Superstar

by Southwell, T C

  He gave a bitter laugh. "But now I'm wise to them. I see through their false words and lying smiles. For a moment back there I thought you were playing the same game, keeping secrets and playing hard to get. But you weren't, were you? You made that point quite forcefully. I thought I was pretty good at dodging, but you really took me by surprise."

  He rubbed the side of his face. "That was quite a swing. I've never been smacked when I was being friendly. Usually they deck me when I tell them to go peddle their wares elsewhere. Like Jenna. If she'd connected the swing she took at me, I'd probably have been in hospital for a week with concussion." He turned to face her again. "I don't know what your secret is, but you can keep it. I'll respect your wishes and leave you alone, if you'll forgive me. I want us to stay friends, okay?"

  Something deep inside Carrin tore apart. Her longing to believe his soft words warred with the more logical part of her, which warned her that this was another ploy, another set of lies designed to break down her resistance. Actor! Glad that the darkness hid her expression, she nodded.

  "Sure, okay."

  Mark gazed at her as if he wanted to say more, or perhaps he was surprised that this tactic had not worked either. Asking her out had failed, and trying to seduce her had earned him a slap, so now he was appealing to her compassion? Did he think that if he portrayed himself as a poor, ill-treated movie star, it would win her heart? Think again! Some of it was probably true, but she doubted that any of those scheming women had hurt anything other than his ego.

  Had he wanted to see if he could win her heart with false kindness and gentlemanly behaviour? When that had not worked, he had resorted to the well-practised tactic of using his immense magnetism and charisma. How many hearts had he broken with his charm, she wondered. Well, she was not going to be added to the tally. She stepped around him.

  "Good night."

  Carrin strode into the house, glad to escape to her room, where she flung herself on her bed and tried to sort out her hopelessly tangled feelings. Clearly he was a bitter man who, in his youth, had had shallow starlets bruise his ego many times. It surprised her that so many women had tried to use him instead of making the most of his affection. Then again, perhaps they had not. Maybe it had been his suspicious mind. How could a man in his position know whether or not a girl was serious about him, or just acting? Actresses surrounded him, and supermodels' egos were so bloated that they would never admit to having any feelings.

  Then there was the temptation of all the other handsome men who moved in Mark's circle of friends. Like Simon Grey. Even a girl with genuine feelings might fall foul of his seductive powers, if she did not have a strong will. Now Mark had turned the tables, and used women as he had once been used, or thought he had been used. He would never allow a woman to capture his heart. Breaking hearts was now his idea of entertainment, just as Helen had said.

  If he ever found out how she felt, he would treat her with the scorn that he accorded his previous conquests. So long as they were only friends, she hoped that he would respect her. Could she be happy with that? Could she stand by and watch him go out with other women, never knowing the intimacy he shared with them? She would have to, she told herself angrily. A lasting friendship was better than a brief, amorous affair that would end in bitterness and hurt. Comforted by her resolve, she went to wash before flopping into bed, exhausted.

  When she came down for breakfast, the atmosphere was rather strained. Mark shot her worried glances, which she pointedly ignored. He asked if she would like to help herd the cattle back to their pasture, and she accepted with a smile. They joined the cowboys, and during the course of the day, her stilted politeness gave way to friendliness again. Mark took her to a quiet stream bank, where they sat beside the gurgling water and chatted about inconsequential matters. The previous evening's fiasco was not mentioned, and Carrin relaxed, once again finding that she enjoyed his quick wit.

  The conversation spanned many subjects and many hours. Some of it was light-hearted and teasing, some serious, and it seemed as if they could not run out of things to talk about. Several times, she suspected that he wanted to flirt with her, but then his guard would slam down again, and she dismissed it as imagination. A large part of her wanted to flirt with him, but she reigned in the foolish urges to poke, prod or tickle him when he made teasing remarks or told flagrant lies to make her laugh.

