Secrets of the Hollywood Girls Club

by Maggie Marr

“He didn’t want the tabloids to blame you for our breakup. He knows how important your image is, and he wanted to let things settle. At least, that’s what he told me when we broke up. Right, Holden?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Oh lover, that’s so sweet. That makes me almost wish I didn’t have to kill you.”

  “But you don’t,” Holden said. He stood and walked slowly toward Viève. “We can be together. Now that she’s gone. We don’t have to worry about anyone coming between us again.” Mary Anne watched Viève’s face grow softer with each step Holden took toward her. Viève obviously wanted to believe Holden. Surrender to it, just let go, Mary Anne thought. Holden held out his arms toward Viève. Viève’s eyes got wide; she looked hypnotized by the thought of reuniting with him. Almost, Mary Anne thought. She started to stand, ready to grab Viève when Holden grabbed the gun. Mary Anne glanced at Holden just as the gun exploded.

  Rule 30: Remember What Sustains You

  Jessica Caulfield-Fox, Manager-Producer

  Jessica watched Mike lift Max and toss him high into the sky.

  Max squealed and Mike laughed. This was her life. This was the important part of her life. Not film, not drama, not fighting on set, not Vieve. Not even Jessica’s close friends. The moments with Mike and Max eclipsed Hollywood and filmmaking and everything else. Jessica pressed her BlackBerry to her ear as she took one final look in her closet.

  “Blanks?” Lydia asked from the other end.

  “Blanks. She stole the gun from set,” Jessica said.

  “Mary Anne is so lucky,” Lydia said.

  “They didn’t even take Mary Anne to the hospital. You know how she hates hospitals. Seems that Mary Anne swallowed only two Vicodin. Nobody dies from two Vicodin.”

  “And Holden?”

  “Saved the day. Once they discovered the gun held blanks, Holden grabbed Viève just as she was lunging at Mary Anne. He held her while Mary Anne called the cops. They’ve already committed her,” Jessica said. She glanced across her room at Mike zipping up their suitcases. “So we’re leaving town for the next seven days. Thought you should know,” Jessica said.

  “Go and enjoy,” Lydia said. “I think everyone needs a break after this fiasco.”

  “Vitriol really took it out of us, didn’t it?” Jessica asked. “Where are you? It sounds so loud.”

  “That’s the wind. We’re in Sedona,” Lydia said.

  “You guys rode Zymar’s bike all the way to Sedona?” Jessica asked.

  “Yeah, but I think I’m renting a car for the trip back. Either that or hopping on a plane. I’m not nearly as hard-core as he. Enjoy your trip,” Lydia said. “Once you get back you might get really busy.”

  “We’re always busy,” Jessica replied.

  “You and Mike might get even busier.”

  “You’ve got another film for us?”

  “Ted may have an entire slate for you two.”

  “What?”

  “He wants to talk to you and Mike about heading up the studio together,” Lydia said.

  “Together?”

  “Yeah, kind of like Walter and Laurie did at DreamWorks for a while.”

  Jessica paused. She and Mike running a studio? Together? Co-presidents of production?

  “You two always succeed. Mike is magic and you’re amazing. It’s really a no-fail situation for Ted,” Lydia said. “If you want it.”

  Jessica couldn’t decide now. Her emotions felt raw with all the insanity lately. She needed a vacation. Right now the industry, with all its intrigue and politics, just made her tired. “I don’t know. After watching everything you went through, Lydia, I don’t know if I want it. And that’s even with Mike as co-president.”

  “Think about it while you’re gone. Talk to Mike. I know Ted wants to have a conversation with you both once you’re back.”

  “Okay,” Jessica said. “You know how to reach me—”

  “Go,” Lydia interrupted, “enjoy.”

  “Jess, come on, are you ready?” Mike called from their bedroom. She clicked off her BlackBerry and set it on her dresser. “You’re not taking your BlackBerry?” Mike asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “This is a family vacation, and I’ve got everyone I need for a family vacation with me,” Jessica said.

