“Why are you stalking me?” Cat demanded, hands on hips, green eyes blazing.
“I’m not stalking you,” Jump responded with a sulky scowl. “You’re my freakin’ wife.”
“Oh, c’mon,” she said, glaring at him. “You’re supposed to be on tour in Australia; now you show up in L.A., creeping around the set while I’m trying to work.”
“You’re finished for the day, aren’t you?”
“A director never finishes,” she said grandly. “I’ve got dailies to view, notes to go over, decisions to make for tomorrow.”
“Yeah, an’ you gotta eat too. Let’s go to your place, order Chinese, an’ talk.”
“You’re not getting it, are you?” she said, staring at him in exasperation. “There’s nothing to talk about. 1 caught you screwing around on me. We’re oven”
“You’re such, a wanker,” he said, fidgeting with one of his gold stud earrings, “I dipped it in another bird. Big freakin’ deal. I was stoned, didn’t know what I was doing. You gonna keep punishin’ me for that?”
“This is no punishment, Jump,” she said, wishing he’d get lost. “I don’t want to be with you anymore. It’s as simple as that.”
“After everything we’ve been through together?”
“What exactly have we been through?”
“If it wasn’t for me,” he said accusingly, “you’d be sitting in some New York pisshole stoned outta your skull with a bunch, of losers.”
“Oh,” she said, narrowing her eyes. “Is that what you think I’d be doing?”
“You were a major druggie, Cat. The only reason you gave it up was ’cause I forced you to.”
“Are you saying that if you hadn’t come along, I wouldn’t’ve accomplished anything?”
“That’s the road you were heading down, darlin’.”
“Go away,” she said wearily. “Talk to my lawyer.”
“Quit with the lawyer, crap,” he said, grabbing her roughly by the arm. “You an’ me gotta work this out together.”
“Don’t touch me,” she shouted, struggling to free herself.
They were standing outside her trailer. Most people had gone home, except for Nick Logan, who came bopping along at just the wrong moment. “Having trouble?” Nick asked, sizing Jump up.
“No,” she said, glaring at Jump, who immediately let go of her;
“Yell if you need anythin’,” Nick said, still eyeballing Jump, “I’ll be in my trailer for another hour. Got lines to learn.”
“Who the fuck is that?” Jump growled.
“None of your business,” Cat responded.
“Jesus, you’ve turned into a tough little cunt.”
“Oh very nice, the C-word.”
“You’re exactly like your freakin’ mother.”
“You don’t even know my mother,” she responded scornfully.
“Nor do you,” he shot back.
“Get lost, cheater.”
“I will. I’m at the Sunset Marquis. When you stop with the divorce rubbish, gimme a call.” He strode off.
“Don’t wait by the phone,” she yelled after him.
A few minutes after Jump left, Nick emerged from his trailer. “Want me to have him whacked?” he inquired, all business.
“Excuse me?” she said, raising an eyebrow.
“I can arrange it, you know,” he said matter-of-factly. “I got connections.”
“Really?” she said, disbelievingly.
“Yeah. Last year I did a mafia movie, an’ the dudes with the broken noses promised me a favor, which I aim to collect.”
“You’re nuts,” she said, shaking her head.
“That’s what everyone says,’ he said, squinting at her. “Personally I think it works for me.”
“Don’t be so sure.”
“You’re liking what you see on the screen, aren’t you?” he said, fishing in his pants pocket for a cigarette.
“You smoke too much,” she admonished.
“An’ you don’t get enough sex,” he responded, lighting up.
“Good night,” she said, heading toward the parking lot.
“You seein’ dailies?” he asked, loping along behind her.
“I am.”
“Mind if I tag along?”
She hesitated for a moment, then thought, Why not? After all, he’d rescued her from what could’ve been a nasty physical fight with. Jump. “1 suppose so,” she said.
“I’ll ride with you,” he said, dragging on his cigarette.
“I thought you had lines to learn.”
“They’ll wait.”
“Oh, thanks,” she said tartly. “Our movie should be your priority.”
“I’m a fast study,” he said, winking at her.
“That’s encouraging.”
They reached her red Mustang.
“Nice wheels,” he said admiringly.
“Rented.”
“I should warn you, I’m a backseat driver,” he responded, “So maybe I should drive.”
“Too bad. 1 give direction, I’m not good at taking it.”
“Okay, blondie,” he said, sliding into the passenger seat, “Since this is our first date. 111 let you drive.”
“You’ll let me?” she said, raising an eyebrow.
