American Star
Page 53
Oliver was also obsessed with business. She'd thought that once he was
away from the office he'd be able to relax. She'd imagined long walks
on the beach, swimming, snorkeling, maybe taking a boat out.
She did all of those things by herself, because Oliver spent most of
his time on the phone.
Occasionally the subject of the Marcella girl came up. When he'd first
suggested the idea she'd said a very resounding no. However, he wasn't
prepared to take no for an answer. Every other day he asked if she'd
changed her mind.
"I told you, Oliver, I'm not a model, nor do I want to be."
"I understand," he replied. "But this is hardly a modeling
assignment.
You'll be spokesperson for Marcella. You'll also make a lot of money,
become well known and enjoy every minute of it."
She disagreed. The idea of making money was appealing, but she had no
wish to become well known.
Pia called from New York. "Well? Are you going to do it or not?"
"Not," she said firmly.
"You're blowing an opportunity if you don't," Pia said. "What have you
got to lose? Oh, and by the way, take a look at yesterday's Daily
News. There's a photo of that Nick Angel guy-the one who called you.
You didn't tell me he was an actor. And you certainly didn't tell me
he was gorgeous.
When Lauren hung up she immediately searched for yesterday's New York
papers. Sure enough, on page five of the News there was a picture of
Nick with Carlysle Mann. She studied the picture, then read the copy:
Garlysle Mann, out on the town with her new co-star, Nick Angel.
Garlysle and Nick are shooting Night City on location in New York.
Word has it that Nick lights up the screen, especially in the sex
scenes-ofwhich there are many. Ladies, look out he could be your new
Saturday night rave Nick was actually in a movie! She could hardly
believe it. Nick Angel-whatever happened to Angelo? God! He was a
professional actor! He'd done what they'd both talked and dreamed
about.
She stared at his picture again, and hated Carlysle-which was stupid,
because she didn't even know her. Then she read the copy through three
times, folded the paper and put it in a drawer.
Later that day she approached Oliver. As usual, he was on the phone.
"Hang up," she said, standing in front of him.
He covered the mouthpiece. "What's the matter?"
"Hang up. I have to talk to you.
He excused himself and put the phone down. "I hope this is important,"
he said irritably "It is."
"Well?"
"I'm accepting."
"You're accepting what?"
"I'll be the Marcella girl."
He perked up. "Really?"
"Yes, Oliver. And I want Samm to be my agent. She'll negotiate my
price."
He laughed. "She'll negotiate your price?"
"I'm expensive," Lauren said. "But if you want me you'll pay."
Back in New York Pia waddled around looking like she was going to drop
the kid any moment. Lauren realized that if she was going to embark on
this Marcella girl campaign, then it was time to think seriously about
Help Unlimited.
"What do you want to do?" she asked Pia. "You're having a baby,
you've got Howard to look after. Maybe we should dissolve the
business.
"I like having the business," Pia said. "Although I suppose you're
right. I won't have the time to spend there. And if you get the
Marcella job, neither will you."
It was sad, but they decided the best thing to do was to close it
down.
Lauren met with Samm, who was quite amused by the turn of events. "Do
you realize how many of my models will want to scratch your eyes out,
darling?" she said. "They'll say you used your influence with the
boss."
"No, Samm-he used his influence with me. But I want a killer deal,
otherwise I'm not doing it."
Samm nodded. "I like killer deals. Are you giving me permission to
walk in and make the deal of the century?"
Lauren smiled. "That's exactly what I'm doing."
"And can I stroll casually away if they don't care to accept it?"
"I wouldn't expect you to do anything else."
"Lauren, you're my kind of girl."
Oliver came home that night with raised eyebrows. "Are you insane?
You're asking for more money than a top model."
"Sweetheart, this was your idea, not mine. If Marcella would like me
to represent them, then this is what they'll have to pay."
He shook his head. "I didn't realize I'd married a tough
businesswoman.
"It wasn't my idea to be the Marcella girl, kindly remember that."
"I've talked with the client," Oliver said. "They have my
recommendation. I've also given them several other suggestions. The
final decision is theirs."
"Good," Lauren said. "Because I don't care either way."
