by Maggie Marr
“Was there a reason you didn’t show up?” Jessica asked, trying to contain the annoyance in her voice. She needed Viève. That thought made her cringe.
“I’m upset, Jessica.”
“Upset?”
“I am very disappointed with you,” Viève said. Her eyes remained closed; nothing moved except her lips.
“I see, and this disappointment is because of …”
“Holden,” Viève said.
Jessica looked around the room. She felt self-conscious. She was the only person in street clothes as she hovered over Viève, and they were causing a disruption. “Viève, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Your love life has nothing to do with my ADR session,” Jessica whispered.
“Oh, but it does,” Viève said. “And so does Vitriol.”
Jessica’s stomach flipped. Vitriol? How did this little troll find out about Vitriol?
As if reading Jessica’s mind, Viève’s eyes snapped open. “You’re here, aren’t you? And it’s not because of my ADR session, now, is it?”
It was time to turn on the charm. “Perhaps we can discuss this at the juice bar?”
“Perhaps,” Viève said. “Once I’m finished with my session.”
“And when will that be?”
“About an hour,” Viève said.
Jessica felt fear give way to frustration, but she forced a smile onto her face. Jessica had no choice—she needed to wait for Viève. Steven Brockman gave Lydia explicit instructions, though Jessica suspected that, once again, the instructions were really coming from Billy: Steven would star in Vitriol only with one actress in the female lead: Viève Dyson. If Viève said no, then Steven would fall out, and if Steven fell off the film, Lydia would have to start at the beginning of the attachment process with another A-list actor. And attaching another star could take days, weeks, months, or years, depending on the actor’s schedule and appetite for the material. While Lydia tried to secure another star, Nathan would be loose in the world, unmonitored, perhaps dealing in illicit Celeste Solange DVDs, instead of on set, where he could be watched and hopefully cajoled into revealing information about Cici’s sex tape.
“Great,” Jessica said. “I’ll wait for you out front.”
*
Jessica rolled calls through her first fruit juice and now was into her second, and there was still no sign of Viève. She took another sip of her freshly squeezed guava-mint-lemon-mango juice.
“Get me Tyler Bruger at CTA,” she said to her assistant over the phone. She waited as Emily dialed.
“Jessica,” Emily said, “you’re on with Tyler.”
“Tyler?”
“Jessica, so glad you called. I just got a copy of Vitriol.”
“What? From whom?” Neither Viève nor Tyler was supposed to know that Steven Brockman wanted Viève for the role. If Tyler knew that Steven’s doing the film was contingent on Viève’s taking the role, he would strong-arm Worldwide on Viève’s deal.
“Nathan Curtis sent it over,” Tyler said. “The director.”
“Tyler, I know who Nathan Curtis is. I’m producing the film.”
“I hear Brockman won’t do it unless Viève costars,” Tyler said.
“What are you talking about?” Jessica asked, trying to bluff.
“Come on, Jessica. You and I both know that Billy has a big mouth and he and Tolliver are best friends.”
Damn Billy! Lydia would flip. Not only was Steven’s deal still not closed, but Lydia hadn’t even told Cici that Viève would have to play the younger female role instead of her.
“Not what I hear,” Jessica lied. “I hear Steven is dying to do the film and Lydia’s not sure she wants to go that way.”
“Does it matter, Jessica, who wants whom? I mean, really, all that matters is that Lydia is in a rush to make the film, and the only A-lister with a slot is Steven, right?”
The loose lips in Hollywood irritated Jessica. “Who told you all this? I didn’t think Lydia wanted to make offers yet.”
“Like I said, Nathan gave me the script.”
“Are you sure it’s the right one? You know Mary Anne Meyers is working on a rewrite,” Jessica said.
“That’s not all she’s working on,” Tyler kidded. “Did you see the cover of Star magazine?”
“I don’t comment on clients’ personal lives,” Jessica said coolly.
“You don’t have to. That picture says it all. Do you manage everyone on this film? Holden and Cici starring, Mary Anne writing, you and Mike producing.”
“I don’t rep Steven and I don’t rep Viève,” Jessica said.