“Sure,” he said, exhaling smoke. “Ain’t life grand?”
• • •
Back at his hotel, Linc was acting like a caged animal, pacing up and down, muttering under his breath. He was furious, and his pride was hurt. Of all the people for Shelby to be photographed with, she’d had to pick on that asshole Pete. How would it look to his buddies? They all knew what a pussy hound Pete was, and Shelby was his wife for crissakes.
He swooped on the phone, called room service, and ordered a couple of bottles of scotch. Then, since Shelby was arriving tomorrow, he thought better of it, instructed them to hold the order and send up half a bottle instead, and plenty of ice.
When the booze arrived, he filled a glass and gulped it down without so much as blinking.
It was as if he had a hollow leg; first the coke had had no effect, now the same with the booze.
Maybe sex was what he needed. Maybe if he jammed it into Lola Sanchez he wouldn’t feel so bad about Shelby and her indiscretion that made him look like a fool. Fuck her! Miss Sweet and Innocent. His proper English lady wife. And there she was on-screen with her tits hanging out, and now she was stepping out with an old boyfriend. Christ! What next?
It occurred to him that the anger he was feeling was not all about the dumb photo in People. His anger went deeper than that. Truth was, he was furious about Shelby taking it all off on-screen. A fury he’d kept under wraps until now. He was married to her. She was not some little hooker happy to flash the world. Her behavior on and off the screen was so fucking disrespectful.
He made a quick decision and called Lola at her hotel. “I’ll meet you at the restaurant,” he said.
“What a gentleman,” she admonished, “I suppose my bodyguard will have to escort me.”
“Hey—I was gonna take a shower, that’s all.” Her silence indicated she was pissed, “Never mind,” he said, “I’ll come by your hotel.”
“What restaurant are we going to?”
“Mario’s,”
“Where’s that?”
“It’s a small Italian place in the Village.”
“Somewhere we won’t be seen?” she said lightly.
“Listen carefully,” he said, his voice rising, because he was in no mood to put up with her shit, “I don’t give a rat’s ass if we’re seen or not,”
“Hmm . . . ,” she said knowingly. “I get it. Your wife’s in People with a good-looking guy, so now you want to get back at her,”
“What’s with the good-looking-guy crap?” he said, steaming. “The asshole’s a stuntman; he looks like shit.”
“Oh, sorry.”
“I don’t wanna talk about it, okay?”
“That’s fine,” she said, loving that he was so aggravated. “We can talk about me instead.”
“I’m on my way.”
“What happened to your shower?”
“How about I take it with you later?”
She put down the phone, “How about you’ve got no chance,” she murmured, laughing to herself.
• • •
Linc got his usual big welcome at Mario’s, a small family restaurant he’d been going to for years. Mama Mario adored him; he was one of her favorite customers.
“Ah, Signor Linc—so handsome,’ Mama Mario crooned. “Why you no marry one a my daughters? I tell you many times.” She took a look at Lola, then turned back to Linc with an accusing expression, “Where’s your bella wife?”
“This is Signorina Sanchez,” Linc said. “We’re making a movie together.”
Mama Mario made a disapproving sound in the back of her throat before reluctantly leading them to a corner table.
A waiter came rushing over with menus. “Mi scusi,” Mama Mario said, “I go see other customers. Buon appetito.”
“So,” Linc said, ordering a double scotch on the rocks. “What’s the deal with you and Tony Alvarez?” “I told you before,’ Lola said, sticking to Evian. “He’s helping me get over Matt.”
“Yeah?” Linc said, giving her the macho sexy stare he’d perfected over the years. “And how’s he doing that?”
“Tony’s an old friend,” she answered casually.
“Hey, sweetie, it’s me you’re talking to. I know all about old friends.” He took another hearty swig of scotch and leaned across the table. “Are you fucking him?”
“Linc!” she said, managing to look affronted. “We don’t know each other well enough for you to ask me those kinds of personal questions.”
His hand slid under the table and onto her knee. ‘It’s about time we got to know each other better.”
She promptly removed his hand.
“You’re not getting shy on me, are you?”
“I think you’re forgetting you’re a married man.”
“So what?” he said carelessly. “You’re a married woman.”
“I’m getting a divorce.” she reminded him.
“Hey.” he said ruefully. “The way things are going, I might soon be joining you.”
“I thought you and your wife were so blissfully happy?”
“Yeah, yeah.” he said, draining his glass and signaling the waiter to bring him another drink. “Shelby’s the best. Only she’s in this movie with her tits all over the screen, an’ I don’t like it.”
