Hollywood Divorces • Hollywood Wives: The New Generation

by Jackie Collins

Pete was waiting outside her trailer with two cups of Starbucks coffee. ‘Morning, beautiful,’ he said, handing her a paper cup.

  ‘Hi,’ she said wanly.

  ‘Did you sleep okay?’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘You look tired.’

  ‘You know, it’s so rude,’ she said irritably.

  ‘What is?’

  ‘First of all Cat told me I didn’t look well yesterday, now you’re telling me I look tired. I’m sorry, Pete, but I don’t appreciate it.’ She slammed her way past him into her trailer.

  He followed her in. ‘You heard from Linc, didn’t you?’ he said.

  ‘No. Actually I called to speak to him, and some bitch got on the line.’

  ‘Who was she?’

  ‘I imagine it was his new girlfriend.’

  ‘Shelby,’ he said patiently, ‘I keep on telling you–hire a lawyer before he does.’

  ‘Why? I don’t want anything from him. No alimony, nothing.’

  ‘It’s not as simple as that, Shel. You have houses, cars, investments. It’s all communal property.’

  ‘But if I don’t want anything…’

  ‘You still need a lawyer,’ he insisted.

  ‘Why can’t Linc and I work it out together? Why should a man be stuck paying the woman, unless there’s children to consider?’

  ‘Hmm…you’re every man’s dream,’ Pete said. ‘In more ways than one.’

  ‘And another thing,’ she said. ‘Why are you so nice to me?’

  ‘Because, as I’ve told you repeatedly, I’m waiting in the wings.’

  ‘It might be a long wait, Pete.’

  ‘There’s something you should know about me.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I’m a very patient man.’

  Their eyes met, and she found herself weakening. Pete might not have to be as patient as he thought. After her conversation with Linc’s girlfriend, she was almost ready to move on.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  C at was ecstatic. She’d actually done it. She’d finished her movie!

  ‘How do you feel?’ Jonas asked, sitting in the production trailer with her.

  ‘It’s difficult to say,’ she replied, drinking Seven-Up from the can. ‘I’m kind of psyched it’s over. Then I’m kind of sad ’cause I’ve so loved working with everyone. The crew, the actors–you. Saying goodbye is miserable. These people have become like family.’

  ‘You should do a Woody Allen or a Clint Eastwood, and always work with the same crew.’

  ‘Don’t I wish!’ she said fervently. ‘Although somehow I’ve got a strong suspicion I’m not in the Woody and Clint arena yet.’

  ‘You will be.’

  ‘I do love you, Jonas,’ she said, jumping up and giving him a hug. ‘You’re always so positive.’

  ‘I try.’

  ‘You succeed.’

  ‘Did I tell you Merrill’s coming to the wrap party?’ Jonas said. ‘He doesn’t usually do that.’

  ‘Should we be flattered?’

  ‘Definitely.’

  ‘Is Amy coming?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘You two are going strong, huh?’

  ‘You were right. Amy’s a great girl.’ He hesitated for a moment. ‘And since I can’t have you—’

  ‘What?’ Cat said, alarmed.

  ‘Just f–ing with you.’

  ‘Well, don’t,’ she said crossly. ‘You’re like the brother I never had. Do not spoil it.’

  One of the production assistants came in to go over final details for the party. Cat left Jonas to organize it. She wanted to run home first, take a shower and change her clothes. After all, tonight was a big celebration in more ways than one.

  Allegra conveniently forgot to tell Linc that Shelby had phoned him. Why should she? She wasn’t his personal message service.

  What did his wife want anyway? Why was she bothering him? Didn’t she understand that she was now out of the picture? Linc Blackwood had moved on.

  Allegra had plans. Linc only had a couple more days to shoot on his movie–his co-star had already departed for L.A. When he was finished, Allegra quite fancied a trip to the Bahamas. He could afford it. He could afford anything she wanted. He was a movie star. Her movie star.

  The night before, while he was lying in bed in a drunken stupor, she’d said to him, ‘I need to buy a few things tomorrow and my credit card is out of date. Can I borrow yours?’

  ‘Do what you want,’ he’d mumbled. ‘I don’t give a shit.’

