Superstar

by Southwell, T C

  Simon realised his mistake and shot a guilty glance at the actress, who looked miffed. "For both of you."

  "Ah." Mark nodded, and Carrin smiled at the clever way he outwitted Simon, showing up his lies without actually refuting them. "Well, we'll just have to deal with it, won't we?"

  Simon nodded, still looking uncertain. Janice, although clearly a little disenchanted with her new lover, clung to him like a limpet. They had lunch together, and Janice flirted and fed Simon, who seemed to enjoy the attention. If she expected jealousy from Mark, she was sadly disappointed. The superstar was singularly disinterested in her little games. After lunch, Mark took Carrin back to her hotel, reminding her to be at work the following day.

  The following morning, Carrin found out why Mark was able to take the day off. The studio work was finished, and they were preparing to go on location. Trucks carted the equipment, and a flotilla of caravans and motor homes followed. Warren and Harold were pleased that Mark and Carrin were on speaking terms again. Janice was subdued and more co-operative.

  The first scene that they shot was of a car chase on the highway. First Mark was filmed in his car, towed behind a camera truck, then Janice. Then the stunt men took over, and drove the cars in the distant shots of the high-speed chase. The highway was closed for the filming, and professionals drove the other cars in the scene. Because of the pressure to reopen the highway, the work was completed quickly, and they moved into a desert location for the first confrontation between Jason Talbot and his adversary.

  Carrin shared a caravan with some stuntwomen and make up girls, Mark and Janice had their own trailers. Carrin found it exciting to work out in the open, different from the studio work. Weather dictated the shooting, however, and they spent two cloudy days waiting for the sun to reappear. Her concern about Birdie's revenge sat in the back of her mind like a dark cloud, which she tried to ignore. Mark was relaxed, and assured her that Birdie would go after Simon to try to cheer her up. He obviously did not think that Birdie would do anything dire, for he did not seem worried about his friend.

  The cool desert nights were magical. The stars blazed like a sprinkle of diamonds, and the moon hung amongst them like a glowing pearl. Often she went for a walk after supper, to soak up the arid peace of the sand and stone, and the cold beauty of the sky. One night she was surprised to find Mark sitting in the lee of a dune, and turned to go, not wishing to disturb him.

  "Carrin." He did not look around. "Come here." She walked over and stood beside him, and he patted the sand. "Sit."

  Pulling her jacket closer to ward off the chill, she sank down on the sand. Mark turned to her, the moonlight silvering his features. Although their friendship was firmly established and comfortable, she was still nervous to be alone with him. Her conversation with Olivia had made her doubt her impression of him as a cruel man, for she had only seen his gentleness and generosity. Only the certain knowledge that a superstar like Mark Lord would never consider anything other than a casual fling with somebody like her bolstered her resolve not to become another casualty of his allure.

  After a long pause, he said, "You know, you looked very lovely that night, when Simon carried you into his house." She stared at him, and he looked away. "I mean, you look lovely anyway, but with that make up on, you looked incredible. You know who you reminded me of?"

  "Patricia Merril?"

  "How did you know?"

  She smiled. "Simon hired a make-up girl and told her to make me look like a film star."

  He nodded. "But then, it didn't really take much. You could be a model or actress if you wanted."

  "You said I was a lousy actress."

  He snorted. "Not as bad as some."

  "The next morning I looked like a racoon."

  Mark's smile broadened, and he struggled to control it, then looked down as he lost the battle and laughed. His husky laughter delighted her, and she wished that she could see the boyish grin that went with it. When he raised his head, he was in control again.

  "I wish I'd seen that."

  "I'm glad you didn't."

  Another silence fell as he contemplated the desert, then he turned to her. "If I asked you out, would you still turn me down?"

  Carrin caught her breath, and hesitated. "As a friend, I would, but if you're looking for a bed partner, no."

  His eyes flitted over her face. "I see. Have you taken a vow of chastity or something?"

  "Or something."

  "You don't want to become a notch on my bedpost."

  Carrin recalled the argument they had before and sighed. "That's it."