“Too bad for Lydia, isn’t it?” Tyler asked. “She’ll actually have to negotiate with someone other than one of her gal pals.”
“Worldwide business affairs will,” Jessica said stiffly. Tyler’s attitude seemed worse than his coke habit. “So what’s Viève’s quote right now?” Jessica asked.
“You produced Collusion and she got seven-fifty for that.”
“Right. So what do you want? A million?”
“Five,” Tyler said.
“Five what?” Jessica asked. She took the final sip of her juice. “Wait, five million? Are you crazy?”
“Five million,” Tyler said.
“There is no way Lydia will pay five million dollars for Viève Dyson. She hasn’t even opened a film. Collusion was her first major role.”
“She’s on her way up the A-list; everyone knows it. And Lydia will pay it if she wants Brockman,” Tyler said. “And from what I hear, Steven Brockman is the actor Lydia wants.”
“I don’t think Lydia’s appetite for Steven is worth paying Viève five million dollars,” Jessica said.
“She was hungry enough to fly to Japan, have dinner with Steven and Billy, and fly back,” Tyler said.
Ugh. Why would Billy tell Tolliver about Lydia’s travel plans?
“Famished was the word I was thinking of,” Tyler continued. “I’ll read the script tonight and call you tomorrow.”
Frustration gnawed at at Jessica’s insides.”Great.”
“Yeah, and you might want to let your other client know that she’s once again been bumped by a younger actress,” Tyler said, “before someone else does.”
“Just read the script,” Jessica said. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
Payback was a bitch. Tyler had to be swimming in self-satisfaction right now. Not long ago, as president of CTA and Tyler’s boss, Jessica had chewed him out so badly he stood in her office and cried. She’d had little patience for him. He could sell used cars or scripts. Tyler’s career in entertainment wasn’t driven by his love for film. No, Tyler worked as an agent to provide himself with a certain lifestyle, a lifestyle with money, status, girls, and drugs.
“My agent?” Jessica looked down to watch Viève climb onto the bar stool across from her.
“Good guess,” Jessica said. She placed her BlackBerry on the counter in front of her. “So you’ve met Nathan Curtis?”
“Ages ago,” Viève said.
“Really?” Jessica made a mental note. She needed to check out how Nathan Curtis had met Viève Dyson. “He’s an interesting guy. Do you want anything?” Jessica asked as she glanced at the guy working the juice bar.
“Just water with lemon. Once my chakras are clear I don’t like to eat for a couple of days.”
Days? She didn’t eat for days? That explained the size zero and the erratic mood swings.
“So who else is on the film?” Viève asked. “Nathan told me Holden Humphrey, Mary Anne Meyers, and Steven Brockman.”
“Those are the primary players,” Jessica said.
“And Steven’s deal hasn’t closed yet?” Viève asked.
“That’s a question for Worldwide business affairs,” Jessica said.
“Then I guess we’re done,” Viève said and started to slide off her chair.
Jessica reached out a hand to stop Vieve. “Okay, no, Steven’s deal isn’t closed yet.”
“And it’s contingent on me?”
“I don’t know if I’d say contingent on you,” Jessica said.
“Really? Because that’s what Billy said.”
“You know Billy, too?” Jessica asked. “Steven Brockman’s Billy?”
“For years.”
Had Jessica missed a conversation where Billy mentioned he knew Viève, or Viève mentioned she knew Billy? How did Viève know both her director, Nathan Curtis, and Billy, the man married to her male lead? Knowing the connections between people was an essential part of being a producer and getting a film made. Her own ignorance shocked Jessica.
“Billy, Nathan, and I met in London, when Billy owned clubs.”
Jessica’s spine tingled. “Really? I had no idea.” So it was Billy, not Steven, who wanted Viève as the lead in Vitriol. Jessica remembered hearing that Nathan’s success as a London paparazzo had everything to do with his connections within the London club scene. Interesting. She needed to call Lydia and tell her about Nathan, Billy, and Viève’s prior relationship.
“Mary Anne knows?” Viève asked. “About me?”
“Yes,” Jessica lied.