Although deep down she did. Deep down she knew that she wanted to be
somebody. Just like Nick Angel was going to be somebody. She didn-'t
want to be left behind. She wanted to be just as important as he was
destined to be.
you need a publicist," Frances said.
"What for? I'm getting plenty of publicity. Carlysle and I are all
over the columns."
"You need somebody to shape an image for you. Give you a profile -a
very high profile."
"Forget it. I don't have the money."
"What did you do with the money you got for the option agreement you so
foolishly signed against Meena's advice?"
He shrugged. "I had a friend in trouble. That was the deal."
"How sweet," Frances said, dragging deeply on her cigarette. "He has a
kind heart."
"I always thought it was cool to help out friends," he said, throwing
himself on her couch. "Isn't that the way it's supposed to work?"
"You really are a genuinely nice person," said Frances, sounding
surprised.
"So I guess you've got a publicist you want to recommend," he said,
reaching for a cigarette, deciding it was his turn to blow smoke in her
face.
"You have to admit, you do like my recommendations," Frances replied.
"Your new photographs are excellent, and Meena is doing well for you.
Of course, she could do better if you hadn't tied yourself up with that
ridiculous option deal."
He shrugged. "What's so ridiculous about signing for another movie? A
couple of months ago I couldn't have gotten arrested. Why the big
fuss?"
"Learn to understand this business," Frances said sternly. "From all
reports, when Night City comes out you're going to be hot. When you're
hot is the time to act. But since you've tied yourself up for another
film, Meena cannot do anything for you."
"Yeah, Frances, but I'm not a total jerk. I don't have to do the film
immediately. There's a clause in there that says I can do something
else if they're not ready by a certain date. It's cool."
"So now you've decided to be your own lawyer?"
"Hey, I've been meaning to talk to you about that. Can you recommend a
good lawyer?"
"There's a cocktail party tomorrow n
ight," Frances said. "You'll take
me. There'll be several top lawyers there. You can quietly audition
them."
"I don't know if I can make tomorrow night."
She looked at him sharply. "Nick, I don't expect you to forget our
deal so early on in our relationship."
"Okay-I'll make it," he said.
He'd only gotten back to Los Angeles the day before after nearly two
months shooting in New York, and although he'd spoken to Annie on the
phone he hadn't seen her. He'd promised to take her out the next night
for a welcome home dinner. Now that Frances required his company he'd
just have to switch nights on her.
Frances wrote down the name and phone number of a publicist and handed
him the paper. "Go see her," she said.
"Another woman?"
Frances narrowed her flinty eyes. "What's the matter? Don't you like
dealing with women? Believe me, dear, they'll look after you much
better than men.
Like she was telling him something new.
Marik, Cyndra had decided, was too nice for his own good. He treated
her like a princess. Initially she'd lured him into bed-although he
didn't take much luring-to get him under her power. Now she had him
where she wanted him and more besides, because not only was he
producing her single, but he was also her attentive and caring
companion. The trouble was she didn't want a companion. She was
perfectly happy making it on her own. Being married to Reece had been
enough companionship to last her a lifetime.
Marik was a California boy. He wanted her to meet his mother and
sisters. She said no until she ran out of excuses, and then she
accompanied him one sunny Sunday afternoon. His family lived in the
Valley and they were all equally as nice as Marik.
Unfortunately, he was in love with her. She liked him, but she
certainly didn't love him.
Gordon Hayworth was another matter. Every time she saw him she
experienced exquisite little chills running up and down her spine, and
a nervous stomach that drove her crazy. He dropped by the recording
studio when she was making the demo and through the glass she spied him
talking to Marik. She wanted to stop everything and go over just to be
near him.
Casually she asked around. Usually the secretaries had the scam on
everyone, but Gordon had no scandal attached. He was married to a
beautiful ex-model and never came on to anyone else.
Gordon Hayworth had a presence and dignity she'd never observed in a
man before. And she wanted him almost as much as she wanted a big
career.
Marik was excited. The song he'd found for her was called "Child
Baby," written by a couple of up-and-coming songwriters. He'd put
together a backup ensemble that really complemented her voice, and the
arrangement was a killer.
