Thrill

by Jackie Collins

  “What would you know about grass?” he teased, tickling her stomach.

  “Oh, you think I’m such a little goody-goody, don’t you?” she said, half serious. “Let me tell you—there was a time when I was wild.”

  “What?” he said mockingly. “You smoked a joint once? That was wild?”

  “Joey,” she responded quietly. “You don’t know everything about me.”

  “Why—you got secrets?”

  “Maybe . . .” she said mysteriously.

  He grinned. “I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”

  She smiled, perfectly happy. “Whatever you want.”

  But they both knew that neither of them was prepared to share their secrets.

  Not yet anyway.

  • •

  Nikki arrived at the street location in time for an early breakfast. Mick was already there, sitting at a table near the food truck, diligently working on his laptop while shoveling down a huge plate of ham and eggs.

  Although she considered him a degenerate jerk, she couldn’t help admiring his work ethic—he was always prepared and totally passionate about the film.

  They were both aware that today could be difficult. Yesterday she’d sent Lara flowers and a note of encouragement, because although Lara was doing a wonderful job, everyone knew today was the real test.

  Nikki hadn’t heard from Richard since she’d thrown him out. Something had died between them, which was probably the reason he’d reverted to his old ways. In her heart she knew it had to do with Lara and the unhealthy obsession he still harbored. It was blatantly obvious he couldn’t stand his ex-wife being in a sexual relationship, so he’d turned to another woman. Ah, yes, Richard’s big solution—screw your troubles away.

  Ha! I should’ve been a shrink, she thought wryly. Sheldon and I would finally have something in common.

  Summer was back in Chicago, which was a big relief. She’d called her a few times over the last few weeks, and they’d had several stilted conversations. “Maybe you’ll visit at Christmas,” she’d suggested.

  “Okay,” Summer had replied, sounding listless.

  In a way, Nikki was relieved to be by herself. No Richard to get in her way. No Summer to run wild. She was able to concentrate on Revenge and nothing else. As soon as the movie was finished she’d consider her next move. Divorce was on her mind.

  “Morning, sexy,” Mick said, glancing up from his laptop. “What’s goin’ on?”

  “How do you feel about today?” she asked, flopping down beside him.

  “Don’t worry,” he said confidently. “Lara’s got it together. She’ll be cool.”

  “You’d better warn the actors to go easy on her,” Nikki said, frowning. “Make sure they don’t get carried away.”

  “Right,” Mick replied, sarcastically. “I’ll tell ’em to make it a gentle freakin’ rape. Is that what you’d like?”

  “You know exactly what I mean,” she said irritably, hating it when Mick waxed facetious. “I’m worried about Aiden.”

  “Aiden’s fuckin’ ace,” Mick said, cracking his knuckles. “Didn’t I tell you he’d stay clean?”

  “Yes, I must admit you did.”

  “C’mon, chick babe, lighten up. We’re three quarters through the shoot, an’ not one scamoose. You should be singin’ your socks off.”

  “Don’t tempt fate, Mick.”

  “We’re way ahead of schedule,” he said, letting out a crazed cackle. “Get with the freakin’ ball game an’ relax.”

  What an asshole!

  However, he was her asshole. The asshole who was going to deliver one fine movie. And until that time came she had to stay on good terms with him, much as it pained her.

  Producer’s rule number one. The film comes first.

  Nikki considered herself an excellent producer.

  CHAPTER

  45

  THE DAY AFTER ALISON SEWELL was released from jail she received a mysterious phone call. Mysterious because only the tabloid editors she’d dealt with in the past had her number. Mysterious because the man on the other end of the phone refused to identify himself.

  “I have a proposition that I know will interest you/’ he said.

  She was lying in bed at the time, gorging on Snickers bars and watching Michelle Pfeiffer on The Rosie O’Donnell Show.

  While she’d been locked up in jail her mother had passed away, so now she had the luxury of answering to no one. They’d let her out for the funeral. Two hours of guarded freedom. Big deal.

  “Who is this?” she demanded.

  “A friend,” the man replied. “A friend who wants to do you a favor.”

