“I do now,” she said in a sexy voice.
He was just about to say, “Oh no you don’t!” when she stepped out of her dress, and there were those chewable nipples staring him in the face, and he hadn’t eaten all day . . .
Sometimes temptation was just that.
• •
Summer wandered back into the house at sunset. “Sorry, Mom,” she mumbled, like it was no big deal. “The party kinda got outta hand.”
“Out of hand!” Nikki exclaimed, to her horror sounding more and more like her mother every minute. “They’ve trashed my house. Who’s cleaning it up?”
“The maid’ll do it,” Summer said, slouching into the kitchen and opening the fridge.
“The maid will not do it,” Nikki said, flushed with anger as she followed her daughter into the kitchen. “You, young lady, will take care of it yourself.”
Summer almost laughed in her face. “Not me,” she said. “S’not my mess.”
For a few seconds, Nikki was completely at a loss for words. This damn kid was pissing all over her, and she wasn’t going to take it anymore. “Summer,” she said, attempting not to lose it completely. “Get something straight. You might do what you want when you’re with your father, however, when you’re here, I call the shots, and if you don’t like it, you’ll be on the next plane back to Chicago. Get it?”
Summer got it. By the time Richard arrived home the house was clean, and Summer, clad in a long paisley dress, her white-blond hair pulled back in a ponytail, her face a mask of innocence, greeted him with a kiss and a hug.
“Thanks for looking after me while Mom was gone,” she said, her expression angelic. “You’re the best!”
Richard glanced at Nikki as if to say, What are you complaining about? This kid is perfect.
Nikki wanted to say, It’s an act, Richard, get with the program.
But she didn’t, and the three of them went out to dinner at Granita, and Summer behaved perfectly all evening.
During dinner, Nikki told Richard that Lara had agreed to be in Revenge. He didn’t say a word.
“Isn’t it great?” she pressed.
“No,” he responded, grim faced. “You’re in for nothing but trouble.”
She wasn’t about to get into it in front of Summer. In fact, she didn’t want to get into it at all. He had his opinion, she had hers.
Later, in bed, when she wanted to make love, he demurred. “I’m tired,” he said. “I’ve been working all day.”
“And I’ve been on a plane,” she said. “But I’m not too tired.”
“Tomorrow,” he said, turning his back and going to sleep.
She realized it was weeks since they’d made love and decided she’d better do something about it. Maybe a weekend in Carmel or San Francisco, somewhere romantic, where they could be alone with no outside disturbances.
In the morning when she awoke, Richard was gone and so was Summer. He’d left a note on the kitchen table.
Taken Summer to see how it’s done.
Will call you later.
She felt a small pang of jealousy. Why wasn’t he inviting her?
Don’t be ridiculous, she told herself. He’s being helpful. Taking Summer off my hands before she drives me totally nuts.
Besides, he knew she was meeting with one of her potential directors today. And the truth was that right now her movie was more important than anything.
CHAPTER
17
IT WAS MONDAY MORNING AND they were about to begin shooting at the same restaurant location. The makeup and hair trailers were buzzing with talk of Lara’s party. “Some insane blowout!” Roxy exclaimed. “You certainly know how to throw a party. Plenty of booze, amazing sounds, wild dancing. I had a blast; so did everybody else.”
“Thanks,” Lara said, smiling. “I had a pretty good time myself.”
“Yeah, I saw you whirling around the dance floor with Freddie. He hasn’t stopped creamin’ about it ever since.”
“I’m glad everyone enjoyed themselves.”
“Show me someone who didn’t, an’ I’ll show you a party pooper,” Roxy said, checking out her reflection in the mirror as she finished styling Lara’s hair. “Yesterday I had one bitch of a hangover—couldn’t even function. Today I’m back to my usual wonderful self.”
“That’s nice to know.”
“By the way,” Roxy added, in her best confidential I’ve-got-a-secret tone. “Did you hear about Joey and Barbara Westerberg?”
“What about them?” Lara asked, her stomach sinking.
