Breaking Hollywood

by Shari King

  Lou Cole scoped him from head to toe and muttered something about her lucky day. Mirren barely made eye contact. OK, so it was a start.

  As soon as he’d closed the door, Mirren spoke.

  ‘Still in bed at two o’clock?’ She didn’t look annoyed, more concerned.

  Zander picked up a plain white cotton T-shirt from the pile that the laundry had delivered the day before and pulled it on, leaving him only semi-naked now.

  ‘I was out last night.’

  Her left eyebrow raised. It was one of her mannerisms he’d always thought was hilarious. It was impossible for her to hide irritation or cynicism because it was, quite literally, written all over her eyebrows.

  ‘He’s been doing overnight shifts at Chloe’s Care,’ Lou offered. ‘Two of my stringers reported it back last night. Don’t worry – I’ve killed the story.’

  Mirren switched from cynical to surprised, then went straight on to apology. ‘I’m so sorry, Zander. I didn’t know.’

  ‘I asked them not to tell you. Didn’t want you getting worried that I was up there trying to score.’

  Mirren actually looked embarrassed. This was so weird. Clearly he was missing a chapter here. The last time she spoke to him, she cut him off; now she was standing in his hotel suite.

  ‘Zander, I need you to come with us,’ she told him.

  His heart sank. An intervention. He supposed he should have seen it coming.

  ‘Mirren, I’m not perfect, God knows. But I’m not the fuck-up you think I am, and I’m not buying into any intervention. So thanks, but you can go.’

  He turned to head back into the bedroom, where at least he could pull on some jeans and lose the shower-scene chic.

  ‘Zander, this isn’t an intervention; it’s an apology. I should have believed you. I’m so sorry. I know you didn’t fail the drug test. I know it was a false result,’ Mirren blurted. ‘I think your house being ransacked and maybe the whole nightclub fight that night we were together were set up too.’

  This caught Zander’s attention. ‘Thanks. And you’re sure of this why?’

  He watched as a whole spectrum of emotions crossed Mirren’s face. Fear, fury, determination.

  ‘Because my mother is in LA. And I think she’s doing this.’

  Zander froze. ‘What?’

  While his body was somehow suddenly incapable of movement, his brain was exploding.

  Marilyn McLean. Fuck.

  His eyes darted to Lou and Logan, and Mirren could tell exactly what he was thinking. ‘I’ve told them everything,’ she admitted.

  Just when Zander thought it was impossible to feel any worse, another layer of anxiety came to settle on top. No one should ever know everything unless they were there, unless they had as much to lose as the others who were involved. Mirren. Zander. Davie.

  But then, he trusted Logan. And Lou . . .

  ‘It will never be repeated, Zander. I swear,’ Lou assured him.

  He believed her.

  Sighing, he went into the bedroom, pulled on his jeans, more to buy time to think than out of modesty.

  ‘So what makes you think it’s Marilyn?’

  Mirren relayed the story yet again, every sentence twisting his gut just a little more. He hated Marilyn McLean with a passion that could never be overestimated. Jono was a bastard, and she was the woman who loved a bastard, who allowed him to control everything, who didn’t care that he was married and that Zander had to lie in bed night after night listening to his mother weeping because her husband was in the neighbour’s bed. Marilyn McLean was the reason his mother died a broken woman, thinking her husband had left her, when really he was in a shallow grave only feet away from her home.

  Zander listened, evaluated. Mirren was still relaying the details. ‘I think she was the one who set Davie’s house on fire too.’

  Another half-turn on the twisting gut. But come on, surely this was way out of Marilyn’s comfort zone and scope?

  ‘Mirr, how could your mother pull this off? Someone was shooting at Davie’s house. Managed to set it on fire. Persuaded some chick to lie about me. That’s a whole lot of crapola from one person.’ Even as he was saying it, he could hear Mirren’s answer, and he knew she was right.

  ‘Because Marilyn’s a manipulative, clever bitch. And for the last twenty years, she’s been the partner of one of the biggest crooks in the UK and working alongside him. You think she hasn’t learned things? Made contacts? I don’t think there’s anything she isn’t capable of.’