  "You're not a virgin, are you?" He sounded perplexed.

  She smiled. "No."

  "So if you were prepared to give others a chance, why not me?"

  "I always thought it would go somewhere, but they always fizzled out. I got tired of kissing frogs in the hopes that they would turn into princes. Now you want me to kiss a prince and watch him turn into a frog."

  "How do you know I'll turn into a frog?"

  "Frogs are more common."

  He gave a snort. "Okay, forget the frogs. You've got a better reason than that, I'm sure, but you're not going to tell me, are you?"

  "No."

  He gazed out across the desert again. "What if I told you I'm not just looking for a bed partner? What if I want more from you?"

  Her heart leapt and pounded, then sank as reality intruded. Actor! Bitterness made her voice cold. "I'd say, what if pigs could fly?"

  "You don't believe me."

  The hurt in his voice amazed her, and she longed to believe him. Boy, he was good! "No, I don't." She stated. "And I don't want to ruin our friendship for a brief fling that will only end up making me hate you. You remember you told me how your girlfriends usually take a swing at you when you ditch them? Well, I'd probably lay you out for a week."

  He almost smiled. "But those were shallow girls, and meaningless affairs. I wouldn't ditch you."

  "I bet you told all of them that, with the same amount of earnest feeling in your voice too. You're a very good actor, but I don't buy it."

  "No, I don't recall making any such promise before."

  "Don't. You're only making it worse."

  "You've got me all figured out, haven't you? A cold-hearted philanderer with a silver tongue and an endless repertoire of bullshit." His tone was savage, and she bit her lip. He snorted. "How can you want to be friends with someone like that?"

  Carrin shrugged, wishing the conversation would end. "So long as we're friends, you can't hurt me. What you do for entertainment is your business."

  Mark turned and clasped her shoulders. "What would it take to convince you that you're wrong?"

  Carrin glared at him, her heart pounding. "Attacking me won't help."

  He stared at her, a muscle in his jaw jumping, his mouth a hard line. A look of despair and defeat flashed in his eyes, then he released her and turned away. "I'm not going to beg. Since you don't feel anything for me, friendship will have to do, won't it?"

  Carrin clenched her fists until the pain of her nails digging into her palms stemmed the awful urge to tell him the truth. He found it frustrating and annoying that she was a pretty girl that he couldn't lure into his bed, nothing more. The temptation to take what little he offered and enjoy it while it lasted was strong, but she knew that a temporary relationship with him would tear her apart. She jumped up, brushing sand from her jeans. As she started back towards the trailers, he rose and followed, calling out to her.

  "Carrin, wait."

  She let him catch up and walk beside her.

  "You're not mad at me, are you?" he asked.

  She shook her head. "No, I'm flattered that you find me attractive."

  "Flattered," he mused. "At least you feel something."

  Carrin opened her mouth to argue the state of her feelings, then realised it was a trap and nodded. "Yes."

  Mark sighed, and they walked back to the location in silence. In her trailer, she listened to the deli
cate snores of her female companions and reviewed their conversation. One thing about it struck her. Mark had been careful not to allow it to build into an argument. He had not challenged or goaded her. From this, she deduced that he too valued their friendship, and that helped to quench her burning misery a little.

  On Friday, she received a phone call from Simon, who sounded upset and scared.

  "Birdie phoned."

  "Oh, so he did see the newspaper."

  "He was furious. The bank almost had him arrested."

  "Pity they didn't," she grumbled.

  "He made threats. He said he'd smash my face in, and break my arms. He wants the photos back, but they're gone."

  "Did you tell him?"

  "Of course! He said he wants the two million, or he'll go to the press and tell them the whole story."

  Carrin considered this, listening to his scared panting on the line. "Okay, I'll speak to Mark."

  "You two are still speaking?"

  "Why wouldn't we be?"

  "Well, you fight a lot."

  She pulled a face. "We've managed not to. I'll call you back in a little while."

  Carrin found Mark in the shade of an awning, chatting to a make-up girl. A twinge of jealousy shot through her, and she quelled it.

