Hollywood Divorces / Hollywood Wives: The New Generation (49 page)

Who did he think he was? She wasn’t his girlfriend. Her roommate, Cindi Hernandez, was. Cindi, now known as Cindi Heart–thanks to Lou’s name-change fetish–had been sleeping with Lou for several months.

They’d met him at the same time. He used to come into the
diner where they worked as waitresses. Every day he arrived promptly at eight for his breakfast, a skinny man with pale yellow hair carefully arranged across his scalp in a cross-over style designed to hide the fact that he was rapidly going bald. Lou favoured tight suits, striped shirts and featured a large diamond ring on his pinkie. He soon informed them he was a personal manager and dropped many famous names, including Pamela Anderson and Carmen Electra, both of whom he claimed he’d discovered.

Lucia didn’t believe him: she thought he was a boastful creep. Cindi was convinced he had career advancement potential, especially when she found out he drove a Rolls-Royce–even though it was twelve years old.

Now the three of them were at the Cannes Film Festival, thanks to Lou and a deal he’d made with a cheapo hotel and American Airlines.

Before leaving the States he’d taken them to Frederick’s of Hollywood and bought them a series of sexy and revealing outfits. Then he’d asked them both to sign ten-year contracts giving him exclusive management rights and twenty-five per cent of any future earnings. Lucia flatly refused. Cindi went for it. He took Lucia to Europe with them anyway, because two girls were better than one, and Lou wanted to put himself back on the map. His plan was to parade Cindi and Lucia along the beach where all the photographers gathered. When he gave them the signal, the girls would begin posing, attracting plenty of attention.

‘How will that help our careers?’ Lucia had asked
.

‘It’ll get you noticed,’ Lou shot back. ‘From there you’ll leave it to me. It’ll be an all-win situation.’

Lucia was uncomfortable with the whole deal, but since she’d never been to Europe, Lou’s invitation was too tempting to turn down
.

‘At least you don’t have to sleep with him,’ Cindi had grumbled. ‘I’m doing it for both of us.’

‘How can you?’ Lucia had asked. ‘He must be at least–I dunno–fifty?’

‘Yes, but he certainly knows how to treat a girl,’ Cindi had confided.
‘And
he discovered Pamela Anderson.’

‘So he says.’

Lucia was very fond of her best friend, but she didn’t think Cindi had the potential to be another Pamela Anderson–not even a Carmen Electra, because even though Lou had paid for Cindi’s makeover, including a nose job and large silicone breasts, Cindi did not have that special something that Lucia knew
she
possessed
.

Lucia was disillusioned with her progress as far as breaking into show business was concerned. She’d been going out on audition after audition, and the only jobs she’d managed to score were a couple of walk-ons playing maids. She’d been offered the role of a stripper in a Steven Seagal film, a part she’d turned down because it called for total nudity and she couldn’t bring herself to do that–her family would disown her
.

Coming to Cannes with Lou and Cindi was an exciting diversion, especially as she’d never been out of America and it was an all-expenses-paid trip. Who knew what might happen? She certainly had nothing to lose
.

Lou had his scenario down. He’d found out about a photo session that was to take place on the beach for an Italian starlet, and when the girl finished and left the scene, he planned for Cindi and Lucia to sashay past the photographers wearing the very briefest of thong bikinis
.

‘If you
really
wanna grab their attention,’ Lou suggested, with a sly smile, ‘you’ll take your tops off.’

‘No way,’ Lucia said firmly.

‘Understand this,’ Lou answered, with a stern shake of a bony finger. ‘To be a star, that’s what you gotta do.’

Cindi was up for it: she wasn’t sleeping with Lou Steiner for the pure joy of sharing his bed. Like Lucia, being discovered was her constant dream.

The scene went exactly as Lou had promised it would. The moment the Italian starlet made her exit, Cindi and Lucia undulated into the picture. The photographers–spotting two pretty, scantily clad girls–began snapping away.

Lucia immediately experienced an addictive sensation of power. She’d never had this much attention and it was quite a kick
.

Lou, standing on the sidelines, began waving his hands in the air, indicating to them that they should drop their tops. The photographers got into it, too. ‘C’mon, girls,’ yelled a couple of the English ones standing at the front. ‘Show us your titties.’

Cindi unhooked her bra. Out tumbled her enormous new silicone breasts with huge, erect nipples
.

Now the flashbulbs
really
started popping
.

Lucia hung back, suddenly feeling shy
.

‘You, too,’ yelled one of the photographers. ‘C’mon, darlin’. Show us your boobs.’

