“WHERE’D YOU STUDY?” MICK ASKED, swinging back in the chair behind his desk, legs splayed in front of him, beady eyes crinkled in a deep squint.
“Does it matter?” Joey asked, trying to figure out a way to get through to this asshole. He knew the guy hated him, had to hate him. He was too good-looking for most men, especially someone like Mick, with his wild hair, pointed face and geeky clothes. However, Joey knew there had to be a way to connect, there always was.
“L.A., New York, where?” Mick pressed.
“I, uh . . . I kinda studied around New York,” Joey said, purposely keeping it vague. “Actin’ class, workshops, things like that. Then I got a break in Solid.”
“Thought I’d seen you somewhere before,” Mick said, squinting even more ferociously. “How come nothin’ happened after that?”
“Family problems took me back home for a while,” Joey mumbled. “Soon as I hit New York again, I scored the role in The Dreamer.”
“An’ that’s where you met Lara, huh?” Mick said, wriggling his ankles. “She’s a real cool babe chick. Some freakin’ looker.”
Mick leered. “Pretty nice when you get ’em great looking an they wanna get you a job.”
All of a sudden Joey got it, he knew exactly how to bond with this cretin. “I’m fucking her, why shouldn’t I be in her movie?” he said calmly.
This was the kind of talk Mick understood. “Got it!” he said, a huge, beaming smile covering his pointed face. “Hey—I can bump somebody if I gotta. There’s like, this older detective with a younger partner. I was into the younger guy being black; but no reason it couldn’t be you.” He tossed a script across the desk, burping loudly. “ ’Course, I’ll havta dump the black actor, which means the NAACP’ll cream my ass, but who gives a shit? Page fifty-two—wanna read?”
Joey held the script. “Who’m I readin’ with?”
“Me,” Mick said, getting up and walking around the desk. “I’ll play the older detective. Used t’be an actor, y’know.”
“Yeah?”
“You don’t have much to say, but you’ll be there, keepin’ watch on your girlfriend.” He snickered. “She’s gotta be something in the sack, huh? Wild legs. Those classy ones got it all goin’.”
“You could say that,” Joey replied, searching for the right page.
Mick winked, happy with Joey’s reply. “Maybe when we’re workin’ together—palling out, we can get down to details. Whaddaya think?”
“I think,” Joey said slowly, “when I’m doing the movie, you and I can pal out as much as you want.”
Mick cackled again. “Okay, let’s read the motherfucker.”
• •
“Richard?” Lara said, cradling the phone under her chin. “Has Nikki left yet?”
“What’s the matter?” Richard said. “Don’t want to speak to me?”
“Never too busy for you, sweetheart.”
“That’s nice,” she said, wishing he’d put Nikki on the line.
“Wait till you see the movie, Lara,” he said enthusiastically. “Your performance is impeccable.”
She remembered what Joey had said about Richard still having a crush on her and knew in her heart that it was true. She wasn’t flattered. The only reason Richard wanted her was because he couldn’t have her anymore.
“I’m excited about seeing it.”
“I’ll arrange a screening.”
“Is Nikki there?”
“I was thinking,” Richard said, with no intention of getting off the phone. “You and I should have lunch.”
“Sounds good, only right now my schedule’s frantic.”
“Nobody understands that better than I. But think about it, Lara—how many people really care about you? You have no family.”
She’d told Richard the same story she’d told everyone else: her family had been wiped out in a car crash. She’d been raised by a distant relative, now deceased. It was safer never to reveal the truth.
“I’m worried about you, Lara,” Richard continued. “That guy you brought with you the other night . . . that actor. Who is he?”
She was not in the mood for a question-and-answer session. “Why does everyone keep on asking me who he is?” she said, exasperated. “What am I supposed to do—get a Dun and Bradstreet on every man I go out with?”
“For almost the last year you haven’t been out with anyone. Before that it was Lee.”
“Keeping a scorecard?” she asked, annoyed that he was questioning her.
“Now, Lee was an okay guy,” he continued, ignoring her acid comment. “He’d been in the business for years and knew his way around. Nobody knows anything about this Joey guy. Where’s he from? What’s his story?”
“Richard,” she said, trying to keep her irritation in check. “I’m a grown-up. I don’t need anyone watching out for me.”
“This isn’t like you, sweetheart. We must sit down and talk face to face, just the two of us.”
“How about Nikki?”
“She won’t mind,” he said, clearing his throat. “We can do it tomorrow. Lunch. You and me, The Bistro Garden in the Valley. It’s important to me, Lara, don’t let me down.”
“Well, all right,” she found herself saying. “But no third degree, because I’m very happy. In fact, I’m happier than I’ve ever been.”
“I only want the best for you, sweetheart.”
“Now can I speak to Nikki?” she asked patiently.
“Hang on a moment.” He went off to fetch her.
After a few moments, Nikki got on the line.
“What time are you leaving?” Lara asked.
“Soon. Why?”
“And the read-through is ten o’clock?”
“You’re up for it, aren’t you?”
“Of course.”
“Then what?”
“I’m anxious to know the outcome of Joey’s meeting with Mick, so maybe you’ll call me when you get there?”
“Listen,” Nikki said evenly, not sounding like her usual warm self. “You gave me an ultimatum. I passed it on to Mick. He’ll hire Joey, he has to.”
“Really?”
“You’re the star, Lara, you made that very clear.”
“I didn’t mean I’d walk if he wasn’t hired.”
“Yes you did,” Nikki said, then sighed. “But I understand.”