“She tried to lure Joey up to her room after your party, and he turned her down. Miz Westerberg is not a happy camper.”
Why did she feel so relieved? He’s an engaged man, get over him, she told herself sternly. Besides, she wasn’t some man-hungry desperado like Barbara Westerberg.
“My heart goes out to her,” she murmured, turning uncharacteristically bitchy.
Yoko was equally enthusiastic about the party, as was Jane when she escorted Lara to the set.
As soon as Miles saw her, he grabbed her arm, maneuvering her to one side. “We have a big problem,” he said, chewing on a wooden toothpick. “Kyle doesn’t like the actor playing Jeff. He wants him out.”
“Excuse me?”
“I know, I know, it’s crazy. He’s been in the background of your scene for the last three days.”
“What will you do?”
“Keep the actor and ignore Kyle’s shit. We don’t have the time to reshoot three days’ work. I’m warning you, ’cause he’s bound to get on your case.”
“I can deal with Kyle.”
Miles laughed dryly. “I’m sure you can.”
“I hope you haven’t mentioned this to Joey.”
“What do you think? We’re shooting his scene this morning.”
“That’s good,” she said. “Because you know how sensitive we actors are.”
“Yeah, especially Kyle,” Miles said, with an ironic laugh. “That guy’s about as sensitive as a raccoon’s ass!”
Angie, her stand-in, was sitting in Lara’s place at the table while they lit the scene. Joey was at the bar, surrounded by women. Lara noticed that Trinee, the pretty wardrobe girl, was constantly by his side.
“Here’s the plan,” Miles said. “We’ll shoot the scene. Once it’s in the can there’s nothing Kyle can do—except be totally pissed off. If he stirs up too much crap, I’ll deal with it in editing.”
“I can’t believe he’s this insecure,” Lara said, shaking her head.
“Believe it—he’s an actor.”
“Thanks a lot, Miles. Didn’t I just tell you how sensitive we actors are?”
“Honey, you’re not like other actresses I’ve worked with. You’ve got your shit together.”
Did having your shit together mean being by yourself? Always lonely? Always wondering why there was nobody there to take care of her, hold her and share her secrets?
“Okay,” the first A.D. yelled out. “We’re going for a rehearsal. Everyone settle down.”
Lara moved to the table. Miles followed her. Joey came over.
“Joey,” Miles said. “You’ll enter the scene from camera left.”
“Finally,” Joey said with a wide grin.
Lara smiled back at him, murmuring a succinct, “Guess what? Mr. Carson will not be on the set this morning, so if we’re lucky, this’ll fly.”
“Now I’ll probably start blowing lines,” he said ruefully.
“No you won’t.”
“I haven’t done this in a while.”
“You’ll be fine.”
“With you, anybody would be fine.”
Was it her imagination, or did their eyes lock every time they looked at each other?
Miles blocked the scene, then told them to take a short break while his cinematographer lit it and the second A.D. placed his extras.
“Wanna get a coffee?” Joey asked.
“I don’t drink coffee,” she replied. “Maybe an
Evian?”
“Let’s go,” he said. “Kraft service awaits.”
They walked together to the Kraft service stand set up outside. Joey picked up a bottle of Evian and a plastic glass, handing them to her with a flourish.
Cassie came running over. “You okay, Lara?” she asked protectively.
“I’m fine, Cass,” Lara replied calmly. “I’ll call you if I need anything.”
“Okay,” Cassie said, shooting Joey a suspicious look.
“You’ve got people watchin’ you all the time, huh?” he said.
“Not all the time,” she responded, marveling at his impossibly long lashes shadowing his dark, brooding eyes.
“I hear Kyle wants me out.”
“Where did you hear that?”
“I got an antenna for trouble. Only they can’t do it on account of the fact I’m in all the background shots.”
“Exactly.”
“So what’s Miles gonna do?”
She took a sip of Evian from the plastic glass. “He’s certainly not firing you. And if he dared to do so, I’d have something to say about it.”
He looked at her quizzically. “You would?”
“It’s not fair.”