“I’ll do it,” Viève said.
“But you haven’t read the script.” Jessica said, startled by Viève’s quick yes.
“Tyler’s reading it, isn’t he?”
“Tonight.”
“That’s good enough,” Viève said.
“I’ll have my assistant reschedule your ADR.” Jessica picked up her BlackBerry.
“There’s one more thing,” Viève said.
Of course there is, Jessica thought.
“I want you to talk to Mary Anne for me.”
“Mary Anne?”
“You’re her friend, aren’t you?” Viève asked.
A foreboding settled around Jessica as she looked into Viève’s dead eyes.
“Look, I saw the cover of Star magazine, but it’s okay. Holden’s relationship with Mary Anne is a novelty thing for him. She won’t be able to maintain his interest.” Viève paused and sipped her water. “You know he’s very sexually creative, and I’m afraid Mary Anne may end up with a broken heart—again.”
Jessica forced her expression to remain blank. She resisted the urge to reach over and strangle Viève. “I really don’t think it’s appropriate for me to talk to you about Mary Anne’s sex life with Holden—”
“Why not?” Viève interrupted. “You spoke to Holden about his sex life with me, didn’t you? In Toronto?”
“It’s not the same—”
“I know what you told Holden,” Viève twisted a lock of her red hair in her fingers. “Holden still hasn’t figured out that I’m the right woman for him. But he will.”
A chill rushed down Jessica’s spine. Viève’s eyes were wide and her pupils were deep black holes.
“No matter what I have to do to convince him, he will.”
Rule 16: Image Is Everything
Kiki Dee, Publicist
Kiki pulled her head up from the massage table’s padded face-holder to look at Sherman Ross as he dropped onto the sofa in her living room.
“No one can confirm what you saw in Melnick’s office,” Sherman said.
“Then you’re not looking hard enough,” Kiki said.
“I’ve been watching, and aside from breaking and entering, so far nothing.”
“Of course not. How do you think this secret has been kept?” Was everyone who worked for her a complete moron? “I know what I saw.”
Kiki sat up, her massage completed. She stood from the table naked and slid into the robe her massage therapist held out for her. Kiki wanted Sherman to check out her body, but instead he looked at the floor. She wondered if Sherman’s downcast eyes meant he felt revolted by her age.
“You need to get the records from Melnick,” Kiki said.
“Dead end.”
“How so?” Kiki sipped her lemon-infused water.
“I have a source in his office, and there aren’t any records for our subject.”
“What? Bullshit. The records are there. I read the folder before my surgery,” Kiki said.
“You were high.”
“Not that high. You’ll just have to go look for the records yourself. Or … how do you feel about breaking into private residences?”
“It can be done. Did you get my other package?” Sherman asked.
“I did. Where did you acquire that little nugget?” Kiki glanced at her hands. Sherman’s package arrived days before, and Kiki had eagerly devoured the contents, her eyes eating up the sex scenes. The package could be an economic windfall for her—another one of her clients with a salacious secret to keep? Certainly Worldwide had an interest in keeping the footage hidden from the public. And while Celeste was already her client, Kiki smelled a holiday bonus coming her way. But first she had to pry some information out of Sherman about the mysterious DVD, and, with luck, get a copy of her own. She’d had her assistant try to copy it, but apparently some sort of encryption was protecting the file.
“I’m holding it for the owner. It’s very high-end right now, only sex parties.”
“Then what?”
“It may go mainstream.”
“Or?” Kiki asked.
“Someone could buy it.” Sherman looked directly at Kiki. “The owner has a cash-flow problem. Seems he’s acquired some bad habits,” Sherman touched the side of his nose.
“How much?” Kiki asked.
“At least seven, maybe eight figures.”
“I see,” Kiki said. Her palms grew moist from the adrenaline rushing through her system. She now possessed two tantalizing tidbits of celebrity information. Both could destroy careers.
“I thought you might be interested, or know someone who is.”
“I’ll have a conversation,” Kiki said and slid onto the couch beside Sherman.