She wasn’t ashamed of her body, but the thought of her dad and the rest of her family seeing the photographs stopped her. ‘Sorry, this is all you’re getting, guys,’ she said, still trying to pose provocatively like she’d seen in the magazines
.

But their focus was no longer directed at her. Cindi was the one getting all the attention
.

By the time the photographers lost interest and drifted off, Cindi had posed for hundreds of photographs
.

Lou came running over as Cindi put her top back on. ‘You did it!’ he said excitedly. ‘These photos will hit the front pages everywhere.’

‘The front pages of what?’ Lucia asked, a tad jealous.

‘Magazines, newspapers,’ Lou crowed. ‘You lost out, honey. Shoulda listened to me.’

Unfortunately–much to Lou’s chagrin–the photographs did nothing for Cindi’s career. Topless photos were no big deal any more, so she and Lucia returned to America disappointed and undiscovered.

Lucia kept slogging away at her waitress job, going to auditions whenever she could, not dating much and having dinner at her family’s house every Saturday night, where her dad lectured her on the importance of giving up her dreams and getting a proper job in a bank like her sister, Selma. He kept nagging her about making sure she had a secure future.

Secure future indeed. No, thank you. One way or another she was going to become a star.

The only good thing that came out of her brief encounter with Lou Steiner was his name-change idea. A few weekends later she was watching TV with Selma, when on came a Barry Manilow special. ‘Can we switch channels?’ she asked, preferring a more soulful kind of music
.

‘No way!’ Selma protested. ‘This Manilow guy is so cute! You gotta sit still an’ watch him.’

So she did. And when Mr Manilow–resplendent in a white suit and gold brocade vest–began singing his famous hit ‘Copacabana’, she suddenly sat up very straight. ‘Her name was Lola’, he sang. ‘She was a showgirl…’

Yes! That was it! Lola. Lola Sanchez. It had a certain ring to it
.

The moment she changed her name from Lucia to Lola, good things began to happen. She landed a legitimate agent who thought she had potential, then a small role on a cable soap show, and finally a minor but pivotal role in a real movie. After that, her big break came, starring in Merrill Zandack’s film
.

Stardom, when it came her way, was fast and furious.

Now, five years later, she was back in the South of France. Only this time she wasn’t staying in a cheap hotel desperately trying to get noticed. This time she was a star.

Lola Sanchez.

Superstar.

It had been some trip.

‘Take your pick,’ Linc said, indicating a treasure trove of exquisite diamond jewellery laid out in open black leather boxes lined with rich crushed velvet. ‘Or maybe you’d like to choose everything.’ He grinned–the little-boy grin she found so damned appealing. ‘Catch me while I’m in a generous mood, sweetheart. You know it doesn’t happen every day.’

Shelby sighed, happy to see him sober, yet still disturbed by the previous night. ‘You don’t have to do this,’ she said.

‘I know I don’t
have
to,’ he said, still grinning. ‘I
want
to. There’s a big difference.’

She sighed again. Why did he feel he always had to overcompensate? A simple apology would’ve been enough. Or a guarantee that he would never do it again.

‘What’s it gonna be?’ he said, putting his arm around her.

She stared at the glittering jewellery, unable to decide on any of it.

‘Personally I favour the pink diamond,’ he said. ‘Got a feeling it matches my eyes.’

She couldn’t help laughing as he picked up the magnificent seven-carat ring and slipped it on her finger. ‘Perfect fit. Now I’m gonna havta marry you all over again.’

The ring was certainly beautiful, but she didn’t want him buying her expensive presents simply because he felt guilty.

‘I hate it when you drink,’ she said softly.

‘I know,’ he replied. ‘You don’t have to remind me–I turn into Jerk of the Year.’

‘Then why do you do it?’

‘Ah…’ he said ruefully. ‘Wouldn’t it be nice if I could come up with a simple reply?’

They both knew it wasn’t simple. Nothing about Linc was simple.

At least he realized he’d behaved like a jerk, that was something.

‘How about making up your mind to quit?’ she suggested. ‘That’s what would
really
make me happy.’

‘It’s not that big a problem, sweetheart,’ he said, anxious to move on.

‘Yes, Linc,’ she persisted. ‘It is.’

‘No, baby,’ he said, his voice hardening. ‘It isn’t.’

They’d had this conversation many times and nothing ever changed. She had a nagging feeling that one of these days she’d have to leave him.

The sad thing was that he’d force her into it.

‘M
r Zandack would like to see you in his stateroom,’ Jonas said, catching Cat outside her cabin.