  Many times she made him laugh, but he always looked away to hide his schoolboy grin, which some idiotic director had made him ashamed of. At those times she wanted to kick him from sheer frustration, but did not dare, unsure of how he would react. The last thing she wanted was to alienate him by criticising him. By the afternoon the tension had vanished, to Mark's obvious relief.

  When they returned to the ranch, Carrin packed her bags, and Bert carried them down to the car, where Mark waited. Mrs Martin hugged Carrin and told her to come back soon. Carrin said that she would, wondering if it was true. The journey was different in Mark's company, she discovered. The limousine dropped them off beside the plane, and the pilots carried their bags aboard.

  The aircraft took off immediately, and, while Mark sat beside her, the swaying, bumpy ride did not worry her in the least. His calm presence reassured her, and she asked about the safety of small planes as they rose into the sky, starting a conversation about aircraft that continued for most of the flight. She learnt that he was a pilot, and often flew an acrobatic aircraft for fun. He was also a helicopter pilot, and owned one of each, of course. He took her into the cockpit to show her the controls, and they chatted to the pilots for a while. When she asked him why he did not fly the plane himself, he admitted that he did sometimes, but not when he had a guest with him.

  The silver limousine waited on the tarmac in California, and John beamed in welcome. Carrin was relieved and sad to be dropped off at her hotel. Her only consolation was the hint of affection in Mark's eyes as he told her he would see her the next day on the set. That night, she dined alone in her room, and passed several hours drawing Mark again before she went to bed.

  Chapter Eight

  Several more days of uneventful filming passed on the set. Mark treated her with friendly cordiality that made Janice glare at her. The actress clung even more closely to Mark, as if the sex scene that they had done together had encouraged her. He was polite to her, but occasionally Carrin glimpsed a trace of scorn in his eyes when he looked at Janice that made her pity the actress. Janice appeared to be oblivious to it, or maybe, Carrin thought, she did not care.

  On Friday, an unexpected visitor arrived in the form of Simon Grey. Mark seemed surprised and pleased to see him, and Janice flirted outrageously with the superstar, probably trying to make Mark jealous. Her ploy failed, for although Simon went along with her game, Mark was singularly unmoved by it. Simon sat beside Carrin and watched Janice and Mark go through a scene. Apart from the sex scene, this was the first time that they had acted in the same scene.

  Carrin found Mark's performance utterly believable, but Janice lacked the conviction of her co-star. At times, her performance seemed wooden, and several times Harold remonstrated with her. When she had performed alone or with lesser actors, her acting had been adequate, but it paled beside Mark's. His intensity made her look false, and when she fluffed her lines for the fifth consecutive time, Mark marched off the set. Janice hurried after him, but Harold waylaid her and thrust a script into her hands with obvious instructions to go away and learn it. The actress pouted and flounced off to her dressing room.

  Mark pulled up a chair beside Simon, running a hand through his hair. "I wish she'd learn her lines properly before doing a scene."

  Simon grinned. "I heard she had quite a weekend while you were away. She went to Birdie's place and had a grand party. I'm surprised she was able to stand up on Monday, never mind act."

  Mark snorted, glancing at Carrin, who looked confused. "Birdie's a pop star," he explained. "Michael Bird, you must have heard of him?"

  She nodded. "Yes, he do
es rap, doesn't he?"

  "Crap is more like it," Simon muttered.

  Mark glanced at him with a smile, then turned back to Carrin. "He also does a lot of drugs. Everyone knows."

  "But that was almost a week ago."

  Simon shook his head, becoming serious. "She's been back since then. She was there last night. Birdie's trying to get the soundtrack for my next film. He phoned me this morning. He sounded totally bombed, and bragged that he had close ties with you, Mark, through Janice. Normally I wouldn't give him the time of day, but I thought I'd better check with you, and see what's going on first."

  Mark frowned. "Nothing's going on. Tell him to take a running jump."

  "He's got pictures."

  "Damn!" Mark scowled. "That stupid little bitch." He leapt up, ignoring Carrin's confused look. Simon rose and grabbed Mark's arm when he would have set off in the direction of Janice's dressing room.

