Melanie had dreamed of this world since she was a little girl. And even in her dreams, she never had imagined it was this good, this rich, this elegant. Yet instead of being awed, she felt at home. This was where she belonged.
One in the morning, the party in full swing, guests still arriving. The champagne was flowing, literally; Melanie had discovered a champagne fountain near the pool house, right next to another fountain of Godiva chocolate. Coke everywhere, the dust bunnies of the rich and famous. Melanie hadn’t even had to ask, total strangers had offered it up to her. Taz must have more pull than she had thought. He must have vouched for her, she could have been an undercover cop. Maybe these people just didn’t give a shit about getting caught. Or could buy their way out of any trouble with the police.
A gaggle of the younger talent crowded around a tall sequined beauty with impossibly straight hair. Melanie recognized her immediately, Ashley Hanna, the pop diva, the most successful of the latest array of breathy heavily branded singers, the music business approach to canned goods and detergent. Hanna looked the part tonight, wholesome with style, the next door girl who wore a ten thousand dollar wardrobe with five times that in jewels.
Melanie appraised her professionally and gave her high marks. She had a look, not the same as Melanie sought, the aura of just under the surface sensuality. Hanna’s was more the unspoiled fresh canvas that everyone could paint to their own inner desire. Not only men, but young women, projecting their own goals of success and fame into Hanna’s persona.
“She draws a lot of attention, doesn’t she?”
Howker was back at Melanie’s side. Melanie didn’t mind so much, he was far from the only man hitting on her. Taz was off trying to drum up business, so Melanie might have looked to be fair game. “Some of the attention she’s drawing is from men who could be her father.” She glanced at Howker, trying to estimate his age. “No offense.”
Howker took a sip of his drink, he didn’t seem bothered. “To each their own. Not my type, actually.”
Melanie had heard a lot of come-ons, that one wasn’t bad, but Howker wasn’t her type, although if he could get her on the New Entertainment show—or not block her from an invite—she needed to play nice. “You think she had that look and someone spiffed it up, or did they create it from scratch just for her?”
Howker shrugged. “Does it matter?”
“I guess not.”
An overly made up middle aged woman trying to hide her decades pushed between Melanie and Howker. “There you are, Jack. Is this girl bothering you?”
Howker’s eyes darted between the two women. “No, not at all.”
“Good, because you need to watch out for her, she’ll grab any man not tied down. Isn’t that right, Melanie?”
“Oh, Nora, I could never hope to compete with you at grabbing men.”
“I take it you two know each other?” asked Howker.
“Melanie and I crossed paths at repertory. Measure for Measure it was. I was playing Isabella, the lead. Melanie was one of the prostitutes.” Nora turned to Melanie. “It’s hard being typecast, isn’t it? Not that many other natural roles for you.”
Melanie gave Nora her you’re so sweet smile. “Haven’t seen you around in a while. Have you had any roles since then? Must be what, three years ago now? Oh, wait, didn’t I see you on that commercial for irritable bowel syndrome?”
“I must say this is the most interesting conversation I’ve heard tonight,” said Howker. “But am I going to need a flak jacket?”
“I don’t think so,” said Nora. “I just saw Jason Ayers walk in. Melanie will be slithering off to glom onto him.”
“What’s the matter, Nora? He too young for you to try for?” Melanie was proud of herself for not turning to look for Jason.
“Don’t listen to her, Jack. She and Jason have already had their thing, back before he made the jump. I doubt he’d give her the time of day now.”
“Jason gives me more than the time of day. As a matter of fact, he can’t resist me.” Melanie was looking at Nora, but her words were for Howker. “He can be quite—forceful.” She let the message sink in, planting yet another seed in case she needed it someday. Melanie watched Howker file all that away, and then, with just the right amount of feigned sympathy, added, “Oh, I’m so sorry, Nora, to be talking about sex. You’re too old for that now, aren’t you?”
“Come on, Jack,” said Nora, taking Howker by the arm. “I need some fresh air, it’s downright bitchy in here.”
