Tony had to piss so badly he could barely stand it. Maria and her blond girlfriend were still draped across him. Taking a surreptitious peek at his watch, he decided it was too early to wake them. Jeez! He felt like pissing all the way to the ceiling—although it occurred to him that maybe he should try holding it in. Nothing like a piss hard-on to start off the day.
A smile played around his lips. Two girls. Two delectable young girls. It had been some party.
He closed his eyes again, drifting back into a half sleep.
Was he really ready to give up Lola?
Yes, if she didn’t get rid of that dumb prick husband of hers and make up her mind.
Lola Sanchez . . . they did have something special going.
Lola was exciting and unpredictable. Not to mention a body to die for . . .
Maria and her girlfriend paled in comparison. They were like delicious and not-too-filling starters, while Lola was the main course, sating his appetite in every way imaginable.
Yes, Lola was the woman for him. And it was about time he did something about it before starting his upcoming movie.
• • •
“Hi, Mama,” Lola said, bursting into the kitchen of her mother’s house.
“Lucia, dear,” Claudine said, greeting her famous daughter with a warm hug. “You look so lovely without makeup.”
“Are you saying that I look like a hag with it?” Lola said, circling the center island and stealing a crisp piece of bacon.
“Don’t be foolish,” Claudine said, busying herself at the stove. “I am merely saying that I prefer you without it. Your skin is flawless.”
“Inherited from you.”
“Perhaps,” Claudine said, with a pleased smile.
“You know you have gorgeous skin, Mama. It’s the envy of all your girlfriends.”
“What are you doing up at this time?” Claudine asked, slapping Lola’s hand away as she went for another strip of bacon. “This is most unusual for you.”
“I get up early all the time. Sometimes I’m in the gym by five A.M.—especially when I’m on a movie.”
“Sit down at the table and stop trying to steal things before you eat,” Claudine scolded. “Tea or coffee?”
“I love your cooking, Mama, I always have,” Lola said, sitting down at the table.
“I know. That’s the only reason you come here.”
“No, it’s not.”
“Remember when you got so skinny at the start of your career? I was quite alarmed.”
“Mama! I was never skinny. I lost the weight ’cause the camera puts on fifteen pounds,” she explained. “You don’t want a fat daughter up there on the screen wobbling away, do you?”
“You were always my baby,” Claudine said with a fond sigh. “Always my little one.”
“Really, Mama?” she said, quite touched. “I thought Selma was your favorite.”
“I love all of you the same,” Claudine said briskly. “Although there’s something special about the youngest.”
“Mama,” Lola ventured, thinking this might be a good time to bring up Tony. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking over these past few weeks.”
“Yes, dear?”
“I know you probably won’t approve of what I have to say, although I honestly think you want me to be happy.”
“Of course I do, Lucia.”
“I have a wonderful career,” she continued. “Only sometimes a career isn’t everything, and the truth is . . . Matt doesn’t make me happy.”
“Because he’s boring.”
“All men are boring,” Claudine replied.
“That’s a ridiculous statement.”
“You have to train men not to be. Look at your papa,” Claudine said, ladling pancakes onto a plate.
“Yes, look at him,” Lola responded.
“What do you mean by that?” Claudine asked, her lips tightening.
“Well, Mama, it’s no secret that Papa is always . . . he’s . . .”
“What are you trying to say, Lucia?”
“Papa has other women and you know it,” Lola blurted.
Angrily Claudine slapped two pancakes onto a plate, almost throwing the dish at her daughter.
“I’m sorry, Mama,” Lola apologized. “It’s true. Everyone knows.”
“Eat,” Claudine ordered.
“I am not staying with Matt.”
Claudine stood by the table, hands on hips. “I suppose your idea of happiness is getting back together with that drug dealer?”
“Tony Alvarez is not a drug dealer,” she said, so sick of having to defend him all the time. “He’s a fine movie director. People look up to him. Ask Selma, she loved him.”
“Yes,” Claudine said, her lip curling. “And look where it got her:”
“What happened wasn’t Tony’s fault.”
“Whose fault was it, Lucia?”
“Whatever, Mama, I refuse to fight with you. I wanted you to hear it from me. I thought perhaps you’d understand. I am going to divorce Matt and marry Tony. I’d like to do it with your blessing.”
