“No. Blair Underwood is,” Lynda insisted. “An’ then Boris Kodjoe an’ oh yeah–Taye Diggs–only Taye is kinda short, an’ I like my men tall.”
“Carlos is five feet ten inches,” Dorian sniped. “Hardly a giant.”
“Yeah, well let me tell you this–he’s a giant in the place where it really matters,” Lynda shot back, brown eyes flashing.
“Okay, okay, you two,” Cameron said. “Quit with the bickering. And Dorian, I had no idea you were into rock concerts. They’re all rough and noisy and filled with sweaty rock fans.”
“Sounds très sexy,” Dorian purred. “Take me! Take me!”
“Anything sounds sexy to you,” Lynda snapped.
Cameron had three afternoon clients left, then she was through for the day. She thought about how much she was looking forward to meeting up with Katie, whom she hadn’t seen in two years. Katie and Jinx were the only people who knew about Gregg and what had taken place between them. None of her other friends had any idea that she was actually married.
Oh God! She was still married. How depressing. Had to do something about that. And she would. Soon. Eventually she’d hire a lawyer and discuss her options.
As she worked with her final client–an overweight woman who was getting married in four weeks’ time and needed to lose twenty pounds–her mind wandered back to that morning and Don Verona. She had to admit that he was very attractive. He was also major charming and a smooth flirt, although when he’d invited her out it had come as a surprise.
“Hey,” he’d said, concentrating on perfecting his already impressive abs, “I’m having dinner with some interesting people tonight. Care to join me?”
She’d shaken her head and said a very firm no.
Two minutes after she’d declined, he’d reached for his iPhone and called someone else, a female who’d apparently said yes.
“You don’t wait around, do you?” she’d remarked.
“Why waste time,” he’d replied with a jaunty wink.
“By the way,” she’d added, thinking that it was to her advantage to put him straight upfront, “it’s nothing personal, but I think I should warn you–I never mix business and pleasure. So, if we are going to work together…”
“I’ll bear that in mind,” he’d said, giving her the famous Don Verona self-deprecating grin.
Better be careful of this one, she’d thought. He could be trouble, and the last thing I need is distractions.
There was something about Cole de Barge that Cameron had always found very appealing. Not only was he undeniably handsome with his milk-chocolate skin and well-defined features, plus a body straight off the cover of Men’s Health, he was also a truly decent person with no agenda, and he was smart–so smart that she was considering offering him a business partnership, although that might not sit too well with Lynda and Dorian, who would be most put out that she hadn’t chosen them. The truth was that Lynda wasn’t business-partner material, she was too intent on getting Carlos to marry her so she could settle down and raise a slew of kids. Lynda’s maternal instincts were way out of control. And as for Dorian…well, Dorian was Dorian. An excellent trainer, a big flirt, and not to be taken that seriously.
Cole, on the other hand, had a serious side. It was no wonder every gay mogul in town fell in lust with him. First lust and then love.
Cole had experienced several high-powered relationships with major Hollywood players, but he always got restless when they started parading him around like a piece of meat. He deserved respect, and that never happened when you were some rich big-shot’s boyfriend. Like Cameron, he was determined to achieve something on his own.
They’d met when she’d first arrived in L.A. and been searching for a job. She was sitting at a table in Starbucks on the corner of Robertson and Beverly, thumbing through a Fitness magazine, when Cole had wandered over. “Can I take a look at that when you’re done?” he’d asked. “There’s an interview inside I’ve been meaning to get to.”
She’d given him an appraising once-over. “Only if you tell me where the best sports club in town is,” she’d replied.
“You looking for a personal trainer?” he’d asked.
“No. I’m looking for a job.”
That’s how they’d met, and that’s how she’d gotten to work at Bounce, where Cole was already one of the most popular trainers.
At first she’d been wary of working there, especially when Cole told her the deal. “You mean I have to pay them rent and commission?” she’d said. “I can’t afford to do that. I need a job that pays me.”
“I got your back, girl,” he’d assured her. “You’ll make a lot more money controlling your own clients. I’ll even set you up with a couple of mine to start you off.”
Cole had been right, he’d kept his promise and given her three of his own clients with whom she was still working. He’d turned out to be a true and valuable friend.
“What’s this Katie babe like?” he asked as they left Bounce and strolled out to the parking lot.
“She’s a great girl,” Cameron said. “Very pretty in a rock chick kind of way.”
“And you’re old friends?”
“Uh huh. We’ve been through a lot of stuff together,” Cameron said, opening her car door. “But I guarantee you’ll prefer her boyfriend–he’s a skinny Brit, full of sexy rock ’n’ roll moves.”