“Nobody said leadin’ men had to be fair.”
“I’m a leading lady and I’m fair.”
He broke into a big smile. “Well, yeah—everyone knows you’re the fairest of them all.”
Was he coming on to her or merely being friendly? She was so confused. “I hear Barbara Westerberg gave you a hard time,” she said, deciding he was being friendly.
“News travels around here.”
“With Roxy and Yoko there are no secrets.”
He paused a moment before answering. “Barbara’s a nice lady,” he finally said. “Guess she didn’t realize I’m taken.”
“You really are an old-fashioned gentleman, aren’t you?” she said, regarding him quizzically. “You refuse to say anything bad about anyone. I like that about you, Joey.”
He fixed her with an intense look. “You want me to list the things I like about you?”
She was wrong—he was definitely being more than friendly. “You wouldn’t be flirting with me, would you?” she said lightly.
He laughed. “Wouldn’t dare.”
“No?”
“No way.”
“How did your fiancée’s case go?” she asked, figuring it was safer to move on.
“She’s workin’ it.”
“What did you say her name was?”
His mind went completely blank. Shit! He’d invented a fiancée who had no name. “Uh . . . Phillipa,” he blurted, and wished he hadn’t because it sounded like such an uptight name.
Jane appeared behind them, all business. “Lara, Joey—you’re both wanted on the set.”
He took the plastic glass from her, their hands touching for a moment.
His touch weakened her. Abruptly she turned away and hurried to the set. Admit it, Lara. Nikki’s right, you are interested, and there’s nothing you can do about it.
Their scene together went smoothly. First Miles shot his master, then several close-ups of Lara, and a couple of tight shots on Joey. Nobody blew any lines, and they were finished before noon.
“Wow!” Lara said, fanning herself with a newspaper. “This makes a nice change.”
“Good going,” Miles said. “For once we’re ahead of schedule. We’ll shoot the fight scene next.”
“Guess that means I’ve got the rest of the day off,” Lara said jokingly.
“Not you,” Miles said. “You’re watching the fight scene, remember? You’re the damsel in distress.”
“Actually,” Roxy said, hovering over Lara’s hair with a brush and a can of hair spray, “she’s the bitch who caused all the trouble in the first place!”
They all laughed.
Jane rushed over, urgently whispering in Miles’ ear.
“Okay, we’re taking an early lunch break,” he said, sounding annoyed.
“How come?” Lara asked.
“Kyle’s not ready,” Miles said grimly. “Apparently he’s having trouble with his fucking hair.”
Joey realized that if he was going to do something about Lara, he’d better do it soon, before it was too late. Once they shot the fight scene, his work on the movie was over.
He grabbed his opportunity before she vanished into her trailer. “Dunno about you,” he said quickly. “But I’ve had it with the food off the catering truck. Wanna sneak off to this burger place I found down the beach?”
She regarded him for a long, silent moment. “Yes,” she said at last, thinking that the sooner she got over this mild crush, the better. “I’d like that.”
CHAPTER
18
NIKKI MET WITH THREE DIRECTORS, the last of them being Mick Stefan, a rat-faced twenty-nine-year-old with gap teeth, long, wild-man hair and thick, oversized glasses. A brown herbal cigarette dangled from the corner of his thin lips, and he couldn’t seem to keep still.
“I wanna shoot your script,” Mick said, fidgeting uncontrollably. “I wanna make something fuckin’ ferocious.”
“Ferocious?” Nikki responded.
“Yeah. You got the heroine chick babe in deep shit, and here’s the item turns me on—she’s a chick babe with balls. I dig that. The way I’m gonna shoot it, we’ll touch her rage. We’ll make it clear to every motherfuckin’ member of the audience that this is one angry, pissed-off-outta-her-head chick babe.”
Nikki was delighted he liked the script. Mick Stefan was a comer who’d already directed two small, highly acclaimed films, both of which had won several prestigious awards. Now he was hot, and the studios were after him.
“I have good news,” she said.
Mick chewed on the end of his herbal cigarette while peering at her through his alarmingly large glasses. “Give it up.”