Claudine shook her head in a despairing fashion. “I can’t tell you what to do,” she sighed. “You know very well how I feel.”
“Sorry, Mama.”
“Yes,” Claudine said ominously. “So am I.”
• • •
“You ran out on us,” Jonas said accusingly, catching Cat at the blackjack table, where she was winning big time, with a stack of blue chips in front of her—each worth twenty-five dollars.
“This game’s way cool,” she said enthusiastically. “I could play all day.”
“Cash in,” Jonas said.
“Why?”
“I’d like to talk to you.”
She pushed her chips over to the dealer, who changed them into five-hundred-dollar tokens, which she threw in her purse. “I’ve got like three thousand dollars,” she said, leaving the table. “How good is that?”
“Excellent,” Jonas replied.
“Gambling is a major kick.”
“Let’s go get coffee,” Jonas suggested, “before you turn into an addict.”
“Sure. Where’s Amy?”
“Over with Nick.”
“How’s he doing?”
They made their way through the crowded casino to the coffee shop. Cat got a double espresso and a jelly doughnut.
“I’m in heaven!” she exclaimed, taking a big bite. “So, c’mon, spill—what’s all this about you and Merrill? Tell me everything.”
“I took your advice,” Jonas said. “Went to him and told him I thought I’d done a good job on Caught, and I’d like to continue being a producer on his next project. He agreed!”
“When did all this happen?”
“After you left the party. He’s putting me on his next movie—Joe Fabulous. They’re trying to get either Jim Carrey or Mike Myers to sign on. It’s such a great thing for me, Cat, and it’s all because of you.”
“You would’ve done it one of these days,” she said, taking another bite of her doughnut.
“Not without your encouragement and support.”
“Well . . . ,” she said, teasing him. “You were a lousy executive assistant.”
“Sure.”
“Now you can be a lousy producer.”
“Thanks a lot.”
“You’re welcome.”
“How’s everything with you and Nick?”
“You know what—we’re just having a good time. I’m not looking on it as anything lasting.”
“According to Amy, he’s very into you. She says she hasn’t seen him like this before.”
“Look, I know he’s had a million different girls. Believe me—I’m not taking it seriously,” Cat said, squeezing his arm.
“If that’s how you feel—”
“It is,” she said, quickly changing the subject. “I’m so psyched for you, Jonas, and since this is such a special weekend, let’s make sure we all have a blast, ’cause after this, it’s all work, work, work!”
• • •
With a minimal amount of effort, Matt scaled the hedge around Tony Alvarez’s property. Landing on the other side, he found himself within easy sprinting distance of the one-story Spanish-style house.
He crouched on the ground for a moment, getting his bearings. The sprinklers had recently gone off, and the grass was wet and spongy.
One deep breath, and he made a quick dash toward the house. Hopefully there were no TV cameras to capture his arrival; not everyone had the kind of security Lola insisted on.
Lola. His wife. The famous Lola Sanchez. Without Tony Alvarez around, maybe she’d revert to the girl he’d married. The girl who’d once loved him.
He’d spent the night wandering around Lola’s house, chugging beer and trying to figure out how to right a situation that had gone horribly wrong.
Every time he’d come up with the same solution.
Remove Tony Alvarez from Lola’s life. Remove the bastard, and she would be all his again.
Matt had grown up in a household where his parents had vied for his affection. His mom was a rich girl whose family had disowned her when she’d married his dad, a lowly beat cop. They’d met when his dad had given her a parking ticket. Shortly after that—much to her family’s disgust—they’d fallen in love and gotten married.
Even though there wasn’t much money in the Seel household, his mom had always wanted the best for him. She’d grown up with the best of everything, and she’d wanted him to have privileges too, so she’d insisted that he take tennis lessons, while his father had made sure he learned how to handle guns.
The battle began when he was extremely young. He was never sure which parent to please first.
He excelled at tennis and received a scholarship to a good school, which led to a career as a professional tennis player.
His father had considered it a sissy occupation, so to appease his dad he’d learned everything he could about guns. Every birthday, from the age of eighteen on, his dad had gifted him with a gun. He had quite a collection. Usually they were locked safely in a drawer at the house. Every weekend he took them out to clean them, exactly like his dad had taught him to do.
When he married Lola Sanchez, his father was delighted, his mother was not. She considered Lola beneath him, not good enough for her son, even though Lola was a big movie star.
