by J. S. Carol
Ed Richards was at the next table. As well as being one of the most handsome men in the world, he was currently the most bankable star in Hollywood. His last three films alone had grossed over a billion dollars. But he was pushing fifty, and not getting any younger. Richards was adamant he hadn’t had surgery. He’d told JJ this to her face, and been totally convincing. However, she had it on good authority that even he’d had work done.
And then there was Alex King. The actor was sitting at that little two-seat table on the lower level, enjoying a lunch date with Simone Kristiansen, a stunning Norwegian supermodel. King was the new kid on the block. If his career continued on its current trajectory, he’d definitely end up an A+. Killing Time had been the summer’s surprise blockbuster. The film had launched him as the new must-have action hero.
King was the real deal, the complete package and then some. He looked great on screen, had an amazing body, and he could act. His was the sort of stellar talent that only came along once a generation. He was currently on three million a film, but that figure was rising fast. It wouldn’t be long before he joined the eight-figure league. JJ glanced over again, just to make sure he was behaving himself. So far, so good. He was sitting there with a look of rapt concentration, as though his date was sharing the secrets of the universe with him. The kid could certainly act, she’d give him that much.
JJ had planned the whole thing like it was a military campaign. The paparazzi would be waiting for the couple when they left Alfie’s, and by the end of the afternoon the pictures would be all over the Internet. Tomorrow night they’d get ‘spotted’ leaving a nightclub, which would confirm that Alfie’s wasn’t a one-off. An intimate snap of them making out beside a pool would prove this was the real thing.
By this time next week they would be Hollywood’s next golden couple. The new Brangelina. JJ was still looking for a suitable tag. Simonex didn’t work, and Alsimone sounded like something you might use to treat haemorrhoids. She would come up with something, though. It was just a matter of time. Like so much of what she did, this particular love story was very much a work in progress.
2
Alex King smiled at Simone, then glanced around the dining room, trying to take it all in. There were moments like now when he still couldn’t quite believe how much his life had changed. It was insane. Totally off-the-charts crazy. A couple of years ago he would have struggled to get a busboy’s job in a place like this, and now here he was eating lunch. Hell, a couple of years ago he would have struggled to pay for a meal at McDonald’s.
Since Killing Time had gone supernova, he’d felt like he was living in two universes simultaneously. In one, he was Alex King, the action hero. In the other, he was Alex King, a trailer-trash white boy from Ohio who was never going to amount to anything. A part of him was just waiting for the dream to end. At any moment he was going to wake up and find himself back in that crappy two-bedroom apartment in downtown LA that he’d shared with Sapphire, a drag queen whose hands were too big and whose Adam’s apple stuck out too much, and who’d snored so loudly he’d almost shaken the paper-thin walls down.
Simone said something, then paused. The pause went on long enough to indicate that she was expecting a contribution from him. King nodded, hoping this was the right response. And then Simone was off again, talking at a hundred miles an hour.
King tuned her out and let his gaze drift towards the upper level. He spotted JJ and his blood froze. She was at a table right at the back, talking to some dude who was trying way too hard to get noticed. What the hell was she doing here? He shrank back in his seat and prayed for the ground to swallow him up. Today was going to be hard enough without having this to deal with. How was he supposed to focus with JJ watching his every move? How was he supposed to concentrate?
He tried to shift position so JJ wouldn’t see his face. Not that it would do any good. She’d already seen him and it would be crazy to pretend otherwise. She would have spotted him the second she walked into the room. He took a deep breath and tried to push JJ from his thoughts, but no matter how hard he pushed, there she was, larger than life and twice as scary.
There were thousands of restaurants in LA and she’d come to this one, on this particular day, at this particular time. Thinking it through, it made perfect sense. After all, it was JJ who’d suggested he come here, JJ who’d somehow managed to secure a last-minute reservation. She was obviously checking up to make sure he behaved.
‘Everything okay, sweetie?’ Simone asked.
King forced a smile. ‘Yeah, everything’s fine.’
Simone was peering across the table, candlelight softening the fake concern in her face. Her accent was an odd mix of Norwegian, English and Valley Girl. King reckoned she’d probably overdosed on too much US TV as a kid. Judging by the way she kept going on about those lame reality shows, she was still addicted. Reality shows aside, a love of all things TV was one of the few things they actually had in common. His childhood had been a living nightmare. TV hadn’t just been a mother and a father to him, it had been his lifeline, a promise that there was a better life out there just waiting for him.
‘Are you sure you’re okay? You look pale.’
King forced an even bigger smile, then leant across the table and touched her hand.
‘You are so beautiful. Do you know that?’
Simone smiled in a way that made it obvious that this wasn’t exactly front-page news. And it wasn’t. She was one of the most beautiful women in the world. All her life, people had been telling her how attractive she was.
For the thousandth time, King asked himself what he was doing. Millions of red-blooded males across the planet had wondered what it would be like to get hot and sweaty with Simone, and this afternoon he would find out. The thought was enough to make him feel physically sick. The only way to survive the next few hours was to treat it like any other acting job. Smile for the cameras, deliver the right lines at the right moment, and make sure he hit his mark.
