Working with Nick Logan turned out to be a pleasant surprise. He was on time, knew all his lines, looked almost handsome once the makeup and hairdressing department had shaved off his beard and cleaned him up, and best of all he was a terrific actor.
Cat had dealt with a raggle-taggle band of amateurs on her previous movie; now, working with professionals was a major kick. Her cinematographer was a thoughtful and extremely helpful collaborator who advised her, but not in a superior way, which made her feel that she was getting the best out of him and still implementing her own ideas.
There was so much to think about, so much to do. As the director, everyone came to her for decisions. It was a huge responsibility, but one she felt she was capable of taking on. She even had her own assistant, Kodi, a cute Chinese girl who was probably older than her and did everything she asked, which was kind of cool.
Fortunately Jonas was there for her, watching her back, making sure it all went smoothly. Even Merrill visited the set on the first day of shooting to wish everyone luck. He was his usual powerful presence, puffing on a huge cigar, trailed by a temporary assistant—a skinny man with bright red hair, handpicked by Jonas.
On the second day of principal photography Cat’s lawyer called her on the set. “I know you’re in the middle of a thousand things,” Leo said. “Only I thought you should know that I’ve had a response from your husband. He doesn’t want a divorce, refuses to hire a lawyer, insists that he talk to you, and says this can all be worked out when he gets back.”
“That’s crap, Leo,” she said angrily, cradling her cell phone. “He doesn’t get it. There’s no way I’m putting up with him screwing around on me.”
“I hear you,” Leo said. “Don’t worry. I’ll deal with it.”
“Please do,” she said, clicking off her phone.
Like she didn’t have enough to deal with, and Jump was not a priority.
“What’s up?” Nick Logan asked, sidling over, a cigarette dangling from his lower lip. “Boyfriend problems?”
“Were you listening to my conversation?” she demanded.
“Half the set heard it,” he said, squinting at her with sleepy amber eyes. “You were fuckin’ yelling.”
“I was not,” she responded indignantly.
“If you say so.”
“And I don’t have a boyfriend,” she added. “If you must know, I have a husband.”
“Nasty.”
“What?”
“Husbands who dick around,” Nick said, flicking ash on the ground. “ ’Specially on a knockout babe who looks like you.”
“Don’t hit on me, Nick,” she said, fixing him with a steely glare. “I’m not into it.”
“Then you’d better let me know when you are, an’ maybe we’ll do somethin’ ’bout it.”
Before she could reply he drifted off, conferring with the script supervisor, who definitely had a crush on him.
God, he was annoying! Although his cocky attitude didn’t seem to stop every woman on the set from developing a crush on him.
Cat couldn’t care less, as long as he did good work; that was all that mattered. She had no eyes for getting involved, and certainly not with an actor.
• • •
Shelby continued to see Pete, reasoning to herself that she wasn’t doing anything wrong. And even though she was well aware that her husband would hardly approve of her spending time with an old boyfriend, what Linc didn’t know wouldn’t irritate him.
On the other hand, Pete was a good friend, and it wasn’t as if she’d ever slept with him. During the time they were together they’d indulged in a few steamy necking sessions, never taking it all the way, which was kind of juvenile, considering the amount of women Linc had slept with in his past.
The truth was that she enjoyed Pete’s company. He didn’t drink or smoke, he simply got on with things in a down-home kind of way. He reminded her of normal life—the way it was before she’d moved to Hollywood and married a famous movie star with a drinking problem.
She drove to Pete’s gym in Santa Monica, found a parking meter, and left her car on the street.
The gym was massive, with huge windows overlooking the ocean, and all the latest equipment. It was full of toned, hard bodies working nonstop to make them even fitter. “I feel so out of shape,” she said ruefully, looking around.
“You’re not,” Pete responded, once again obviously delighted to see her. “You’re very toned and, uh . . . very beautiful.”
“Thanks,” she murmured, wishing he wouldn’t go there. She wasn’t seeking compliments, merely friendship.
“I’ll give you the tour,” he said.
“I’d like that,” she said, following him around as he showed her the steam room, lap pool, and massage rooms.
“Gotta say I’m looking forward to seeing you in Rapture,” he remarked. “I hear your performance is quite something.”
“Oh,” she said, suddenly shy. “You must’ve heard about the nude scene.”
“The word’s around.”
“Do you have any idea how embarrassing it was to shoot? I begged the director for a closed set, yet people managed to sneak in anyway.”
“That’s the way it goes.”