  Sad fact of life: she didn’t have any friends. Only Lara Ivory, who’d turned out to be a Judas. And yes, Lara would be punished. And soon.

  “What kind of favor?” she asked, reaching for the powerful whistle she kept in a bedside drawer, because if this was a dirty phone call, she’d blast this sicko’s eardrum straight through his asshole.

  “I know why you were in jail,” the man said. “And in my eyes it was an injustice.”

  “How do you know anything about me?” she asked suspiciously.

  “Let’s just say we have a mutual interest.”

  “What mutual interest?” she snapped.

  “Are your cameras in working order?”

  She lowered the sound on the TV. “You from one of the tabs?”

  “No. But I do have an assignment for you. Something you should relish.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Let me explain . . .”

  CHAPTER

  46

  HEART POUNDING WILDLY, LARA, DRESSED in a simple blouse and skirt, sensible shoes, hair pulled back in a ponytail, walked down the dimly lit, deserted street. Clutching a bag of groceries to her chest, she hurried along, leather purse slung casually over one shoulder.

  She was Rebecca Fullerton, a schoolteacher who worked hard at a job she loved and took care of her elderly mother, with whom she lived.

  The real Rebecca was on the set today. Watching. Observing. This made Lara even more nervous, painfully aware that every detail had to be right.

  Suddenly she heard footsteps behind her.

  Mind-set Rebecca. Did she realize she was being followed? No. Was she frightened? No. The real Rebecca had said she was thinking about what she was going to cook for dinner.

  Taking a deep breath, Lara concentrated on walking as if nothing was about to happen.

  How would she react in a situation like this? Rebecca had fought back, fighting and clawing until her strength deserted her. Even after she’d stopped fighting, she’d been beaten repeatedly.

  They’d blocked the scene out before shooting just to make sure every move was in place right up until the attack. After that, Mick had informed the actors they were on their own—he was going for total reality with no set dialogue. “Improvise,” he’d told them.

  Earlier, Lara had sat with the real Rebecca, asking questions. “I was fighting for survival,” Rebecca had told her quietly, her thin face impassive. “It was surreal, almost like a dream happening in slow motion to someone else. I’ll never forget it.”

  Yes. Lara could understand that.

  They were working on a dusty street in the seedy part of town. Beyond the lights and cameras, onlookers and fans were cordoned off behind police lines. Mick had wanted a closed set, but since they were shooting on a public street it was impossible. Nikki had suggested they film this scene in a studio, but their production manager had informed them that would up the budget prohibitively. Besides, Mick wanted the authenticity of being out on a real street.

  Lara kept walking, trying not to tense her body in preparation for the attack she knew was coming any second. Act natural, a voice screamed in her head. Go with whatever takes place.

  Joey had said he wasn’t coming to the set, but in the end he’d relented, and she knew he was lurking somewhere behind the main camera. Now she regretted asking him to be there. />
  Suddenly she felt the presence of the three actors as they fell into step beside her.

  “Hey, cooze—what’s a fine piece of ass like you doin’ out alone?” Aiden jeered, shoving his hand in her grocery bag. “Whacha got for big daddy? Somethin’ hot an’ juicy? ’Cause, honey, that’s what big daddy’s got for you.”

  “Go away,” she said, repeating the words Rebecca had said on that fateful night. “Go away and leave me alone.”

  “Don’ wanna share what you got with big daddy?” Aiden mocked, circling her like a snake, while the other two men laughed and crowed.

  She could smell him; he hadn’t bathed for several days, because Rebecca had mentioned how bad the men smelled. Aiden was nothing if not a method actor.

  She quickened her step, trying to escape. But as she passed the opening between buildings, Aiden’s character struck, putting his arm around her throat, spinning her off balance and dragging her into the alley.

  The bag of groceries fell to the ground, vegetables and fruit rolling everywhere.

  Rebecca was right—no time to scream. Concentrate on survival.

  She kicked out, and as she did so she felt one of the actors run his hand up under her skirt.