Lights, cameras, action.
He hated JJ for putting him in this situation. Hated her crazy-assed schemes.
‘Could you excuse me for a minute?’ he said. ‘I need to use the restroom.’
‘Sure, sweetie, but don’t be long.’
‘I’ll be back in two seconds.’
King folded his napkin and placed it on the table. Wrapping his head around the do’s and don’ts of eating somewhere like this was so stressful. And dumb. You had to use the correct fork, the correct knife, drink from the right glass. It totally messed with his head. Where he grew up, napkins were made from paper, and you only ever got them on burger night.
A waitress saw him stand and moved into a position where she could steer him towards the restroom. King walked clumsily across the room, feeling like everyone was watching him, which they weren’t. They were all far too involved in their own dramas. Even Simone was ignoring him. She’d slipped a compact from her Gucci bag and was busy fixing her make-up.
He hurried into the restroom and pulled the door closed behind him. It was good to have a few moments to himself. He felt safe here. There was nobody watching him. Nobody talking at him. No one making demands. The men’s room was small and clean and smelled of oranges. And it wasn’t anything like he’d expected. In places like this, the restrooms were usually totally over the top, but not here. The walls were plain white, the taps made from stainless steel. There was soft lighting, a shelf with some towels on, a bowl of mints, and that was about it.
King locked himself into the cubicle in the far corner and sat down on the toilet lid. He took a deep breath, told himself to get his shit together, and did his best to push back the feelings of uselessness that seemed to be constantly hovering in the background. He could do this. He’d been through much worse and survived. It was only a date, for Christ’s sake. Okay, it was a date with one of the world’s most beautiful women, but, when all was said and done, it was just a date. It wasn’t like he was being asked to murder anyone.
&nbs
p; It had been so long since his last real date he wasn’t sure what to do anymore. Before Killing Time everything had been so much simpler. Back then, he’d been in a steady relationship. He could go see a movie, go to a bar, just hang out and have a good time, and nobody would care.
Nowadays it was so much more complicated. The people he went out with only wanted to be with him because he was Alex King the movie star. They didn’t want him, they just wanted to brush up against his fame. And the few times he had been with someone who’d seemed genuine, they’d ended up playing dodge-the-paparazzi, which was a real mood-killer.
He forced in another deep breath and the world retreated to a more manageable distance. It was just a date, he told himself again.
Just a date.
3
Christ, he goes on. JJ didn’t let her smile falter, not for a second. She had a strong urge to leave Stone here talking to himself, but he probably wouldn’t even notice she’d gone. Right now, Dan Stone was sitting slap-bang at the centre of the universe, which was his favourite place to be. JJ remembered why she’d put this meeting off for so long. The guy was so self-obsessed he’d turned it into an artform.
Unfortunately, keeping narcissists like Dan Stone happy was a tedious but necessary part of the job. Agents like Stone were her bread and butter. They looked after the talent, the very same talent who had a knack for getting into trouble on a regular basis, the very same talent who kept repeating the mistakes of those faded stars and starlets who’d gone before them.
You’d think they’d learn, but they never did. This was something JJ thanked God for each and every day. If anyone ever came up with a cure for stupidity, she’d be out of business. This was a line she had heard a hundred times from the late, great Johnny Wiesner. Out of the few people she actually admired in this town, Wiesner topped the list every time. He’d survived more than fifty years playing the Hollywood PR game, which was no mean feat. The fact that he survived with his integrity more or less intact was nothing short of a miracle. You’d have to search hard to find someone who had a bad word to say about him.
Wiesner was already well into his seventies when he’d hired her fresh out of college. To this day she didn’t know why he’d done that. There had been plenty of people out there who were better qualified, and more experienced. Clearly he’d seen something, though. He’d taken her under his wing and been both a mentor and an inspiration. It was Wiesner who’d rebranded her as JJ. ‘From time to time you’re going to have to break balls,’ he’d told her in that gruff, warm voice that had saved and made a thousand careers. ‘No one called Jody could ever break balls.’
It was Wiesner who’d persuaded her to strike out on her own. She’d visited him in the hospital after his first stroke and he’d told her to go for it. ‘JJ,’ he’d said, ‘you’re never going to be truly happy until you’re the captain of the ship.’ The stroke had made it difficult for him to speak but he could still sell an idea. He’d gone on to tell her that she reminded him of himself back in the day. He also told her that he’d point a couple of clients in her direction.
Six months later, Wiesner had had a second stroke and died. By then JJ had been renting a small office that was as close to the action as she could afford. Her roster of clients numbered six, all courtesy of Wiesner. Those early years had been tough but fun. The business got bigger, the client list expanded, and she moved to larger premises. Brightlight was a long way from being the largest PR firm in town, but it was one of the most respected. JJ liked to think that Wiesner would have been proud.
While Stone droned on, she sipped her vodka and tonic and watched Simone out of the corner of her eye. The model was gazing around the room like she’d died and gone to Disneyland. A flirtatious twinkle here, a flirtatious twinkle there. Simone and King really did make a great-looking couple. JJ reckoned that a three-month relationship would be about long enough.
