Hollywood Divorces / Hollywood Wives: The New Generation (21 page)

She checked the list, searching for Michael’s name. It wasn’t there.

She took her tea and went upstairs to her bedroom. On the centre of her bed was an envelope with her name on it. The name was not written–it was made up of individual letters cut from a magazine.
LiSsA.
She opened it. The message was clear.
You will Die In VeGas bitch.

It was not the first time she had received a threatening letter, although usually they didn’t reach her bedroom. She called down to Nellie on the intercom. ‘There’s a letter on my bed. Can you find out how it got there?’

Nellie called back five minutes later. ‘Sorry, Miz Lissa, the new maid found it out by the front gate this morning and thought it was important. I’ve told her that in future she should give everything to Danny, and not bother you.’

At least the maniac hadn’t got into the house. Maybe it was Gregg trying to scare her. This was exactly the kind of stupid stunt he’d pull.

She immediately called the Robbins-Scorsinni office and
asked for Michael. He was out, so she spoke to Quincy. ‘I received a death-threat letter,’ she said, remaining surprisingly calm, ‘so I need one of you to come to Vegas with me. Of course I have Chuck, and there’ll be plenty of security at the hotel, however, I’ll feel better if you or Michael are with me.’

‘What kind of letter?’ Quincy asked.

‘It’s probably a hoax, or Gregg playing games. I’ll messenger it over so you can take a look.’

‘Lissa,’ Quincy said apologetically, ‘you know I got this broken leg thing goin’ on, otherwise I’d be there.’

‘Oh, yes. I forgot.’ A beat. ‘Michael will do, send him. We leave Thursday morning. If he comes to my house promptly at ten, he can drive to the airport with us.’

‘It’s done, Lissa, he’ll be there.’

To Nicci’s horror, when they got downstairs, she discovered a huge dent in the front of her BMW. ‘How did
this
happen?’ she wailed, circling her car.

‘Who the fuck knows?’ Brian mumbled, groping for his sunglasses.

‘Were we
so
out of it that we had an accident and didn’t realize?’ she demanded, turning on him. ‘We could’ve
killed
someone.’

‘
You
were driving,’ he said accusingly.

‘No, I wasn’t,’ she argued. ‘You insisted, remember?’

‘C’mon, Nic, get in the car and let’s get this over with. I gotta get back to the location before my brother drives everyone insane with his nagging.’

She slid into the driver’s seat. He didn’t argue–he was too hung-over. So was she, although it hardly seemed to matter.

They drove to Evan’s house slumped in their individual hangovers. As soon as they got there, Nicci ran inside and fetched the envelope containing Evan’s papers. By the time she got back, Brian was sitting in his Porsche, which had been parked outside the house all night.

She handed him the envelope. ‘There you go,’ she said. ‘Remember, not a word to Evan about any of this.’

‘Maybe there’s nothing to tell,’ Brian said, peering over the top of his sunglasses. ‘The way
I
see it, we got back to my place an’ passed out. I think if we’d
had
sex, one of us would remember. I’ve never had a girl say she
doesn’t.
’

‘You certainly have a high opinion of yourself, don’t you?’ she said, wishing he wasn’t so damn attractive.

‘Somebody’s got to,’ he said, grinning.

‘Oh suck it up, Brian. You’re a total flake.’

He started his car, revving the engine. ‘I’ll give your love to Evan.’

‘Don’t bother,’ she said, going back into the house.

As soon as she was sure he’d gone, she took a shower, standing there for fifteen minutes, letting the cold water rain down on her body. When she got out, she wrapped herself in Evan’s big towelling bathrobe, took two aspirins, drank a bottle of water, and collapsed onto the bed. Then she called Saffron.

‘Where’ve you
been,
girl?’ Saffron asked. ‘I get withdrawals when you vanish outta sight.’

‘Don’t ask.’ Nicci sighed. ‘I need to see you. Got stuff to talk about.’

‘Like what?’

‘Like can you come by later?’

‘If I get a babysitter.’

‘Bring Lulu, I never see enough of her. You can both stay the night.’

‘Lemme call you back.’

‘I need you to be my shrink,’ Nicci said. ‘I’ve got a bad feeling I might’ve made a
major
mistake.’

‘Forget about it. There’s no way I’m going to Vegas just ’cause she received some crank’s letter,’ Michael said
stubbornly. He’d just got back to the office after meeting with a husband who suspected his wife was a cocaine addict. Now Quincy was immediately on his case.