  So she’d taken his black American Express card from his wallet, and spent the day putting it to good use.

  Allegra enjoyed all the attention that was coming her way now she was with Linc Blackwood. Sure, she was famous in the modelling world, but being with a big movie star gave her added cachet. Most models ended up with scruffy rock ‘n’ rollers. She’d hit the jackpot.

  Every night when he returned from the studio, they sat around indulging in coke or crack. After that, they took a leisurely cruise around the clubs.

  Allegra introduced him to Vicodin, which calmed his raging hangovers. He was already into an assortment of heavy-duty sleeping pills. She’d also introduced him to the world of threeways big-time, because what man didn’t like getting it on in bed with two girls? Allegra made sure that every time it was with a different girl–she was very careful that Linc did not get hooked on someone else.

  There were times Linc could be a mean sonofabitch, and Allegra didn’t like that. He called her names. He called her dumb and a whore and stupid.

  She gave back as good as she got.

  A couple of times he slapped her across the face. She retaliated by kicking him in the balls.

  Their relationship was becoming more violent every day. But since they were both stoned most of the time, neither of them seemed to notice.

  Allegra was no weakling. She’d grown up in the Australian outback, with four older brothers and a bully of a dad. Only the strongest made it out in one piece. And she was strong.

  When Linc arrived back from the studio, Allegra had developed a yen to drop by a late-night transvestite club. She wondered how Linc would feel if they brought another man home? A man dressed as a woman might not bother him. Then, when he discovered the added appendage, it would be too late for him to do anything about it. The thought amused her. Big macho movie star Linc Blackwood, and another man sticking it up his untouched-by-human-male ass.

  She laughed to herself as she put on the new eighteen-hundred-dollar Valentino dress she’d bought that afternoon with his American Express card.

  As far as Allegra was concerned, she was a stunner, and Linc was lucky to be with her.

  ‘You look lovely!’ Shelby exclaimed, admiring her still pretty mother, who’d purchased a most attractive flowered outfit from Saks.

  ‘You don’t think it’s too girlish for me, do you?’ Martha said, worrying.

  ‘Not at all. Daddy will love it.’

  And when her father came downstairs a few minutes later, he did indeed love it. ‘Why, Martha,’ he said, ‘you look as pretty as the day we were married.’

  Martha actually blushed, and the two of them exchanged a warm smile.

  It must be nice to be so in love after all these years, Shelby thought.

  In love and unworldly. That about summed up her parents.

  She’d miss them when they left, but it was for the best. She needed time alone to think things out. She had many decisions to make, and it was certainly not going to be easy.

  Linc had not called her back. Did that mean he didn’t wish to speak to her?

  She didn’t know. She was giving him a chance to find out about the baby. If he didn’t call, it wasn’t her fault.

  ‘I’ll go get dressed,’ she said to her parents. ‘Help yourselves to a glass of sherry. As soon as I’m ready, we’ll go to the party together.’

  She went upstairs, her mind racing in a hundred different directions. Abortion was not an option. She didn’t b
elieve in it, never had–unless there was a very good reason, such as rape or incest.

  Did she want to raise a baby without a father? No.

  Did she have a choice? Maybe.

  Because if Linc called back, a reconciliation could take place.

  Now that she was pregnant, she would not be able to do the Bond-style movie that was upcoming in a few months. She couldn’t care less. Her career was the last thing on her mind.

  She opened her closet, selected an off-the-shoulder silk dress and comfortable sandals. Wrap parties were for having fun with the crew, and tonight she planned on forgetting her troubles and dancing the night away.

  When Lola arrived home from her daily visit to the hospital, she discovered Matt sprawled in front of the TV. Big surprise.

  She stared at him for a moment. Her dear husband gave boring a bad rap. Spending time with him was about as invigorating as lying motionless in a tanning booth–which she didn’t have to do any more on account of the fifteen-second miracle-tan spray.

  ‘I want to go out tonight,’ she said, picking up a bunch of invitations stacked on the coffee table.

  ‘Why?’ Matt mumbled. ‘There’s plenty of good stuff on TV.’

  ‘I don’t know if you’ve noticed,’ she said pointedly, ‘but TV sports bore me to death.’

  ‘I thought you liked curling up in bed with your fashion magazines.’

