“So that’s why you’re here,” she said, powerless to stop herself from flirting.
“Can’t think of any other reason,” he said, trying not to react.
“No?” she said, still flirting.
“No,” he said, meeting her gaze.
The sexual tension between them was mounting.
“Maybe I saw him with a gun once,” Lissa said. “I’m not sure.”
He gave her a skeptical look. “You’re not sure?”
“I can’t remember.”
The commercials finished and the show started. Belinda Barrow teased with the Gregg Lynch interview again, then proceeded to introduce a segment about cloning.
“Gregg must love this,” Lissa sighed. “He was so desperate to be a star. When we’d arrive at premieres and everyone would yell my name, he hated it because he wanted the attention. Sometimes I think he simply grew out of love with me because I’m famous and he isn’t.”
“Hey,” Michael said, staring at her intently. “Nobody in their right mind could grow out of love with you.”
“Why are you so nice to me, Michael?” she said softly.
“Because I can see it’s time somebody was.”
•
TAYLOR LOVED THE EXCITEMENT of being back on a movie set. It made her feel unbelievably comfortable, surrounded by a crew, which almost always became like one big family. Since marrying Larry, she hadn’t worked at all, and she’d genuinely missed it. She was enamored with everything about filmmaking—even the long hours between takes.
She especially enjoyed being treated like a star. Larry was the star in their household, and she was his wife—a role she’d never coveted. She’d always had a burning desire to be equally as important, and now she planned on achieving her objective one way or the other.
The director of the movie was Montana Gray, an interesting and smart woman who’d been around Hollywood for quite some time. Montana wrote and directed all her own projects, preferring to maintain control, which was one of the reasons she worked mostly for cable, where she found she could get the freedom she desired. Succeeding as a female director was not easy. If a male director made a film that flopped at the box office, he soon got another deal. If a female director did the same thing, her career was almost over. Montana had done the unusual—she’d managed to survive in what was basically a male arena.
Montana had been married to Neil Gray, the famous English director. Neil had expired of a massive heart attack fifteen years ago. The rumor was that at the time, he’d been in bed on top of Gina Germaine, a luscious blond screen siren.
Apart from being a talented writer/director, Montana had a reputation for being a wild woman. Once, when a certain producer had pissed her off, she’d delivered an enormous gift-wrapped package of bullshit to his office. He’d discovered it on his pristine desk early one morning and gone totally berserk.
The story had sent shock waves of laughter around Hollywood. And the message was clear—Montana Gray was not a woman to be messed with.
When Montana strode onto the set, everyone took notice. She was, at five feet ten inches, a lean, striking-looking woman in her mid-forties, with waist-length black hair worn in a braid down her back, and direct, gold-flecked tiger eyes, usually hidden beneath tinted shades.
Taylor and she hit it off immediately. Taylor was secretly thrilled that Montana had requested her for the part. No interviews, no auditions, she was the actress of choice, and that boosted her confidence.
“What did you see in me that made you request me?” she’d asked Montana during the lunch break on her first day of shooting.
“Well,” Montana had answered thoughtfully. “I remembered your work, and when you married Larry Singer, I noticed you at various events. It struck me that, even though I was sure you had a strong marriage, there was a vulnerability about you, a need within you that works perfectly for this part.”
“Oh,” Taylor had said, somewhat taken aback that Montana was so intuitive. “Yes, I do have a strong marriage.”
“Good. That’s the way it should be.”
“That’s the way it is,” Taylor had assured her.
“I like Larry,” Montana had said. “We’ve known each other a long while.”
“You’ve never worked together, have you?”
“Neil and Larry worked on a movie once. It was not a happy experience.”
“What film was that?”
“Nothing anyone remembers,” Montana had said lightly. “And I have a suspicion Larry would prefer to forget it too.”
On the second day of shooting they worked late. Taylor phoned their housekeeper to make sure Larry got his dinner on time. The moment he arrived home he called her. “You didn’t warn me this was a night shoot,” he said, obviously put out.
“It happens in the movie business,” she replied. “How many times have you called me from the studio to say you won’t be home until midnight.”
“That’s true, Taylor, however, I’m not happy about you being out by yourself. Have they got a car and driver for you?”
“Of course, Larry,” she said, savoring the words. “I’m the star of this movie.”
“Hmm . . .” he said. “I’m still uncertain about you accepting this role.”
“Why?”
“You have a reputation to maintain.”
“What reputation?” she said scornfully. “I’m married to you, so anything I do should be acceptable.”
“Would you like me to visit the set one day?”
He was backing down, which pleased her. “Do you have time?” she said.
“I’ll make time.”
“Now don’t forget, tomorrow night is Norio and Kyndra’s anniversary party, so in case I’m working late, be sure to have your secretary remind you. I’ll join you at their house as soon as I can.”
“Does this mean you’ll be working late every night?” he asked, not sounding at all happy.
“No, darling,” she said smoothly. “However, you know I can’t leave whenever I feel like it. I have to be responsible.”
“I understand that, Taylor, and I’ve been thinking.”
“About what?”
“When you get home tonight we should talk about your project. I might have come up with an answer for you.”
