She slammed the phone down in a fury. How dare he do this to her! And where exactly had he spent the night?
Don, of course. Don Verona–his bad influence single buddy who did not like her that much. Oh, he tried, putting on a good face for Ryan no doubt, but she could sense that he didn’t warm to her as much as she felt he should.
She would like nothing better than to see Don safely married again. There was something vaguely threatening about single male friends, especially friends who had liaisons with hookers.
Oh yes, everyone knew that Don Verona used the services of hookers. He was probably with one of them last night–the tall blonde with the body and the attitude. It was infuriating that he would bring such a girl to her exclusive dinner party. Sometimes Don exhibited no class at all, and it was a shame, because he had everything going for him except picking the right woman. Why hadn’t he brought Mary Ellen? She might be a dull little actress, but at least she was famous, that had to count for something.
Mandy’s fingers itched to punch out Don’s cell number and ask if her husband was there. But no, she was not about to do that. She refused to play the needy little wife chasing after her man.
What if in his drunken state Ryan had gone after another woman, had sex with another woman?
The very thought sickened Mandy. Her father was a known philanderer. What if her husband turned out to be one too?
No. Not Ryan. Not true blue Ryan–the man with a steadfast moral compass that never wavered.
She knew that other women found him attractive, and that made her feel good because it was a testament to her excellent taste. But Lucy was right, the single women in L.A. were predatory and beautiful and unscrupulous when it came to getting their hands on a man–whether he be available or not.
Impulsively she picked up her phone and called Don. “Can I have a word with Ryan?” she said sweetly, as if she did not have a care in the world.
“Huh?” Don mumbled, being his usual unhelpful self.
“Are you asleep?” she asked, noting that it was only seven fifteen, probably too early to call anyone unless you were sure they were an early riser.
“Yes, Mandy, I’m asleep,” he answered, determining that it was definitely time to change his number and make sure that Mandy did not get hold of his new digits.
“Sorry, Don, but I need to speak to Ryan,” she said, not sorry at all.
“What makes you think he’s here?” Don said, messing with her.
“Because you’re the first person he’d run to,” Mandy said, her voice rising.
“Run to?”
Why did he have to be so goddamn difficult?
“We got into a minor tiff and he’d had too many Mohitos, so naturally he took refuge with you,” Mandy said, keeping her voice even and pleasant. “Right?”
“You’ll have to call back at a decent hour,” Don said, yawning. “Like I said, I’m asleep.”
And once more Don Verona hung up on her.
Mandy was speechless, she was not used to such rudeness. She resolved to somehow or other get him out of their lives on a permanent basis. And if Ryan didn’t like it–too bad.
Jesus! The woman’s a clinger, Don thought, groping for his watch and noting the time. Normally he was up much earlier, but he’d slept past seven, and where was Cameron with her boot-camp moves? She was usually right on time.
He rolled out of bed and into the bathroom where he peed, brushed his teeth, then went looking for Ryan who, he discovered, was no longer on his couch. The poor bastard had probably gone home, sober and defeated.
The coffee pot was hot, so he poured himself a cup, and finally checked his messages. There were several, most of them from the night before. His agent, his clothes stylist from the show, Mary Ellen inviting him to her birthday party, and then the first message of the morning–which was Cameron informing him that something had come up and she couldn’t make it today.
He was strangely disappointed. He’d gotten quite used to starting the day with her, and now she wasn’t coming.
Was it something he’d said?
Something he’d done?
No. The previous night–their first date–he’d behaved himself. No smash and grab moves. No going for a good night kiss, although he’d wanted to–oh, how he’d wanted to.
Cameron was on his mind big time. He was beginning to feel like a teenage boy who couldn’t make it to first base with the prettiest cheerleader in school. What was going on here? He was Don Verona. He could take his pick of any woman he wanted, so what was so special about Cameron Paradise?
Her lips, her eyes, her cheekbones, her body, her hair, her smell…
Man, he had a major schoolboy crush. How about that?
It was kind of exciting really, because recently he’d become somewhat jaded–hence the whole call-girl scene. They came, they did whatever you wanted, they got paid, and that was that. A nice clean transaction.
But he’d known it was just a fad–a phase he was going through–nothing permanent. And then Cameron had landed at his front door, and he was hooked, couldn’t stop thinking about her, couldn’t wipe the smile off his face.
He had a strong feeling that if he played it the right way, there were nothing but good times ahead.
By ten a.m. Mandy had called the editing rooms, Ryan’s office, and finally–out of options–she reluctantly called his mother.
Noreen Richards was gracious and charming as usual. “Mandy, dear, how lovely to hear from you. Ryan told me you were taking him out for a cozy dinner for two last night to celebrate his birthday. Romantic gestures are so important for a relationship. Did you have a wonderful time?”
Mandy immediately realized two things. One–Noreen had no idea about the dinner party at Mr Chow. And two–Ryan had obviously not spent the night at his mother’s house in Calabasas.
“Hi, Noreen,” she said, thinking quickly. “I…uh…thought it might be a nice surprise for Ryan if you–and of course your daughters and their husbands–came for dinner tonight at our house. Kind of the day after the big day celebration.”
