Starlit: A Novel

by Lisa Rinna

  She cried out. Not in ecstasy or even in pain, but in shame and disgust.

  Finally, he was spent. Afterward, for what felt like a very long time, he lay draped over her, his cheek resting against her shoulder blade. “Just so you never forget who owns you,” he whispered maliciously.

  Eventually, he lifted himself up. “Time flies when you’re having fun, but I’ve got to leave you, Tal. I’m having drinks with that new actress they’ve just hired on The Office. She’s a cutie, isn’t she? Aw, what the hell, let her wait. Sex with you is always so sweet.” He walked to the window for another honey bear.

  No, Tally thought. Not again. Never again.

  The chair was heavy, but when she placed one knee in the center of its back, she found she could raise it, with both hands strapped to its arms.

  As Gabriel applied honey to himself with his back toward her, she pulled the chair straight up into the air, then smacked him over the head with it. The thump was painfully loud, and when he crumpled to the floor, she saw the bruise on his forehead already forming.

  The pressure of the blow was too hard for one arm of the chair to withstand, and it broke away from the seat, allowing Tally to disentangle her arm from it. She dragged the chair to the fireplace, and with the fire poker, she levered the other arm away from the chair until it let loose, too.

  Finally free, she grabbed her cell phone and arranged for a cab to meet her at the Malibu Ranch Market up the street. She wanted lots of people around her, in case Gabriel came after her again.

  She walked over to his kitchen sink and frantically scrubbed the honey off her hands, face, and chest before slipping back into her skirt and panties. Without buttons, all she could do was tie her blouse at the waist and button her jacket all the way up.

  Then, feeling sticky, dirty, and shameful, she ran out.

  The taxi was already at the market when she got there. By then, she’d made up her mind. “Take me to Pacific Palisades, please.”

  The driver nodded and began heading in the direction of Mac’s house.

  At first, Mac was reluctant to let her enter. His ego was hurt.

  “I made a mistake,” she said softly.

  He thought about the first time he’d seen her and all the wide-eyed innocence she’d had that night at the Sunset Tower. Now her innocence was gone. Did Gabriel McNamara have anything to do with that?

  Gently, he took Tally into his arms. When she began to sob, he said nothing and just held her even closer. When she stopped, he said, “Tell me what he did to you.”

  Still in tears, with her head buried in his neck, she told him what happened. Afterward, he cradled her in his arms and took her up to his bedroom. While she lay in his bed, her ran her a bath.

  As she sat in the big warm tub with the view of the PCH and the beach and ocean beyond, he made a few calls. When she came out of the bathroom in his robe, her skin beneath it was clean and rosy. Still, he knew she’d be stained by the memory for a long, long time.

  The fix was simple. Mac had called in a favor from an old pal, the producer of Intensive Care.

  Like that of every actor, Gabriel McNamara’s contract included a morals clause. Rape was immoral—and illegal. Gabriel wouldn’t want to be accused of that. Nor would he want to do time for it. He was too pretty.

  There were probably enough women who had gotten the honey rape treatment from the asshole that at least some of them would be willing to talk about it, a fact that Mac pointed out to the show’s producers. Of course, they agreed with him on all counts. Besides, all actors were replaceable.

  Later that week, when Tally read in Variety that Gabriel had been dropped from Intensive Care, the thought crossed her mind that Mac could have had something to do with it, but she decided it was just Gabriel’s karma finally catching up with him.

  Chapter 21

  BLISS, FINALLY.

  After so many ups and downs in her professional and personal life, Tally felt everything was falling into place. The fee she’d earned from Cloistered allowed her to pay off her house in full, and her home provided her with the peace of mind she felt she needed to survive in such a volatile industry.

  Sadie and Mandy referred to the house as “Tally’s dollhouse” because of its charm. And despite its meager furnishings and the fact that Tally hadn’t yet unpacked most of her boxes, its central location—between Sadie’s Malibu digs and Mandy’s elegant new home in Pasadena—made it the perfect place for the three friends to meet and relax.

