Hollywood Divorces

by Jackie Collins

Nick’s friend’s house was not a simple beach shack; it was a magnificent oceanfront mansion.

  “Who does it belong to?” Cat asked, exploring the series of huge reception rooms, which all overlooked an enormous marble terrace, which in turn overlooked the beach.

  “A record producer dude I know,” Nick answered, going to the bar and taking out two bottles of beer. “I played a rock star in a movie. This guy did the music.”

  “Single?”

  “Why, wanna hook up with him?” he said, handing her a beer.

  “You’re hilarious,” she said. “I was wondering how his wife feels about us borrowing their house.”

  “The dude’s on the loose. No wife. He’s the kinda guy runs three girls at a time.”

  “Sounds like a pimp.”

  “What can I tell you?” Nick said, swigging beer. “He’s a player.”

  “Then it’s no surprise the two of you get along.”

  “We’ve shared a girlfriend or two,” he admitted.

  “Is this his picture?” she asked, picking up a silver frame from the top of a baby grand piano and staring at a silver-haired man with a George Hamilton suntan.

  “That’s him.”

  “Not bad looking, in an older-man sort of way.”

  “The dude’s pushing sixty.”

  “I can’t stand all those old geezers who think they’re so hot,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “All they do is chase after girls a quarter of their age. It’s a total turnoff.”

  “At least they can still get it up.”

  “What’s the point if they can only get it up with Viagra?”

  “You don’t believe in Viagra?”

  “My philosophy is that if you can’t get it up in the normal fashion, why bother?”

  Now it was Nick’s turn to laugh. “Tell that to all the old guys,” he said, opening up the doors to the terrace. “I’m thinking Jacuzzi. How about you?” he said, walking outside.

  “You know what,” she said, following him out. “This is too over-the-top for me.”

  “Huh?” he said, shooting her an I-do-not-believe-that-you’re-backing-out-on-me look.

  “This whole cool playboy scene,” she said restlessly. “Y’know—the fabulous mansion, the outdoor Jacuzzi. I feel like I’m in some cheesy TV reality show.”

  “Does that mean you wanna go somewhere else?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  “No. Why don’t we get in the car and drive?”

  “Whereto?”

  “Anywhere we feel like.”

  “C’mon, Cat,” he groaned. “It’s late, an’ we’re already here.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re chicken?” she challenged.

  “Me?”

  “Chicken, ’cause you’re not into taking chances.”

  “Who said I wasn’t?”

  “Then let’s blow this mausoleum and hit the highway.”

  “You’re crazier than me, you know that?”

  “Actually,” she said, smiling sweetly, “I never doubted it.”

  • • •

  As Tony reached a noisy climax, somebody began rattling the handle of the bedroom door, and a loud voice said, “This is security. Open up.”

  “Oh, shit!” Tony said, zipping up his pants.

  “Oh shit is right,” Lola gasped, adjusting her dress. “Now everyone will see us come out. This is terrible!”

  “Lock yourself in the bathroom. I’ll go out first.”

  “Open this door now!” the security guard commanded.

  “Go on,” Tony urged. “Get in there. I’ll handle this.”

  She hurried into the bathroom and locked the door. Her hands were shaking, her cheeks flushed.

  This was madness. She and Tony were over.

  And yet . . . tonight she’d been powerless to resist him. Totally powerless. Her career, her family meant nothing compared to her lust for Tony.

  • • •

  “Pull over,” Cat ordered.

  “We’re in the middle of nowhere,” Nick pointed out.

  “You’re such a wuss.”

  “What didja call me?”

  “You heard.”

  They were way down the Pacific Coast Highway, with high cliffs on one side and rocks and surf on the other. It was pitch-black and the roar of the ocean was fierce.

  “Pull over,” Cat repeated.

  “Jesus!” he complained. But he did as she asked, pulling the Maserati onto the hard shoulder of the road and cutting the engine.

  “Out!” Cat commanded.

  “What we gonna do—take a walk?”

  “You’re not very adventurous, are you?” she teased. “We’re going to climb down to the beach and . . . who knows?”