‘Forget about it,’ she answered brusquely. ‘I told you, I’m outta here.’

Jonas was on a mission, and there was no way he was allowing her to escape. ‘You could show him the courtesy of explaining why.’

‘Trust me,’ she said, narrowing her green eyes. ‘He
knows
why.’

‘Can’t you give him two minutes?’ Jonas urged, well aware that Merrill had a nasty way of punishing the wrong people, and he was directly in the line of fire.

‘Why?’ she asked.

‘For me,’ he said. ‘I’ll be right outside the door. And if you don’t work it out with him, I promise I’ll personally put you on the tender. How’s that?’

‘Y’know, this isn’t fair,’ she said, running a hand through her short blonde hair. ‘This scene doesn’t interest me. I want to split.’

‘I know you do,’ he said, peering past her into her cabin. Shit! She was packed and ready to go. ‘If you could just do it for me I’ll be for ever in your debt,’ he said calmly. It hurt him to beg, but what else could he do?

Hmm…for ever in her debt, huh? Not such a bad thing
. ‘Well…okay,’ she agreed, although she’d already made the decision that she didn’t care
how
difficult it would be to find somebody else to finance her movie–she was through with Merrill Zandack.

‘Thank you,’ Jonas said, sounding properly grateful. ‘I owe you one.’

She followed him upstairs and down the long corridor that led to Merrill’s stateroom. Jonas knocked tentatively, then opened the door. She walked into the room while Jonas remained outside.

Merrill was sitting up in bed wearing chocolate brown silk pyjamas. His Russian girlfriend–fully made up–was in bed beside him, clad in a lacy négligé. A tray of breakfast goodies sat on his lap. It was a cosy scene of domestic bliss that hardly rang true.

‘Uh…y’know, I wasn’t exactly planning on saying goodbye,’ Cat said, hovering by the door, ‘but apparently it’s the rule around her.’ She took a bold step forward. ‘Would you
please
instruct your captain to let me off this boat before I’m forced to jump?’

‘Ah, Cat, Cat,’ Merrill said, shaking his head. ‘You are a very impulsive girl.’

She
was impulsive! What about him? Was it possible that he actually
didn’t
recall demanding that she suck his pathetic erection last night? ‘Excuse me?’ she said, glaring at him.

‘If I did anything that offended you I deeply apologize. Perhaps I had too many tequilas–I remember nothing.’

Oh, so now he’d come up with the tried and true I-remember-nothing excuse. Didn’t that go out of style with the old Rock Hudson and Doris Day movies that she saw so often on late-night TV?

‘Of course you may leave, if that’s what you’re certain you want,’ Merrill continued. ‘As long as you don’t forget
that tonight I am throwing a party for you, and there will be many people attending that you should meet for the sake of your career.’

Oh, man, now he was laying a guilt trip on her. She’d totally forgotten about the party.

‘If you like, Jonas will accompany you into town,’ Merrill added. ‘You can spend the day shopping. Buy anything you want–Jonas has my credit card.’

‘No, thanks,’ she said. ‘Shopping’s not my thing.’

‘You could walk around the town,’ he suggested. ‘You’re not a prisoner on my boat.’

‘Well, yeah,’ she said indignantly. ‘That’s exactly how I feel.’

His Russian girlfriend was staring at her with a totally blank face. Cat wondered if she actually spoke perfect English and couldn’t be bothered to get involved. Highly likely, and wise.

‘Take the tender to shore,’ Merrill said magnanimously. ‘Jonas is yours for the day. He’ll buy you lunch, and tonight you’ll attend my party.’ A crafty pause. ‘Or should I say
our
party?’

Now
what was she supposed to do? Fortunately she hadn’t reached Jump, because if she’d told him about the incident he’d insist she get the hell out of there. On the other hand, if she was smart she’d stay, and hopefully cement the financing and support for her movie.

‘Okay,’ she said at last, mad at herself for weakening. But it wasn’t as if Merrill was a
threat
–he was simply a fat old producer who obviously got off on trying to control women sexually.

‘Excellent decision,’ Merrill said. ‘You’re a clever girl.’

Was she? She didn’t
feel
clever.

‘Jonas,’ Merrill yelled. ‘Get in here.’

Jonas entered the room. ‘Take Cat to lunch,’ Merrill
ordered, ‘and whatever else she wants to do. Be back here by five.’

Jonas shot her a quick glance. She wondered if he thought she’d caved in too easily. So what? She didn’t care
what
he thought.