  Actually, Sadie seemed just as excited as Tally about her new home. “I saw a wonderful knotty-pine table that would fit perfectly in your foyer. We should go look at it before someone else snaps it up,” she urged her friend one day.

  Tally sighed. “You know how crazy my schedule is, now that Dana Point is back in production. I’m on the set almost twelve hours a day.” Watching Sadie’s face realign itself into a look of disappointment, Tally immediately regretted her words. “I’m sorry, Sadie. I hope you didn’t think I meant I didn’t have time for you. It’s just that things are so hectic these days—”

  Sadie forced a smile. “Hey, no need for apologies. It’s not you I’m upset with but myself. Ever since I quit ICA, I seem to have more time on my hands than I know what to do with. I mean, you can only take so many tennis lessons and attend so many yoga classes in any given week, right?”

  Mandy looked up from her BlackBerry. “I love those cute little tennis skirts! I’ve got to remind Jerry that we haven’t done a plot with a tennis pro yet. On second thought, maybe I should put it out there on my Taylor Made Facebook fan page first and see what kind of response the idea gets.” Inspired, she began typing even more furiously.

  Tally shook her head. Mandy’s hard-core fans gave her feedback on everything: their favorite Taylor Made movies, her technique, her costars’ equipment, and certainly her costumes—when she wore them.

  She and Mandy were thriving in their acting careers, whereas Sadie’s had ground to a halt from the moment she met Josh. And Sadie had left her fledgling agenting gig as soon as she got married. Now she seemed somewhat lost. Tally put her arm around her friend and tried to cheer her up. “Are you pleased with the guy who replaced you as Josh’s assistant?” she asked.

  Sadie shrugged. “Seth is OK. He’s one of those bright-eyed, bushy-tailed go-getters.”

  Tally laughed. “Nothing wrong with that, right?”

  “I guess not. It’s just that …” She hesitated, as if contemplating the right way to say what was on her mind. “Well, I get the feeling that he’ll say anything—and do anything—to get ahead. He’s not looking out for Josh. He’s looking out for himself.”

  Tally smiled. “Sadie, when it comes to Josh, no one will ever look out for him as much as you. He’s a very lucky guy.”

  Sadie laughed. “Yeah, I guess I’ve done so well by him that I worked myself out of a job.”

  “Now you have the time—and the money—to go back to your acting lessons. You know Randall will always take you back,” Tally said.

  “Don’t I know it.” Sadie frowned. “He calls me up at least once a week, but I feel like he’s more interested in having a connection to Josh through me than in teaching me the skills I’d need to be a successful actress. I’m just now realizing the consequences of being Josh Gold’s wife.”

  “Don’t you mean the opportunities?” Tally said, trying to put a positive spin on the situation.

  “Yeah, I guess it’s all how you look at it. If it weren’t for Josh, we wouldn’t have gotten that beautiful venue for our wedding or a caterer who was willing to do it practically at cost just because she knew so many celebrities and stars were going to attend.”

  Mandy chimed in. “I swear, Sadie, that was the most beautiful wedding I’ve ever attended. Maybe you should plan weddings.”

  Sadie nodded thoughtfully. “Frankly, it was a lot of fun. And I enjoyed the challenge.”

  Tally looked around her empty living room. “Speaking of challenges, just becaus
e I don’t have time to find some furniture doesn’t mean you can’t be a pal and scout out some good pieces for me. In fact, I know your taste well enough to give you carte blanche—within my budget, of course.”

  Sadie brightened. “OK, you’re on. But now that you no longer have to worry about making house payments, I’m going to hit you up for a real decorating budget.”

  In addition to having her very own dollhouse, Tally had another reason to be happy: Mac truly loved her, and she knew it. Not just because he told her so, repeatedly. More important to Tally— particularly after her volatile relationship with Gabriel—was that he showed his love for her in so many ways. Like the way he asked her opinion on whether they should go out to eat or hike or just hang out at home. Since Tally now had a face recognized by millions of people, he let her choose how public they should be.