The beautiful thing about this plan was the fact that even after they split up the headlines would still keep coming. First up, there would be the inevitable kiss and tell, where Simone would inform the world what a stud King was. Or not, as the case might be. Even a negative story wouldn’t pose a problem, since King’s legion of loyal female fans would assume it was sour grapes. Then there would be all the speculation as to whether or not they were going to get back together again. Spin it hard enough and they’d maintain traction for at least another six months. Wiesner would have loved it.
King was still in the rest room. Either that or he’d done a runner. JJ wouldn’t have put that past him. Getting him to come here today had been like pulling teeth. She knew everything there was to know about the actor. She knew all about his trailer-park past. She knew all about the beatings and the abuse. She also knew that it didn’t matter how sparkling the future was, the past always had a way of sneaking up on you when you least expected it. The past defined you, it shaped who you were. It didn’t matter how good an actor you were, there was no getting away from that fact.
King’s handlers were going to have to be careful. If they kept him on the right path then everyone would make a ton of money. Get it wrong and he’d end up being yet another casualty of the Hollywood machine.
‘I’m going to turn Carmine into the biggest thing ever,’ Stone was saying. ‘We’re talking bigger than Marilyn.’
Sure you are, thought JJ. This was Stone’s favourite theme. Every new client was going to be the next big thing. His evangelical optimism was tiring.
‘And when does shooting begin?’ she asked.
‘Already started. Carmine’s up in Montreal as we speak. By all accounts, the dailies are incredible. I’m telling you, JJ, she was born to do this. The director loves her, the crew loves her, everyone loves her.’
JJ wondered how long that would last for. If Carmine Hart followed the usual trajectory then it would last just long enough for her to start believing her own hype and turn into a prima donna bitch from hell.
‘Sounds like you’ve got a real diamond there, Dan. You make sure you keep hold of her.’
Stone laughed. ‘The contract I got her to sign, even Houdini couldn’t escape from it.’
JJ reached for her menu, which was Stone’s cue to pick up his. She knew the menu by heart, but anything to shut him up, even for a minute or two.
Someone suddenly screamed and JJ’s head snapped up. The scream sounded all wrong in the rarefied atmosphere of Alfie’s. It was jarring and surprising, and completely out of context. Conversations stopped, cutlery rattled onto plates, the room fell silent. All eyes turned towards the woman who’d screamed. Her hands were over her mouth and she was staring wide-eyed towards the corridor that led to the kitchen.
JJ followed her gaze and saw a suicide bomber. For a second, she just stared. Three details demanded her complete attention. The black balaclava, the silenced submachine gun, and the explosive vest.
The kitchen staff were walking in front of him, hands in the air, expressions of fear and disbelief etched onto their faces. Chester was leading the way. JJ couldn’t remember a time when she hadn’t seen the chef smiling and laughing. He was one of the gentlest souls she’d ever met. Holly the waitress was there, too. Tears streamed down her face, and the only reason she was managing to stay on her feet was because she was being supported by one of the kitchen hands. She couldn’t see Victor. Hopefully he was okay. JJ’s fork clattered onto her plate, and every single muscle went taut as she braced herself for the explosion. A millisecond of intense light and searing heat, and then nothing. It would happen so quickly there wouldn’t be time for pain. One second alive, the next vaporised.
An image of Tom flashed up inside her head. Despite all the therapy, despite her best attempts to lose herself in her work, the memories were always there, lurking just below the surface. For a split second all she could see was the rippling reflections of the lights on the pool, and his still body floating face-down in the water.
JJ pushed the memory away, swallowed back the guilt, and searched for a
good memory. If she was going to die, then she wanted her last thought to be a good one. The memory she locked on to was one of the best. It came from a time when the dark days would have been inconceivable. Back then, there had been plenty of laughter and love, so much that JJ had thought it would last for ever.
She was sitting with Tom by the pool, hypnotised by the most glorious sunset she’d ever seen. She had turned to Tom, expecting him to be as transfixed as she was, but he wasn’t watching the sun go down, he was watching her. He didn’t say a word. He didn’t need to because the look on his face said everything that needed to be said. JJ had never felt more loved than she had at that moment.
4
JJ wasn’t sure how much time had passed. What she did know was that by some miracle she was still alive. She opened her eyes and saw the bomber push through the kitchen staff. He strode into the middle of the lower level and turned through a full 360 degrees, clocking faces, his gun tracing a lazy circle around the room.
‘Okay, folks, let’s get some things straight. First off, this vest is packed with enough explosives to take out this restaurant, the rest of the block, and the next block, too. I press the button and your families will be lucky to get enough pieces back to fill a matchbox. From this moment on I am God. I have the power to giveth life, and you better believe that I’ve got the power to take it away.’
The speech felt rehearsed, and the way it was delivered made JJ think of Samuel L. Jackson. Same delivery, same level of gravitas, and pretty much the same accent, too. The bomber spun through another 360 degrees, aiming the gun as he turned to drive home the fact that he was in charge now.