“Who cares?” Cole said, heading for his motorcycle. “After my last crash ’n’ burn I’ve decided to go the celibate route.”
“That’s good to know,” Cameron said, grinning, “’cause he’s not gay.”
“Honey, they all are, given the right circumstances,” Cole replied with a knowing wink. “You can bet on it.”
“So cynical,” Cameron sighed, getting in her car.
“So right,” Cole responded, jumping astride his motorcycle.
They met up with Katie at a coffee shop on Sunset. Katie was petite, with a halo of curly red hair and an abundance of freckles. Cameron was pleased to note that she and Cole hit it off immediately. Katie was special, and as for Cole–he was a prince.
They sat around talking for a while before heading off to Katie’s boyfriend’s gig at a club down the street.
“Tonight is like kind of a showcase,” Katie confided excitedly as they settled into a booth. “There’s reps from two big record companies coming. Jinx is way out psyched, this could lead to something major big like a record deal.”
“Sweet,” Cole said, ordering a beer.
“I hope it works out,” Cameron said, opting for a Red Bull.
“So do I,” Katie sighed wistfully. “’Cause we got a really tight thing going, and if Jinx scores a deal, then who knows…” she trailed off.
“What?” Cameron asked curiously.
“We might even get married,” Katie giggled.
“Is that what you want?” Cameron asked, amazed that anyone would even think of committing to a lifetime relationship.
“We’ve been talking about it,” Katie said.
On stage Jinx came across like a young Mick Jagger, with all the hip-snaking moves and a skinny body in perpetual motion. His group–Satisfy–were loud and energetic.
Cameron was impressed, and even though it wasn’t her kind of music–too rock ’n’ roll–the teenage girls in the audience freaked. She could tell that Jinx possessed a kind of quirky star quality.
Cole thought Jinx was hot. And corruptible.
“I’m telling you–he’s not,” Cameron whispered.
“There’s no way he’d turn down a blow-job on a cold night,” Cole responded with a knowing smirk.
“From a girl,” Cameron insisted.
“You’re such an innocent,” Cole teased.
“Isn’t he fantastic?” Katie enthused, leaning over.
“Right on,” Cameron agreed.
Later, after a backstage drink with Jinx and the band, Cole took off and Cameron and Katie got a chance to sit back and talk.
“You look amaz
ing,” Katie said, peering at her. “How’s everything going?”
“I’m working toward what I want to do,” Cameron said. “It’s all good, I’m getting there.”
“And Hawaii is—”
“Nothing but a faded memory,” Cameron interjected. “I never even think about Gregg anymore. He’s past history.”
“No more bad memories?” Katie asked sympathetically.
“I’m telling you, it’s all forgotten.”
“Who’d have thought Gregg would turn out to be such a bastard,” Katie said. “I hate that—”
“Can we not go there?” Cameron interrupted, willing Katie to drop the subject. “I want to hear more about you and Jinx and those marriage plans of yours.”
Katie couldn’t wait to tell her everything.
Later, when Cameron left the club, she stood outside, called Marlon on her cell, and asked if he was up for a visit.
“All clear,” Marlon said, referring to the fact that his current girlfriend wasn’t around. “Come on over.”
So she did, and as usual he was delighted to see her. Marlon was always delighted to see her. A college student and aspiring screenwriter, she knew nothing about him except that he was originally from Tennessee, tall and lanky with bleached-by-the-sun hair, deep hazel eyes, a smoking body, and always available.
The moment she walked into his shack at the beach, she began unbuttoning her Cargo pants. Neither of them talked much, they both knew the deal.
Marlon was in his Calvin jeans with nothing underneath. “Hey,” he said, hurriedly dropping his Calvins.
“Hey,” she said, peeling off her T-shirt.
He grabbed her in an embrace and they began kissing, long, hot kisses, his tongue darting in and out of her mouth. One thing about Marlon, he was a great kisser, full of enthusiasm. Unfortunately his foreplay skills needed honing, but she wasn’t there to teach him, she was there for the sex, the feel of him inside her, filling her up with his strong, overpowering manhood.
Sex was comforting. Sex was real. She didn’t need the hassle of a relationship, this thing she had with Marlon would do just fine.
They fucked for a long time, until they both came. Then within minutes of their grand climax, she was out of there, in her car and on the way home.
It wasn’t perfect, but it was a lot better than getting stuck with one of Carlos’s horny friends.
Chapter Six
Most people would pass out mixing Vicodin and Xanax, but Lucy Standard–formerly Lucy Lyons–movie star–thrived on the combination, although sometimes she almost nodded off at the dinner table–prompting her husband, Phil, to joke about his wife the drug addict.
Their friends did not consider it too amusing, but Phil assured everyone that Lucy knew exactly what she was doing.
