to do, had hired someone to teach her to defend herself, but it was still terrifying when you had to face it.
“Thanks for calling the cops, Al,” Alan said, sounding faintly depressed. There was always something degrading about being mauled like that, even if the reasons for it were originally well-intentioned. But as they went home that night, Allegra could tell that it had made a big impression on Jeff, and in the end, it had put a damper on the evening. Alan dropped them off at Jeff's house a few minutes later, and told them he was sorry the night had been such a bomb. But Jeff and Allegra said they understood, and were sorry too, and thanked Alan and Carmen for dinner.
“I don't know how those poor people live like that. Can they ever go out? Normally, I mean,” Jeff asked, after Alan had driven off with Carmen.
“They go to premieres, but they have to be careful there too. At big, publicized events, they run a tremendous risk of serious attacks, the kind of things that people don't always survive. You can really get hurt in mobs like that. And the rest of the time, if you try to get too normal, it turns out like tonight, unless you go someplace like Spago. That's different,” she smiled. It was her favorite restaurant and always full of stars. No one would have dared bother them there; they just admired them from a distance.
But at a place like the bowling alley there were no boundaries. And sometimes it got rough. But Allegra handled it remarkably. She had seen it for years, when she was with her parents. They had never had that kind of fame, because they were on the other side of the camera, but the people they knew, their stars, always went through what Jeff had witnessed tonight, and so did her clients.
“It scared the hell out of me losing you in that crowd,” he said as they walked into his bedroom and took their clothes off. There was something seamy just about having their clothes half torn off. And then Jeff laughed, looking at his own stocking foot. “Poor jerks, they probably think my shoe is Alan's.”
“You can buy it back at auction one day,” she joked with him. It had worried her too. Crowds like that were always scary, because you couldn't predict how out of hand things would get before you escaped them.
“I just can't believe it. I feel like a real star now. And frankly, Scarlett, you can have it,” Jeff said, lying on his bed with abandon.
“Not I,” she said. “That's why I'm an attorney and not an actress. You couldn't sell me that crap for anything. I couldn't stand it for a minute.”
“But you sure handled it well,” he praised her. “You were the only one who thought of calling the police. I was just standing there with my mouth open wondering how we were going to get out of there without having them kill us.”
“The secret is in calling fast. The minute I saw it, I knew.”
But as she got into bed, and they lay holding each other tight, still rattled by their experience at the bowling alley, Jeff couldn't help wondering what they were going to do at the wedding.
“They ought to get married on a deserted island somewhere, if tonight is any indication of what can happen.”
“They're actually worse at weddings. That's where fans are about the worst. It drives them into a frenzy. Celebrity weddings are a nightmare, almost as bad as concerts.” She laughed, but they both knew it wasn't funny. “But try telling Carmen that. She refuses to believe me, and Alan says she ought to do it whatever way she wants. I've been talking to security experts about it ever since they told us they were getting married.”
“What do they say?”
“You'll see,” she smiled, looking like Mata Hari. “But it'll be tight. I can promise you that. As tight as it can be in Vegas.”
“Why is it,” he asked, pulling her even closer under the covers, “that I'm beginning to dread it?”
“Because you're smart. And if they were … they'd elope to somewhere where no one would ever suspect it … some one-horse town in the middle of South Dakota. The trouble is, that's not much fun. But neither is being mauled by strangers.”
“Next time, I'll wear shoes with laces,” he said, wiser after his experience. But even after that, he wasn't prepared for the Alan Carr-Carmen Connors wedding.
CHAPTER 11
The bus Allegra had hired picked Alan and Carmen up at Jeff's house in Malibu. They both wore wigs, blue jeans, and old sweatshirts. Carmen wore a brown wig and a scarf, and Alan wore a black one. They wore sunglasses, chewed gum, and had Southern accents. Jeff and Allegra got on with them, also wearing wigs, and polyester leisure clothes. They were a lot more dressed up than the other two, and most of what Allegra wore was dusted with rhinestones.
“I didn't know this was a dress affair,” Jeff said as he donned his costume with amusement. But one thing was sure, no one would recognize Alan or Carmen.
They sat in a large, paneled room in the back of the bus, telling stories, and eating ice cream, and laughing at how they looked whenever they saw themselves in the mirror. They made occasional forays into the kitchen, for cheese or fruit or sandwiches, and both ladies occasionally used the pink marble bathroom, but not the bathtub. It was the kind of bus frequently used by movie stars or rock stars. This one happened to be immaculately kept and was privately owned, and Allegra used it often. She had rented it as a dressing room for one of her clients once, and for driving trips. It was one of the better kept, more luxurious ones, although it didn't compare with Eddie Murphy's double-decker bus, filled with antiques and precious objects. But this one was comfortable enough, and the foursome were “in hog heaven,” as they said loudly from time to time, all the way to Vegas.