  “I grew up with a famous mother,” he reminded her. “I remember how annoying it was to have people come up to you all the time, no matter where you were or what you were doing. Only Mother was never as sweet with her fans as you.”

  Tally appreciated his understanding. Unlike Gabriel, she preferred places that didn’t light up on the paparazzis’ radar screens, so they usually ended up in little out-of-the-way places where the food was great and they would be left alone.

  Mac’s love also showed up in many random acts of kindness. Once, when she had to cancel their lunch date because her scenes were running late, he had a picnic basket delivered to her trailer. And he always stuck around the lot until she was done with the day’s filming, just so they could ride home together.

  Best of all was the way he made love to her. No, with her. Slowly, as if he had all the time in the world to please her. He loved to hear her gasp with pleasure, to watch her back arch in anticipation to his touch, and to hear her sigh in his ear, “I love you, too, Mac.” And, unlike Gabriel, he never left her alone after sex.

  Sometimes she wondered if his love for her clouded his judgment of her acting skills, but he almost fell out of his chair laughing when she brought it up. “If you’re pulling the wool over my eyes, then I’m not the only one. You auditioned for Burt Tillman, remember? He’s a pretty hard nut to crack. And aren’t you the same Tally Jones who was nominated for an Emmy in her very first season on television?” Then he got serious. “Besides, movies are big business. I can’t afford to let my heart get in the way of other people’s money, not to mention my own investment of cash and sweat equity.”

  In fact, Mac was very excited about what he was seeing in the postproduction process on Cloistered. Kent Whitman’s directorial work melded seamlessly with the footage shot previously by the temperamental Dumont, thanks to the first-rate editor Mac had hired on his new director’s recommendation.

  Whenever she got done shooting Dana Point early, Tally made her way over to Mac’s offices to view the raw edits of Cloistered. She loved learning how that portion of the filmmaking process was done and seeing how her first film was coming together. Mac got a kick out of her enthusiasm for it all. “Your performance, and that of the rest of the cast, is just one piece of movie magic,” he explained one day when she stopped by. “It starts with a great script and insightful direction, but you also need truly artistic cinematography, editing, music, and sound effects to create what people like to call ‘movie magic.’”

  She gave him a kiss on the forehead. “You forgot the role of the producer.”

  Mac laughed. “We just find the money and land a distribution deal.”

  “I’d say that’s pretty important.” Tally’s smile disappeared. “Seriously, Mac, thank you for believing in me and trusting me with your film.”

  “Don’t sell yourself short, gorgeous. If I hadn’t hired you, some other producer or director would have eventually caught on to what the rest of America seems to know: that Tally Jones is a superb actress who lights up the screen. I just beat everyone else to the punch.”

  Chapter 22

  “I HATE THAT BITCH,” Susie murmured through clenched teeth.

  Garfield, who was gluing extensions onto her real hair, was the only person in the trailer able to hear her. Of course, that’s just what Susie wanted, because Garfield was the biggest gossip monger on the set. Next to Ben Kendrick, of course, but Ben was already Tally’s biggest cheerleader, so he was no use to Susie. Garfield also knew which side his bread was buttered on, however, and that’s where his allegiance went.

  “She’s just a tart.” Garfield sniffed. “And to think they considered honoring her with an Emmy! That’s only because they didn’t know you’d be coming back.”

  “Burt begged me.” Susie paused to scrutinize the extensions, then waved her tacit approval. “He cried like a baby in my arms. You know that.”

  “Absolutely.” Like everyone else on the set, Garfield knew how much Burt really hated Susie. Sure, Susie had been a ratings draw during her first few seasons, but it was only when Tally had been hired that the ratings climb really started. But Garfield wasn’t man enough to remind her of that. Besides, he preferred to dish. “She’s had it too damn easy, that one. Who the hell does she think she is, sashaying in here and taking your place?”

  Susie gave him a dirty look. “What do you mean, taking my place? She can’t take my place if I’m still here.”