‘Tonight’s the party,’ Jonas said, obviously not thrilled at the thought of spending the day with her. ‘I should be here.’

‘Not necessary,’ Merrill said, dismissing him. ‘You haven’t had a day off since we arrived.’

‘It would hardly be a day off,’ Jonas pointed out.

‘Go,’ Merrill said, waving them both out of his room.

‘Hmm…’ Cat said once they were outside. ‘Looks like you’re stuck with me.’

‘Yes, it does,’ he said dourly.

‘Don’t worry,’ she said. ‘Soon as we hit the shore you can take off and I’ll do my own thing.’

‘I have my orders,’ he said rigidly, ‘and they are to take you to lunch.’

‘Do you always do everything he says?’

‘Mr Zandack is my boss. I’m getting the best education possible. There’s nothing wrong with that.’

‘If you say so.’

‘Yes,’ he said, uptight as usual. ‘I do.’

Lola wasn’t sure what she wanted to do after
New York State of Mind
. She’d just finished shooting a thriller in Atlanta, and there were several scripts she was considering for the future. Last night Merrill Zandack had mentioned that Cat’s next project was going to be big. She’d seen
Wild Child
, and even though it was quite rough, it had a frantic energy and moved fast. Cat was not an experienced filmmaker but, according to Merrill, she had heat and a built-in
young audience. Lola liked the thought of that. ‘What’s the role?’ she’d asked.

‘A sexy, captivating woman like you,’ Merrill had replied.

Lola admired Merrill. He was responsible for her first big break, and even though she’d had to service him orally, she didn’t mind, because it wasn’t as if she was involved with anyone at the time, and a simple blow-job wasn’t
that
big a deal. In fact, ex-President Clinton didn’t even consider it sex.

Yes, Merrill was a powerful man who could make things happen.

By the time her makeup artist and hairdresser had finished with her, and her stylist had helped her into a dazzling white sundress, she was ready for anything.

Faye Margolis was on the phone in the living room. Lola always felt secure when Faye was around: she considered her hard-working publicist better than a dozen bodyguards. People were scared of Faye–she was a genius at what she did and everyone knew it.

‘Morning,’ Faye said briskly, putting down the phone. ‘Did we all sleep well?’

‘Sure did,’ Lola replied, applying a touch more lip gloss with her finger. ‘What’s my agenda today?’

‘While
you
lunch with Mr Zandack, I’ll be setting up a room with TV crews from Sweden, Denmark and Norway,’ Faye said. ‘Those interviews will take you half an hour after your lunch. Then at three thirty you’re having a drink with the journalist from
Vanity Fair
.’

‘Why aren’t
I
coming to lunch?’ Matt asked in a whiny voice.

‘It’s all business,’ Faye explained.

‘Besides,’ Lola added, unable to resist a tiny dig, ‘Merrill didn’t invite you.’

‘That’s not very polite,’ Matt said sulkily.

‘Nobody
forced
you to come here,’ Lola pointed out. ‘You could’ve stayed in L.A.’

‘I thought you
wanted
me to come,’ he said, pulling on his goatee.

‘You heard Faye,’ Lola said impatiently. ‘It’s an important business lunch. Surely you can see that it wouldn’t look right having my husband trailing behind me?’

‘I don’t understand why I can’t come,’ he complained, following her around the room.

‘You’ll be escorting her to the party tonight on Merrill’s yacht,’ Faye interjected. ‘I’m sure that’ll be more interesting for you, Matt.’

‘Then what’m I supposed to do today?’ he said, scowling like a truculent child.

‘Sorry,’ Lola said, picking up her Dolce & Gabbana sunglasses. ‘I’m not responsible for planning your leisure time.’

Faye hustled her out of the door before the two of them became embroiled in a fight. No man enjoyed being relegated to the background. Famous women and non-famous men: it was an ongoing problem.

A group of eager photographers were gathered outside the hotel. They jumped to attention as soon as Lola appeared. She flashed them a smile and a few poses while wondering if any of them were the same photographers who’d captured her and Cindi on their first trip to the Cannes Film Festival. Little did they know what a bonanza they’d have if they discovered her early pictures.

For a moment her mind flashed on Cindi. She hadn’t spoken to her in years. The last she’d heard, Cindi had married Lou Steiner and was dabbling in soft-core porno movies. How sad if it was true.

She climbed into the waiting car, Faye right behind her.

The moment the car set off, Faye was on her case. ‘Do you have something you want to tell me?’ Faye enquired, in her raspy voice.

‘What might that be?’ Lola asked, casually removing her purple tinted shades.