  She pulled the front door shut as Mike waited for her in their Range Rover. She hadn’t yet mentioned Lydia and their conversation to Mike. She knew he’d want the job, and he would be great as president of production at Worldwide. And she suspected that should she decline, Ted would give Mike the job without her as copresident. She needed to think. She needed this time alone with her husband and son to decide. To determine if she wanted to dive into Lydia’s job or maybe sit on the sideline, producing a film a year, repping clients … and being a mom.

  “Ready?” Mike asked as Jessica fastened her seat belt.

  “Ready.”

  Rule 31: Old Friends Make the Deadliest Enemies

  Kiki Dee, Publicist

  The sun, the surf, the sand, and the sex. Kiki’s body felt relaxed and refreshed. She’d spent the entire holiday break indulging her every desire. Looking out the bedroom window of Ted and Cici’s house in Fiji, she turned her lustful eyes toward the beach below, where Carlos lay on a towel. Yummy! Why had she waited this long to acquire a friend like Carlos? He satisfied all her fantasies. And she knew. She knew that Carlos and Robert were lovers. They weren’t fooling anyone, wandering off every night down the beach for their post-dinner stroll. Those two boys were way too beautiful and way too close. Try as they might to fool her with their butch lingo and cigar smoking, Kiki knew the boys were a little light in the loafers. And she didn’t care. She didn’t care what or who Carlos did in his off-time. She didn’t ride bareback. As long as he was hard and attentive when he was with her and she was well satisfied, then forget it! He was worth every penny.

  “Kiki?” She heard Terri wandering down the hall toward her room. “Kiki, are you in there?” Terri knocked on her door. “I’m going to the beach, but I’m almost done with my article and I need that file,” she said.

  Kiki rushed into her private bathroom and turned the shower on full blast. She’d avoided this moment for the last ten days. She didn’t have the file. She peeked out the bathroom door and saw Terri retreating in her two-piece toward the beachfront deck. She knew that once she told Terri that she had lost the file, Terri would write whatever she wanted. And Terri had enough ammo to blast Vitriol, Cici, and all of Worldwide.

  Kiki left the shower running and slipped into the hallway. She wanted to read Terri’s article, and now was the best time. Terri was being more than a little cagey about what she was writing, alluding to all kinds of possible story lines and bits of gossip—bits of gossip that although tolerable within Hollywood, were unacceptable if outed to the general public. Kiki glanced toward the beach; she could just make out Terri lying between the two beautiful boy toys. Now or never.

  Kiki opened the door to Terri’s room. The woman was a slob. When they were roommates, Terri threw her clothes around, and even now, forty years later, her floor was covered with pants, shirts, lingerie. Hadn’t Terri ever heard of a hanger? Kiki glanced at the desk on the far side of the bedroom. There, like manna from heaven, sat Terri’s laptop. Terri wrote everything on her MacBook Pro … and it was still open. The screen saver was a fantastic Annie Leibovitz photo of Terri with David Bowie, taken two dozen years earlier. Kiki pulled the door to Terri’s bedroom shut and walked to the desk. She sat and touched the finger pad. The screen sprang to life. There was Terri’s yet-to-be-filed Vanity Fair article on Vitriol. Kiki sat, inhaled, and began to read.

  *

  “You bitch!” Kiki screamed.

  She ran down the hall toward the beach as fast as her knobby knees would carry her. “How could you?” She burst onto the sand where Terri reclined on a chaise lounge. The boys were nowhere in sight.

  “Kiki?” Terri looked up, shielding her eyes from the sun.

  “You’ve
always been envious! Just admit it, you fat cow. Ever since I did Mick and you were stuck with Keith.”

  “What are you talking about?” Terri asked.

  “Your fucking article, that’s what I’m talking about.”

  “You read my article?”

  “Of course I read it. What are you trying to do? Destroy me?”

  “That article is my private property,” Terri said. “You broke into my room and read my article!”

  “You traitorous bitch. I got you that gig. I gave you that information—all of it off the record, I might add—and you’ve put it into a piece that is going out just before the Oscars?”

  “I have confirmation.”

  “From whom?’

  “An anonymous source,” Terri said, a wicked gleam in her eye.

  “Bullshit,” Kiki said. “You’ve never used an anonymous source in your entire career. Who told you?”

  “I’m not saying. Now sit down and enjoy the rest of our holiday.”