“I saw the film in Cannes.” Lola said.
“How d’ya think seein’ my wife like that makes me feel?” he complained, “What would she do if it was me up there with my dick hanging out?”
“If it was worth seeing, I’m sure the women in America would be very happy.”
“It’s worth seein’, all right,” he boasted, with a drunken leer.
“Lucky you,” Lola murmured.
After dinner the booze began to kick in big time. “You got great tits,” he said, attempting to grab a feel. “I like that in a woman.”
She fended him off with a sharp slap.
Reducing Linc Blackwood to rubble was going, to be too damn easy. The man was a pathetic drunk. A has been stud.
Perhaps that was punishment enough.
• • •
The moment Cat walked into the screening room with Nick she could tell that Jonas was pissed. Usually, they met up, watched the dailies together, took notes, then compared them. Tonight Jonas obviously realized things were different. -
“Hey, man,” Nick said, oblivious, to any atmosphere. “I gotta take a piss. Save me a seat.”
“What’s he doing here?” Jonas asked as soon as Nick left to visit the men’s room.
“He caught me on my way out,” Cat explained.
“I thought we agreed we weren’t going to have actors see the dailies.”
“Nick says it helps him with his performance.”
“So you said yes.”
“Don’t be so uptight. He’s an okay guy.”
“Yesterday you were calling him a lech.”
“He’s a lech, too. A leg-over merchant as they say in England.”
“How’s he getting back to his car?”
“Dunno,” she said vaguely. “You can drive him.”
“Forget it.”
“What’s up with you?”
“Actually, Nick saved me from Jump. My dear almost-ex was being a major pain.”
“I told you I’d stay and run interference,” Jonas reminded her.
“No need. I handled it.”
“With Nick’s help.”
“Yes, Jonas, with Nick’s help. Do you mind?”.
“Where’s Jump now?”
“Back at his hotel. Can you imagine?” she added indignantly. “He had the balls to inform me that I’d be nothing if it wasn’t for him.”
“He’s only saying that to irritate you.”
“Well, it worked.”
Nick returned and sat down next to her. Cat gave the signal for the projectionist to run the film.
She hunched forward in her seat, watching intently. On-screen Nick was a powerful presence, with his intense eyes, sexy mouth, and a brooding quality that worked well for his character.
She felt chills. The movie was going so well. How had she gotten this lucky?
When the lights went up, Nick lit a cigarette and glanced over at Jonas—the only other person in the screening room. “How about I buy you guys dinner?” he said. “I got a permanent table at Ago.”
“I can’t,” Jonas said, still uptight.
“C’mon, man. We’ll chug a coupla beers and—”
“I’ve got work to do,” Jonas interrupted. “So do you,” he said, staring pointedly at Cat.
She hated people telling her what to do. Jonas might be the big brother she’d never had, but that didn’t mean he was free to boss her around. Besides, tonight she fancied hanging out. “I think I’ll go grab a plate of pasta with Nick,” she said, infuriating Jonas even further.
“Hey, Jonah, why don’t you make the cut?” Nick asked.
“It’s Jonas.”
“Sorry, man,”
“Are you sure—” Cat began. Before she could finish, Jonas had made a fast exit.
“Somethin’ I said?” Nick remarked.
“He’s got work to do. Jonas is very conscientious.”
“Seems like a good dude.”
“He is.”
“Kinda buttoned up.”
“Not really,”
“Yeah. Really.”
“Hmm . . .”
“You happy with the dailies?” Nick asked as they walked out of the screening room.
“Are you?” she countered.
“Never like watching myself.”
“You told me it helps you with-your performance.”
“I was lying.”
“Why?”.
“ ’Cause I fancied spending time with you,” he said, casually throwing his arm around her shoulders.
“You’re crazy.”
“Never said I wasn’t.”
“Try and keep the bullshit charm for in front of the camera.”
“How about this time I drive?” he said as they approached her car.
“No way.”
“Hate to tell you this, blondie, but you drive like a girl.”
“Flattery’s gonna get you all the way to nowhere,”
“Okay,” he said, with a half grin. “You win. But this is only a skirmish—when it comes to the battle, I got you beat.”
“You think?”
“I know.”
• • •
By the time they were through with dinner, Linc was so bombed that he could barely stand up. Lola remained stone cold sober. No alcohol was coming between her and her looks, not unless it was the best Cristal champagne, and even then she indulged only in a glass or two.