  “N-no,” Garfield stuttered. “What I meant is that she’s nothing more than a spoiled little brat. Just look at her! She’s a nobody, and she has a great role on a hit TV show and a new movie coming out this fall with some hot buzz, thanks to the affair she’s having with the movie’s producer. Can you believe they actually hooked up in Paris? How gauche.”

  Susie nodded grudgingly. As long as Garfield had that hot glue jar in his hand, she wasn’t going to chastise him. “Yeah, I saw the headlines. So she was sucking face to sweeten her paycheck. What’s the big deal?”

  “Oh, nothing … except that Tally the Tease dumped that hunk Gabriel McNamara for him.” He shuddered at the thought. “Talk about stupid. To top it off, just to clear the playing field, her new lover boy got Gabriel axed from his show—”

  Susie sat straight up in the chair and in the process almost lost what was left of her real hair, which was tethered to Garfield’s glue brush. “Whoa, whoa, whoa! Slow down. Who is this guy, and what did he do to Gabriel McNamara?”

  Garfield smiled smugly. “Where have you been, doll, in a crypt?” Seeing Susie’s reaction to his comment, Garfield suddenly realized that he’d overstepped the sacred boundary between star and minion. “This is totally between you and me.” Garfield leaned in for the pièce de résistance, “but I heard it from the highest source that Mr. Suit got the goods on his competition and then tossed them to the producers at Intensive Care. They had no other choice but to let Gorgeous Gabe go.”

  “Ha.” Susie leaned back into her chair. “That guy must have had some real dirt to throw around. And some real clout.”

  “Mac Carlton, my sweet, is Richard Carlton’s son. Talk about the top of the food chain.”

  So little Tally Jones has wrangled herself one of Hollywood’s top players, Susie thought. But he doesn’t swing the biggest dick on the lot. His daddy, Richard, does.

  She smiled as she remembered her mother’s one golden rule about men: aim high, and don’t miss.

  I wonder how Tally will do with a little competition.

  Garfield twirled her around to the mirror so that she could admire his handiwork. Of course, Susie loved what she saw.

  She always did.

  Richard Carlton loved it when people fawned all over him; it was one of the perks of being a studio head. When the stars who appeared in his movies and television shows kowtowed to him, talked to him with deference, and grew shy and awkward in his presence, he felt as if he owned the world. And in a very real sense, he owned their world—and they knew it, even if their fans couldn’t recognize him to save their lives. That, too, was a reality of his position: power was a given, but fame was not.

  He was always pleasantly surpri
sed when one of his stars asked him for a private meeting. When this happened, he invariably instructed his assistant to say yes, but his hard and fast rule was that such a meeting was never to go beyond fifteen minutes—even if it was with someone as beautiful as Susie Sheppard, the diva on his network’s biggest primetime hit, Dana Point.

  Susie entered his office as a vision in a low-cut-cream Armani suit, with a set of pearls, and her hair extensions hanging in coils below her shoulders. The effect was quite angelic. Ostensibly, she was there to ask him for a donation.

  “It’s for an orphanage in Mississippi. The poor children there have absolutely nothing! Even a small amount will go a long way,” she purred.

  How could he say no to her? The way she smiled at him as she looked deep into his eyes had him putting his pen to his checkbook with a flourish. He was conservative both in his business dealings and in his politics, and he couldn’t stand it when actors used their fame to push some political cause, but charity—and for orphans, no less—that was a different story. And for Susie to take time from her lunch hour on the set to raise money for them, well, she really was an angel. It made him think twice about all those nasty rumors he’d heard about her over the past few years.

  She thanked him profusely for his generosity, and as she leaned over his desk to get the check, her hand grazed his, just barely. He didn’t pull back, and neither did she.

  Interesting.

  Susie segued the conversation to his son, Mac, and started going on about how proud he must be of his accomplishments, including that Oscar, and how the whole town was buzzing over Mac’s newest project, Cloistered. Then she mentioned how lucky it was that the public had yet to learn the truth about the movie’s lead, Tally Jones, a heavy cocaine user who had ducked out of rehab twice already.

  Richard glared at Susie. “You seem to know a lot about Tally.”