“At one point there were men actually hanging off the rafters. It was most disconcerting.”
“And I bet you handled it like you handle everything—with your usual style.”
“I try,” she said modestly.
After the tour they sat down in his cluttered office, where he offered her a bottle of Evian, picked up the script, and began going over the stunts he thought she might be up to attempting. “The car stunt’s a breeze,” he assured her. “You can handle it, no problem.”
“I can?” she asked unsurely.
“You bet,” he said, nodding vigorously. “I already spoke to Cat about it.”
“You did?”
“Yeah, it’s important, Shelby, ’cause sometimes the audience spots it when a stunt double takes over.”
“Not in your movies they don’t.”
“I appreciate that.”
“Have you ever doubled for Linc?”
“Sure did. There was no way you could tell us apart on the screen.”
“You’re not as tall as him.”
“We fake it with shoes, hairpieces, whatever.”
“Show me the movie and I’ll guess who’s who.”
“I have a DVD of it,” he said. “Hey—wanna come by my place later an’ take a look?”
“No, Pete,” she said quickly. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Why?” he said, challenging her. “We’re friends, aren’t we?”
“I wouldn’t feel comfortable.”
He gave her a long look. “Is there a reason for that?”
“Well . . . ,” she began, wishing he hadn’t asked. “I . . . uh . . . haven’t mentioned to Linc that we bumped into each other.”
“You haven’t, huh? How come?”
“I’m sure you remember that Linc can be quite jealous.”
“Oh yeah, I remember.” A long silent beat. “Y’know, Shelby, I thought by this time he would’ve gotten you prégnant. I always imagined you with a couple of kids. You’d be a sensational mother.”
“We, uh . . . we’ve discussed having children,” she said. Then she stopped abruptly. “You know what, Pete?” she said, brushing back her long hair. “Talking about this is too personal.”
“Sorry,” he said quickly. “I shouldn’t’ve gone there. It’s none of my business, right?”
She nodded, suddenly feeling disloyal to her husband. “I’ve got to go,” she said, getting up. “Thanks for the tour.”
“Anytime,” he said, throwing her a quizzical look. “Don’t forget, I’m always here for you.”
• • •
Lola did not return to her hotel until Sunday evening, having spent the most glorious weekend with Tony. In her heart she could not imagine why she had ever left him. Tony Alvarez understood her better than any man ever had. They were soul mates, destined to be together.
Big Jay escorted her up to her suite, where there were a ton of messages waiting for her. She had not bothered to turn her cell phone on all weekend, therefore she’d been unreachable.
Naturally she’d seen the papers, TONY AND LOLA—TOGETHER AGAIN! With huge front-page pictures in the Post and the Daily News.
She was thrilled to see how fantastic they looked together. The story inside was not such a thrill: “Lola and Tony Alvarez a couple again? Where does that leave Lola’s husband, Matt Seel? Sitting in California by himself? Or maybe Lola and Tony are just friends. . . .”
Damn! There was no doubt that Matt would see this and be hurt. She hadn’t wanted to hurt him; it was just that he was so damn boring, she’d had to get away or go crazy. Besides, she’d known Tony much longer than she’d known Matt, so her soon-to-be-ex shouldn’t feel dissed that she’d decided to go back to her original love.
She sat on the edge of the bed and clicked on the TV while listening to her voice mail.
Faye was first, naturally. “What the hell do you think you’re up to?” her bossy publicist rasped. “And why didn’t you tell me first, so that I could maintain some degree of control? I’ll be back on Monday; we’ll have to deal with it then.”
Oh good, she couldn’t wait.
The second call was from her highly expensive attorney, Otto Landstrom. “Not a smart move, Lola,” Otto said in his disapproving-father voice. “We should talk as soon as possible. You’re putting ammunition into the hands of the enemy.”
What did that mean?
The third message was from Selma. “Mama’s about to have a heart attack,” her sister wailed. “You’d better call me back immediately.”
And so on and so on, with many other messages from friends and relatives, all putting in their ten cents’ worth.
Why couldn’t they leave her alone? Didn’t anyone understand? No bad publicity was about to frighten her off. Tony Alvarez was her man, and this time she was staying with him, come what may.
She loved Tony. She loved him passionately. And no bad publicity would ever split them up again.
• • •
Freddy Krane’s idea of a good time was staying up all night. Since Freddy was also into doing coke, Linc decided it wasn’t such a bad idea.