  “Shit, Cat. It’s dark and it’s dangerous.”

  “Oh my God! Mr. Nick Logan, big stud, is really a great big scaredy boy!”

  “Shut the fuck up,” he said, laughing—because this girl was nuts, and he liked it.

  “Make me,” she said, jumping out of the car, hiking up her skirt, and scrambling over the rocks, climbing her way down toward the small strip of sand.

  “I’ll make you, all right,” he yelled, coming after her.

  “Yeah? Catch me if you can!” she shouted, feeling free and exhilarated and totally alive.

  This was a lot more exciting than lounging around in a Jacuzzi in some rich guy’s fancy mansion.

  • • •

  Lola could hear loud voices, then there was silence. Was Tony coming back to tell her it was all clear, or was she supposed to wait?

  She glanced at her watch and decided to stay in the bathroom—which incidentally was quite sumptuous. Black marble with touches of gold. A huge tub surrounded with gold cherub fixtures. Ornate gilded mirrors and a lounging area covered in some kind of animal fur with a TV suspended above it.

  She waited five more minutes, then slowly emerged.

  On her knees in the master bedroom was Raja Mestres going down on Maria—Tony’s innocent little eighteen-year-old fiancée, who lolled casually on the edge of the bed.

  “Oh!” Lola exclaimed.

  Raja raised her head for a moment, quite unperturbed, while Maria lay there like a playful kitten— skirt around her waist, legs spread, exhibiting a small mound of silky pubic hair.

  “Excuse me,” Lola muttered. “I was using the bathroom. I didn’t realize—”

  “Iss bueno,” Raja interrupted in her man-size voice. “You like join us?”

  Maria didn’t move.

  “Uh, no thank you,” Lola said, quite shocked, as she edged her way to the door, which was once again locked.

  Raja rose from her knees and quietly let her out, locking the door behind her.

  What a surreal scene that was. Lola couldn’t wait to tell Tony.

  • • •

  The waiters were discussing the guests. Normal observations—“Didja see the rack on Petra Flynn?”

  “Who’s that fat stoner with the attitude?”

  “One more bossy order from that skinny bitch with the diamond rock an’ I’m pissin’ in her drink.”

  “How about the ass on Lola Sanchez? I’d like to move in an’ stay a week!”

  Matt blended in. They’d forgotten he was there as he sat in front of the TV tossing peanuts into his mouth. He took the comment about his wife as a compliment. She did have a gorgeous ass, nothing insulting about that.

  Now that they were back together he had to work on making sure that she didn’t throw him out again. To be safe, he’d consulted a lawyer, making sure that next time it would not be so easy for her to dump him.

  One of the waiters came running into the kitchen, slamming his tray down on the counter. “Nobody’s gonna believe this one,” he announced. “Tony Alvarez locks himself in the master bedroom with that hot Lola Sanchez piece, then security figures out somebody’s in there, so they tell Jorge, he gets pissed, an’ sends security to throw them out. Well, security starts hammering on
the door, and two minutes later out comes Tony Alvarez and no Lola. So, I’m keeping an eye on the situation, and suddenly I notice Raja Mestres go in there with Tony Alvarez’s girlfriend. Now the three of them are in there together. Then Lola Sanchez waltzes out looking mighty pleased with herself. Guess she had a good thing going with the two women.”

  “What’re you gettin’ at?” one of the other waiters asked.

  “What do you think I’m gettin’ at,” the first waiter said triumphantly. “They’re a bunch of lesbos.”

  “Isn’t Lola Sanchez married?”

  “Yeah. Poor guy. She’s cut his balls off an’ she’s wearing them as earrings.”

  All the waiters roared with laughter.

  Matt wanted the floor to open up so that he could sink into it and vanish from sight. The only good thing was that nobody had any clue who he was. He blended in, just another basketball fanatic who couldn’t miss a game.

  Jesus! he thought. I married the biggest bitch of all time.