Linc was all over her, pawing and touching, his hand attempting to creep up her skirt. She slapped him off like a particularly annoying puppy, which failed to stop him from trying. She intimated that, if he came back to her hotel things would heat up. He was hot to trot.
Mama Mario would not allow him to pick up the check. “You be back soon with your bella signorina Shelby,” she said, throwing another disapproving look Lola’s way.
“We were rehearsing a scene,” Lola offered. “You shouldn’t read anything into it.”
“Ha!” the older woman sniffed.
As soon as they walked out of the restaurant, the paparazzi sprang into action. Earlier, Lola had issued instructions to Big Jay to let everyone know where she was and with whom.
“I wonder who called them?” she asked innocently.
As the cameras began flashing, she turned to Linc, took his face in both her hands, and planted a big kiss on his lips. “Thanks for dinner,” she whispered. “It was nice, even though we didn’t get to discuss the script. I love that you found time to listen to my problems. You’re such a sweetheart.” Then she kissed him again.
She knew perfectly well what the photos would look like when they appeared. Nobody would hear the dialogue, they’d simply view the action.
“Put him in a cab,” she said to Big Jay, ducking into her limo while the paparazzi continued to flash.
Linc started to follow her.
Big Jay blocked his way. “Ms. Sanchez says you should take a cab,” Big Jay announced.
“What the fuck,” Linc mumbled, unsteady on his feet. “Shit! I’m not feeling great; those fuckin’ flashbulbs are ruining my eyeballs. What th’ fuck’s goin’ on?”
Big Jay hailed down a cab, told the driver where to go, and bundled Linc into the backseat. Then he joined his boss in the limo.
“Some stud,” Lola murmured. “Bloodshot eyes and boozy breath. Oooh, I’m sooo unhappy I didn’t end up with him.”
Big Jay stared straight ahead. He knew better than to comment.
• • •
Shelby always set two alarms in case one failed to go off. She had a fear of being late and missing her call Not that she had a call today, but she did have to be at the airport in time to catch Merrill’s plane. He’d told her yesterday that he might be on it. She didn’t mind; after all, it was his plane.
She’d finished packing the night before, so after dressing in a comfortable tracksuit, she was ready to go; all she needed was her sunglasses and carry-on bag.
Downstairs in the kitchen, her housekeeper had fixed her a plate of scrambled eggs.
“I’m not hungry, Lupe,” she said apologetically.
“That’s all right, Miss Shelby,”
“Is my car here yet?”
“It’s outside.”
“Thanks. I’ll see you in three days,” she said, walking out the front door.
Standing in the driveway was Pete.
“What on earth are you doing here?” she asked, perplexed.
“Driving you to the airport,” he said, with a big friendly smile.
“You’re doing what?”
“Driving you to the airport,” he repeated.
“And why would you be doing that?”
“I know you’re nervous about flying,” he said, pulling up the collar of his weathered leather jacket, “so I figured it would be a nice thing to do.”
“Uh, listen, Pete,” she said, quite taken-aback. “It’s a thoughtful offer; however, I can’t take you up on it.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know quite how to put this,’ she said hesitantly, “because I do think you’re a great guy. Only here’s the thing—Linc would not be happy about this.”
“He wouldn’t?”
“No, he wouldn’t. And—”
“Shelby,” Pete interrupted, his rugged face quite serious. “There’s nothing going on between us. We both know that.”
“Yes, we both know it. How about everyone else?”
“I thought it would be a gesture you’d appreciate,” Pete said, managing to look hurt.
“I do appreciate it, Pete, but I can’t risk upsetting Linc.”
“I don’t see him anywhere.”
“I’m honest with my husband. I wouldn’t lie about anything.”
“You mean he’ll ask who drove you to the airport?”
Shelby frowned. Pete might be a great guy, but this whole scene was getting to be too much of a good thing and she had no desire to lead him on. “Where’s my car and driver?” she asked, deciding she’d better put a stop to it before it went any further.
“Now you’re really going to be mad,” he said sheepishly.
“Why?”
“ ’Cause I sent your driver away.”
She was silent for a moment, trying to remain calm and not get too angry, because she knew that Pete meant well. However, he’d now crossed the line, and it was time for her to do something about it.
“You’re giving me no choice, are you?” she said evenly, aware that if she didn’t go with him she could miss Merrills plane.
“That wasn’t my intention.”
“Look,” she said, taking a deep breath, “when I get back, the only place we should see each other is on the set. Unless you and Linc resume your friendship, that’s it. I hope you understand.”
“Got it, Shelby,” he said, suitably abashed.
“Good.”