“I’ve asked a few people over tonight to watch the program,” Belinda said. “A captive audience.”
“Who?” Gregg asked suspiciously. He wasn’t in the mood to socialize.
“Friends of mine, including a journalist who might be willing to buy your story. He writes for Truth & Fact. We go way back. He used to be my boyfriend, until we had a major split. He’s a good writer, and if you can come up with something new, I’m sure he can get the paper to pay you plenty of money.”
“I like the sound of that,” Gregg said.
She nodded. “So do I.”
•
“Y’KNOW, LISSA—you’re not like I thought you’d be,” Michael said. He was settled on the comfortable couch in her den, feeling very much at home.
“How did you think I’d be?” she asked, amused.
“The same as all the rest.”
“All the rest of what?”
“Celebrities,” he said. “Most of them have that whole entourage thing going—y’know, a bunch of hangers-on who treat ’em like they walk on water.”
She knew exactly what he was talking about; she’d worked with enough of them.
“They’re not into being real,” he continued, leaning toward her. “You’re real, Lissa.”
“The only reason you’re saying that is because I fed you ice cream,” she said, smiling. “You like me because I encourage your bad habits.”
“And . . . apart from anything else, you have a beautiful smile,” he said, unable to stop himself from coming out with what sounded like a corny line. “But then,” he added, “how many times a day do you get told that?”
“Let me see . . . hmm . . .”
He stifled an overwhelming urge to reach out and touch. “I’m happy you’re doing okay,” he said. “Even happier you haven’t heard from Gregg.”
“Actually, I have,” she said, her mood changing to somber. “He called today. Unfortunately, I answered the phone.”
“You shouldn’t be speaking to him.”
“Tell me about it,” she sighed. “He spewed a bunch of four letter words at me, so I hung up. It didn’t bother me, because after that I didn’t pick up again. Silly me for doing it in the first place. I’ve told Danny to change all my numbers.”
“I asked you to do that the first day I came over.”
“Please don’t say you told me so.”
“Well, I did.”
“Michael . . .” she said warningly.
He grimaced. “Okay, okay. But I want you to know that if Gregg ever touches you again, he’ll have me to contend with. I should’ve dealt with him the last time.”
“I like to think he’s being punished enough.”
“And she’s kindhearted too.”
“Don’t get carried away,” she said, taking a sip of Evian. “I can be a bitch on wheels.”
“Not you.”
“Oh yes, me.”
“I don’t believe it.”
She smiled. “So . . . Michael, did you have to cancel something to be here tonight?”
“No. Why?”
“It’s just that I have this feeling you’ve probably got women crawling all over you.”
“Hey,” he said, feigning a quick look around. “I don’t see any women all over me. Do you?”
“You’re a good-looking guy, and straight—”
“I am?” he joked.
“So I, uh . . . wondered if you’re seeing anyone special?”
“I date around,” he said carefully. “Why?”
“Anything serious?” she asked, hoping it didn’t sound as if she was giving him the third degree.
“You know what it’s like, Lissa,” he said casually. “Sometimes the other person thinks it’s more serious than it is. In fact, right now I’m about to say good-bye to someone who feels that way.”
“Hmm,” Lissa said. “What’re you going to do—give her the old breakup speech?”
He raised an eyebrow. “You know that speech?”
“I’ve used it a few times myself,” she said, smiling.
“Yeah,” he nodded. “I bet you have.”
Their eyes met. They both realized they were flirting, but neither of them could help it. The chemistry between them was on fire.
“Come on,” Lissa said breathlessly, realizing she was falling into something she wasn’t sure she was ready to handle. “Let’s go in the kitchen and see how Nellie’s doing with the lasagna.”
•
BRIAN TOOK NICCI to dinner at Matsuhisa and proceeded to tell her all about Evan’s previous fiancée.
She listened in stunned silence. “I had no idea he was engaged before me,” she said, shaking her head.
“You mean he never told you?” Brian said, knocking back his third glass of sake.
“No, he didn’t,” she said, wondering if Brian was telling the truth.
“And you never asked?”
“It’s not the kind of thing you ask—I like naturally assumed he wasn’t. Anyway,” she said, determined to hear everything. “What happened? Why didn’t they get married?”
“ ’Cause my mother put the kibosh on it.”
“She did?”
“I’m sure you must’ve realized by this time that Evan’s her favorite.”
“I kind of guessed,” she said thoughtfully. “They speak on the phone a lot. And apparently, when she comes to L.A., she always stays with him.”
“He wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“How come you never get lucky?”
“I refuse to put up with her shit,” Brian said.
“What kind of shit is that?” Nicci asked curiously.
“You’ve met her, haven’t you?”
“Is she that bad?”
“She’s a witch, babe. Sucks the blood out of everyone.” He narrowed his eyes. “You ever spent any time with her and Evan?”
“Not really.”
“Just you wait,” he said, laughing bitterly. “You’re in for a trip.”
“Evan informed me she’s arriving here any day now,” Nicci said. “So I guess I’ll have to put up with her on my own.”
“At least she likes you,” Brian offered. “ ’Cause if she didn’t, she’d manage to break you and bro up in a flash.”