‘You
gotta
go,’ Quincy retorted, trying to persuade him. ‘Lissa Roman’s one of our most important clients. We have a contract to take care of all her security needs.’

‘I’m
not
a freaking bodyguard,’ Michael said grimly.

‘Nobody said you were. You’ll be goin’ there as a representative of our office, makin’ sure everything’s okay. Anyway, what the fuck’s
with
you an’ Lissa?
Why
doncha wanna go?’

‘Cause I’m not about to be summoned like some flunkey. What am I supposed to do? Hold her hand?’

‘Hey, man, that’s up to you.’

‘Quit with that shit, Q. I’ve had it.’

‘Okay, okay, we’ll talk about it later.’

Saffron turned up at the house with her three-year-old daughter, Lulu, whom Nicci adored.

Lulu threw herself into Nicci’s arms, smothering her with hugs and kisses.

‘Why don’t I see more of my baby?’ Nicci demanded, swinging her godchild around in circles. ‘I
am
her godmother.’

‘It’s
your
fault,’ Saffron said as Lulu yelled excitedly. ‘You’re always busy doing nothing. Anyway, wait until you see Lulu’s dress. She’ll be
the
most beautiful flower-girl ever. Won’t you, baby?’ she said, grabbing her daughter.

‘Not a baby,’ Lulu said sternly. ‘Me big girl.’

‘Sure you are,’ Nicci agreed.

‘Anyway…guess what?’ Saffron said.

‘What?’ Nicci said.

‘Prepare yourself, babe,’ Saffron said, with a secret smile. ‘’Cause this Saturday is kidnap night.’

‘It is?’ Nicci said excitedly.

‘You bet your fine ass. Saturday’s the night we take off on our magical mystery tour. So from five in the afternoon you’d better be ready for anything. And don’t even bother askin’ me questions ’cause, girl, I am not tellin’ you a damn
thing.
’

‘I’m totally psyched,’ Nicci said, momentarily forgetting about her massive hangover. ‘I’ve always wanted a wild bachelorette night–which I hope includes male strippers with huge—’

‘Shush!’ Saffron interrupted, indicating Lulu.

‘Sorry.’

‘Hungry! Hungry! Hungry!’ Lulu yelled, jumping up and down.

‘We’d better order food,’ Saffron said. ‘She’s like me, wants what she wants as soon as she wants it!’

‘How about burgers?’ Nicci suggested. ‘Isn’t that what small people eat?’

‘It’s what this kid eats,’ Saffron said.

‘Lulu, sugar-pie,’ Nicci asked, ‘what d’you want for dinner?’

‘Burger an’ french flies,’ Lulu said, all huge eyes and baby dreadlocks, a small version of her mommy.

‘Fries,’ Saffron corrected.

‘Flies.’ Lulu giggled.

‘I’ll call Johnny Rocket’s, they deliver,’ Nicci said. ‘Do you think burgers are good for a hangover?’

‘No.’

‘Then what is?’

‘A drink.’

‘Like that’s
such
a fine idea. Let’s get Lulu settled, then I’ll open the wine and tell you everything.’

Quincy was still arguing with Michael about accompanying Lissa to Vegas, but now it was four hours later and they were sitting in Carol’s apartment, which she’d decorated
with scented candles and vases of fresh flowers. She was busy in the kitchen with Amber.

Michael was pissed that Quincy was telling him he had to go to Vegas when he was trying his best to stay away from Lissa. He knew that somehow it was inevitable they’d eventually be together, and yet he was making a conscious effort to avoid it, because his gut instinct kept on warning him it would lead to nothing but trouble.

‘C’mon, man,’ Quincy persisted, ‘stop givin’ me grief on this. The woman needs protection.’

‘
You
go.’

‘I would if I could.’

‘Oh, yeah, your leg–very convenient.’

‘I’m tellin’ you, it’ll be good for the agency,’ Quincy urged. ‘She’ll recommend us to people, so make sure you take plenty of cards with you.’

‘What am I? A salesman for the Quincy Roadshow?’

‘It’s not the Quincy Roadshow. It’s the Robbins-Scorsinni Roadshow.’

‘Shit,’ Michael muttered.

‘What’s your fuckin’ problem?’ Quincy bellowed, finally getting angry.

‘Okay, okay,’ Michael said. ‘Don’t get your balls in a sweat. I’ll go.’