Howker let himself be led away, but Melanie was pleased to see a reappraising look in his eye. There were more ways than casting calls to show off your acting talent. Howker would no doubt file that away as well.
Melanie positioned herself under one of the lights near the steps to the pool bar, where Jason would be sure to notice her; no way she was going to approach him. Jason stood in a small group gathered around Michael Stevens, the older actor waving his arm around like he was about to throw a lasso, entertaining them with some story.
Melanie was nicely buzzed, and not just from the alcohol and coke, it had been a good night. She’d owe Taz after all. Hopefully he wouldn’t want to collect tonight.
Stevens’s story ended with a whoop. Melanie turned on her inner charm beacon, always practicing, a little movement of her hand there, a twist of her head, looking like she was moving even though she was standing still. When Jason looked over she felt the usual jolt she got when her acting wiles worked, she’d never tire of that. Some days she thought she could make a man rob a bank just by looking at him.
Jason peeled off from Stevens’s posse and made a beeline for her. Melanie waited until he had to work his way through the crowd before she turned; she wanted to make it obvious to anyone who was looking that he was coming to her.
The sudden grip on her arm was surprisingly strong. “Melanie, what the hell are you doing here?”
Melanie didn’t need acting skills to be pissed. “It’s a party. I got invited.”
“Bullshit. No way you could get into a place like this.”
“I have my ways.”
Jason’s eyes flicked through the crowd. “You mean you screwed your way in.”
His voice was loud enough that a few heads turned to them. Melanie’s ears hummed with the little break in conversation; people were listening. “Don’t hurt me, Jason,” she said, making a big show of pulling her arm away.
Jason was alert enough to lower his voice. “Are you stalking me?”
Melanie didn’t think enough people heard that, so with just the right mix of disbelief and fear, making her voice carry, she said, “You’re not stalking me, are you?”
Jason hesitated, then grabbed her arm again. “We need to talk.”
Melanie waited a beat before allowing herself to be reluctantly led away. If any guests remembered this, and she was sure they would, it would certainly appear as if Jason were dragging her against her will.
Next to the still bubbling champagne fountain, Jason spun on her. “Come on, out with it.”
“I don’t owe you any explanation. But now that you’re here—. Word is they are going to make a cast change on your show. If they aren’t already planning on giving me that part, I want you to get it for me.”
“You are one hundred percent certifiably nuts. Are you still on that?”
“Come on, they’re going to make a change, and I put the idea in their head. If they had done it back then, they wouldn’t even be in this position, because I was right, Lisa Vista was so wrong for that part.”
“After that press conference stunt there’s no way Scott James would touch you.”
“You didn’t say anything to him, did you? Remember, I still have those photos of us. They’d hurt you now more than ever.”
“I didn’t say anything, not that I care about any photos. But I will if you don’t get out of my life.”
Melanie relaxed mentally, but still kept her body tense in case anyone was watching. Jason was worried about the p
hotos, even though she didn’t have any that were especially embarrassing. Still, any photo she let out would prove they’d been together. “A whole bunch of people basically just saw you push me around. You’re the one who has to be careful. You think you are flying high now, but Scott James will cut you off like a gangrened leg if he gets a whiff of you assaulting women.”
“What are you talking about, assaulting?”
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Now are you going to help me with that role or not?”
Melanie watched as Jason’s wheels turned. He was not especially bright but he’d be able to connect the dots. Jason’s grasp on his own brass ring was still at risk. One little jostle and he’d crash and burn, and he knew it.
His mouth set as he made up his mind. Melanie gave herself a mental high five, she’d won.
“Come on, I want you to meet someone,” said Jason. He pulled Melanie through the crowd, back toward the main house.
This time Melanie was smiling as she was led, giving curious gawkers an aw shucks, he can’t resist me look, a pleasant embarrassment. Yet her heart was pounding; each step was bringing her closer to her dream. Jason was undoubtedly going to introduce her to a bigwig from the show, maybe Scott James had shown up.