“I don’t think so,” Nicci said, quite insulted that he thought she’d be that easy to get rid of. Evan genuinely loved her, and if it came down to a choice between her and his mother, she was sure he’d choose her.
“How long have you and Ev been together?” Brian asked.
“Almost six months.”
“Well, babe, she’s had him for thirty years. If there’s a contest, guess who wins?” He handed her a glass of sake. “Drink up,” he said. “You’re gonna need it.”
She didn’t know what to think. Evan not telling her that he’d been engaged before was a major gap in communication. She drank the sake and picked up a piece of sushi with her chopsticks.
“Who was Evan engaged to?” she asked, deciding that she may as well find out everything.
“A script girl on one of our movies,” Brian answered, waving at a slinky blonde.
“And?” Nicci persisted. “What happened?”
“Mommy didn’t think the girl was good enough for her precious little Evan.”
“Why not?”
“ ’Cause she didn’t come from a famous family like you, and she had no money of her own. Lynda convinced Evan she was only chasing his big bucks and he should dump her. So he did.”
“Oh,” Nicci said flatly. “How long ago was this?”
“About a year.”
“A year?” she said, confused and upset that this information had not come from Evan himself. “That’s only a few months before he met me.”
“Right,” Brian agreed, drinking more sake.
“What was her name?”
“It’s not important, Nic,” Brian said, yawning. “She’s out of the running, an’ believe me, she’ll never come back. By the tim
e my mother’s finished with someone, they’re gone.”
“I can’t believe he never mentioned it to me.”
“There’re probably a lot of things he hasn’t mentioned to you. I’m telling you, Nic, he’s not the man you think he is. Oh, yeah—he’s my brother an’ we work together, only you got no clue what you’re getting yourself into. Haven’t you noticed that he’s a screamer? Moody? An asshole?”
“Everyone has their bad moods,” she said quickly.
Brian stared at her intently. “Jesus Christ, you take some convincing, don’t you? How old are you anyway?”
“Nineteen,” she said, wishing he’d drop the subject.
“Too young to screw up your future. Take my advice and hit the road while you can.”
“Evan calls you a total fuckup,” she blurted.
“I bet he does. He’s been trained by the best.”
“Anyway,” she said defensively. “How do I know you’re telling me the truth?”
“All you gotta do is ask Lynda, she’ll be happy to fill you in.”
“There must be a reason he hasn’t told me,” Nicci said weakly.
“Evan’s secretive. Always has been.” He gave her a sleepy, bedroom-eyed stare. “Drink up, we’re goin’ to a rave.”
“We are?”
“Yeah, Nic, I’ve decided it’s about time you got back into livin’ again.”
Chapter Twenty-three
* * *
OVER DINNER, Michael revealed more than he was planning to. It seemed Lissa had a way of getting him to talk about things that were intensely personal. He found himself telling her about his estrangement from his family because of Bella, and the difficulties he’d had being raised by a violent stepfather after his real dad had left home when he was ten. “Eddie used to beat the crap outta me,” he confessed. “Until one night, when I was sixteen, I took off for eighteen months and didn’t come back until I was sure I was stronger than him.”
“How did you support yourself?” she asked, her blue eyes wide with interest.
“Lied about my age an’ got a job as a bartender,” he said ruefully. “Real smart for a budding alcoholic.”
“What happened then?”
“I finally went home, decided I wanted to be a cop, and made it into the Police Academy. That really pissed the family off, considering my brother, Sal, and my step-father regarded all cops as the lowest form of life.” He laughed at the memory. “Too bad. It gave me a feeling of strength and purpose, and I kinda moved through the ranks fast. Then, much to Eddie and Sal’s disgust, I got promoted to detective.”
“Good for you.”
“By the way,” he said, eating heartily. “This lasagna is delicious.”
“Tell Nellie.”
“I will.”
“Only please,” she added, with a slight smile, “try to look businesslike when you do it. I’m sure she thinks there’s something going on between us.”
“Now why would she think that?”
Lissa shrugged. “Who knows?”
Their eyes met for a long, intimate look.
“Hey—I guess I’ve been talking too much,” he said, breaking the look.
“Not at all,” she said. “Your stories are so interesting, especially after I bored you with my life story the other day.”
“You told me nothing,” he said, trying not to stare at her lips. “What you gave me was a press release.”
“No it wasn’t,” she objected.
“That’s exactly what it was,” he said, cleaning his plate. “Any chance of hearing the real truth? Like why you left home so young? Sounds as if you might’ve been stuck with violent parents too.”
“No,” she said, vigorously shaking her head. “They were merely emotionally bankrupt.”
He gave a hollow laugh. “I know that feeling.”
“My shrink informed me that emotional neglect is equally as damaging as violence, and I think she’s right. After I left, they never tried to find me.”
“You haven’t seen them since?”
“No,” she said, as if it didn’t matter, although deep down it still hurt when she dredged up the painful memories.
“Sounds to me like you should call them, Lissa.”
“Why?” she said defensively. “They mean nothing to me. If they’d wanted contact, they would’ve come looking. Believe me, Michael, I’m glad they didn’t.”
