“So, Jonas,” Cat said, sipping a Pernod on the rocks and lowering her shades, all the better to give him one of her penetrating green-eyed looks. “You’ve got to admit this is more fun than all those uptight events we’ve had to suffer through.”
“Suffer through?” he said, raising an eyebrow. “People would pay fortunes to attend these events.”
“You know what I mean.”
“You have no idea how lucky you are, do you?” he said, shaking his head.
“Lucky?” she said casually. “How come?”
“You’ve got Merrill Zandack behind you. What more can you ask for? He’ll make sure Caught gets made. Admit it—you’re unbelievably lucky.”
“Or maybe I’m simply talented,” she said quickly.
“That too,” he conceded. “Only there are thousands of talented people who struggle for years and never get a break.”
“That’s their karma. Mine is pretty good.”
“How old are you, Cat?”
“You know how old I am,” she said, not appreciating his superior tone. “And what’s that got to do with anything?”
“You’re lucky, that’s all,” he said, thinking how easy she’d had it.
She stared at him for a moment. She’d always felt Jonas did not like her, now he’d proven it by making out she was a spoiled little rich girl who simply happened to get lucky. “Hey,” she responded sharply. “I had an idea and I pursued it. Most people talk a good game, then never do anything about it. I got off my ass and called in every favor I could to make my first movie. Nobody handed me anything. The fact that it worked doesn’t make me lucky. That’s insulting.”
“I didn’t mean it to be,” he said, backing down.
“How about you?” she said challengingly. “Do you have a dream that hasn’t happened ’cause you’re too busy kissing Mr. Z.’s ass?”
“Some people have to work for a living,” he said, keeping his temper in check. He was annoyed with himself because it was true, he did kiss Merrill’s ass, but that was because it was his only option if he ever planned on making it as a producer. He always remembered the Joel Silver story—Joel Silver, producer of many megahit movies including the Die Hard series, started out his career as another big producer’s gofer and driver. If it could happen for Joel Silver, why couldn’t it happen for him?
“I’ve worked bloody hard to get where I am,” Cat said earnestly. “I’m entitled to everything I’ve achieved.”
“Even though you’re only nineteen?”
“What’s with you?” she said, amazed that he was carrying on about her age. “Young is where it’s at today. Don’t you get it—young, Jonas. How old are you?”
“Twenty-six.”
“You look older,” she said rudely.
“Why would you say that?”
“ ’Cause you’ve got an old attitude.”
“Thanks.”
“You’re always dressed up in your Prada, running after Mr. Zandack, and y’know, I think you get on people’s nerves.”
“I do not,” he said indignantly. “Perhaps I get on your nerves. Other than you, I’m well liked.”
“Ha! Well liked? Nobody even notices you.”
“That’s not very nice.”
“You’re not very nice to me,” she responded, knowing she sounded like an argumentative kid, but unable to help herself. “Ever since I arrived here you’ve been on my case.”
“Do you think it’s because I didn’t have international parents like you who could afford to let me roam around the world?”
“Careful,” she said caustically. “Your resentment is beginning to show.”
“I don’t resent you.”
“Then stop being such an uptight asshole toward me.”
“Didn’t know I was.”
“Apology accepted,” she said sarcastically. “What is it you want to do, anyway?”
“One of these days I hope to be producing films that have something meaningful to say.”
“That’s very Oprah Winfrey of you.”
“I’m using this opportunity as Mr. Zandack’s personal assistant to learn.”
“Hmm . . . then be very careful exactly what you learn from dear old Merrill.”
“Mr. Zandack is a major force in the film industry.”
“Tell me the truth, Jonas, are you pissed he’s prepared to finance my movie?”
“I can assure you, this isn’t personal.”
“Oh, really?”
“Maybe we should drop the subject.”
“I’m cool with that,” she said, checking her watch. “What time is it in Australia? I want to phone my husband.”
“You got married way too young.”
“Oh, here we go with the age thing again,” she sighed. “What is your hang-up with age?”
“It’s a well-known statistic that most women wait until they’re in their mid-twenties to get married.”
“Why wait?”
“Sensible people do.”
“Who said I’m sensible? I’m a nutter. Surely you’ve guessed by now?”
“Was Jump your first boyfriend?”
“Ha!” she said, taking another sip of Pernod. “That’s hilarious. Where do you think I got all that info for my first movie? It’s my story, you know.” A beat, then, “How about you?”
“Why is it that you always manage to turn the question around?”
“I’ve got an inquisitive mind.”
“You sure do.”
“So, do you have a . . . partner?”
“What do you mean by ‘partner’?”
“You know,” she said, pressing on. “Someone you live with.”
“Are you intimating that I’m gay?”
“Didn’t say that.”
“What do you think ‘partner’ means?”
“Okay, so yeah, you are gay, right?”
“Christ!” he said, thinking that this girl was too much. “Sorry to disappoint you, but I am most definitely not.”
“Oops!” she said, realizing that she’d made a mistake. “It’s just that, y’know, we’re here in this cool place and there’s all these hot girls parading by in shorts and bikinis, and you’re not even eyeballing any of them.”
