Hollywood Divorces

by Jackie Collins

  The club featured a restaurant on one side and an area for dancing in the back. Cat had booked the hottest DJ of the moment—Big Boy, a onetime 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 ravenhaired 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 and pulled her to her feet, escorting 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 forever, 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 finally 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 colors his behavior; 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 is.”

  “There’s no reason 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 anytime 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 knowing first. She’d tell them both 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?” he 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 restlessly. “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.”

  “That’s what friends are for,” he said, pulling her even closer.

  The warmth of his body made her feel safe and secure.

  She wondered how he’d feel about raising another man’s child.

  • • •

  Merrill Zandack made his usual flashy entrance. This time he was not accompanied by one steely-looking brunette, but two of them. They hovered closely behind him like a pair of matching sentinels.

  Jonas cleared a table for him to sit at. After a few minutes, Cat moved over and joined him.

  “Merrill,” she said enthusiastically, “I’m glad you could make it.”

  “As if I would miss your coming-out party,” he said, waving a large Cuban cigar in the air. “You’re my new star, kitten. You’re very, very good at what you do, and you’re young, so I’ve got many years left before you turn into an arrogant pain in the ass.”

  She wanted to say, “Like you,” but she managed to control herself. “I’m glad you like what you’ve seen. I should have a rough cut for you in three or four weeks.”

  “I’ll come to the editing room,” he said. “I’ve got an eye, you know.”

  “No, Merrill,” she said quickly. “You’ve got to leave me alone until I deliver my rough cut. Then, if you have any words of wisdom, I’ll be happy to listen.”

  He rolled his eyes in an exaggerated fashion. “The girl’s already talking back to me.”

  “Yup,” she said, grinning. “Now I can.”

  “When do I get your new script?” he demanded. “I’m waiting.”

  “Let me finish this project. After that we’ll talk.”

  “Oh, we’ll talk, will we?” Merrill mocked. “I suppose y
our plan is to surround me with lawyers and shit.”

  “You didn’t exactly treat me fairly last time.”

  “You won, didn’t you?”

  “Not thanks to you. If Nick or Shelby hadn’t wanted me, I would’ve been screwed.”

  He roared with laughter. “You’re a good-looking girl,” he said. “Ever thought of being on the other side of the camera?”

  “No, Mr. Z.,” she said firmly. “I’ve never thought of that.”

  And so the party continued, with everyone having a good time.

  CHAPTER

  * * *

  39

  Allegra was stark-raving-crazy mad. Linc knew that much about her. She was always on, always yelling, always bitching about something or other.

  She had the longest legs he’d ever seen, a tight pussy, and a vile temper. They shared ferocious fights, which made a refreshing change from Shelby clamming up on him.

  Allegra was twenty-five. He was just about to celebrate his forty-third birthday. Some celebration, with no Shelby by his side.

  He missed her desperately. Often he harbored murderous thoughts about Pete. He wanted to hang the asshole by his balls from a very high pole. Stunt that!

  He was not pleased with Lola, either. He was almost certain she’d orchestrated those photos outside the restaurant. Could it be that Freddy was right? She’d wanted to get back at him because he didn’t remember fucking her. Bitch! He wouldn’t fuck her with someone else’s dick.

  Allegra waltzed into the room wearing a skimpy Valentino slip-dress, four-inch stilettos—making her six feet four—and not much else except for a few strategically placed diamonds. One was a nipple piercing— painful, but extraordinarily sexy.

  “Tonight,” she said, her long, jet-black hair almost covering her face as she laid out several lines of coke, “we’re takin’ a walk on the wild side. You up for it, stud?” she challenged.

  “I’m up for anything you got to offer,” he responded.

  “Cool,” she said, greedily snorting as much coke as she could.

  “Yeah,” he agreed, doing a few lines, then reaching for a nearby bottle of scotch, knowing it was necessary to anesthetize himself before the onslaught of whatever Allegra had in mind.

  • • •

  Raja Mestres was a formidable-looking woman in her early sixties—with strong, powerful features, deep scarlet lips, and a commanding attitude. Clad in a flowing embroidered orange cape over black matador pants and a black cashmere turtleneck sweater, with numerous gold bracelets and bangles jangling on her wrists, she attracted the attention of everyone at the party in her honor.

  The event was taking place in a magnificent thirties-style mansion recently restored to its former glory by self-made billionaire Jorge Jobim. Everyone who was anyone in the Latin community was there, plus a scattering of Hollywood stars and art-collecting producers and directors.

  Lola had not met Jorge before. She was delighted to make his acquaintance, because she’d heard that he sometimes invested in movies, and there were future projects she had in mind that would never be considered by any of the major studios.

  “You are as lovely as the image I see on the screen,” Jorge said when they were introduced. Rumor was that he was bisexual—with a rich-in-her-own-right older wife and a series of beautiful young boys imported from South America, and later sent back with thousands of dollars’ worth of designer clothes.

  “And might I say that you are just as charming,” Lola responded. “I have heard many great things about you.”

  “My dear,” Jorge said, kissing her hand in a courtly fashion, “come, I will introduce you to la belleza.”

  Lola did not consider Raja Mestres a beauty. She did consider her a great artist, and it was an honor to meet her.

  Unfortunately Raja spoke very little English, and since Lola’s Spanish was limited, their conversation was short.