  “I will not enjoy anything. I’m not kidding, Terri, you tell me right now who tipped you or I will—”

  “What? What will you do? Hmm?”

  “Our friendship will be over,” Kiki sputtered.

  “Oh, Kiki, don’t be silly. We both know too much about each other for our friendship ever to be finished,” Terri said. She lay back on the chaise to soak up the sun.

  “I’m not kidding, Terri. You tell me now.”

  “I’m not telling you anything, you crazy old broad,” Terri said. “No matter what you say.”

  “Fine.” Kiki turned back toward the house and headed back to Terri’s room. She knew what she needed to do.

  *

  It felt like a giant Frisbee slipping from her fingertips. A five-pound Frisbee. The sun glinted off the computer’s silver top as it arced up over the Pacific’s waves, sailing through the air, much farther than Kiki thought she was capable of throwing. Pilates and yoga had made her stronger than she anticipated. Joy filled her as she watched the computer fly. That bitch. That horrible bitch of a woman whom she had pretended to be friends with for the last forty years. Terri had no idea what true friendship was, or how to keep things quiet. Discretion? Fuck, no. Terri wasn’t discreet. She was manipulative, she was mean, she was cunning. Terri was nothing like Kiki—a solid friend with true loyalty.

  Kiki turned back toward the house. There’d be no way that Terri would ever file her story now.

  “What did you just throw into the ocean?” Terri stood five feet from Kiki, her tree-trunk legs planted firmly in the sand. “I am a writer, and you just threw my laptop into the ocean,” Terri said. “A writer, Kiki, do you understand? And you threw my laptop into the ocean.” Terri walked slowly toward her. Kiki had never seen Terri’s eyes look so crazy, not even when they were dropping acid in the Haight with Tom.

  “A writer, Kiki. Do you know what that means?” Terri asked. Kiki shook her head, glancing to her right and left for an escape route. Terri outweighed her by at least fifty pounds.

  “It means I hope you’ve said your prayers, because I am going to kill you,” Terri said.

  Kiki backed into the surf, trying to get around Terri. She bolted to the left, making a quick dash for the house, but Terri’s arms wrapped around Kiki’s knees. Kiki’s chin hit wet sand and she swallowed salty water as a wave crashed over her. She choked and spat as Terri grabbed her shoulders and pushed her under another wave. Her lungs burned; she couldn’t breathe. Blackness grabbed her as she sucked in saltwater.

  *

  Kiki choked and heaved. She rolled onto her side and vomited seawater.

  “I am a writer!” Terri screamed. “She threw my laptop into the ocean!”

  Kiki looked up at Carlos, leaning over her. “Kiki, you okay?” Carlos asked. Another wave of nausea bolted through her and she leaned to her right again and puked.

  “A writer, do you understand? My laptop! My laptop in the ocean!”

  Kiki slowly sat up and looked to her left. Terri strained against Robert’s well-muscled arm, trying to get to her. “You! You’re dead, do you hear me? Dead! I may have missed this time, but I know you, Kiki Dee. I’m coming for you.”

  “Hey, stop,” Robert said. He pulled Terri toward the house.

  “It was one laptop, Kiki,” Terri yelled. “I still have it all up here.” She tapped her head. “I’ll get another computer. I’ll file that story, and when I do, you and your clients, all of them, are dead. Dead! Even Steven. I’m not scared. It’s all coming out.”

  Robert pulled Terri up the stairs.

  “Do you hear me, you anorexic bitch? All of them, dead!” Terri screamed.

  Kiki watched Robert push Terri into the house. Kiki looked at Carlos and inhaled fresh air. “Thanks for saving my life.”

  Carlos pulled her slowly to her feet. “Glad we were here. Robert and I were on our way out for a walk. Two minutes later and it would have been just you and her,” he said.

  Kiki shuddered. Her dead body could be drifting out to sea, never to be recovered. “Did you see the whole thing?” she asked.

  “Oh yeah, from you walking down the steps with the computer to her tackling you in the ocean. Quite a scene. That old lady is strong. It took both of us to get her off you,” Carlos said. “Whatever was on that computer must have been pretty intense.”

  Kiki looked toward the house. “Intense? Yes, I guess intense is the right word.”