‘I think you know what,’ Faye said, her tone brooking no argument. ‘And since
I
’m the one who’ll have to deal with it, shouldn’t you be giving me a heads up?’

Lola sighed, she knew exactly what Faye was getting at. ‘It’s not
my
fault,’ she answered defensively. ‘Matt is simply not right for me.’

‘He’s trying,’ Faye said, uncharacteristically sympathetic.

‘Not hard enough,’ Lola replied.

‘I hope your plans do not include getting back together with Mr Alvarez.’

‘What’s wrong with Tony?’ Lola asked, springing to her ex-fiancé’s defence. ‘He’s not doing drugs any more.’

‘How do
you
know?’ Faye said, squinting at her in a knowing way.

‘Tony’s had a bad rap, that’s all.’

‘And because of his
bad rap
,’ Faye said pointedly, ‘
you
endured a ton of
bad
publicity.’

‘It wasn’t
that
bad.’

‘You have a short memory, dear. The first time Tony was arrested for possession
you
were with him. They took you to the station and kept you there for three hours. Your lawyer had to call in a lot of favours to make it go away. And so did I.’

‘Relax,’ Lola said irritably. ‘I’m not planning on getting back together with Tony.’

‘Good,’ Faye said sternly.

Sometimes Faye’s know-it-all attitude drove Lola crazy. Why couldn’t the woman understand exactly how difficult it was for her?

‘It’s just that Matt is like a great big lummox who hangs around me with nothing to do,’ she said, unable to let it go. ‘He depends on
me
to entertain him. Isn’t it about time he
realized that I’m not an entertainment director? He’s
boring
, Faye, and I can’t
stand
boring.’

‘Then why did you marry him?’ Faye asked, sensible as usual.

‘You
know
why I married him,’ Lola said irritably. ‘Because my manager and my agent and my lawyer
and
you advised me to do so. “Get as far away from Tony as possible,” you all insisted. “He’s ruining your career.” So I did.’

‘I’d call that excellent advice,’ Faye said. ‘It distanced you from a man who was bringing you nothing but damaging publicity. It saved you from being dragged down with him.’

‘You don’t understand,’ Lola insisted, her eyes gleaming. ‘I have to be
passionate
with a man. There’s no way I can settle for mediocre.’

‘And apparently you’re not going to,’ Faye murmured drily.

As soon as they arrived at the Hôtel du Cap, Lola forgot about Matt and Tony and launched into career mode, sweeping through the spacious lobby as if she owned the place. Faye accompanied her to the outdoor patio overlooking the blue Mediterranean, where a solicitous maître d’ ushered her over to Merrill Zandack’s table.

Merrill was sitting by himself reading
Variety
while puffing on his usual fat cigar. He did not get up as Lola approached. She tapped him on the shoulder. ‘Lola, dear,’ he greeted her. ‘You look delicious as usual.’

‘I don’t know how, considering the way you plied me with tequila last night,’ she said, flirting outrageously. ‘You’re such a bad boy, Merrill,’ she added, wagging a playful finger in his face as she slid into the chair opposite him. ‘I have a monster hangover. I must look like a hag.’

‘Impossible, my dear. You’re one of the sexiest and most talented actresses around.’

‘I
love
that you think that,’ Lola said, wondering what other actresses he had in mind. ‘You were the first one to give me a break. I’ll always be grateful for that.’

‘Me too,’ he said, with a dirty-old-man leer.

Oh, God! Was he remembering his shrivelled old cock in her mouth? How humiliating!

‘I have that script we talked about for you to read,’ he said. ‘Cat’s written a very complex character. Personally, I think you’re right for it.’

‘Did your people messenger copies to my people?’ she asked. Translation: ‘I can’t be bothered to read it, so send it to my manager.’

‘Who needs agents and managers?’ Merrill said. ‘I want
you
to read it. You’ll do that for me, Lola, won’t you?’

‘Of course I will, Merrill,’ she answered graciously. ‘I trust your judgement all the way.’

Sitting with her director, Russell Savage, and her co-star, Beck Carson, on a raised platform with a microphone in front of her, facing an army of international journalists, Shelby wished she hadn’t accepted the damn pink-diamond ring. Linc probably thought all was forgiven, which meant that he’d do it again. Maybe not this week or even this month, but he always followed a pattern. No Alcoholics Anonymous for Linc Blackwood–the man who claimed he didn’t have a problem. Shelby was becoming more convinced every day that if he didn’t do something about it, his drinking would eventually destroy their relationship.