  "Wait." Mark glared at him, and Simon hurried on, "I don't think she's in on it; I think she was tricked. I can pull some strings and get him the soundtrack, then make life really difficult for him once we get the photos back. It will mean some delays, that's all."

  "No." Mark shook his head. "I can't let you do that, it has nothing to do with you."

  "You're my friend, that's what he's counting on. He can't come after the soundtrack of your film, it's already been awarded. So he's after mine, knowing that I won't want you dragged through the mud."

  "You can't, he'll ruin your film. Let him go to the press if he wants, I'll survive. I'll disown Janice, publicly."

  Simon snorted. "Don't be a fool. You know what that'll do to your ratings. This film will flop."

  Mark shot Carrin a dark, unreadable glance, then looked at Simon. "I'll handle it."

  "You can't afford it. It'll ruin you. And don't say you'll make it up on the next one. Mud sticks."

  Mark ran a hand through his hair, looking furious.

  Carrin asked, "Would one of you mind telling me what's going on?"

  Simon turned to her, but Mark said, "No, leave her out of this."

  "It's her film too," Simon pointed out.

  "I said no. This isn't her problem."

  Carrin frowned. "I want to know."

  The men glared at each other, then Simon ignored Mark's black look and explained, "Birdie's got photos of Janice in rather, um, compromising positions or situations. He wants the soundtrack of my film, or he'll go public with them."

  "He's blackmailing you?"

  Simon nodded. "All of us. I could tell him to take a running jump. Janice is nothing to me, but it would hurt Mark, and he's my friend."

  "How could it hurt Mark? He's not involved with Janice."

  "No, but his film is." Simon sighed, glancing at Mark, who had turned away, and stared across the set. "At the moment, she's his leading lady, so her name is linked with his. If these photos ruin her reputation, the bad publicity will affect Mark and the film. If the press really go to town, they could make it look like Mark has something to do with the drug scene too. Mark's also -"

  "Simon." Mark turned to scowl at his friend. "There's no need to tell her everything."

  Carrin bristled. "Secrets, Mark?"

  "Same as you."

  She turned to Simon. "So what can we do?"

  "Give Birdie my sound track and get the photos."

  "Which will ruin your film."

  He shrugged. "Not necessarily. If my director doesn't like the music Birdie comes up with, he'll have to do better. It will cause a delay, that’s all. Who knows, maybe he'll write something good."

  Mark snorted. "When has Birdie ever done anything good? Only people with lousy taste like his music. If your film is delayed it'll go way over budget."

  Simon opened his mouth to answer, but Gregory appeared at Mark's elbow. "Excuse me, Mr Lord, Mr Morten wishes to speak to you." The assistant looked embarrassed, and bobbed at Simon.

  Mark glanced around, spotting Harold, who waved him over. Excusing himself, Mark obeyed the summons. Carrin turned to Simon.

  "There must be a better way of dealing with this."

  "Not that I can think of," he mourned. "Believe me, I don't want Birdie doing my soundtrack."

  Carrin glanced at Mark, who spoke to the director, and gestured angrily in the direction of Janice's dressing room. "What were you about to tell me when he stopped you?"

  Simon looked uncomfortable. "If he doesn't want you to know, I'm afraid I can't tell you, Carrin."

  "Does it have anything to do with me?"

  "Sort of. You'll find out when the film comes out. How are you two getting along, anyway? I heard you spent a weekend with him at his ranch." Simon waggled his eyebrows.

  She giggled. "We're just good friends."

  "Ah, come on, you can tell me."

  "I just did. Listen, give me your phone number in case I need to call you, okay? Maybe I can come up with an idea to solve our problem. Don't offer Birdie the soundtrack yet."

  He shrugged and wrote a number on a piece of paper. "If you say so. That's my cell, you can reach me on it anytime."

  She took the paper and slipped it into her pocket as Mark returned, wearing a thunderous scowl. Simon raised an inquiring brow at his expression, and Mark shook his head.