  ‘How many magazines do you think I can read?’

  ‘Vogue. Harper’s. Us—’

  ‘That’s enough,’ she interrupted. ‘Tonight we’re going out. You pick,’ she added, throwing a bunch of invitations at him.

  Reluctantly he began shuffling through them.

  After a few minutes she marched over and snatched the invitations from his hands. ‘We’ll go to this one,’ she said, picking out an invite to a private reception and dinner for Raja Mestres–a Latina artist. ‘I adore this woman’s work, she reminds me of Frida Kahlo. I might even buy a painting for Selma. Wouldn’t that be nice?’

  ‘You’re sure you want to go to this?’ Matt asked, obviously loath to shift his lazy ass.

  ‘I’m positive. You’d better go get dressed.’

  She left him still lounging on the couch, went upstairs and called Faye. She asked her to alert the host that she would be attending the party for Raja Mestres, and added restlessly, ‘I’m ready to do publicity again.’

  ‘You realize that we have a lot of damage control to take care of,’ Faye lectured.

  ‘I understand.’

  ‘You understood last time,’ Faye scolded. ‘It didn’t seem to make any difference.’

  ‘Please don’t speak to me like I’m a child,’ Lola said irritably. ‘I pay you to look after my PR, not to tell me how to live.’ Faye was silent, a bad sign. Lola knew she’d overstepped a boundary with the powerful publicist. ‘I’m sorry, Faye,’ she said, backing down. ‘Didn’t mean to snap. I’m kind of, you know, emotional.’

  ‘Aren’t we all?’ Faye said drily.

  ‘Selma actually spoke today, she’s progressing so fast. I’m overwhelmed.’

  ‘I suppose we’d better start putting the pieces back together,’ Faye said. ‘Image is everything, Lola, so if you’re up to it, I’ll go ahead and arrange an informal press conference outside the hospital–perhaps later this week.’

  ‘I’m up to it.’

  ‘I’ll tell you exactly what to say.’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘And I want Matt standing beside you. Silently. No statement from him. He should keep his mouth firmly shut.’

  ‘Yes, Faye,’ she said obediently. ‘Tell me when and where, and I’ll be there.’

  Faye was the best in the business, and Lola had no desire to alienate her.

  She needed Faye. Faye needed her. They were a perfect team.

  The wrap party for Caught was taking place at the Sunset Room, a huge cavernous venue in Hollywood. Cat had made sure that there was plenty of money in the budget for a lavish blow-out. She believed in rewarding the crew–they always enjoyed wrap parties more than anyone.

  The club featured a restaurant on one side, and an area for dancing at the back. Cat had booked the hottest DJ of the moment, Big Boy, a one-time rapper who was into the best sounds, current and vintage.

  ‘I’m not into givin’ out compliments…’ Nick Logan said.

  ‘Good,’ Cat replied, ‘’cause I’m not good at accepting them.’

  ‘…but,’ he said, rubbing his stubbled chin, ‘somebody’s gotta tell you that you look fuckin’ great.’

  ‘It’s for the crew,’ she said casually. ‘They’ve only ever seen me in jeans and combat boots bossing everyone around. So I thought—’

  ‘You thought right,’ he interrupted. ‘I repeat you look fuckin’ great.’

  She’d pulled out all the stops and glamoured up for a change. She was wearing a jagged hemmed Isaac Mizrahi skirt, and a plunging Dolce & Gabbana silk jersey top with no bra. She was delighted Nick had noticed.

  Not that she cared.

  Well…maybe just a bit.

  Mustn’t take Nick Logan too seriously. He was about to be her revenge fuck. Then they could both go their separate ways.

  She left Nick and walked around, hanging out with all the guys, her cinematographer, the camera crew, the sound guys, grips and gaffers. Plus the union drivers–they were all there with their wives and significant others.

  The music was deliciously loud and overpowering. The drinks flowed freely and the food was bountiful: spare ribs, steaks, salads, baked potatoes, lobster and shrimp–something for everyone.

  Cat dropped by Shelby’s table. The beautiful raven-haired star was with her parents. Cat sat down and chatted with them for a few minutes. She wondered when Merrill would put in an appearance, then she noticed Jonas getting busy on the dance floor with Amy. The two of them made such an interesting couple–they were a perfect fit.