  In the distance she heard the whirr of the camera. Everything was surreal—just as Rebecca had said—like she wasn’t being watched by hundreds of eyes, like this was actually happening to her and there was no way she could think about anything except getting through it. Just like real life, she thought.

  Aiden flung her up against the side of a building, hurting her back. His smell was all over her as he began clawing at her clothes.

  Mick had promised to shoot in such a way that her body would be hidden from the cameras. “But like, you gotta be in the moment,” he’d said. “We gotta feel your pain.”

  He meant that when Aiden ripped the clothes from her body, she’d be totally naked, apart from the flesh-colored G-string she wore under her panties, and that she shouldn’t let nudity hamper her performance.

  One take, she kept thinking. I only have to do this once and then it’s over.

  Aiden tore off her blouse, tipping her breasts out of her bra before dragging it from her body, leaving her breasts totally exposed.

  In a daze she wondered what the camera could see and what it couldn’t. She didn’t wonder for long, because she was too busy defending herself. The man on top of her wasn’t Aiden Sean anymore. He was scum from the streets, violating her body, hurting her, exposing every secret she possessed.

  He faked a violent slap across her face, then his hands were moving under her skirt, and she was frantically struggling and screaming, while the two other actors dragged her skirt off, spread her legs and held her down. Next they went for her panties, and she felt the G-string come off with them, but there was nothing she could do, because if she called “Cut,” they’d have to start all over again, and she couldn’t take this a second time.

  Aiden was on top of her, simulating fucking. The camera was behind him. He was breathing hard, his stink enveloping her.

  She recoiled in horror. Why had she asked Joey to come to the set? She didn’t want him seeing her like this—degraded and used. This might be a movie, but she was still the victim, just as she’d been once before . . . an innocent victim caught up in a wild frenzy of unspeakable violence.

  “Dumb cunt!” Aiden screamed, faking another hard slap across her face. “Tell me you love it, bitch. Tell me you’re gettin’ off!”

  Aiden wasn’t acting anymore. She felt his hard penis between her legs. If he dropped his pants, then she’d be forced to scream “Cut.”

  The other actors were all over her, faking slaps and punches, yelling vile obscenities.

  She began to struggle and scream in earnest. This was too much. She wanted out. Why had she agreed to make this movie? She should have listened to Quinn and Joey. They’d both warned her it was a mistake.

  She continued screaming, but it wasn’t doing her any good, they still kept at her, swarming over her like locusts.

  And somewhere, three cameras were busy covering her humiliation and degradation.

  She felt Rebecca’s rage and pain burning through her like a firestorm. And she screamed—an explosive scream of fury and frustration.

  Finally, Mick stepped forward and shouted, “Cut!” The pack of rats retreated.

  Rebecca and Nikki moved in next to her, comforting her, while the wardrobe woman threw a silk robe across her shoulders, covering her nakedness.

  “You okay?” Aiden asked, his long, thin face nothing more than a vague blur.

  She nodded, still in a daze.

  Mick dashed over, arms going like windmills. “Unbelievable!” he enthused. “Freakin’ unbelievable!”

  Without any warning she suddenly bent forward and began to weep, unable to hold back the unexpected flood of tears.

  And she couldn’t stop sobbing until Joey was beside her, scooping her up in his arms, carrying her to her trailer and safety.

  Finally her ordeal was over.

  CHAPTER

  47

  “THAT’S IT,” JOEY SAID, SCOWLING darkly. “They’ve got their scene. No close-ups—nothing. Your stand-in can do the rest. That’s fucking it!”

  “Joey,” she murmured. “If Mick wants close-ups, I’ll have to do them.”

  “No,” he said ominously. “I’m takin’ you home.”

  “I can’t leave. I must finish.”

  “Why the fuck did I let you do this?” he exploded, black eyes full of rage. “I knew they were out to exploit you.”

  She couldn’t believe he was mad at her. What had she done?

  “Joey—” she began, but it was no good reasoning with him. He was on a roll.

  “How fuckin’ stupid can you get?” he raged. “How fuckin’ dumb? This’ll blow your whole career.”