“You don’t know that they didn’t,” he said, pushing his plate away.
“I also don’t know that they did.”
“I think you should call.”
“Do you?”
“Yeah, why not?”
“Have you called your family lately?” she asked sharply.
“Hey—I told you what my brother did. He stole my daughter and claimed she was his.”
“You also told me she was his.”
“Yeah,” he said, his stomach churning every time he thought about it. “When she was five years old he kidnaps her, and I’m the last to find out. My mom didn’t even tell me.”
“I’ll make a deal with you,” Lissa said, thinking he looked even more handsome when he was angry. “When you talk to your dysfunctional family, I’ll talk to mine.”
Nellie knocked and entered the room. “It’s five minutes before nine, Miss Lissa,” she said. “You asked me to remind you to switch on the TV.”
“Thanks, Nellie,” Lissa said. “You can take the trays, we’re finished.”
“And wow—was it good!” Michael said, flashing a killer smile in Nellie’s direction. “You can cook for me anytime.”
Nellie beamed and removed the trays, first placing the small votive candles on the coffee table.
“She likes you,” Lissa said when Nellie left the room.
“I meant every word. I ate like food was going out of style!”
“I’ll have to invite you again,” she said with a good-natured grin. “I appreciate a grateful guest.”
“Name the day. If Nellie’s cooking, I’m here!”
Lissa picked up the remote and clicked on the TV.
“Have we really gotta watch this?” Michael groaned. “You know he’ll have nothing nice to say.”
“I think I should stay informed.”
“Why? It’ll only piss you off.”
“No it won’t,” she said firmly.
“Here’s an idea,” Michael said. “You go put on a movie in the other room, and I’ll monitor the show for you. How’s that?”
“I want to see what he has to say. I want to hate him even more.”
“Hate’s not good, Lissa.”
“Then why are you so full of it?” she questioned.
“Hey—I’ve got a legitimate reason to be mad at my family. My scumbag brother stole my daughter.”
“It must have been very tough,” she said sympathetically.
“You have no idea,” he said, shaking his head at the memories. “I loved that kid.”
“I’m sure,” she murmured.
The Real News started, and they settled down to watch. Belinda Barrow appeared on the screen, blond and brittle. She favored the camera with a superior smile. “Good evening. I’m Belinda Barrow, bringing you the real news.”
“Isn’t she a little tight around the eyes?” Michael observed.
“This is nip-and-tuck city,” Lissa said. “One has to stay looking good.”
“I don’t get it—what’s the point of looking thirty if you’re fifty?”
“Who says she’s fifty?”
“I can tell.”
“Oh,” Lissa said, amused. “So you’re an expert on women, huh?”
“Didn’t say that.”
“How old am I”
“Pushing seventy,” he joked. “But I gotta say—you look great!”
She burst out laughing. “Forty,” she said. “I’m forty.” “I know,” he said, laughing too.
“And you?”
“Gettin’ up there,” he said ruefully. “Forty-four.” “You look g
ood.”
“You should see the picture I got hangin’ in the attic.”
“You’re funny when you let yourself go,” she said, smiling.
They exchanged another long look.
“Here we go,” Lissa said, turning up the volume on the TV.
“Tonight we’ll be talking to up-and-coming singer/songwriter Gregory Lynch,” Belinda said, reading the TelePrompTer with assured professionalism, her eyes barely moving as they scanned the words. “Gregory’s been in the headlines lately because of his separation from his superstar wife Lissa Roman, and later on we’ll be bringing you his side of the story. Our interview with Gregory Lynch makes particularly fascinating viewing, so don’t go away, because we’ll be right back after the break.”
“Oh God,” Lissa groaned, running a hand through her platinum hair. “This is making me nervous. Why would he want to get on TV and talk about me?”
“For money.”
“You should’ve heard what he said on the phone earlier.”
“What?”
“I can’t tell you,” she said, hesitating for a moment. “It’ll only make you mad.”
“Did he threaten you, Lissa?” Michael asked, angry at the thought. “ ’Cause if he did, I’ll pay him a visit.”
“I hung up before he had a chance.”
“Do me a favor, don’t answer your phone again. By tomorrow you’ll have all new numbers.”
“It won’t be too difficult for him to get them.”
“What does your lawyer say?”
“He informed me that I’ll have to agree to a settlement since we were married for two years.”
“Doesn’t your prenuptial cover that?”
“I’m supposed to pay him two hundred thousand dollars a year for every year we were married. My lawyer says I’m getting off cheaply.”
“That’s cheap?” Michael said, raising an eyebrow.
“According to him it is.”
“Jesus!”
“So I’ll pay, and hopefully he’ll go away. Wouldn’t that be nice?”
“You’d better remind your lawyer to have Gregg sign a confidentiality agreement. Something that’ll stop him going public.”
“I’d like nothing better than to shut him up,” she said, adding a venomous—“Permanently if I could.”
“We should be discussing whether he has a gun,” Michael said. “That’s why I’m here, isn’t it?”
Hollywood Wives--The New Generation Page 19