Nikki was pissed—too bad. She couldn’t please everybody all the time.
Lara thought about Joey and smiled. Joey Lorenzo. He treated her like a woman, not a movie star, and she loved it. Joey. The man who excited the hell out of her. For the last two nights he’d slept in her bed, and they’d indulged in hot, exciting, incredibly intense sex. She hadn’t realized that making love could be so inventive and different every time. Joey gave new meaning to passion.
She hadn’t thought she’d ever find this kind of relationship, and now that she had, all everyone wanted to do was criticize him. What did she care about his background or where he was from? Although she had to admit she was a tiny bit curious about his ex-fiancée, Phillipa, whom he never talked about, even when she’d tried to question him once.
But the truth was, keeping secrets was okay. She had her own, and those weren’t to be shared either.
When she was almost dressed she found herself going into his room. His two suitcases were on the floor, stacked one on top of the other. She felt guilty invading his privacy, but somehow she couldn’t help herself.
Opening the closet, she peered inside. He didn’t have many clothes, not even a suit. She was prepared to buy him anything he desired—a car, clothes, it didn’t matter to her. As far as she was concerned their future was together.
The thought never occurred to her that he might be with her because she was rich. Without false modesty she was well aware she could have almost any man she wanted, and not just because she was a movie star. No, her fame wasn’t the main attraction. It was her beauty that made men desire her with such a longing.
Sometimes she called it her cursed beauty. When she recalled her youth . . . the far-off dark days . . . the nightmare times nobody knew about . . .
Her face clouded over. No! She wasn’t getting into that today.
She couldn’t find anything personal in the room. No photos, papers, nothing. Her face flushed with guilt at what she was doing, she opened the top suitcase, coming upon a jumble of dirty socks, T-shirts and underwear. The other suitcase was locked.
She looked around but couldn’t find a key. Hating herself for snooping, she quickly left the room, bumping into Mrs. Crenshaw in the corridor outside.
“Everything all right, Miss Lara?” Mrs. Crenshaw asked.
“Yes, thank you,” she replied, escaping to her bedroom.
She’d told Joey to call as soon as he got through with Mick. He hadn’t done so yet. Hopefully things were going well.
She dressed hurriedly and left the house, arriving at the production offices early. When she walked into the main room she found Joey sitting at a table with Mick and a couple of crew members. They were laughing, drinking coffee and eating donuts. She presumed from his attitude that everything had worked out.
“Hi, baby,” he said, standing up and grinning.
“Hi, Joey,” she replied, a touch cool because he hadn’t called her.
He grabbed her in an intimate hug, kissing her full on the mouth, letting everyone know she was his.
Mick lurched to his feet, a knowing leer all over his pointed face. “Hi’ya, Lara,” he said, absentmindedly rubbing his crotch. “You’re early.”
“Yes, I am,” she said with a tight smile. “Joey, can we go downstairs for breakfast?”
“Sure, baby,” he said, winking at the guys. “See ya.”
Why did she have this uncomfortable feeling that they’d been talking about her?
“You were supposed to call me,” she said, as soon as they were in the elevator.
“I couldn’t get away from Mick,” he explained. “After he gave me the part of detective number two, he kept on talkin’. What could I do?”
“So he hired you?”
“ ’Course he did. An’ the good news is it’ll mean I’ll be there to keep a watch on you.”
“I don’t need anyone watching over me, Joey,” she said. “When I’m working I’m very focused.”
“I bet you are, but you still need somebody around to protect you.”
“Cassie follows me everywhere,” she said, as they stepped out of the elevator. “She’s enough protection for anyone.”
“No, no, baby,” he said insistently. “On this movie you’re gonna need me around.”
“Well, anyway, I’m delighted it all worked out,” she said, squeezing his hand. “You’d better call your agent, have him make a deal.”
Somehow he didn’t think Madelaine Francis would appreciate his phone call. “Don’t wanna use the one I had in New York,” he said.
“Then go to mine. I’ll have Cassie arrange an appointment.”
“Whyn’t you call him yourself?”
“If that’s what you’d like.”
They left the building, crossing the street to the coffee shop. Several cars nearly ran into the back of each other when the drivers spotted Lara. She didn’t appear to notice.
As soon as they were seated, she took out her cell phone, contacting Quinn at his office. “I have a new client for you,” she said crisply. “Joey Lorenzo, a very good friend of mine. He needs you to negotiate a deal for him on Revenge.” She paused for a moment, tapping the side of the phone. “Yes, Quinn, I know there’s no money on this movie. Do the best you can.” She covered the mouthpiece. “Joey, can you see him tomorrow morning?” He nodded. “Okay, he’ll be there around ten. Thanks, Quinn.” She clicked off the phone. “Done,” she said, pleased with herself.
Joey leaned across the table, fixing her with one of his looks. “How come you’re so good to me?” he asked.
“Because you’re good to me, too,” she replied softly. “It’s a two-way street.”
“I try.”
“You’re succeeding.”
The waitress came over, pad poised. Lara ordered an egg-white omelette and herbal tea. Joey went for coffee and a Danish.
“Did you see Nikki this morning?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Naw. Why?”
“She’s not very pleased with me—thinks I pressured her to get you in the film. But I know you won’t let me down.”
“Now Mick knows it too,” he said confidently. “I gave a pretty good reading.”
“I’m sure,” she murmured.
He reached across the table and took her hand. They smiled intimately at each other.
It was a physical thing. They couldn’t keep their hands off each other.