  Reluctantly, Zander agreed. Mirren was right. Marilyn had always been on the dark side of evil. The way she’d treated Mirren, been obsessed with Jono, manipulated everyone to get what she wanted. She’d killed before. Zander could see why Mirren would absolutely believe she could kill again.

  ‘I think she’s out to destroy us, Zander. We can’t go to the police in case it leaks, and Davie and I have got a team of people on it, but in the meantime, we have to go somewhere safe. You have to come.’

  Zander thought about it, a cascade of mixed emotions pulling him in different directions, but there were two overriding arguments that made his mind up for him. If Marilyn was out there and coming for them, she no doubt had a psycho-bitch plan. And if he was with Mirren, then he could look after her, keep her safe.

  ‘And what about Davie?’ he asked.

  ‘We’re going over to meet him now. He’s not going to be thrilled at the prospect of coming with us, but it’s the only thing that will keep us safe.’

  He thought some more, then nodded. ‘I’ll come.’

  There was never any doubt, but the relief on Mirren’s face was palpable.

  Zander had already made another decision.

  He didn’t protect her last time and his father had almost destroyed her. That wasn’t going to happen again. Not ever.

  If Marilyn was going to come after any one of them, she was going to have to get through Zander first.

  45.

  ‘Is There Something I Should Know?’ – Duran Duran

  Sarah

  How many times had she watched the footage? Maybe a dozen? And yet she was still strangely compelled to watch it again, hoping the outcome would be different, hoping that it told a different story. It never did.

  Right now, it was on freeze on the huge eighty-inch monitor in Davie’s study.

  Time to wrap it up. Move on.

  There were more important things to deal with today. Mirren had called to say she was on the way over, needed to talk to them. Sarah had already guessed what it was about.

  Marilyn.

  They needed a plan. A strategy. Or perhaps Mirren was calling to tell them she’d found her. Sarah sent up a silent prayer of hope. If they had, it would be game over. They could unpack the suitcases that were sitting in the hallway, ready to go, and return to normal life. She could finish the book and there would be a storming chapter about a close shave with a lethal stalker. No names mentioned.

  But in the meantime, the chapter about the boy-band singer’s secret drug use was definitely off the table. She couldn’t use it, wouldn’t do that to Mirren, to Logan. Breaking a story like that would make her career, change her life, but it wasn’t worth it. Urgh, twice in two years! Last year, she’d been the first and only journalist to find out the truth about the past lives of Davie, Zander and Mirren, but she’d killed that story when she fell in love with one of the people it would hurt most. Now she was about to kill a second story because she couldn’t hurt Mirren. She was obviously getting way too soft for this game. Strangely, that didn’t feel like such a bad thing.

  She looked back at the image on the screen, finger hovering over the ‘delete’ button. Logan Gore, clearly buying drugs, in an LA nightclub. Delete it. Cancel. Remove it from memory. Pretend it didn’t happen.

  ‘Sarah?’

  The voice made her jump and she turned to see Mirren and Logan in the doorway.

  ‘Ivanka let us in and . . .’ Mirren’s eyes travelled to the screen and she froze.


  Logan’s followed, before he murmured a horrified, ‘Fuck.’

  Sarah considered shutting it down, but the damage was done. Instead, she got up from her chair. ‘Mirren, I’m so sorry . . .’

  Mirren wasn’t listening. Uncomprehending, aghast, she was staring at Logan. ‘Logan?’

  The pain in her voice and face were unbearable to witness. Oh God. She’d done this to her. She should have been more careful. And Logan. Her anger with him for being so reckless was suddenly diluted by an unexpected wave of sympathy. He was such a good kid, and he’d been through so much. Losing his sister, his parents’ divorce, Mirren’s grief, the fame, scrutiny and sheer workload of being in the band.

  ‘Logan, tell me that isn’t what it looks like,’ Mirren whispered, still staring at the screen. It was hard to imagine that it could be anything else. ‘Tell me what he’s giving you there. Tell me it’s not . . .’

  ‘Mom, it’s not. It’s not. It’s not what you think, I promise.’

  ‘But it’s drugs.’

  ‘No, it’s—’

  Mirren rounded on him, pure venom spitting out with every word. ‘Do not dare lie to me, son. Do not dare!’