Freddy’s latest supermodel girlfriend, Allegra, joined in the fun too. She was a six-foot-tall beauty who hailed from Australia, with a strong accent that could cut glass. She talked a lot, assuring them that when she finally broke into movies, she would make Nicole Kidman look like a Girl Scout.
“Been a supermodel for five years,” she announced. “Been on the cover of Sports Illustrated twice. I’m like huge in the modeling world.”
Linc and Freddy didn’t care what she was as long as she joined them in their habit.
Linc had a feeling that he shouldn’t be indulging in front of some strange model with a loud mouth, but then he thought, What the hell? He was in New York, far away from Shelby, and what she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.
The three of them started off having dinner at Coco Pazzo, where Linc bumped into several acquaintances. After dinner they stopped by a few clubs, all of which Allegra was extremely familiar with. She sailed past the door people with a disdainful flip of her hand, and headed straight to the VIP room where she downed apple martinis as if they were lemonade.
“I’m out every night,” she boasted. “Staying up late never affects me. I’m what they call a natural beauty.”
Yes, and modest too, Linc thought.
“I’m gonna put her in my next movie,” Freddy announced, winking at Linc behind her back. “Is it my fault if she ends up on the cuttin’ room floor?”
At around 3 A.M. Linc decided he was tired and ready to go home. Freddy cornered him, informing him that Allegra would not be averse to a threesome.
“Sorry,” Linc said, remembering that he had an early call. “Not my scene.”
Freddy jeered that he was getting old.
Maybe he was. He was forty-something, not exactly a kid anymore. Besides, he was looking forward to seeing Shelby on the weekend.
There was nothing wrong with missing one’s wife.
• • •
After a restless night’s sleep, Lola reported for work accompanied by Big Jay and Jenny. They were shooting a scene on location at the Central Park Zoo and the paparazzi were in full evidence. She hid in her trailer until she was called, then with Big Jay by her side, protecting her, she headed for the set.
Linc Blackwood was already there. She’d been so caught up with Tony all weekend that she’d forgotten about Linc and her plan. The moment she saw him it all came rushing back. Staring at him from a distance, she realized that she could never have babies with Tony, the love of her life. She could never have a little girl that looked like her, or a little boy that looked like Tony, and it was all because of Linc Blackwood. He’d treated her like she was less than nothing, used her, got her pregnant, and dumped her all in one night. What a piece of shit he was.
Now, staring at him, she was more determined than ever to smash his dreams the way he’d smashed hers.
So . . . what was she waiting for? Let the games begin.
Clad in a beige cashmere Valentino coat and a wide-brimmed hat, she casually waved at him.
“Hey,” he said, strolling toward her. “You’re all over the front pages.”
“I know,” she answered demurely. “I’ve been a very bad girl, haven’t I?”
“Bad girl suits you,” he said with a half smile.
“You think?”
“You’re glowing.”
“I am?”
“Oh yes.”
They exchanged a long look before Lola quickly changed the subject. “Is your wife here yet?” she asked, as if she cared.
“Flying in this weekend.”
“I bet you’re looking forward to seeing her.”
“Sure am.”
A wistful sigh. “It must be nice to be happily married.”
“It certainly is.”
“Matt and I, we had so many plans . . .”
“What happened?”
She lowered her eyes. “I can’t talk about it, Linc. It’s too upsetting.”
“Sorry.”
“Tony’s an old friend,” she explained. “He’s helping me get through it.”
Yeah, Linc thought. I can see that.
“Y’know,” Lola said, “I was hoping we could run some lines later.”
“Is there a particular scene you have in mind?”
“The dialogue in the party scene doesn’t work for me.”
“It doesn’t?”
“No. I was thinking we could go over it, make some changes.”
“When do you want to do this?”
“Well,” she said coyly, “I realize we can’t be seen out to dinner together; it would drive the paparazzi insane.”
“Wouldn’t think you were free for dinner anyway, what with Tony consoling you and all.”
“As a matter of fact, I am free. Tony had to fly to New Orleans on a location scout. He won’t be back until the weekend, which means I’m all alone in the big city.”
“That makes two of us.”
“Would it be a mistake for us to be seen out together?” she said, wide-eyed. “After all, it’s not as if there’s anything going on between us.”
“The gossip rags would go nuts,” Linc said. “And I’m sure Shelby wouldn’t appreciate it.”
“Scared of wifey?” she asked, lightly mocking him.
“Me?” he said, raising a cynical eyebrow.
“Yes, you,” she said, flirting.