  *

  The end-of-year holiday wasn’t quite over, but Kiki sat in her office and waited for Celeste. She assumed Cici wanted to meet with her so that she could have the pleasure of firing her in person. Kiki’s right eye was a bright purple seen only on exotic birds and horrible bruises. She had phoned Cici from the maid’s quarters on the island and told her everything, including the slant of Terri’s Vanity Fair story. Kiki then boarded a plane, alone, and returned to L.A. She figured she had a forty-eight-hour lead time (if that) to try to do some damage control before Terri filed her story.

  “Kiki, darling,” Cici said, breezing into the office. “Oh my. You weren’t lying. You two really did have a go, didn’t you?”

  “The best of friends make the worst of enemies,” Kiki said.

  “So true,” Cici said. “Our friends know all our dirty little secrets, don’t they?”

  “Every single one,” Kiki said. “And I’m afraid this time it’s going to spill everyone’s blood. Cici, I am—”

  “Not another word,” Cici said. She glanced at her watch. “What’s your new assistant’s name?” she asked.

  “Jilly.”

  “Jilly,” Celeste called out. “When Miss Seawell phones, put her through.”

  “Celeste, I am the last person Terri will call,” Kiki said.

  “Oh no, darling. She’s going to call.”

  “What? Why do you think—”

  “I sent her a note asking her to,” Cici said.

  “Celeste, darling, I know you are a very big star, but this tiff between Terri and me, you aren’t going to fix it with a note.”

  “Miss Solange,” Jilly called from her desk. “I have Terri Seawell on one.”

  “Put her through, please,” Cici called back. “Kiki, put her on speakerphone.” Kiki pushed the button on her phone. “Terri? Are you there, Terri?” Cici asked.

  “Cici, darling, yes of course I’m here. Thank you so much for your note,” Terri said.

  “Oh Terri, my pleasure. Did you enjoy the house?” Cici asked.

  “Loved the house. It was absolutely divine.”

  “You liked it then?” Cici asked. She looked up at Kiki and smiled.

  “Adored. So I’ve rewritten my article,” Terri said. “I don’t know if you heard, but I had a terrible accident with my laptop while I was on your island.”

  “No? What happened?” Cici asked.

  “Some water got on it. Scrambled my hard drive, absolutely destroyed the entire thing.”

  “Oh Terri, I’m so sorry. I can only imagine how horrible that w
as for you.”

  “Well, being a writer, one does become inordinately attached to one’s laptop. But fortunately for me, I back everything up. So the only thing that was lost was my article for Vanity Fair. Are you with your publicist now?”

  “Kiki? Yes, she’s right here.”

  “I’m e-mailing you a copy of the article.” Cici looked at Kiki, who glanced at her own computer screen.

  “You should get it in just a few minutes,” Terri said. “The article is lovely. I hope it helps your Oscar campaign and maybe ticket sales for Vitriol.”

  Kiki opened the e-mail from Terri with the attached article. Her jaw dropped as she scanned Terri’s story. How had Celeste managed to get Terri to write this? “It’s fantastic,” Kiki whispered to Cici.

  “Kiki loves it,” Cici said. “I’m sure I will, too.”

  “Thank you again for the house,” Terri said. “And the pictures, too.”

  “Not a problem. Let me know when you want to go again.”

  “I will, darling. Ciao,” Terri said, and the line went dead.

  Kiki looked up from her computer screen and over at Cici. “How did you do this?”

  “Do what?”

  “This! This article! How did you get her to write this article?”

  “Maybe it was the gift I sent her,” Cici said.

  “Gift?”

  “Some pictures, of Terri. From the house.”

  “Pictures?”

  “Last year Ted had security cameras installed in all our houses. I had no idea about Terri’s fascination with black latex, did you?”

  Kiki swallowed.

  “Cameras? In every room?” Kiki asked.

  “Every room,” Cici said. She stood, picked up her Versace bag, and walked toward the door. “Oh, Kiki, Pilates looks very good on you,” Cici said. “And so does Carlos.”

  Epilogue: Dreams Do Come True

  Mary Anne Meyers, Screenwriter

  “Mary Anne, wake up,” Holden said. He nudged her gently in the ribs.