  ‘Mom, I’m not—’

  ‘Stop. Stop lying to me. You bought drugs? You use drugs? Do you know what that’s cost us? Did you not see your sister lying cold? Did you not see her dead?’

  Mirren was screaming now, pure, heart-wrenching, guttural wails.

  ‘Don’t, Mom. Don’t do that,’ he cried. ‘Put it off. Put it off!’ he yelled at Sarah.

  It was something in his eyes that made Sarah pause as she followed his stare and realized that he wasn’t looking at himself up there on the big screen. He was looking to the right, at another figure, partially hidden in the shadows.

  She saw it now. It triggered a memory. Suddenly, it made sense. Absolutely perfect, complete sense.

  ‘Logan. Logan!’ she repeated, trying to get his attention.

  ‘Put it off!’ Oh fuck, he was hysterical. This was excruciating.

  ‘Logan, you have to tell the truth,’ she urged, knowing it was the last thing he would want to do.

  He turned round, punched the wall behind him. ‘I can’t. I can’t!’

  ‘Logan?’ Mirren repeated, the word dripping with pain.

  There was a silence that Sarah was desperate to fill, but this had to come from Logan.

  ‘No. I’m saying nothing. It was me, Mom, OK. It was me!’

  Sarah realized he wasn’t going there. Wasn’t going to do it.

  ‘It’s a choice, Logan,’ she shouted, desperate for him to do the right thing.

  ‘It’s a choice. Him or your mum. Who are you going to hurt, Logan? Jonell or your mum?’

  ‘Noooooo,’ he roared. ‘Don’t.’

  Sarah knew then she was right. Her eyes went back to the screen, to the figure standing a few feet away from Logan, partially concealed by his hoodie. It was the bandana peeking out from underneath that had given it away. Red camouflage design. Jonell wore it every night on tour. Everything made sense. The weird friction between Jonell and Logan. The fight early on the tour. The red bag. The fact that Logan carried drugs, yet he was never wasted or high.

  ‘I can’t do it. I can’t let him down. He needs me. Can’t let him die.’

  Oh God. Oh dear God.

  ‘Jonell or your mum, Logan,’ Sarah repeated, calmer this time. She had to bring this back, make it right.

  ‘What is it, Sarah? What am I missing?’ Mirren begged.

  ‘Tell her,’ Sarah said to Logan.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Tell her.’

  He screamed, an anguished wail, a tortured, trapped wail. ‘I buy it for Jonell.’

  ‘What?’ Mirren whispered, not understanding this at all.

  But Logan wasn’t stopping for questions. He was charging on, like a burst dam, pouring out the facts, drowning everything in its path.

  ‘He’s using. Smack. Pills. Whatever he can get. I bought it for him. Every time. I had to, Mom. I couldn’t let him near the dealers, couldn’t let them suck him in. So we made a deal. I’d buy it. Give it to him. A little less each time. Until he was strong enough to make a break.’

  ‘But, Logan, there are professionals—’

  Without warning, the teenager exploded again. ‘Like the ones who helped Chloe? Like the ones who fed her more drugs, and talked to her, and told her she could kick it, and then let her out to hang with dealers and watched her fucking die! She’s dead, Mom. My sister is dead.’ He was shouting now, pained, desperate, distraught. ‘And I can’t lose anyone else!’ He slid down the door frame, sobs racking his shoulders, buried his head in his knees.

  Rivers of tears were flowing down Mirren’s cheeks as she went to him, wrapped her arms around him, holding him tight to her.

  ‘You won’t, Logan, I promise. We’ll help him. I’ll get him back for you. We’ll make it OK,’ she murmured, her promises full of conviction.

  Sarah watched as Logan’s arms came around his mother and they held each other, two tracks of tears mingling together as they fell.

  Sarah didn’t think she’d ever admired anyone more than Mirren McLean.

  She absolutely believed every word she said. She’d fix Jonell. She’d help her son.

  She would protect all of them.

  Or she’d die trying.

  46.

  ‘Moves Like Jagger’ – Maroon 5 & Christina Aguilera

  Davie

  Mike Feechan had already filled Mellie in on the essential details, twisting them slightly to conceal the truth. There was a security risk. They were fairly certain that Davie’s stalker had started the fire. Therefore he was being advised to take a few days off until they could track down this creep.