  "It's unbelievable. Harold just asked me to be more accommodating for Janice. She can't act to save her life, and he wants me to make her look better."

  "How are you supposed to do that?" Carrin asked.

  "Over act," he snapped. Simon nodded, and Mark glared at him. "I suppose you've had to do it plenty of times, the way you always get cast with brainless bimbos?"

  "'Fraid so. Janice was one of them."

  "Well I've never worked with such a bad actress before."

  "Why was she chosen for the role then?" Carrin inquired.

  "Small budget." Mark sighed, rubbing his brow. "She was the only 'A' list actress who'd do it for the money that was offered."

  Carrin considered. "I could cut some of her lines, and give you more."

  Mark looked at her with sudden hope. "You could, couldn't you?"

  "Sure. Harold could concentrate the cameras on you, even when she's speaking, it could be off screen. I'll talk to him."

  Carrin walked over to Harold, who slumped dejectedly in his chair, staring across the set, where the crew stood idle. A doubtful hope crept into his expression as she outlined her idea, and he objected a little, saying that too much attention to Mark when Janice was speaking would look wrong. He agreed that Mark should not have to make up for Janice's shortcomings, however, and they would use the best of the footage. Janice's bad acting would all end up on the cutting room floor.

  "This is what happens when you cast a 'B' list actress opposite an Oscar-winning actor," Harold said. "She ends up looking like an amateur. She's 'A' list now, of course, but only since she did that movie with Simon. She's way out of her league, but the actresses in Mark's league are few, busy, and very expensive."

  Carrin returned to Mark, who was alone. Simon, he explained, had gone to keep an appointment. She told him what Harold had agreed to do, and he looked relieved. It meant that she would have to work on the screenplay over the weekend to make the changes, when she really wanted to apply herself to the problem of Michael Bird. Although it was only lunchtime, Harold called a wrap and sent everyone home for the weekend. Carrin said goodbye to Mark and hurried out to the waiting limousine, already thinking about how to thwart Michael Bird's threat.

  In her hotel room, she stared blindly at the script while her brain refused to let go of the blackmail problem. This was her chance to do repay Mark's kindness in promoting her screenplay. There had to be some way of getting the incriminating photos away from Michael Bird. If Simon turned down his demand, he would sell them to the press. Unless... A thought struck her, but she rejected it. Too complicated. She had to come up with something simpler.

  By suppertime she had no other plan, and went over the original one again. It would depend a great
deal on Simon and Mark's contacts, but they must have them. Two superstars should have a lot of clout in Hollywood. Picking up the phone, she dialled the number that Simon had given her. It was answered after two rings.

  "Simon Grey," he stated unnecessarily.

  "Simon, it's Carrin."

  "Ah, Carrin, come up with a master plan yet?" He sounded too cheerful.

  "Are you sober?"

  "As a judge."

  "I have an idea. Tell me if it'll work."

  "Okay."

  "Have you got friends amongst the press?"

  Simon laughed. "You must be joking."

  "No, I'm not."

  "Oh, um, well, no. I avoid them like the plague. Having one as a friend would be like... well, putting a loud speaker on my private line." He chuckled. "Literally."

  "Okay." Carrin thought for a moment. "Then do you have one who owes you a favour?"

  "No. Why should I do anything for them?"

  "Oh, come on, Simon. We need the co-operation of a member of the press for this to work."

  He sighed. "Why don't you just tell me what you have in mind, and I'll tell you if I can organise it."

  "Okay. Birdie will sell the photos to the press if you don't give him your soundtrack, right?"

  "Yes."

  "So, you phone him up and tell him to go suck eggs. You tell him you don't care if he goes to the press, and in fact, you'll send a reporter around for the pictures."

  Simon chuckled. "Sounds dangerous."

  "That's where you need a friendly press person. They get the photos and give them to us."

  He snorted. "You're nuts. No press person, even if they were my kissing cousin, will pass up a chance to print that kind of scandal. They'll make millions out of a story like that."