She fought to lock everything in memory, she didn’t want to ever forget this moment, when all her work and planning came to their final fruition.
Inside, the crowd had thinned somewhat, except for a group by the grand staircase, where Ashley Hanna was doing a Vivian Lee impression on the third step. Jason pushed through the adoring worshippers, letting Melanie’s hand go just before he stepped up next to Hanna.
Hanna’s eyes lit up, taking in Jason. Melanie, still on her high, was uncharacteristically a beat behind, Jason’s hand moving around Hanna’s waist in slow motion. Yet even the surprise at who Jason had led her to didn’t stop Melanie’s internal memory recorder from imprinting the scene on her brain.
Hanna leaned in to Jason, and Melanie woke up from her reverie, from her fantasy high, from the top of her mountain, the reversal triggered by the obvious very personal familiarity between Jason and Ashley Hanna.
Jason pulled the diva close to him, but his eyes were locked on Melanie. “Ashley, this is—actually, it doesn’t matter, she’s not important. Melanie, I’m sure you know who Ashley Hanna is. What you don’t know is that Shock and Awe has a replacement for Lisa Vista already. Ashley will take over the role before the end of the season.”
The gaggle of onlookers clapped, climbing the steps, a real life visitation of their own shock and awe. Melanie’s knees wobbled, her face failed her, not even an Oscar winner could have maintained her composure through that blow.
Jason, smiling triumphantly, watched Melanie topple over the edge into despair.
In the pool house bathroom, Melanie slapped herself in the face. It was either that or drown Jason in the pool. Ashley Hanna, of all people. Making the Madonna jump to acting. And from what she had seen, no doubt sleeping with Jason.
They’d stolen her idea. The show would get it’s chemistry, and they’d have Ashley Hanna and her fans.
Melanie slapped herself again, not because she was angry at herself. The game was rigged, and worse, it was a tease, dangling the magical jewel in front of her before yanking it away. Better she cause her own pain than stand for it to be forced upon her.
Time to change the game.
She pulled herself together, pushing through the line waiting for the bathroom. She’d scored the last of the coke she could find, and now she was wired for her mission.
She found Larry Barrett in the spa, the bubbles doing nothing to improve his bulbous stomach, yet the three women with him in their bras and panties didn’t seem to mind. One had her hand on Barrett’s thigh, and the other two were fighting to get a better position against his hairy chest.
Barrett wasn’t too high to notice Melanie. “Plenty of room for one more,” he said.
“Tell me, Larry,” said Melanie. “Whose the biggest name you’ve had on The Other Woman?”
“Melanie, right? That’s a hard one,” said Barrett. “We’ve had a lot of big names.”
Melanie jerked her head back toward the house. “As big as the famous ones here?”
“Some more, some less.”
“Who gets the big ratings? The young ones or the older ones?”
“The younger ones, definitely. The older ones all have had their flings, it’s not a big surprise to anyone.”
“I have a story for you.”
Barrett eyed her, focused now. “Young or famous?”
“Both.”
Barrett pulled the gropers off him. “Spa time is over, ladies. I have to go to work.” He waited until the grumbling women dripped their way out of the spa. “This better be good.”
Melanie kicked off her shoes, hiked up her dress, and sat on the edge of the spa, dropping her feet in the water. “Tell you what, Larry. I’ll make a bet with you. If it isn’t, you can have me instead of the teeny boppers.” The hot water felt good, she’d been standing all night. Her anger had focused like a laser, lighting her way to the game changer. Nothing would stop her now, not even the thought of having to see Larry Barrett naked.
Besides, with the story she had in mind, there was no way he’d make her pay off on her bet.
CHAPTER 16
Gigi peered out between the blinds on her back door window. Thanks to the security lights she’d had installed the small garden was bathed in light. She doubled checked the new hardened deadbolt on the back door. She’d already made sure all the windows were latched; since the break-in, she’d not opened a single one, even when she was at home and awake.