“That sounds delightful,” Noreen responded. “Have you phoned Ryan’s sisters?”
“No. Actually I thought you might do it, then you can call me later and let me know who’s coming. Is that okay?”
“Of course it is, dear. I’ll get right on to them.”
“Oh, and Noreen,” Mandy added quickly, “if you speak to Ryan, not a word. I want it to be a surprise.”
“Certainly, dear.”
“Seven o’clock, our house. See you then.”
She clicked off her phone, triumphant. This would show Ryan how much she cared.
On the other hand, now she had to get hold of a caterer and spend an entire evening with Ryan’s family. How tedious was that? What was the old saying–No good deed goes unpunished.
However, if this was the only way to appease Ryan, so be it. She could suck it up and be the perfect little wife for once. No problem.
Chapter Sixteen
Ryan had no idea where to take Cameron. It crossed his mind that Hugo’s on Sunset might be the right place, then he decided it wasn’t, so he ended up driving to the Four Seasons Hotel.
Dumb move. What if one of Mandy’s friends spotted him at a hotel with another woman?
The way he was feeling right now–he didn’t care. It was a perfectly innocent breakfast with a potential new trainer. Yes, that was it, he’d hire Cameron to work him out, exactly like Don had done.
He drove up to the hotel where the parking valet greeted him by name. After surrendering his Lexus, he informed the out-of-work actor type that the lady in the Mustang was with him, and he’d take care of both tickets.
Cameron pulled up and he hurried over. “Nice wheels,” he remarked. “What year?”
“Sixty-nine,” she replied, alighting from the car. “Fourteen years before I was born and it’s still going strong. How about that?”
He managed a quick calculation in his head and
worked out that she was twenty-five. A mature twenty-five, not a ditz like so many of the girls out there.
Still…twenty-five was young compared to his advanced years. He was forty, for crissakes. Fucking forty!! How did that happen?
“This is a hotel,” Cameron said, stating the obvious.
“Best breakfast in town,” he said.
“I’m not really dressed—” she began.
“You look beautiful,” he interrupted.
There. He’d said it. Did that make him a dirty old man coming onto her with such an obvious line? Although it wasn’t a line, he really meant it. She was the girl of his dreams.
Correction. She was the girl of Don’s dreams.
Shit! Shit! Shit! This wasn’t happening. It was all too surreal. And above all else he was married. Fucking married, for crissakes.
But they could be friends, couldn’t they?
Yeah, Don would love that, he could just imagine Don’s words. “What the fuck are you taking my girl out to breakfast for?” Don would say. “Back off, you forty-year-old horny married prick. She’s mine!”
“I am hungry,” Cameron admitted, which wasn’t exactly true. She had a feeling in the pit of her stomach, but it wasn’t hunger, it was more a feeling of excited anticipation.
“Me too,” Ryan said, taking her arm as they walked into the lobby of the hotel, steering her toward the dining room, where the maitre d’ made a big fuss of him, seating them at a prime window table.
A waiter immediately came over with menus. Cameron studied the many choices, hiding her face behind the menu as she tried to get a handle on exactly what she was doing.
She’d blown off Don for breakfast to be with a total stranger who had the bluest eyes she’d ever seen, a slightly crooked smile, and what looked like an in-shape body beneath the slept–in suit. Oh yes, and he had great hands with long artistic fingers, and—dammit! One of the fingers wore a wedding band, and what the hell was she thinking?
“Anything in particular you fancy?” Ryan asked. “Eggs or the Continental breakfast?”
I fancy you, she thought, putting down her menu. Their eyes met across the table. For a moment time stood still for both of them.
She finally broke the look and heard herself mumbling something about Eggs Benedict might be nice. Ryan agreed, so a double order of Eggs Benedict it was, and suddenly they started talking, about movies, books, TV, politics, art.
He knew plenty about everything, and she was able to keep up. Every morning she always made time to scan the New York Times and USA Today so that she’d have plenty to converse with her clients about. She was also a bit of a CNN junkie, and she was definitely addicted to the Discovery channel. It turned out that he was too.
Breakfast came and went. They both ate plenty and never shut up. Cameron took time out to run to the Ladies Room and cancel her two appointments after Don. She didn’t care. She was having fun for once. And the more they spoke, the more she realized that she really liked Ryan as a person, not just as an incredibly attractive man.
He was nice. He was decent.
And he’s married, so stop with the fantasies.
They were on their third cup of coffee when his cell vibrated for perhaps the fifth time. He picked it up off the table and glanced to see who the caller was.
“It’s my sister,” he said. “I’d better take it.”
Oh God! Great family values. All the other calls he’d ignored, but for his sister he made an exception. This man is perfect, she thought, as he walked away from the table speaking on his cell.
Yes, and so was Gregg once upon a time, that is until he’d changed into a wife-beating, baby-killing monster.
She’d lost her baby because of Gregg, and the unbearable hurt of what he’d done to her always lingered. Forgetting was too hard, too painful. It was also the reason she had not forged any meaningful relationships since fleeing Hawaii; she was much too wary of getting hurt again.