“I don’t look at other women when I’m with one.”
“It’s not exactly like we’re together, Jonas.”
He frowned. “What made you think I was gay?”
She shrugged, feeling somewhat awkward. “I dunno. You never . . . well, I guess I’ve only seen you at work.”
“I can assure you,” he repeated. “I am not gay.”
“Okay, okay, I believe you.”
“Good.”
“Can we order food now? I’m starving.”
• • •
“There’s one thing I feel I should mention before I read your script,” Lola said, toying with the stem of her wineglass in a sexually suggestive fashion.
“What?” Merrill responded, lighting up a fresh cigar.
“You’re not planning on letting that girl direct, are you?”
“It’s her project, Lola.”
“So what? You’re the boss.”
“She’s talented. You saw Wild Child.”
“She’s also inexperienced. There’s no way I could work with someone so new. I’ll read it, and if I like it, we’ll talk. I’m sure you know that I now get co-star and director approval.”
“Not a problem,” Merrill said, sweating profusely. “If you wanna make the movie, you’ll get whatever you want.”
“Here comes my publicist,” Lola said, waving at Faye, who was fast approaching their table. “Interviews and more interviews—you know how it goes.”
“You work hard for your movies,” Merrill said. “Some of my actresses get paid a fortune an’ refuse to do shit. You’re a professional, Lola. I admire that.”
“It was a lovely lunch, Merrill,” she said graciously, reaching for her sunglasses. “It’s always a pleasure seeing you.”
>
“You’ll be at my party tonight?”
“Wouldn’t miss it.”
“You bringing that husband of yours?”
“Of course.”
“No more Tony Alvarez in your life, huh?”
“No,” she said, putting on her sunglasses.
“Tony’s trouble. You’re a smart girl getting rid of him.”
She nodded, pretending to agree, although she was seething inside. How come everyone thought they were free to criticize her love life? She would sleep with whomever she wanted. If they didn’t approve, too bad.
Faye reached their table. Lola got up. Merrill didn’t.
He’s such a rude sonofabitch, she thought. Rude, but powerful. And powerful always wins out.
“Bye, darling,” she said, bending down to give him the Hollywood peck on both cheeks.
“See you tonight,” he said, blowing acrid smoke in her face. “We’ll talk more.”
He watched her as she walked away, big ass tightly encased in clinging white jersey. Director and co-star approval indeed. Actresses! They were all the same. Jesus! How quickly it went to their heads. He could remember her down on her knees sucking his cock like her life depended on it. And perhaps it did, because he’d had the power to make her a star.
Power. That’s what it was all about. And how better to feel the power than to have some eager little cocksucker down on her knees servicing him.
As they moved away from the table Lola turned to Faye. “Merrill will do anything for me,” she murmured. “Men are so easy. Especially unattractive ones.” Faye wasn’t interested in hearing about her client’s conquests. “There are three TV crews waiting,” she said. “I’ve checked the lighting and it’s good.”
“What points should I hit?”
“Talk about anything except your love life,” Faye warned.
“My love life?” Lola said, raising an eyebrow. “Surely you’re forgetting I’m a married woman. Nothing to talk about.”
“And don’t you forget it,” Faye said firmly. “If they should mention Tony Alvarez, you wish him the best, you’ll always be there for him as a friend, but you haven’t seen him since you got married.”
“Thank you, Faye,” Lola drawled sarcastically. “What would I do without you?”
She’d already decided that the first person she’d call the moment she got back to America was Tony. They belonged together, and it was about time she followed her instincts instead of listening to everybody else’s advice.
• • •
“You handled yourself well,” Russell said admiringly as they left the press conference. “Didn’t need my help at all.”
“Yes I did,” Shelby answered ruefully. “Your comments were perfect.”
“I kinda know how to handle ’em,” Russell said. “Done it a time or two.”
She sighed. “Are we constantly going to be compared to Monster’s Ball?”
“You know what the press are like, they always need a hook.”
“It’s upsetting that people think I’m hanging on to Halle Berry’s coattails because she did an outrageous sex scene and now I have.”
“We were shooting our movie before she even won her Oscar,” Russell pointed out. “Forget about it.”
“I can’t stand these press junkets.”
He laughed dryly. “This is nothing. Wait until we get back to the States and our movie hits the screens there. You’d better prepare yourself.”
“As long as you’re beside me, Russell. You’ve got a way of always making me feel secure.”
It was true. Filming Rapture with Russell Savage had been an extremely rewarding experience. Not only was he a fine director, he was also a caring human being, and that made all the difference. She was quite convinced she would never have been able to get through the graphic love scenes with another director in charge. Her role was too personal, plus Russell brought out a side of her that she had not known she possessed.
“Terrific answers, honey,” said Beck Carson, winking at her on his way past. “You’re quite a pro.”
Beck had been another source of strength to her. He was one of those low-key actors who never stopped working. He had world-weary eyes and a phenomenal screen presence. Twice nominated, it was quite possible he could be nominated again for his role in Rapture.