“Just trying to be smart, Lola. Let’s not forget we’re making a movie, not having an affair.” Now it was his turn to mock her. “Wouldn’t want anyone thinking otherwise, would we?”
‘I don’t have time for an affair, do you?” she said, licking her lips in a suggestive way.
“It would be kinda difficult to fit it into our busy schedules,” he said, grinning at her obvious come-on.
Man, Lola Sanchez was definitely a piece of work. Flirting with her was a kick, but there was no way he had any intention of taking it further.
• • •
Rapture was opening across America the following week and Shelby was on edge about it. Suddenly she was about to be exposed to the world, and it was a scary prospect.
The next day was the L.A. press junket, which meant major maintenance. She spent the afternoon at the hair salon having her hair done, getting a manicure and pedicure. The studio had already sent designers to her house with a selection of clothes she could choose from, so later she selected a simple white Galanos dress and gold jewelry from Van Cleef & Arpels.
Early the next morning, Kara, the studio publicist for Rapture, arrived to pick her up and escort her to the Beverly Hills Hotel, where the junket was taking place. “It’ll be a long day,” Kara warned. She was a Southern girl with crinkly red hair down to her waist and funky tinted glasses. Rumor had it that she was sleeping with Beck Carson.
“I can take it,” Shelby said, getting into the limo parked in her driveway. “The only problem is forgetting what I’ve said to one journalist, and wondering if I’ve already said it to another.”
Kara gave a high-pitched laugh. “I’ll try to prompt you. They’ve each got four minutes, unless it’s E.T., Extra! or Access. They get six minutes—more if they send Mary Hart. You’ll break for lunch at twelve for an hour, then after makeup and hair touch-ups, we’re back in the room. The morning’s all print. The afternoon’s all TV.”
“Wonderful,” Shelby sighed, not relishing the thought of a day locked up with probing journalists. “Where are the others?”
“Russell’s in the next room. Beck’s on his way.”
“Do I get to see them?”
“I’ll put in a request that everyone break for lunch at the same time.”
“Thanks.”
“You’ll be great,” Kara said, adjusting her glasses, which kept on falling off the bridge of her nose. “You’ve done it a thousand times before.”
“Not exactly a thousand,” Shelby said modestly. “However, I’ll do my best.”
And she did, answering numerous questions, dodging difficult ones, avoiding the comparisons to Monster’s Ball, flattering other actresses, talking about her director and co-star, being very careful not to say one negative word about Linc.
At the lunch break she got together with Russell and Beck. The three of them sat around swapping war stories about the various members of the press.
“Watch out for the guy from Chicago,” Russell warned. “He’s out for a kill. You’ll recognize the rug, the twitch, and the bad breath.”
“And don’t forget the sexy little number from Vegas,” Beck said, joining in. “She managed to slip me her phone number two times.”
“Can’t wait!” Shelby murmured. “Do you think I’ll get lucky too?”
“Only if you cut your hair and lower your voice,” Beck joked.
She loved hanging out with them. Making Rapture had been an intense experience, one she’d never forget. Both men were true professionals and a pleasure to work with. If only every movie could be as enjoyable.
By the end of the day she was all talked out. She phoned Linc at his hotel and got his voice mail. She left a message that she was going to bed and would call him in the morning, then she took a long hot bath before settling down for the night.
Just as she was drifting off to sleep, her private line rang. Thinking it was Linc, she reached for the phone and murmured, “I know. You don’t want me falling asleep until you’ve told me how much you love me.”
“How did you know?”
It was Pete’s voice.
“Oh,” she said, embarrassed. “I thought it was Linc.”
“Sorry if I’m a big disappointment.”
“No . . . uh . . . it’s just that . . . when did I give you this number?”
“You wrote it down for me. Remember?”
Yes. She remembered writing down her phone number. And by mistake she’d obviously given him her private line.
“I didn’t wake you, did I?” he asked. “It’s only eight, I thought you might want to grab a burger after your press thing today.”
“Actually I’m in bed.”
“Did you eat?”
The truth was that she hadn’t eaten anything since lunch. Her housekeeper had left a fully stocked fridge, but she hadn’t felt like eating alone. Now Pete was on the phone, and what was she supposed to do?
Linc was in New York, Pete was her friend, and she was hungry.
“What d’you think?” Pete asked, pushing for an answer. “Burger or no burger?”
A big, fat, juicy hamburger with a side order of greasy french fries. Yes!
And tomorrow she’d tell Linc.