“Lara Ivory has agreed to play Rebecca.”
“Ya gotta be shittin’ me,” he said, with disgust.
“Do you have a problem with that?”
“Yeah, I got a problem. Lara Ivory’s a fancy fuckin’ movie star. I wanna make this movie with no names.”
“I don’t understand,” Nikki said, hoping he wasn’t going to be difficult. “How do you expect me to complete financing with no names? You should be jumping up and down that Lara Ivory has agreed to play a role like this.”
“Jesus!” he said, pointed nose twitching. “She’s one of those glamour chick babes—can’t act for shit.”
“Oh yes she can,” Nikki said, defending her friend. “Lara’s a very talented actress.”
“Yeah, in all those big fuckin’ over-the-top, sixty-million-dollar movies.”
“Mick,” Nikki said earnestly, “surely you understand that with Lara Ivory we’ll have a real chance of getting this film off the ground. Without her it could get lost.”
“You think somethin’ I do is gonna get ignored?” he said sharply.
She was beginning to think that his ego was so big it was going to trip everybody up. Wait until he met Richard—they’d surely butt heads. You’re the producer, a little voice screamed in her brain. Assert yourself.
“You know,” she said quietly, “if I was forced to make a choice—you or Lara Ivory—who do you think I’d choose?”
Mick removed his glasses and threw her a gap-toothed grin, brown cigarette sticking to his lower lip. “Me?” he said, attempting to be cute and lovable. It didn’t work.
Nikki shook her head. “Wrong. Not only is Lara a fine actress, she’s also a friend of mine, and she’s agreed to work for scale. So Mick, if you’re not interested, let me know now and we’ll stop wasting each other’s time.”
“Oh, a tough chick babe, huh?” Mick said, screwing up his eyes. “I get off on tough chick babes.”
Ignoring his sexist tone, she spoke seriously. “This is my first movie as a producer, and I want it to happen on all levels. I’d love to hire you if you can be part of a team. If you can’t, s
ay so now.”
“She gonna do the rape scene?” he demanded, small eyes blinking rapidly.
“Yes.”
“None of that body-double shit?”
“No,” Nikki said, although the truth was she hadn’t discussed with Lara how far she was prepared to go.
“ ’Cause if she’s gonna play prima donna, I’m out. But if she’s into it all the way, I’m in.”
After Mick left, Nikki paced around the house. Of all the directors she’d met, he was the one she wanted. He had the passion and the enthusiasm. Plus she loved his work—his movies were edgy, with a real nineties style.
She glanced at the clock. It was just before six. Where the hell was Richard? He and Summer had been gone all day and he hadn’t even bothered to call. Right now she needed his counsel and advice before making a decision to hire Mick. It was important that she speak to Lara too. Nothing could go wrong, and it was up to her to make sure of that.
• •
After sitting around watching Richard edit his movie, Summer got bored and called Jed. He happened to be home, so he took her surfing—or at least she got to watch him do it. Jed had settled into a respectful crush, because she’d made it very clear she wasn’t interested. “Platonic,” she’d warned. “Or nothing.”
He’d settled for platonic.
Later in the afternoon she met up with Tina, who took her to the downtown showroom where she occasionally worked, modeling lingerie and swimsuits for out-of-town buyers. The owner of the place was a round-faced Greek who followed her around with a lecherous leer—that is until his fat wife appeared; then his smirk was quickly replaced with a sour expression.
“His old lady’s swallowed his nuts,” Tina said, with a tough little giggle. “I’m surprised she lets him employ me. ’Course,” she added thoughtfully, “the buyers love to ogle my fine young bod—especially in all the see-through shit.”
“How long have you worked here?” Summer asked, wondering if she could get a job too.
“Long enough,” Tina replied, pulling a face.
“Is it fun?”
“Dunno,” Tina said, not sounding as sure of herself as usual. “Sometimes, when I see all these old cockers with their eyes bulging like they’ve never seen a female before, then it’s fun.”
Thrill Page 13