Somewhere out there, the man who had broken in to her apartment was still at large.
A dog barked and Gigi flinched, stepping back from the window. Frozen in place she imagined the worst, a man sneaking toward her apartment.
The dog barked again, a single yap. What did that mean? Gigi forced herself to step forward, gingerly lifting the blind. The backyard was empty.
She retreated to the couch, curling up under a thick blanket, as if that could keep her safe. Maybe another glass of wine. She’d been drinking more lately, it helped her fall asleep—no way she’d take any more pills. But the dreams still came. She hadn’t slept through the night since the break-in, her dreams vivid, filled with the odors of that night, the stale beer, the blood.
For the first time in her life she wished she owned a gun.
Earlier that evening she’d passed the building superintendent as she arrived home. She hadn’t told him anything yet, because of her promise to Mel. But she couldn’t keep living like this.
Tomorrow. She’d tell him tomorrow.
Melanie was on such a high even the bumper to bumper traffic out of Boston couldn’t bring down. Plus, she wasn’t driving. Larry Barrett, the producer of The Other Woman, had provided a limo for her—an honest to goodness stretch limo—for the taping of the show. Melanie melted into the luxurious leather, every bit the modern goddess.
The limo driver, a dapper Latino dressed in a suit who held the door open for her and called her “Miss Upton,” had pointed out the small bar and informed her that there was fresh ice. Sipping her second gin and tonic, Melanie hoped the traffic lasted for hours.
The taping could not have gone better. Melanie had been masterful, and Barrett, watching from the set, had told her as much. She’d hinted, insinuated, and, when it helped her case, even told the truth, all while making it clear there was even more to her story, implying she knew more about Jason Ayers, secrets reeking of lust and passion. She’d dangled just enough information—and leg—to keep the show’s host Nancy Anders on the edge of her seat. To Nancy’s credit, she didn’t seem at all challenged with Melanie’s sexuality; in fact, Nancy had given Melanie’s knee a little squeeze during a break in the shooting, telling her to ‘push it.’ The story had all the makings of a ratings hit, it was current, touched on a popular new show, and, most
important, included dirt on a big name.
Ashley Hanna.
Not that Ashley had done anything wrong. But she’d be caught up in it, and the promos for the show would be able to dangle her name out there. Even the way Nancy had introduced the segment reeked of more to come:
“Hollywood is abuzz with the hot romance of Jason Ayers and pop superstar Ashley Hanna. But things aren’t always what they seem. Turns out Jason may like the spotlight with Ashley, but when he wants real romance, he returns to his ex. Here she is, tonight’s Other Woman, Melanie Upton!”
Melanie had given Nancy a little hug. When she sat down she did her leg cross, waited a beat, then said, “Nancy, I appreciate you inviting me on, but maybe it is Ashley who should be here, and I should be the one who’s upset. After all, she’s the real other woman!”
Nancy, using a wonderful conspiratorial voice that Melanie made a note to learn, said, “We heard there were fireworks at a recent party you all attended.”
Melanie had remembered not to glance at the monitors to see how she looked, it would appear that she wasn’t looking directly at Nancy, a sure sign of deceit to the viewers and unprofessionalism to casting directors. “I can’t believe Ashley showed up, she must have known I’d be there.”
“We’ve also heard that Jason was very angry, there’s actually this video . . .”
On a big screen behind the set, a video from the party, a little choppy, but clearly showing Jason pulling Melanie along, and, clear as a bell, Melanie saying, “Don’t hurt me!” Melanie was pleasantly surprised they had dug this up, she hadn’t seen it. The actor side of her brain was criticizing her tone, maybe she should have emphasized the word hurt a little more? But it did the trick.
“Is he always that forceful?” asked Nancy.
Melanie had made a little fluttering motion with her hand over her breast, hot. Shifting her voice to make it sound like she couldn’t believe it either, she had replied, “He just can’t resist me. He wants me so badly he once had to practically break down my door to get to me.”
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