“What kind of answer?”
“How about I find you a writer to work on the script?”
“You mean you’d get involved?”
“It’s what you’ve always wanted me to do, isn’t it?”
“Yes, Larry, that’s exactly right.”
Taylor clicked off her phone, a triumphant smile playing across her lips. At last Larry was getting involved.
And about time too.
•
NICCI HADN’T BEEN to a rave in a long time. It occurred to her that since she’d been engaged to Evan, she hadn’t done much of anything except cater to her future husband.
What happened to me? she thought, as she danced and jumped and yelled like a crazy person, sweat pouring off her body as she totally gave herself up to the blaring sounds, all inhibitions out the window. I used to be a free spirit who did whatever I wanted whenever I felt like it. Then I got engaged, and suddenly I turned into a mini Hollywood wife. Holy shit!
She was stoned. What with the grass at home, the sake in the restaurant, vodka in the car on the way to the rave, and Ecstasy when she’d gotten there, she was very, very wasted. It didn’t matter. She wanted to be stoned. She didn’t care to think about Evan and his duplicity.
All she wanted was to hang loose, get wild, zone out. And she was doing that with Brian, who was way more fun than she’d ever imagined. He was manic and out there. He was interesting and funny and great. He was . . . Jesus! She almost fell as the room began spinning around and around, and she knew she’d better lie down or she’d throw up.
She was giddy and disoriented until Brian grabbed her, and then she started laughing uncontrollably.
“You’ve . . . got . . . great
. . . teeth,” she managed. “I get off on your teeth. Cool teeth!”
He was laughing too as he pulled her over to the side. They were both laughing hysterically and she didn’t feel sick anymore, and then the room was taking off again, and the music was louder than ever, and Brian suddenly pinned her against the wall and began kissing her, his insistent tongue pushing into her mouth.
She could not remember kissing Evan like this. Brian’s kisses were better than sex. It was like so hot that she almost came.
She closed her eyes. Somewhere in the back of her head she knew she shouldn’t be doing this. It didn’t matter, nothing mattered. There was no tomorrow. Today is tomorrow. Tomorrow is today.
What the fuck! She didn’t have a care in sight.
•
MONDAY WAS an exceptionally long day. They didn’t finish until ten. When Montana invited her for a drink, Taylor decided she had no reason to rush home. Larry was probably in bed watching all the political programs he enjoyed, while her adrenaline was in overdrive. There was no way she could sleep.
“Where did you have in mind?” she asked.
“We usually hang out at my favorite Mexican bar,” Montana replied. “Sonja’s coming. I think it would be helpful for you and her to get together before tomorrow, when we shoot the love scene. Sorry about getting to the love scene so early, although sometimes it works out better that way.”
“I made a movie with Charlie Dollar once,” Taylor reminisced. “I only had a small role, but the first time I met him I was naked in bed—watched over by a crew of seventy. I was mortified!”
“I presume that was before Larry,” Montana said dryly.
“Way before,” Taylor said, laughing at the memory.
“How does Larry feel about you doing my movie?” Montana asked curiously.
“I make my own decisions.”
“Glad to hear it,” Montana said. “Nothing worse than a man telling you what to do. I’ve had a few of those in my time. Believe me, they don’t last long around me.”
“I can imagine,” Taylor murmured, thinking that she wasn’t calling Larry to tell him she was going for a drink. Even though he’d said he was prepared to talk about her project, it could wait.
This way he might sweat a little, wonder what she was up to. He was way too secure in their relationship.
•
“I COULD KILL HIM,” Lissa said, tight lipped.
“Calm down,” Michael said, although he could understand how she felt.
“You calm down,” she responded, getting up and pacing around the room. “I’d like to kill the sonofabitch! How dare he get on television and say all those terrible things about me.” She turned to him with an appealing expression. “You know they’re not true—don’t you, Michael?”
“Of course I do,” he said, wanting nothing more than to hold her in his arms and comfort her.
“Yes,” she said, worried, “but the public is likely to believe him, and then the tabloids will pick it up. Oh God! I’ll be vilified everywhere.”
“I’m telling you, Lissa,” he said, trying to placate her. “This’ll go away. You’re the famous one in the family, he’s just the jerk who wants to get his face on TV. You gotta let it go.”
“I’m calling my lawyer immediately,” she said, a determined jut to her chin.
“There’s nothing you can do now.”
“Yes there is, there has to be.”
Michael couldn’t take his eyes off her, she was so goddamn beautiful and womanly. He knew that if he stayed he was going to find himself in deep trouble. He wanted to stay and comfort her, and yet he knew the smart thing was to get out while he could. Becoming involved with Lissa Roman would be a bad move. She’d use him and discard him. She was a movie star, she wouldn’t even realize she was doing it.
“I gotta be going,” he said, getting up.
She turned on him, blue eyes flashing. “Why are you always taking off on me?” she demanded. “Do you think I’m a self-obsessed bitch like Gregg says?”
“Don’t be crazy.”
“I’m not being crazy, Michael, but all you seem to do is run.”
“Hey, listen,” he said. “I’m trying to keep this on some kind of level here.”
“What does that mean?”