  "Mark, Simon phoned. The trouble's started."

  He looked up. "Okay. We'll be back in the city tomorrow. Tell him to phone Birdie and arrange for him to meet me at my house tomorrow."

  His calm assurance amazed her, and she wanted to question him further, but he was already back in deep conversation with the giggling blond. With a snort, she strode back to the phone to call Simon and relay the message. He sounded relieved, and promised to do it right away. Carrin avoided the awning under which Mark was ensconced with the blond and went to sit with Warren instead. The producer chatted about the film, while Carrin tried not to think about Mark and the girl.

  That afternoon, they left the equipment on location under guard, and the cast and crew drove back to the city in buses or cars. Mark had asked her to join him in his, and she had accepted. The silver-grey limousine purred beside the road, waiting for her, and John opened the door. He was not smiling, and she caught a flash of warning in his eyes. She peered inside instead of sliding in, and found Mark sitting with the little blond make up girl cuddled beside him. Carrin hesitated.

  "I think I'll go with Warren."

  "What's wrong?"

  "Nothing, but you know how it is. Two's company, three's a crowd."

  She turned away as he called after her, "In a limousine?"

  Carrin ignored him, and John gave her an approving smile before he slammed the door. She went in search of Warren, afraid that she would miss him and be left on location with the guards and their dogs like forgotten baggage. Warren was happy to have company on the drive, and helped her into his black Cadillac.

  "I thought you were going with Mark?"

  "He has company already. I thought it would be more fun to go with you."

  "Oh, I see." He looked puzzled.

  Mark's name was not mentioned again, and he dropped her off at her hotel with a cheerful wave. Almost as she walked into her room, the phone rang. It was Simon, to her relief, to tell her that the meeting was set for the following morning at Mark's.

  Carrin nodded. "Okay. Could you swing by and pick me up?"

  "I thought Mark would send his car?"

  "I'd rather not bother him, besides, it's on your way."

  "No it's not. Have you two had a fight again?"

  She forced a laugh. "No. If it's too much trouble, I'll take a damned taxi."

  He sighed. "No, no, I'll pick you up. What's it about this time?"

  "Nothing. We're not fighting, he's just... made a new friend. One of the make-up girls. He might be busy."

  "Mark? That's odd."

  "What's odd?"

  "Well Mark's not... He's not only the most eligible bachelor in Hollywood, he's also the most elusive. He doesn't go out with make-up girls."

  She laughed. "Well he does now. He must have taken a shine to this one."

  "Carrin..."

  "Yes?"

  "Don't be upset, he must have a reason."

  "Oh, I'm sure... in fact I know he has a reason, and I know what it is, too."

  "Oh, what?" Simon sounded relieved.

  "You should know, you're a man."

  He spluttered. "You're not suggesting... come on, Carrin, Mark's not like that."

  "He's a man too, isn't he?"

  "Yes, but..."

  "Relax. Why should I be upset about it, anyway? Mark can go out with whomever he likes. We're just friends."

  "But -"

  "I'll see you tomorrow morning. Don't be late."

  Carrin hung up before Simon could say anything else, her mind whirling. Now she knew why Mark was flirting with the make-up girl. Simon had given her the clue she needed. If he wasn't normally like this, then it could only mean that he was trying to make her jealous. She had rejected him again, and told him that she did not feel anything more than friendship for him. That must have dented his ego badly, for now he was trying make her jealous to prove her wrong. He was right, of course, she was, but she was not going to give him that satisfaction. In fact, she would make him regret it. Her decision cheered her up immensely, and she almost looked forward to the next day.

  Chapter Eleven

  Simon was on time, and studied her with worried eyes as she slid into the limousine beside him.

  "Well, you look more cheerful today. Did you speak to Mark?"

  "Nope. I haven't seen him."

  Simon's blond brows rose. "You haven't?"

  "No. Like I told you yesterday, I just didn't want to bother him in case he was busy. I mean, he brought his new friend back with him yesterday, and they probably had a lovely time last night. He wouldn't want to be bothered about fetching me."