“But I need the DVD back. It’s the only copy, encrypted so no duplicates can be made. I wanted to make my own copy, strictly for my records, of course, but even my tech guy couldn’t crack it.”
“Boom Boom!” Kiki screeched. “Get Sherman his DVD.”
Boom Boom entered the room, holding the DVD. A smooth smile slipped onto Sherman’s face as Boom Boom entered the room. A stab of jealousy pierced Kiki’s heart.
“We’ve not met.” Sherman stood and held out his hand. “Sherman Ross.”
“I’m aware,” Boom Boom said. She handed him the DVD and turned to leave.
Sherman’s eyes roamed the backside of Boom Boom as she exited the room. “She’s tough,” Sherman said.
“Very bright. But I’m not sure she has what it takes. She’s a little bit too, too, hmm … I guess dull is the word I’m searching for.”
“Dull? Kiki, I’d hardly call her dull. Besides, we can’t all be as obvious as you: aggressive, always looking for the next kill.”
“Sherman, you say that like it’s a bad thing,” Kiki tucked her legs beneath her. “We’ve known each other a long time haven’t we, Sherman?” Kiki ran her index finger along the arm of Sherman’s shirt.
The muscle in his jaw flinched. “Almost ten years.”
“That’s a lifetime in this town.” She cupped Sherman’s jaw in her hand and looked into his blue eyes. She bit her lower lip. “Would you like to see the rest of the house?” A massage always turned her on, and today, lucky for her, an attractive man sat in her home. She surveyed Sherman’s physique under his tailored shirt. She wanted him. She wanted a younger man to touch her, to feel desire for her, to make her feel beautiful.
“Ah, Kiki, I’d love to,” Sherman said softly, “but I have another meeting in the Palisades.”
“I see.” Kiki pulled her hand away from his face. “Some other time, then.”
“Definitely,” Sherman said.
Not long ago, when Kiki’s breasts were perkier and her neck tauter, an invitation into her bed would have resulted in the quick cancellation of any meeting, but now, no matter how hard she chased youth with a knife, it continued to elude her.
&nbs
p; “You know your way out.”
She watched Sherman retreat to the front door. He possessed lean lines and a tight ass, but no desire for her. Kiki glanced into the mirror over her marble fireplace. She pulled down her terry-cloth robe, letting it slide over her shoulders. How long since she’d slept with a man? Too long. Kiki sighed. She sat up straight and sucked in her cheeks. She could pass for under forty…with the right lighting. Maybe she needed a young Hollywood boy toy. Someone desirous of the access, introductions, and success she could provide. The thought of playing Mrs. Robinson to some sweet, tight-assed young Hollywood stud excited her. She turned her head from side to side, admiring her profile in the mirror.
“Kiki?”
She pulled up her robe and glanced toward the foyer. Boom Boom. Timing, the poor girl had no sense of timing. Or style.
“Are you going into the office, or do you prefer to work from home? Your cook wants to know.”
“Here is fine,” Kiki said. “It’s cool today. I’ll eat on the west patio.” As she brushed past Boom Boom, she glanced down at the girl’s feet. Flip-flops? Today was Friday, sure, but what about a pair of Chanel sandals? “Who do. I have this afternoon?” Kiki asked as she mounted the stairs.
“Cici. She wants to discuss the Oscar campaign for California Girl, and she also signed onto a new film, Vitriol.” Boom Boom stood below in the marble foyer with her clipboard.
“Call her and ask if she’ll come to the house.” Kiki watched Boom Boom scribble a note. “Boom Boom?” She paused, waiting for her assistant to look up at her. “Over lunch go get something else to wear on your feet. Those”—Kiki pointed to the offending footwear—“are for bathhouses, not my home.”
“Yes, Kiki.”
“And, Boom Boom, schedule a hair appointment with Frederik for sometime this week,” Kiki called over the banister.
“You just had your appointment with him three days ago.”
“It’s not for me,” Kiki called from the balcony. “No, darling, it’s for you and that flop mop you call hair.”
If the girl wasn’t going to make the necessary changes then Kiki would just have to take control.
Rule 17: Play Dumb
Celeste Solange, Actress