  • • •

  Nick caught up with Cat, grabbed her, and they collapsed on the damp sand, laughing hysterically. Pinning her hands behind her head, he kissed her, his tongue exploring her mouth.

  “Isn’t this more exciting than that movie set you wanted us to do it in?” she gasped, escaping from his insistent lips. “We never made it to the bedroom, but I bet there were satin sheets on the bed. How cliché is that?”

  “I’m freezing my ass off, can’t see a fuckin’ thing, and I left my smokes in the car,” Nick complained. “Apart from that, this is great!”

  “Glad you’re enjoying it.”

  “What if the tide comes in an’ we’re trapped? You thought of that?”

  “You’re such a downer.”

  “And you’re such a wild one.”

  “Should be. I wrote the movie.”

  “Oh yeah, so you did.”

  “Hey—I’ve been on best behavior the last couple of months. I’ve directed a big-time movie, played grownup, been totally responsible. I’m only nineteen, y’know. I can have some fun, can’t I?”

  “We’ll have fun all right,” he said, rolling on top of her and kissing her again.

  It suddenly occurred to her that Nick Logan was a sensational kisser. There was a technique to really good kissing, and Nick had it down. Of course, she was no slouch herself. Jump had never mastered the art of a great kiss.

  The wind was whipping up, they were getting sprayed by the surf, and Cat knew she was ruining her outfit, but she didn’t care.

  Nick’s hands began exploring. She retaliated, unzipping his pants and investigating the possibilities. “No underwear?” she questioned.

  “Never had any use for it.”

  “Bingo,” she laughed. “Me too!”

  Now he was kissing her in earnest, his talented tongue stirring her juices. The sand was everywhere. Neither of them cared as they hastily divested themselves of their clothes.

  It was as good as they both expected it to be. Better in fact. Sexy and hot and exciting—with the added element of a dangerous location, the surf pounding right next to their bodies, and the darkness enveloping them.

  When they were finished, they couldn’t find their clothes.

  “Oh . . . my . . . God,” Cat joked. “We’ll have to drive home totally nude. How’s that for an excellent story on E.T.?”

  “Got an idea,” Nick said.

  “What—wrap seaweed around your dick and play merman?”

  “I want you around my dick,” he said playfully. “I want you around it all the time.”

  “Hmm . . . sounds good to me.”

  Giggling and laughing, they started crawling around the gritty sand searching for their clothes.

  Cat retrieved her skirt and top just as a huge wave came in, drenching them both.

  “We’d better get outta here,” Nick said, taking her hand and pulling her up. By this time the surf was lapping around their ankles.

  “If we don’t drown first,” Cat yelled. Spotting her sandals, she snatched them up. Then they began the precarious climb back up the rocks.

  “I can see the headline now,” Cat giggled. “ ‘Girl director and boy star washed out to sea.’ ”

  “How come you get top billing?”

  “Typical actor! Let’s negotiate.”

  “Move it, smart ass,” he said, pushing her from behind.

  “Yes, sir!”

  Still laughing, they finally made it to the top of the rocks.

  “That was insane!” Cat exclaimed, attempting to struggle into her wet clothes.

  “You’re insane.”

  “So you keep on telling me.”

  “I always dreamed of meeting a girl like you,” he said, pulling on his pants.

  “You did?”

  “Or maybe it was a nightmare.”

  “Screw you.”

  “Anytime, ma’am, anytime at all.”

  • • •

  “Are you awake?”

  Shelby cradled the phone. “Yes, I’m awake.”

  “This is Pete.”

  “I know,” she said, decidedly pleased to hear from him.

  “I wanted to tell you how much I enjoyed tonight. I hope you did too.”

  “Yes . . . I did.”

  “And Shelby—”

  “What?”

  “Whatever happens, I’m always here for you.”

  “I think I’m beginning to understand that, Pete.”

  “I wish you would’ve come back to my house.”

  “I’m English,” she said, letting him down gently. “I prefer to wait until I’m divorced.”

  There. She’d said the word aloud. Divorce. I am going to divorce Linc.

  Oh God! How can I when I still love him?

  Because I have to.