‘Go where?’ Amber asked, entering the room.

‘Nowhere,’ Michael said.

Carol came in from the kitchen, holding aloft a tray of canapés. ‘You’ll love these,’ she said, with a bright smile. ‘I splurged–baby baked potatoes with sour cream and caviar. What do you think, Michael?’

‘Who cares what
he
thinks?’ Quincy boomed. ‘Bring ’em over here!’

Later, Michael had made up his mind to give her the speech. He wasn’t looking forward to it, and wished he could do it over the phone. Only that would be the
coward’s way out, and if there was one thing Michael wasn’t, it was a coward.

‘What’re you cooking?’ he asked.

‘Roast beef, English Yorkshire pudding, and three different vegetables,’ she announced proudly.

‘Sounds good,’ he said, remembering how comfortable he’d felt sitting with Lissa in her den eating lasagna on trays and getting to know her.

Carol ruffled his hair affectionately. ‘And later, after dinner, I have a surprise for you.’

‘You do?’

‘Something special.’

Yeah,
he thought,
and I have one for you, too.

He couldn’t wait for the evening to end.

While Michael was at Carol’s, Lissa was on her way to Kyndra and Norio’s anniversary party with James and Claude. She wore a white Armani suit, Harry Winston diamonds, and an upswept hairstyle. It was her first social outing since the news of her split with Gregg, and she was determined to hold her head high. She preferred not to think about how many people might have seen the TV programme the night before. If it hadn’t been Kyndra and Norio’s party, there was no way she would have gone. But since they were such long-time friends, she couldn’t let them down. So here she was, sitting in the back of Claude’s black Rolls with James, while Claude sat up front next to his chauffeur. At sixty-three, Claude was a man used to immediate service. A record and media tycoon, he’d made his first million by the time he was twenty. Now a billionaire, he’d enjoyed a ten-year live-in relationship with James. They were complete opposites. James, so tall and elegant and English. Claude, a small nut of a black man, with energy to spare and a hearty enthusiasm for all the best things in life.

‘Don’t worry, darling,’ James said, reaching for her hand. ‘We will not leave your side.’

‘It’s good you’re coming out now,’ Claude agreed.

‘Yes,’ James said. ‘After all, your show is on Saturday, and everybody will see you there.’

‘That’s different. My show is a public event. I can handle those kind of appearances. It’s this private stuff I hate. All those Hollywood wives…’

‘Ah, the bitch brigade,’ James drawled. ‘And every one of their sweet honey tongues will be sharpened to kill.’

‘Thanks, James,’ she said. ‘You’ve made me feel
so
much better.’

‘Crap!’
Saffron exclaimed, leaping up half-way through her burger.

‘Crap!’
Lulu repeated, giggling with delight.
‘Crap! Crap! Crap!’

‘What’s up?’ Nicci asked, staring at Saffron who was looking a little wild-eyed.

‘Tonight’s their anniversary,’ Saffron wailed. ‘And I forgot!’

‘
Whose
anniversary?’ Nicci asked patiently.

‘My parents! And we’re all supposed to be there, Lulu, too.’

‘Wanna go t’ Grandma’s,’ Lulu chanted. ‘Wanna go! Wanna go!’

‘Don’t call her that,’ Saffron said. ‘You know she hates it. Call her Kinny.’

‘Wanna go t’ Kinny’s.’ Lulu giggled.
‘Now! Now! Now!’

‘Guess you blew it,’ Nicci said, picking up a french fry and popping it in her mouth. ‘It’s too late now.’

‘Too late?’ Saffron exclaimed. ‘It’s my parents’ twenty-fifth anniversary, for God’s sake.
Of course
I gotta go. And so do you.’

‘Leave me out.’ Nicci groaned, warding her off with a dismissive hand. ‘I’m totally finished.’

‘Then you’d better get it together, girl,’ Saffron said firmly, ‘’cause Kyndra’s expecting
all
of us. C’mon, let’s check out your closet and find something to wear.’

‘Please,’ Nicci said, clutching her head with a dramatic expression, ‘I’m sick. I can’t do this.’

‘Sometimes we gotta do things we don’t want to,’ Saffron said. ‘
I
took care of the bridesmaids’ dresses, so now it’s your turn t’ do something for me. Move it, Nic. This is pay-back time.’

‘Crap, Saff,’ Nicci complained. ‘You’re giving me no choice.’