“You and I are messing with each other’s minds, Lissa,” he said, staring at her with an intense expression.
She narrowed her eyes. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“I’m not a good candidate for Rebound Man,” he muttered.
“Is that what you think?” she said angrily. “That I’m so mad at my soon-to-be ex that I’m looking for a Rebound Man? Don’t flatter yourself, I’m not looking for anything—especially not a man.”
“Let’s not get into this, Lissa. We live in two different worlds, and I’m not the kinda guy who’d fit into yours.”
“Are you saying that because I’m famous we can’t hang out?”
“No, I’m saying that if I stayed, it could be dangerous for both of us.”
She gave him a long, steady look. “Dangerous, Michael?”
“You know what I mean,” he said, realizing that he wanted to kiss her more than he’d ever wanted to do anything else. She was standing there before him, vulnerable, angry, gorgeous. And yet . . . something held him back.
Get out, his inner voice warned. You’re not boyfriend-of-the-star material. Get the fuck out while you still can.
“You should phone your lawyer and decide what to do tomorrow,” he said gruffly. “I’ll call you in the morning.”
She stared at him for a moment, her diamond-blue eyes turning into ice-cold chips. “Fine,” she said coolly. Lissa was not used to being rejected, and that’s exactly what she felt he was doing.
“Thanks for dinner,” he said. “The lasagna was sensational.”
“My pleasure,” she said, her voice an icy blast. “Oh,” she added. “And by the way, don’t forget to send a bill.”
“A bill?” he said, frowning, because he knew she was now trying to piss him off.
“For your services.”
“You have us on retainer, Lissa.”
“Sorry—I forgot. It’s all inclusive, isn’t it?”
“Don’t take your shitty husband’s remarks out on me,” he said, still frowning.
“We’ll talk about it some other time, Michael,” she said brusquely. “I’m tired. See yourself out,” and she marched out of the room.
He walked outside, got in his car and drove off.
The moment he hit the street he was angry at himself. What the hell was wrong with him? Why hadn’t he stayed around when she obviously needed a friend?
Because she’ll hurt me. Because that’s what women I care about always do.
And Michael was through with being hurt. He’d suffered enough betrayals to last a lifetime.
•
TAYLOR SOON FOUND OUT that drinking with the girls was a revelation. Sonja Lucerne was a fine actress who had played leading-lady roles until she’d gotten too old for the Hollywood they-gotta-be-in-their-twenties scene. Like Meryl Streep and Glenn Close before her, she’d kept her dignity, was incredibly talented, and still looked wonderful.
“It’s such a pleasure to meet you,” Taylor said, finding herself somewhat in awe. “I’ve always admired your work.”
“So you’re my little tootsie in this film, huh?” Sonja drawled in a deep, husky voice. She was a pointy-faced woman with a mass of red hair, piercing eyes, and high cheekbones.
“Nobody’s a tootsie in one of my films,” Montana said, ordering a tequila straight up.
“It’s a fine script,” Sonja said, playing with one of her many gold bangles. “You’ll love working with Montana.”
“I know I will,” Taylor said enthusiastically.
“Montana knows how to treat women,” Sonja offered. “Male directors simply don’t understand us—hard as they try.”
“I’m into that,” Taylor agreed. “Although, o
f course, my husband—”
“He doesn’t get it either, darling,” Sonja interrupted, waving a dismissive hand. “I saw his last film. His leading man was sixty-something, while his leading lady was a twenty-something Twinkie. You should talk to him. He seems smart, and he’s certainly talented enough.”
Taylor had never thought about it before, but Sonja was right—Larry did the conventional thing and usually cast an older male star with a much younger actress. It was time he changed that.
“Listen,” she said ruefully, “he won’t even cast me in one of his movies, that’s how much influence I have.”
Sonja gave her a penetrating stare. “You’d be surprised what kind of influence women have over the men they live with. The trick is to exert that power. If you play the woman you think they want you to be, nothing ever changes. If you become strong, you’ll make him stronger because of it. That’s when things change.”
“Hmm . . .” Taylor said.
“It always amazes me how accepting women are of being treated badly,” Montana said, joining in. “Especially in this town. How many couples do you see where the husband is some old goat, and his wife is a two- or three-decades younger beauty?”
“Everywhere I go,” Taylor said.
“And yet,” Montana continued, “they play the charade that it’s true love and everything is perfect. And because the husbands get away with it, that’s what they end up putting on the screen—old men, young women.”
“Exactly!” Sonja said.
“But what they’re really doing is reflecting their own lives,” Montana said, downing her tequila in one fast gulp. “Then, of course, when they see an older woman with a younger man, it’s, ‘Oh dear, isn’t that shocking!’ ”
“You’re so right,” Taylor agreed.
“Of course I’m right,” Montana said forcefully. “That’s why I make cable movies and not theatrical blockbusters, because the men in this town are frightened of my ideas, which is okay with me, because I get to do exactly what I want. For instance, this film we’re making now is about two women in a meaningful relationship. Nothing wrong with that, only you won’t see it on the big screen—too threatening for the Hollywood boys. The only time they want to see two women together is when they’re making out in a soft-porn flick.”
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