During his first separation from Lola, his mother had told him exactly what she thought of her sexy daughter-in-law. It wasn’t pretty.
When Lola had taken him back, his father had said, “Hang in there, son. You belong with a beautiful woman”—a wink and a nudge—“and a sexy one too. Take no notice of your mom—it doesn’t matter that Lola’s not our kind.”
What did that mean? He’d never quite understood.
Now he was skulking outside Tony Alvarez’s house, and the education his dad had given him was finally about to pay off.
He had a Glock semiautomatic pistol stuck in the waistband of his pants, and a thirst to eliminate the man who stood between him and his gorgeous wife.
Matt Seel was on a mission.
• • •
“Bye, Mama,” Lola said.
“You listen to me, Lucia, do not do anything foolish. Think carefully about everything we’ve talked about this morning. Oh, and give my love to Matt.”
Lola shook her head. Wasn’t Mama listening?
I’m divorcing Matt. I want Tony, and that’s the way it is, so stop trying to manipulate me.
One of these days she was going to have to reveal the truth. “I can’t have children,” she’d say. Mama would be sad, but she’d understand. Or would she?
“You had another abortion, girl?” Claudine would shriek. “God is punishing you for your sins!”
No, she could never tell Mama the truth; it was safer to make up a story.
At least she had her nieces and nephews, on whom she lavished much love and affection. Next weekend she decided to plan a trip to Disneyland. Big Jay would organize guards and maybe they’d all go early before the place opened.
Yes, it would be fun. The children would love it, and so would she. Sometimes she had to let the little girl in her out to play.
After the verbal skirmish with Mama, she’d eaten one pancake too many, which meant she’d have to punish herself at the gym.
Lately she hadn’t been taking care of herself. What with Selma in the hospital and that whole drama, she’d lost the drive to work out, eat right, and generally stay on top of things.
She had a sinking feeling that New York State of Mind would not turn out to be one of her better movies. Linc Blackwood was a mistake. He’d been a bad mistake when she was eighteen, and he was a bad mistake for the lead in her movie.
Plus she needed to play stronger roles—roles that meant something. The other night she’d watched Sophia Loren in an old movie on TV. That’s the kind of role she should be playing, dramatic and sexy, a showcase for her acting talents. She had to play women with brains as well as a body. Why couldn’t she score the kind of role Shelby Cheney played in Rapture? An Oscar-worthy role.
The sun was coming up, signaling another glorious California day. She hoped Matt was not going to return home and give her trouble. In case he did, she decided to alert Otto, although she was sure she’d have to endure one of Otto’s lectures.
“I’m paying you,” she often wanted to yell at her overpriced lawyer. “Don’t argue. Do as I say.”
Otto was a big-time lawyer, which meant that if she wanted to keep him on her side, she couldn’t say shit, although sometimes she couldn’t help herself.
Oh God! She’d have to tell Faye that she was dumping Matt again. That wouldn’t go down well.
Wasn’t it amazing? Here she was, this big superstar, and she had to answer to people she paid. It was a ridiculous situation.
Maybe she should fire everyone and surround herself with a new crew of people, who wouldn’t dare criticize her.
What a great idea!
• • •
The blonde stirred, her long silky hair a gossamer cloak around her delicate shoulders. Maria snored lightly.
Tony’s eyes suddenly snapped open. He felt a wave of doom, as if he’d just awakened from a particularly frightening nightmare.
Someone was in the bedroom.
Someone was standing at the foot of the bed pointing a gun at him.
All he could make out was the shadow of a man and the gun, the metal glinting in the dusky half-light creeping through the blackout blinds.
Tony struggled to sit up, attempting to shove the girls off him.
“What d’you want?” he said in a low, angry voice. “You want money—I got plenty. On top of the dresser. Take what you want an’ get the fuck out.”
Maria woke up. “Tonee,” she cried out, not sure what was happening.
“Stay still,” Tony warned. “Everythin’s gonna be fine.”
“I . . . don’t . . . think . . . so,” Matt said, feeling tough and in control.
Who had the power now? Not Tony Alvarez with his flashy demeanor and insulting mouth.
Not Tony Alvarez—wife stealer.
Oh no, not Tony Alvarez.
Not the fucking spic.
For once, Matt Seel was totally in charge.