“When are you leaving?” she asked.
“Flying to New York later this afternoon,” he said. “How about you?”
“Linc and I are off in a couple of days. We’re stopping by to see my parents in London.”
“What a city!” Beck said, rolling his eyes. “Spent quite a bit of time there last summer. English people are the best.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” she said, smiling. “Even though I now live in Hollywood.”
“You’ll always be English,” Beck said. “You’ve got that English thing going. I hope Linc realizes what a lucky sonofabitch he is.”
“I hope so too,” she said, turning back to Russell. “Will you be at Merrill Zandack’s party tonight?”
“Yup,” Russell said, nodding. “When Merrill throws his annual party, everyone shows up. It’s a Cannes staple. At least the caviar is the best.”
“That’s very Hollywood of you, Russ. Where did you say you were born?”
“Brooklyn, honey, and I don’t ever forget it.”
“Really?”
“That’s the trick of surviving in this business—never forget where you came from.”
Shelby nodded. Perhaps that was Linc’s problem. He could never forget his abusive father and the shocking violence he’d endured as a child. It was one of the reasons she always forgave him for his out-of-control drinking and vile moods.
That’s why she loved him so much—because deep down he wasn’t the big macho movie star, he was a little boy lost and he needed her. He also needed therapy, and one of these days she was convinced that he’d give in and she’d get him to spend more time with Brenda. If only he would, it might solve all their problems.
CHAPTER
* * *
10
Lunch was a feast. Giant pink shrimp followed by succulent, grilled chicken and tomato-and-mozzarella pizzas. For dessert there was rich chocolate cake and coconut gelato.
“I haven’t eaten this good since I got here,” Cat announced, licking her fingers with great glee.
“You’re a fast-food girl, then, huh?” Jonas said, leaning forward to remove a speck of chocolate from her lips.
“This isn’t fast food, this is amazing.”
“You’re easy to please,” he said, thinking that sometimes she actually acted her age; it was most endearing.
“Jump says I’m not.”
“He’s wrong.”
She grinned. “You know what I’d like to do now?”
“Go back to the boat?” he said hopefully. “Because there’s a lot more party details I should be taking care of.”
“Oh, no,” she said, vigorously shaking her head. “Merrill promised I had you for the day, so now I want to go waterskiing.”
“You’re not serious?”
“Perfectly serious. Why?” she said, wrinkling her nose. “Don’t you ski?”
“I tried telling you earlier—didn’t have your privileged upbringing.”
“Privileged upbringing my ass! Warring parents who were always on the run. Jump taught me in Australia. We spent ten days exploring the Great Barrier Reef. It was way cool!”
“He sounds like quite a guy.”
“You’d like him,” she said, adding a mischievous, “and now that I know you’re not gay, you two could be friends.”
“Does that mean he’s homophobic?”
“No way.”
“Then why couldn’t we be friends if I was gay?” “Which you’re not.”
“Not.”
“Jump gets along with everyone.”
“Is he bisexual?”
“Come on,” she protested. “Stop teasing me.”
�
�Do I have to?” he said, mock-serious.
“Yes, Jonas, you have to.”
“Y’know,” he said, stretching, “I’ve got to admit that this has been kind of relaxing, getting away from the big man for a day.”
“You need to do it more often,” she said, leaping up and reaching for his hand. “ ’Cause now I’m about to teach you how to water-ski.”
He started to protest, but she was having none of it. “What’s under your shorts?” she demanded.
“Excuse me?”
“Have you got on underwear?”
“Of course,” he said, alarmed. “And I’m not skiing in them.”
She stifled a grin at the thought of Jonas in his underwear. Boxers or briefs? Aware of his label fetish, she decided they had to be Calvin Klein and tight.
“Come on,” she said, pulling him up. “I’m buying you swim shorts to protect your modesty, then you can learn.”
“Don’t want to learn,” he objected, shaking his head.
“Yes you do,” she said insistently. “ ’Cause when you’re a big producer making huge, meaningful movies, you’ll come here and knock the pants off everyone with your cool athletic abilities. How about that?”
He liked the fact that she had confidence in him. Maybe she wasn’t such a pain in the butt after all. “So you actually believe I’ll make it?” he said.
“Anyone who has a passion is gonna make it. Hey—I’m a classic example. Dropped out of school at fifteen, was a major druggie—only don’t mention that to Merrill.”
“I quit school at fifteen too.”
“You did?”
He nodded.
“How come?”
“My old man needed extra drinking money.”
“Sounds like a story I should hear.”
“Another time.”
“Promise?”
“Sure,” he said, uncomfortable because he didn’t like revealing stuff about himself. After all, she couldn’t possibly be interested, she was merely killing time until she hooked up with her rock ’n’ roll husband.
Two hours later, half drowned and surprisingly content, they lay side by side on sun beds on a half-empty beach. Cat was oblivious to the attention coming her way, for stripped down to her bikini she was a total looker—tall, with an athletic body, spiky blond hair, and classic features. Even her various small tattoos and piercings failed to detract from her beauty.
Hollywood Divorces Page 10