  Nick was dutifully doing the rounds, charming every woman in the room. His bad-boy act was extremely popular; they all fell for it.

  Cat found herself watching him longer than she should. He certainly knew how to turn it on.

  ‘Mrs Cheney,’ Pete said, coming over to their table, ‘can I interest you in a dance?’

  ‘No, you cannot,’ Martha replied, blushing.

  ‘Maybe I should ask your husband’s permission.’

  ‘I don’t dance,’ Martha said quickly.

  ‘Yes, you do, Mum,’ Shelby interrupted. ‘Go on. Live dangerously.’

  Pete put out his hand, pulled her to her feet and escorted her to the dance floor.

  ‘Doesn’t Mum look lovely tonight?’ Shelby said to her father.

  George nodded, his face serious. ‘Now that your mother’s not here,’ he said, ‘there’s something I’ve been meaning to mention.’

  ‘Yes, Dad?’

  George cleared his throat. ‘We’re not fools, we know what’s going on. And if things don’t work out between you and Linc, divorce is not a disgrace. I know we’ve always set you an example that marriage is for ever, but if Linc is treating you badly, and I suspect that he is, you must put an end to it.’

  She was startled that her father had addressed the subject. She was also relieved. ‘Don’t worry, Daddy,’ she said, putting her hand over his. ‘I won’t let anyone mistreat me. I’m quite prepared to deal with the situation.’

  ‘I’m sure Linc’s a kind man when he wants to be,’ George said. ‘However, I couldn’t help noticing the way he treated you in London on your last trip. It wasn’t pleasant to watch.’

  ‘I’ve told you about his childhood,’ she said. ‘Sometimes it’s hard for him to deal with. The tragedy colours his behaviour. That’s why I’ve always forgiven him.’

  ‘I understand, dear. Only how long can you go on making excuses for someone?’

  ‘You’re right, Dad, I am planning on doing something about it.’

  ‘Pete seems like a genuinely nice man,’ George remarked.

  ‘He i
s.’

  ‘There’s no reason why you shouldn’t move on.’

  ‘I’m so glad you understand.’

  ‘We both do, dear. And remember, we’re only a phone call away. We can come back any time you need us.’

  ‘That means a lot,’ she said gratefully.

  She was tempted to tell him that he was going to be a grandfather, then she thought no. It wasn’t fair to reveal the news to him without her mother there. She’d tell them together when the time was right.

  Pete returned a flushed Martha to the table.

  ‘You’re a great dancer, Mrs Cheney,’ he said gallantly.

  ‘Call me Martha.’

  ‘Sure, Martha.’ He put out his hand toward Shelby. ‘Your turn.’

  ‘I’m not in—’

  ‘Get on the dance floor with me right now,’ he said forcefully. ‘I saw you dancing with one of the grips, and you are not shutting me out. Let’s go.’

  ‘Run along, dear,’ her mother urged, beaming.

  As luck would have it, the moment they hit the dance floor, Big Boy decided to slow things down, and put on Brian McKnight’s very sexy ‘Shoulda, Woulda, Coulda’.

  Pete didn’t hesitate: he pulled her in close.

  She did not push him away. For a few minutes she forgot about everything and gave herself up to the feeling of being held close by someone she liked–a lot.

  ‘Did Linc call you back?’ he asked.

  ‘No.’

  ‘What did you want to talk to him about anyway?’

  ‘If you must know, I was hoping to straighten a few things out.’

  ‘Straighten out what, Shelby?’ Pete asked, exasperated.

  ‘I–I need to find out if we’re really over, and if he’s serious about wanting a divorce.’

  ‘Shelby,’ Pete said gently, still holding her close, ‘that’s not his decision, it’s yours.’

  ‘I know,’ she said, ‘but it’s so difficult. Sometimes I feel absolutely lost. I wish I could just fly back to England with my parents.’

  ‘You can if you want to. You’re an independent woman. Of course,’ he added, ‘I’d miss you so much that I’d be forced to get on a plane and chase after you.’

  She smiled up at him. ‘Pete, you’ve been a true friend to me. I appreciate it so much.’