‘Right,’ Saffron said, pulling her up. ‘So let’s go do the closet thing.’

T
he time for action was drawing close, and Eric liked to think that he had everything under control. Every day he followed Nicci as she went about her usual routine of doing nothing much at all, although the previous night she’d shocked him by changing her pattern and spending the night with her boyfriend’s brother. Oh, yes, Eric knew all the players. He’d tracked the brother through the licence plate on his car, which he’d left parked outside Nicci’s house all night.

The girl was obviously a whore–exactly like her mother. Eric wasn’t surprised. Most women were whores one way or the other. He’d never met one he could trust.

He was in daily touch with Arliss, who was supposed to make sure everyone took care of what they were instructed to do.

On Tuesday night he met with Danny in the same gay bar they always went to.

As far as Danny was concerned they had become friends. Nobody listened to him the way Eric Vernon did, or bought rounds of drinks with such a generous spirit. He found himself telling Eric everything–including the troubles he was experiencing with his much older boyfriend.

Eric always listened sympathetically, and told Danny of
his
problems with
his
partner. Danny had this tingling feeling that when they were both free, they would finally get together in a sexual way.

‘We’re off to Vegas on Thursday,’ Danny confided, taking small sips of an apple Martini–his new favourite drink. ‘On a private plane no less. The hotel is sending it for us.’

‘Sounds exciting,’ Eric said. ‘Does she always travel by private plane?’

‘Whenever she can,’ Danny replied, toying with his new gold stud earring. He felt it gave him a jaunty, macho look.

‘It’s just you and her, then?’

‘And her makeup and hair people, and security, of course.’

‘No daughter?’

‘She never has Nicci to public events.’

‘Do
you
go with her all the time?’

‘Whenever I can,’ Danny said. ‘Which is one of the main problems between me and George.’ He lowered his voice. ‘George is
jealous
of her,’ he whispered as if it was a state secret. ‘The nerve! Jealous of
my
princess.’

‘I read in the papers that she’s getting three million dollars for one night’s work. Is that true?’

‘Of course,’ Danny said crisply. ‘And she deserves every cent. My princess works so hard, and has such dreadful luck with men. The last one was very bad.’ Again with the lowered voice. ‘I think he used to
hit
her.’

Eric made appropriate noises of horror. If he was the bitch’s husband he would’ve beaten her non-stop.

‘Oooh, look,’ Danny said, pursing his lips. ‘Isn’t that
delicious
?’

Eric glanced up as a steroid-enhanced, muscle-bound giant in tight shorts passed by their table.

‘Not my type,’ he said.

‘What
is
your type?’ Danny asked, getting slightly misty-eyed at the thought that
he
might be.

Eric shrugged, for once at a loss.

‘Do you know,’ Danny said, in a confidential tone, ‘when we first met I had
no
hint that you were a friend of Dorothy’s?’

‘Three million bucks,’ Eric said, swiftly changing the subject. ‘That’s a lot of money. What do they do? Give her a cheque?’

‘
I
don’t know,’ Danny said, clamming up.

Yes, you do, you dumb-ass faggot
, Eric thought. ‘Well,’ he said, digging in his pocket. ‘Here’s a twenty. Put it on number thirty-five for me. And stay out of trouble.’

‘I’ll try,’ Danny said, with a high-pitched giggle. ‘Can’t promise!’

‘If I should want to call you, is there a special number?’

‘We’ll only be there four days.’

‘In case I feel lucky and want to make another bet.’

Danny wrote down the private number and handed it to him. ‘This number goes straight to the suite,’ he said. ‘Only use it if you’re desperate to speak to me. I’m not supposed to give it out.’

‘Sure,’ Eric said. ‘And when you get back—’

‘Yes?’ Danny interrupted, an eager-puppy look on his cheerful face.

‘We should talk about
us.
’

‘Oooh, yes,’ Danny cooed. ‘We definitely should.’

Later, Eric met with Arliss, who assured him everything was set. Davey had his eye on exactly the right vehicle. Little Joe had already stolen the chloroform and a stash of sleeping pills to keep their victim sedated. And Big Mark was set for action.

‘Good,’ Eric said. ‘We’ll do it on Saturday. Be ready. I’ll let you know where we meet before then. Keep yourself available, and not a word to anyone. Got it?’

Arliss nodded his greasy head. He was as ready as he’d ever be.