Once in Las Vegas, they went straight to the hotel. They were staying at the MGM Grand, and six bodyguards waited in the lobby for their arrival. As soon as the bodyguards spotted them, they became part of the faceless crowd around them. There were two women and four men, and they didn't even acknowledge them as they moved into suites on either side of Alan and Carmen's.
Jeff and Allegra were across the hall, and she had been keeping an eye out for tabloids, but she hadn't seen even one photographer as they entered. There had been some talk for a while, about Alan and Carmen having an affair, but it had only been a month, and no one suspected they were going to get married.
They changed wigs at the hotel, and everyone became redheads, except Alan, who became a bad peroxide blond, and he loved it.
“My God.” Allegra grinned at him and he laughed uproariously. “You l
ook awful.”
“I kind of like it,” he said, pretending to give her the eye and a little pat on her bottom, and then he switched back to his black one again, and imitated Elvis.
“It's a good thing you already have a career,” Allegra said, looking disgusted. “I don't think I could get you a job anywhere if you didn't.”
“Ya never know, kiddo. Ya never know.”
Carmen disappeared into the back bedroom then, with the long plastic garment bag she'd been carrying. And half an hour later she emerged in a short white satin dress, and her hair in a smooth French twist underneath a short veil. Her makeup was flawless, as was her face, and her long, slender legs, exposed by the short skirt, were even better. It was quite a transformation from the polyester dress and the wig, and she looked really lovely. She was wearing white satin high heels, and her dress was low cut. She looked breathtaking, and Alan was really moved when he saw her. He was still wearing the polyester pants and the wig, and he went to put on a linen jacket, and “real” shoes. But he had decided to get married in the blond wig. That way, he said, they'd have blond children.
“You're crazy,” Carmen said, kissing him.
Half an hour later the justice of the peace Allegra had arranged for appeared. She knew that if she'd asked the hotel to do it, it would have hit the tabloids. But it might anyway, if the justice of the peace recognized them, which he had to, looking at Carmen. And their names would inevitably be on their marriage certificate, but it would be too late to tip anyone off by then.
Allegra had decided to stay in her funny clothes too. She had actually brought a poodle skirt, and she slipped it on with the red wig, and she was wearing sandals. It was quite an outfit.
“I can't wait to see the wedding pictures,” Jeff said, standing up for Alan. Allegra was touched that Alan had asked him.
“You don't look so hot either, you know,” Alan said, cutting Jeff down to size. He had put on a Ralph Lauren blazer over a bowling shirt, and he wore the same blond wig as Alan.
The justice of the peace didn't know who they were, but he thought they were completely crazy. He ran the ceremony by them in less than three minutes, pronounced them man and wife, and signed the license without even glancing at the names. He had called Carmen “Carla” twice during the ceremony, and Alan “Adam.” But as soon as it was over, Allegra poured champagne, they ordered caviar, and it was official that they were married.
“Carmen Carr.” Allegra was the first to say it, and the second to kiss her, after Alan. “I like it.”
“So do I,” Carmen said, with tears in her eyes. She still wanted a church wedding in Oregon, but she knew what a circus that would have been, with paparazzi and helicopters, screaming fans and police lines. They just couldn't face it.
“Good luck,” the justice of the peace said from the doorway. He handed Alan his marriage certificate, and then hurried off to perform dozens of other weddings. He had no idea who he had just joined in matrimony. As far as he was concerned, they were just Adam and Carla.
An hour later, they all went downstairs to play the slot machines and gamble. Allegra tapped discreetly on the bodyguards' doors as they went by, and they fell in behind them. It was a completely smooth operation, and there were no hitches at all until almost midnight, when someone recognized Carmen and asked for her autograph. Carmen was always gracious about it, and she had taken her veil off by then, but she was still wearing the short wedding dress she'd been married in. A few minutes later someone snapped her photograph, and Allegra knew the onslaught was coming.
“It's time to go, Cinderella,” she said quietly. “Your chariot awaits.” Two more bodyguards were guarding the bus, and no one had entered it since they left it, except the driver, and he knew nothing.
“It's too early,” Carmen complained, but the casino was jammed with people, and the prospect of a stampede, or even a crush, didn't appeal to anyone. … Look, everybody! It's Carmen Connors, she just got married. … And Alan Carr … snap … scream … shriek … grab … Forget it.
“Come on, Mrs. Carr. Move your ass. This is my wedding night, and I'm not going to stand around here all night playing bingo.” Alan kissed her firmly, and patted her bottom, and the entire group headed out to where the bus was waiting. As Carmen boarded the steps she looked back at Allegra and Jeff, and Allegra handed her a plastic bouquet of white flowers she'd had the bus driver hold for them, and Carmen threw it gracefully from the top step of the bus, and Allegra caught it. In spite of all the craziness and the funny outfits they had worn, she looked really lovely, and the assembled company smiled as they watched them. And the bus driver thought that in that outfit, she looked a little like Carmen Connors. If she hadn't had the accent, and she were a little taller, she might even look a lot like her, he said to Allegra.