  ‘Hey, what are you doing here? A sniper could take you out in a heartbeat,’ Mellie warned Davie the minute he walked into the production office at the studio. She was obviously switching from her producer-director role to detective.

  Davie scanned the room. ‘Thanks, Rookie Blue, but there are no windows in here.’

  ‘True,’ Mellie agreed. ‘But you need to go. Mike said you’re heading out of town? It’s all very mob movie. Hope you’re wearing a vest and they’ve chipped you so they can track you when the freak kidnaps you.’

  ‘Has anyone ever told you that you should work with victim support?’

  Mellie shrugged, grinning. ‘Nope, but I can see why I would have potential. Now can you get out of here? Lainey Anders is standing in for you on Here’s Davie Johnston and she’s way hotter than you.’

  ‘Man, what’s a guy gotta do to get some sympathy around here?’ Time to get to the point of the visit. This had to be quick, so he’d already called ahead with instructions.

  ‘I’m going as soon as I’ve spoken to them. Did you ask them to come in? Where are they?’ he asked, knowing she’d have done as he’d requested.

  ‘Dressing room two. Carmella said she needed a lie-down. Which is Carmella-speak for two lines of coke and a half-bottle of vodka.’

  ‘Thanks. Love ya. See ya later,’ Davie crooned as he left to the sound of Mellie feigning retching.

  It took thirty seconds at a pace to reach the room, throw the door open and . . .

  Wow. Model porn 101. Carmella, in a short, pleated miniskirt and tank, was bent over the make-up station, while Jack Gore, trousers at his ankles, exposing a large rose tattoo on his right buttock, was fucking her from behind.

  ‘Davie . . .’ Carmella sang, and he could see immediately that she was completely wasted.

  What the hell kind of world was this that he lived in? No wonder his karma was shot to fuck.

  Time to clean it up.

  ‘Hey, man, what the hell—’ started Jack, who had pulled out and was now standing there, flaccid dick dangling in the breeze. Obviously not a man who liked an audience.

  ‘Don’t mind me,’ Davie replied, as he pulled a thick wad of paper out of the folder he was carrying. ‘Jack, you per
verted, pathetic piece of crap, this is your contract for Beauty and the Best,’ he announced, at exactly the same moment as he removed a Zippo from his pocket, lit the stack of papers and dropped it in the metal trash can. ‘I’ve recalled your payment from escrow and I’m donating it to Chloe’s Care. Sue me if you like. It would be career suicide, but do your worst, mate. And, Carmella . . .’

  To his relief, Carmella had attempted to stand and was now being held up by the wall. He always felt it was easier to give his employees constructive criticism and advice when their vagina was not in his direct line of sight.

  ‘Carmella, you’ve still got the show, but there are two conditions. You need to dump this douchebag, and you’re going to rehab. Mellie will set it up. Fail on either and I’ll replace you. I’ve always wanted to do a show with Naomi Campbell.’

  Carmella’s wail illustrated that although she may well be a floating chemical soup, she definitely understood the threat.

  ‘Who the fuck do you think—’ Jack Gore started, an offensive that seemed less menacing with the whole dangling dick thing.

  ‘Jack, save it. You’re a loser. Mirren McLean was far too good for you. And let me tell you, if you cause her one more moment of pain or embarrassment, I’ll bury you.’

  ‘That’s intimidation and harassment,’ Jack bleated.

  ‘No, it’s not,’ Davie countered. ‘It’s karma. And a promise.’

  As he strutted out of the studio, fire alarms wailing thanks to a smoking litter bin in dressing room 2, he just hoped the gods of karma were paying attention.

  Because if Marilyn McLean was around, they were going to need all the divine intervention they could get.

  47.

  ‘Chasing Cars’ – Snow Patrol

  Mirren

  ‘This is like the most screwed-up family vacation ever,’ Zander said, smiling, as he pulled his suitcase out of the trunk of the Dodge Durango.

  Mirren knew he was just trying to keep everyone positive and she appreciated it.

  Hollie jumped out of the other side of the Durango, just as Davie and Sarah drew into the space next to them.