  Nikki knocked on the trailer door, entering tentatively. “Spectacular!” she exclaimed.

  “Yeah,” Joey said grimly. “Spectacular for your fuckin’ movie. What do you think this’ll do for Lara?”

  “It’ll get her an Oscar nomination, that’s what,” Nikki said tightly.

  “Yeah, sure.”

  “Don’t be so negative, Joey,” Lara said, attempting to keep the peace. “It’s okay, really it is.”

  He turned on her, still furious. “Negative? I’m try in’ to protect you. Can’t you see what these people are doin’ to you?”

  “What are we doing to her?” Nikki asked, ready for battle.

  “Screwing her, that’s what,” he yelled.

  “And what do you think you’re doing?” Nikki retorted angrily, pushing a hand through her short, dark hair.

  “You asshole!” he muttered. “All you wanna do is make money.”

  “What the hell do you mean by that?” Nikki blazed.

  “You’re exploitin’ the shit outta Lara in the name of friendship.”

  “How dare you!”

  “Stop it!” Lara shouted, shivering uncontrollably. “Get out of here—both of you. I can’t take this.”

  “Are you talkin’ to me?” he said, his dark eyes cold and hard. “Are you tellin’ me to get out?”

  “It was my choice to play this role,” she said weakly, “so don’t make a big deal of it.”

  “Fuck you,” he said angrily. “Fuck you.” And he marched from the trailer.

  “What’s his problem?” Nikki said, still angry.

  “He’s upset. I shouldn’t have forced him to come to the set, it was selfish of me.”

  Nikki was amazed. He’d just screamed at Lara for no reason, called her stupid and God knew what else, and she was defending him!

  “Why are you putting his feelings first?” she asked, exasperated.

  “I’d react the same way if I had to watch him getting beat up.”

  “You’re too understanding for me to fathom,” Nikki said, shaking her head in disbelief. “The guy’s with you, for chrissakes. He should be kissing your ass.”<
br />
  “Don’t criticize him,” Lara said, clutching her robe around her. “He treats me wonderfully.”

  “Yeah, well, I haven’t seen it.”

  “You know what?” Lara said, wishing Nikki would vanish. “It’s really none of your business.”

  “I’m your friend,” Nikki said earnestly. “How do you know Joey’s not just another bum actor hanging around for the glory?”

  “I suppose you got that little speech straight from Richard. It sounds exactly like him.”

  “No,” Nikki snapped. “Richard and I have split up. I didn’t want to tell you before, in case it upset you.”

  “So now I guess it’s all right because I’m upset anyway?”

  “No. I didn’t mean—”

  “This isn’t the time to get into it,” Lara said wearily. “If you don’t mind, I need to be alone.”

  “Fine,” Nikki said, and left the trailer, disappointed Lara wasn’t more concerned about her news.

  As soon as she was by herself, Lara began shivering uncontrollably. She was in shock. Why were the people closest to her acting like this? First Joey walking out. Then Nikki and her problems. Just when Lara needed tender loving care, they’d both seen fit to dump on her.

  She felt shut off from everyone, alone and frightened. Exactly the way she’d felt when she was six years old and the tragedy had taken place . . .

  She hated remembering, but sometimes—in moments of trauma—it was inevitable.

  She buried her head in her hands, and before she could stop them, the memories came flooding back.

  • •

  “Lara Ann, you’re going to live with your Aunt Lucy.” The policewoman who spoke had ruddy cheeks and several hairy warts on her face. Lara Ann concentrated on the warts. If she stared at them hard enough, maybe all the bad things would go away.

  For over a week she’d been kept in a child care facility while the authorities tried to track down a relative who would care for her. They’d finally come up with Aunt Lucy, her father’s second cousin, who lived in Arizona.

  Aunt Lucy didn’t come to fetch Lara Ann herself; she sent Mac, her big, strapping son. He drove a pickup truck, chewed gum nonstop and was quite ugly. He scooped up little Lara Ann, tossing her into the back of the truck as if she were a rag doll. She remained there for most of the long drive to Arizona.