“Yeah, maybe,” she said, looking unconvinced. And then they closed the doors. The bus started up, and the bridal couple waved as Jeff and Allegra stayed behind with the bodyguards. It was over. They had done it. They were safe. And there had not been a single hitch or tabloid. Allegra had done an incredible job of setting it up for them, and Jeff was more impressed than ever.
“You are a genius,” he complimented her, as they watched the bus drive into the distance. At four A.M. they'd be at Alan's house, and all they had to do was pick up their bags, change their clothes, and catch a nine o'clock flight to Tahiti. End of story.
“It was cute, wasn't it?” Allegra smiled up at him. She was happy it had gone so well. She hadn't wanted the tabloids spoiling it for them, or vicious paparazzi stalking them.
“They couldn't have had a real wedding, could they?” Jeff asked pensively. He couldn't see how they'd have pulled it off, without the costumes or the wigs, or the privacy of the suite, or the bodyguards, or even the rock-star bus. It had all been perfect.
“They could have,” Allegra admitted, but she had discouraged it, particularly to Alan, and he had convinced Carmen. “But it would have been a nightmare. Helicopters everywhere, photographers, the media would have paid off every supplier they used. It's like a tug-of-war after a while, everything is a battle. She would have hated it.” Jeff nodded. He didn't disagree with her anymore. The experience in the bowling alley had taught him a lot about the way they lived. In spite of the lives everyone envied and wanted for themselves, none of it was easy. “I thought it was more fun like this anyway,” Allegra said, thinking how cute Carmen had looked in the short veil, and later tossing the plastic bouquet at Allegra.
“I'll have to save this.” She waved the bouquet at Jeff as they walked back into the hotel. The bodyguards had already discreetly left them. They were no longer needed. And the law firm would be billed for their time. She had thanked them at the bus, and now they were gone. She was alone with Jeff and several thousand people in the lobby.
They went back up to their suite. They were staying for the night, and in the morning they were going back to L.A. in a limousine. By then, Alan and Carmen would be in the air and on their way to Tahiti. She and Alan had agreed how the announcement would be handled. Nothing would be said until after their honeymoon, so stringers around the world wouldn't find them. Probably someone in their hotel might tip the press off eventually, but Bora Bora was fairly remote, and Alan thought they'd be safe there. And after they got back, there would be a press conference with both of them, for five minutes, with photo opportunities, announcing their marriage. Just give the sharks a little bit, a finger or a toe, to keep them happy, Allegra had told them.
Allegra lay in his arms that night, cozy and happy, thinking of Carmen and Alan. He was one of her oldest friends, and it was funny to think of him being married.
“Happy Valentine's Day,” Jeff said softly.
“Same to you,” she said, turning her back to him, as he put his arms around her. And she never stirred again until morning. She dreamed of catching the bouquet, and she kept laughing because it was plastic. And when she caught it, Jeff drove away on a bus, and she had to run all night to cat
ch him. In her dreams, as in her life, people were always running away from her. But not anymore, she reminded herself when she woke up, not now … and not Jeff … He was staying.
CHAPTER 12
Carmen and Alan came home from Bora Bora in mid-March and this time there was no avoiding the tabloids. The list of nominees for the Academy Awards had come out while they were gone, and they were both on it. The press were out in force when they got off the plane. Someone at the airlines had tipped them off, but the newlyweds were ready. They each had a deep tan, and they looked fabulous as the cameras flashed and they made their way slowly through the small crowd waiting for them at the airport.
Allegra had arranged for a car to pick them up, and they got to it as quickly as they could, after posing for a couple of pictures. They got right into the limousine, and two bodyguards waited for their luggage.
Allegra had also arranged for a bottle of champagne in the car for them, and when they got home to Alan's house in Beverly Hills, they found the house filled with flowers. But within days, the media had made their life there almost too complicated to put up with. Photographers clamored at the gates, as helicopters hovered overhead trying to catch glimpses of them in the garden or the pool, and researchers for the tabloids stole their garbage. It was unbearable, and they rapidly moved to Malibu, but it was worse there, and finally they hid out for a few days at Allegra's.
She moved in with Jeff for a few days, and the foursome donned wigs and went to small, unknown restaurants in the valley.
“I can't believe this,” Jeff said, appalled at the intrusions they had to live with. He was still working on the last polish of his screenplay. He and Allegra had had a nice, quiet month, with the exception of another threat against Bram Morrison, which had kept her busy. His family had gone to Palm Springs again, and he had borrowed a friend's home at an unknown location. He never went anywhere without bodyguards now, and a series of articles that said he was making a hundred million dollars from his concert tour only made it worse. Now everyone wanted a piece of the action, whatever they had to do to get it, even kidnapping or blackmail.
The Wedding Page 22