"Reno Records is behind you all the way, baby," he told her.
"When this little old record hits the airwaves, people gonna find out
about you big time!"
The next weekend Marik wanted to take her to Palm Springs. He was so
anxious to please, she didn't want to disappoint him, even though she'd
sooner not have gone.
They drove down on Friday night in his white Corvette and stayed at a
small hotel set against a backdrop of magnificent mountains.
"What was the story with you and that Reece guy?" Marik asked as he
unpacked his overnight bag.
"Why?" she said carefully, unfolding her clothes.
Cause I'm interested. He said you were married. True or false?"
"No, we weren't married," she said quickly. "We lived together for a
while. I was young and stupid-I didn't know any better."
She didn't care to tell him the truth. If he'd known she was married
to Reece it may have affected their business relationship, not to
mention their personal one.
Later that night they sat outside in the bubbling Jacuzzi gazing up at
the stars.
"This is oh so very very nice," Marik said, stretching his legs.
"Yes, it's really pretty," she replied.
"No, baby-you're really pretty."
She threw her head back, her long hair trailing in the bubbling
water.
"So, tell me, Marik, how long have you been with Reno Records?"
"I've kinda been around Reno for five years."
"Where were you before that?"
"I put in time at a couple of the big companies. Produced some damn
good artists. Then Gordon came along and offered me this job.
It was a chance to do bigger and better." He laughed. "Gordon kinda
stole me away.
"I expect he's good at that," she said.
His hand touched her leg. "Yeah, Gordon's a powerful personality.
He's sure heavy on charisma."
"Why don't you tell me about him, he seems like an interesting guy.
"He had a small record company in New York, sold it for mucho bucks and
moved out to L.A. about ten years ago. Then he started Reno, and the
rest is a big success story."
"Is he married?" she asked, knowing full well that he was.
"Yeah."
"Who's his wife?"
"She was a top model but gave it all up when they married-Gordon didn't
want his wife working."
"Are they happy?"
"Very happy." His hand snaked up her leg. "Hey, baby-what's with all
the questions?"
"I should know who I'm working for."
"Stick with me, girl, and you don't have to know nothin'!"
He held open his arms and she moved into his bubbly softness.
California was so health-conscious, she wondered if Marik had ever
thought about attending a gym. He should firm up his pecs, work on
those stomach muscles. She didn't want to hurt his feelings by
asking.
He was a good kisser, so she leaned back and let him have his way.
Marik was taking her all the way to stardom-why fight it?
Bridget Hale, Nick's new publicist, reminded him of a thinner, less
cheerful Meena. What did these women have-a club? At least she seemed
to know what she was doing, she'd already set him up for two interviews
later in the week-one with a news service for a piece that would run
throughout the country, and one with a popular entertainment weekly.
He'd done a few interviews on the set and found it to be kind of a kick
talking about himselœ Bridget trained him in the ways of the world.
"We have to make up an interesting background for you," she said. "I
don't know where you're from and I don't particularly care. We'll
start from zero.
"I'm from the Midwest," he said.
"No, I don't think so. Something foreign will do. Your father was in
the CIA-you were raised in China. Let me work on it."
"You gotta be kidding."
"Another point to remember-never tell them your age. Let them guess.
And Hollywood loves a loner. The more mysterious you are, the
better."
"How come?"
"Because when you're on the cover of Time we don't want some nosy
journalist visiting your hometown and checking with all your old
friends. If we can maintain it, mystery is the best, remember that."
"So what do I say when they ask
me?"
"That you don't believe in pasts, only futures."
He laughed. "Sounds good to me."
"Frances and Meena are very high on you," she said. "And their praise
does not come easily."
"They haven't seen me on film yet."
"Frances and Meena hear everything first. If you're good in this
movie, then they're aware of it."
He knew he should visit Joy, but he also knew she'd do nothing but
bitterly criticize everything he'd done, and he wasn't in the mood for
that. While he was prepared to acknowledge her help in introducing him
to Frances, he was not prepared to listen to her negative comments. He
wanted to feel good about himselœ He was finally on the road and the