Her eyes filled with tears and she groped in her purse for her sunglasses to cover her vulnerability as Ryan came back to the table, his face grim.
“Is everything all right?” she asked.
“My sister needs me,” he said abruptly. “It’s an emergency.”
“Oh, well, don’t let me hold you up.”
“I have to go over to her house,” he said, signaling for the check. “Her scumbag of a husband got out of jail yesterday, and he’s threatening her.”
“Threatening her, how?” she questioned, experiencing a sudden chill. It all sounded horribly familiar.
“Long story,” Ryan said. “Her husband’s got a drinking problem, always needs money, and it’s not as if they’re exactly flush.”
“Can I come with you?” she asked, surprising herself, forgetting that she should be getting over to Paradise where they were supposedly putting in the phone lines.
“Why would you want to do that?” he asked.
“Maybe I can help. If it’s you and him it could get difficult. But if I’m there…it might diffuse the situation.”
Not only was she beautiful, she was caring too. Mandy would never consider putting herself out for his family, she’d rather die than travel to Silverlake.
The check came. He threw down a handful of bills and got up.
“Let’s go,” he said. “Leave your car here, we’ll pick it up later.”
“Natalie,” Don said over the phone. “This is Don Verona.”
Natalie de Barge cradled her cell phone under her chin, and mouthed Don Verona to the makeup girl who was painstakingly applying individual lashes to Natalie’s lids.
The makeup girl looked duly impressed.
“Uh, hi Don,” Natalie said, attempting to maintain her cool–although she was quite excited that Don Verona was actually calling her. “What can I do for you?”
“I heard you’re investing in a fitness studio,” he said, getting right to the point.
“Wow!” she exclaimed. “News travels fast. Where did you hear that?”
“It doesn’t matter where I heard it,” he said briskly. “I’d like in.”
“In what?” Natalie asked, confused.
“I want to be part of it. Put in money. Make it the hottest place in town.”
“Well, Don,” Natalie said slowly, “that sounds great. But obviously I’ll have to speak to my brother, he’s in charge.”
“Cole?”
“You know him?”
“I don’t, but I do know Cameron. They’re partners, right?”
“You seem up on everything.”
“Here’s what I want, Natalie,” he said, not about to waste any more time. “Total anonymity. I’m prepared to be a silent investor–putting up as much extra money as they need. Only they can’t know it’s me. Can you arrange that?”
“Don, I don’t even know if they need another investor.”
“Every business does. We want to make this thing fly. So my business manager will call your business manager and you’ll tell your brother you’ve got a friend who wants in–but you will not tell him or Cameron who it is. Do I have your word?”
“I suppose why you want to get involved is a question you’re not prepared to answer?” Natalie asked, wondering what kind of agenda he had in mind.
He laughed. “S’right.”
“And what do I get in return?”
“What do you want in return?”
Taking a deep breath, she plunged right in. “An exclusive three-part interview at your house to run during sweeps.”
“Natalie, Natalie,” he sighed. “You know I don’t do sit-downs. And I never do my house.”
“Yes or no?” she said boldly.
“You’re tough.”
“Never pretended I wasn’t, Don.”
“Okay.”
“Okay what?”
“A one-off–no more than ten minutes. And at the studio, not my house.”
“We’re in business,” Natalie said, clicking off her phone somewhat dazed. She didn’t ha
ve a date with Don Verona–but what she did have was far more important. An exclusive interview with a man who was notorious for never doing interviews!
This was a coup. Natalie de Barge was one happy camper.
ANYA
Escaping from Olga’s was not easy. But Velma was a smart one, smarter than both Sergei and Igor put together. She began working on a few of her regulars, feeding them sob stories in between sucking their cocks. Telling them she had a sick mother to care for, and a baby who was virtually starving. And because Velma was so convincing, and her cocksucking skills so fine, the men believed her and began slipping her cash on the side. A little bit here, a little bit there, it soon mounted up.
“You can do the same,” Velma informed Anya. “Men are easy and dumb. You’ve got to make them feel they excite you like no other man–that way you can get anything from them.”
Anya nodded, not quite sure what she was supposed to do other than lie there like meat on a slab while they had their way with her.
Velma began teaching her certain tricks such as how to behave in bed, the things she should say to the men to feed their hungry egos.
At first Anya found it repellent and sickening to even speak to these men who were so rough and out for a quick stab of pleasure at her expense, but once she started doing and saying the things Velma taught her, the men’s attitude toward her began to change. They treated her better, they requested her when they came to the house, they even touched her in places she didn’t want to be touched–except by Velma–but it was more bearable than being used as nothing but a vessel for them to invade.
After a while she began dropping hints about a sister who couldn’t walk, and a mother who’d been blinded in a terrible accident. Once she started, the lies came easily, and soon–like Velma–she was pocketing money on the side and hiding it from Olga.
For the first time since the invasion of her home and the murder of her surrogate family, she felt that she had some kind of control. Velma was right, once you learned how to lie to them, most men were easy.
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