  He looked perplexed. "All he has to do is send his car."

  "Yes, but I would have had to phone him and disturb them. I already had you on the phone." She smiled at him.

  Simon turned to stare out at the passing scenery. "I can't believe Mark is doing this."

  "Why? He's entitled to a little fun, isn't he?"

  "Yes, but... he led me to believe... he told me..." he stammered into silence.

  "Told you what?"

  "Nothing. I'm going to talk to him about it."

  She shrugged. "If you like. But don't make the poor man feel guilty, for heaven's sake. That wouldn't be fair on him, now would it?"

  He stared at her as if she had sprouted horns, and it was all she could do not to laugh. A sudden idea struck Carrin. She needed an ally, if an unwitting one.

  "Are you going out with Janice now?"

  The change of subject appeared to startle him. "Not really. I mean, she'd like to, but apart from a great body and her looks, she's really not my type."

  "Oh good. In that case, since we're both free, why don't you and I go out this weekend?"

  "I don't think that would be a good idea. Mark wouldn't like it. You know what he thinks of me."

  She snorted. "What's it got to do with him? He'll be busy with his new friend, so why not? We're friends, aren't we?"

  "Well sure, but..."

  "Good, that's settled then. I'd like to go out tonight, dinner and dancing. Somewhere glitzy and glamorous." Somewhere with a lot of paparazzi, she added silently.

  Simon looked confused, and she realised that he was easily influenced. The great Simon Grey, superstar, was a pushover. She didn't feel guilty about using him. Simon was too shallow to be hurt by such a move, and he used people all the time, especially women, so maybe it was his turn to be used.

  The car pulled up outside Mark's mansion, and Carrin slid out while the chauffeur held the door. Simon followed her into the house, where a maid directed them into the den. Carrin found it to be an imposing room, the walls covered with movie posters, all starring Mark Lord in the lead role. Priceless Persian rugs covered the
floor, and antique glass cabinets displayed an impressive array of awards and statuettes, including two Oscars and three Academy Awards, amongst many others. She had noticed the lack of memorabilia around the house, and now she knew why. It was all here, in his trophy room. A huge TV stood before shelves packed with Mark Lord's movies. She gazed around, wondering what Mark used this room for.

  The superstar stood silhouetted before the glass doors that opened onto the garden, and turned as they entered. A royal blue smoking jacket clung to his broad shoulders and hung open to reveal a cream silk shirt tucked into slim-fitting jeans. Narrow black suede boots shod his feet.

  "Simon, Carrin. Hi, sit down, have a drink."

  Carrin sat, pointedly ignoring the wealth of achievement around her, and smiled at Mark.

  "Where's your new friend?"

  "Patsy? She's in the pool. I thought... well, this is business, and it only involves the three of us, right?"

  "Of course. But I would like to meet her, she seems really nice."

  "She is. You should have driven here with us, you could have met her then."

  Carrin shook her head. "I would have, but Warren was all alone, poor thing, so when I saw that you had company, I thought I'd keep him company."

  "Ah." He nodded. "I hope he appreciated it."

  "He did. We had a lovely chat, and came up with a few ideas for the movie, too."

  Mark nodded again, looking a little bemused. Simon poured a stiff drink, his eyes darting between them. Carrin sat back and smiled, well pleased with her ploy's success. A knocking came at the door, and Mark called out for the applicant to enter. Rita stood aside and showed Birdie in. The seedy singer slouched across the room, his oily, plaited hair swinging around his face. His skin-tight leather jeans squeaked as he walked, and the gold jewellery that adorned just about every orifice he possessed, as well as his neck, wrists and fingers, jangled an accompaniment. His eyes darted around the room, taking in the awards and tokens of achievement that he could never hope to match with a sour glare. Mark straightened behind the imposing desk and gestured to a chair.

  "Have a seat, Birdie."

  The singer glared around, spotting Carrin. "Mrs Jones, I presume?" He sneered. "Or is it Miss York?"