  “I get it,” Pete said. “I’m very—”

  “Patient,” she said, finishing the sentence for him.

  He laughed.

  “Good night, Pete,” she said.

  “Talk to you tomorrow,” he said.

  After putting down the phone, she lay awake for a long time thinking about what the future held.

  No more procrastinating. Her baby needed a father, a man she could depend on. And much as she still loved Linc, he was sadly not that man.

  CHAPTER

  * * *

  42

  “I have a news flash for you,” Lola said, sidling up to Tony, who was standing next to Jorge.

  Tony turned to look at her as if they were merely vague acquaintances, not passionate lovers.

  “Hi, Lola,” he said. “Did you meet Jorge?”

  “Ms. Sanchez is the most beautiful woman here,” Jorge said, taking her hand in his, bringing it to his lips, and kissing it once again in a courtly fashion. “Voluptuous. I love voluptuous women.”

  “Me too,” Tony agreed.

  Then what are you doing with that nothing little girl? Lola thought.

  “How’s everything, Tony?” she said, playing the game. “I don’t think I’ve seen you since New York.”

  “Everything’s tight, Lola,” he replied. “I signed the deal for my new movie yesterday.”

  “Yes,” Jorge joined in. “And Tony also recently announced his engagement to a delightful young lady, quite delightful.”

  Somehow or other Lola kept the smile on her face. Jorge must be an idiot. Didn’t he know that she and Tony were once engaged?

  “Thanks, Jorge,” Tony joked. “If Maria was a boy she’d be exactly your type.”

  Jorge frowned. He did not appreciate his sexual predilections being advertised to the world.

  “Where’s your wife?” Lola asked, plucking a glass of wine from the tray of a passing waiter.

  “Unfortunately she could not come on this trip,” Jorge replied. “She is at our house in Buenos Aires. Her father is a most important politician.”

  “She doesn’t mind you coming here alone?”

  “Why would she mind?” Jorge said, his eyes ling
ering on Lola’s cleavage.

  “L.A. is known as the city of temptations,” Lola said, shooting a sideways glance at Tony.

  “Ah, but my wife is a very understanding woman, and I am a very understanding man. It is only in unsophisticated societies that people get upset when extracurricular activities take place.”

  “Yeah, women can get very uptight in America,” Tony agreed.

  More guests were arriving. Jorge politely excused himself and drifted off.

  “So,” Tony said, his eyes inviting her to stay. “You wanna tell me your news flash?”

  “Since you don’t seem bothered by extracurricular activities,” she said, savoring the moment, “it’s about your girlfriend.”

  “You got somethin’ to say about Maria?”

  “Only if you want to know.” A long beat. “Do you, Tony?”

  “Depends.”

  “Where is she?” Lola asked, taking a sip of wine.

  “Around somewhere,” Tony said irritably. “When I’m ready to leave, I’ll snap my fingers and she’ll be there.”

  “Ah . . . men,” Lola sighed. “Their egos are so big, just like your beautiful—”

  “You tellin’ me or not?” he interrupted.

  “I thought you weren’t sure if you wanted to know.”

  “Stop jackin’ me, Lola. Spill.”

  “When you left me in the bathroom without coming back to rescue me—”

  “You coulda come out whenever you wanted.”

  “As you can see, I did. However, I waited a few minutes first.”

  “Uh-huh?”

  “And . . . it seems someone else had the same idea as us.”

  “You mean somebody else was makin’ out in there?”

  “Yes, and one of those two people was your dear fiancée.”

  His face hardened. “You’re shittin’ me?”

  “No, Tony. I’m telling you the way it is. You think Maria is so sweet and innocent, when obviously you’re totally wrong.”

  “Who was the guy?” he said harshly.

  “Ah . . . that’s what makes this such an interesting story.”

  “Stop fuckin’ with me, Lola. I don’t like it.”

  “It wasn’t a man,” she said, sipping her wine. “It was our esteemed guest of honor.”

  “Raja?”

  “Yes, Raja. The great artist was busily going down on your fiancée like there was no tomorrow.”