  “Can we go now?” Matt whispered, trailing behind her.

  She turned on him. “No,” she said fiercely. “We only just got here. This is an amazing house. Go take a look around.”

  A waiter hovered, holding a tray of canapés.

  “What’s the score?” Matt asked the waiter.

  “Lakers are winning. The game’s on in the kitchen,” the waiter confided in a low voice.

  “Where’s the kitchen?” Matt asked.

  “The other side of the swimming pool,” the waiter replied.

  Matt turned to Lola. “Do you mind if I—”

  “Go ahead,” she said, glad to be rid of him. He vanished off in the direction of the kitchen. It wasn’t as if he was a great escort. He stood around like a dress extra at a funeral, and had absolutely nothing to say.

  • • •

  “So,” Nick said, giving Cat a long, intense look. “You think we can blow this pop stand?”

  “Huh?”

  “Leave. Split. Get outta here.”

  “I have to stay until the end.”

  “No way,” he groaned. “You know what the crew’s like when it comes to free booze; they’ll be here all night.”

  “I should hang around until at least one.”

  “You brought your overnight, didn’t you?” he asked, raising a hopeful eyebrow.

  “One toothbrush.”

  “No clothes?”

  “Why? Are you planning a hiking trip?”

  “Maybe.”

  “You don’t strike me as the hiking type, Nick.”

  “Hey,” he said, fishing for a cigarette, “you might think you know me, but here’s a news flash—no way.”

  “I know that you love women.”

  “Would you sooner I loved men?” he asked, squinting at her.

  She laughed. “I guess I’m gonna miss you,” she volunteered.

  “I know I’ll miss you,” he responded, lighting up his cigarette. “I was thinking that after you finish editing, I’ll still be on location in Miami—you could come visit.”

  “I’m not good at visiting my men on their various locations.”

  “How many men have you had?”

  “I told you what happened when I surprised Jump in Australia.”

  “That was one guy,” Nick insisted. “One major asshole.*

  “And you’re different?”

  “You noticed any girls around lately?”

  “No.”

  “That’s ’cause I’m attempting to make a good impression,” he said, exhaling smoke.

  “Oh, I see. For our one night of crazy sex, huh?”

  “Who said it was gonna be one night?”

  “I did.”

  “You might be so into it you’ll be beggin’ to come back for more.”

  “Man, you certainly have a high opinion of yourself.”

  “Hey,” he said with a cocky laugh, “never had any complaints.”

  • • •

  Her parents were ready to go home, and Shelby was ready to leave with them, only Pete wouldn’t allow her to. “They can take your car,” he said. “You can’t let the crew down. Everyone wants a photo or a dance with you.”

  She agreed to stay, although she would’ve preferred to go home and check her voice mail to see if Linc had called her back. Before she consulted a lawyer she hoped to have at least one conversation with him.

  Allegra. A cover girl on Sports Illustrated. Was that the kind of woman Linc wanted to be with now?

  Obviously.

  Pete guided her around the club, satisfying everyone as he organized photos, making sure to move her from group to group at a brisk pace.

  “Were you ever a publicist?” she asked with a smile. “You do it so well.”

  “Army training,” he replied. “When I was a kid I ran away and enlisted. Then they found out how old I was and threw me out.”

  “How old were you?”

  “Fourteen.”

  “No!”

  “I was a big boy for my age.”

  “And smart too.”

  “Right. If I saw somethin
g I wanted, I went for it.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, Shelby,” he said, giving her a meaningful look. “I’ve always been very determined.”

  • • •

  The party was a huge success, with everyone enjoying themselves.

  “We’re never getting outta here,” Nick grumbled.

  “Oh yes we are,” Cat responded. “Ten more minutes and we’ll sneak out without saying goodbye to anyone. How’s that?”

  “Perfect, if you think we can get away with it.”

  “We will, especially if you manage to shake some of those women who’ve been following you around with their mouths hanging open.”

  “You’re not exactly going unnoticed,” he retorted. “Who knew you cleaned up so good?”

  “You did.”

  “Oh yeah,” he said, grinning. “I did, didn’t I?”

  Fifteen minutes later they were in his red Maserati Spyder two-seater, roaring out of the parking lot.

  “Nice wheels,” Cat remarked.

  “Had it delivered today,” he answered. “My end-of-movie present to myself. This little mother can go from zero to sixty miles per hour in four-point-nine seconds.”

  “Gee,” she drawled. “I can’t wait.”

  “You’re not into speed?”

  “I love it—when I’m driving.”

  “Shut your eyes and think of James Dean.”

  “Oh, you’re a laugh a minute.”

  “C’mon, blondie, take it easy.”

  “I will if you tell me where we’re going.”

  “You’ll find out when we get there.”

  “I want to know now.”

  “Control freak.”

  “I am so not.”

  “Oh yes you are.”

  “Well . . . it takes one to know one.”

  “Guess so.” And with that he put his foot down even harder.

  • • •

  Allegra’s idea of a walk on the wild side was just that. An after-hours private club in the meatpacking district, with entry gained by possessing a phallic-shaped key, passing through two sets of door people, and uttering two passwords. Allegra was well prepared. They sailed through.

  “Jesus, what is this place?” Linc mumbled, feeling high and low and totally fucked up.