“It’s her back,” he explained. “She suffers from excruciating pain from a stunt she insisted on doing herself when she starred in that action movie with our current Governor–the so-called actor. He shoulda stopped her, but he was too busy worrying about his close-ups.”
Lucy and Phil lived in a sprawling ranch house in Brentwood, with their two children and a menagerie of animals–including three dogs, a black pig and a parrot who screamed Fuck you! at anyone who came within two feet of his perch.
Phil–a big bear of a man with several Oscars on his mantel–was affable, slightly overweight and bearded, with reddish hair and an extremely hearty laugh. He was also a notorious philanderer. “Pussy is my hobby,” he was known to boast to his male cohorts. “Pussy and tits–that’s that’s what makes the world go round.”
Lucy chose to ignore the fact that her husband slept with anything that had a pulse, although she had to be aware of it. Everyone knew that Phil suffered from a major zipper problem.
Lucy was forty, a tough age to be for an actress in Hollywood. A once super-successful star, she hadn’t worked in several years, and since Phil was a much-in-demand screenwriter she pretended that it didn’t bother her, but of course it did. However, she had no desire to play anyone’s mother on screen, so she’d bided her time waiting for the right opportunity to make a startling comeback. Lucy was still extremely beautiful with a sweep of waist-length black hair and a ferocious body. She was also quite a competent actress.
Phil scored big bucks and was extremely generous, so shopping, expensive lunches and cutting-edge beauty regimes kept Lucy busy enough. Maintenance was a bitch, and even though she wasn’t currently a working actress, she was still chased by the paparazzi everywhere she went. They were all after that one shot of her looking like crap, and she refused to give them the pleasure.
Lucy had a plan. And that plan was to make a major comeback in a major movie and all the people who’d written her movie-star days off could go eat shit. Ryan Richards was part of her plan, although he didn’t know it yet. Ryan Richards was going to produce the movie that would make her a star again. And her husband, Phil, was going to write her the role of a lifetime–although he also didn’t know it yet.
Lucy, when she wasn’t zonked out of her mind–knew exactly how she would maneuver the two men into position. And Mandy would help her, because Mandy was her friend.
Of course Mandy didn’t know it yet, either, but Lucy was going to let her in on the plan very very soon.
“Who decided on Geoffrey’s for dinner?” Ryan asked as he and Mandy sat in his Lexus trapped in a major traffic jam on the Pacific Coast Highway.
“Lucy’s choice,” Mandy replied, pulling down the visor and peering at her reflection. “Our check.”
“If it’s our check, then why was it her choice?” Ryan persisted.
“You know Lucy,” Mandy answered vaguely.
“By the way,” Ryan said as casually as possible. “I invited Don and a date to join us.”
“What?” Mandy said, sitting up ramrod straight, a sure sign she was annoyed.
“Didn’t you say it’s our dinner, so no problem, right?” he said calmly.
“You should’ve told me,” Mandy snapped.
“I forgot. Big fucking deal.”
“You know I do not appreciate surprises.”
“I invited him ’cause he had nothing to do. I thought you’d be pleased. You like Don, don’t you?”
“Sometimes,” Mandy answered guardedly. Yes, she did like Don. And she’d like him even more if he paid attention to her. He was always so dismissive, and it pissed her off. She was Hamilton J. Heckerling’s daughter, for crissakes. Most people jumped. Don never had. “Who’s he bringing?” she asked.
“I’m sure he’ll bring someone nice.”
“Nice!” Mandy scoffed. “Don wouldn’t know nice if it slapped him in the face! He’s into hookers, everyone knows that.”
“Not true.”
“You were the one that told me,” she said accusingly.
Shit! He’d mentioned it once. He wished he hadn’t.
“Did you at least change our reservation?” she asked.
“All done.”
“I really wish you’d told me earlier.”
“I wasn’t aware I had to check in with you.”
Mandy pursed her lips and gazed out the window. He’d known she wouldn’t take it well. Mandy was a control freak exactly like her father; she wanted everything run by her before it happened. The only time he got away from her controlling ways was when he was in production on a movie, although during the first few months of their marriage she’d attempted to interfere in that too. Not for long though, because he’d stopped her at the pass. Making movies was his thing, and she’d soon learned–albeit reluctantly–to stay out of his business.
Stuck in traffic, his mind started drifting back to the early days before they were married. The sex had been great, really great. One night they’d been driving home from dinner, and the moment they’d hit the flats of Beverly Hills she’d leaned across, unzipped his pants, and given him a fantastic blow-job while he was driving. It was one of his most memorable experiences.
They’d had
some laughs then.
Now, seven years later there were no more laughs, and his life was moving forward at a frightening speed. Forty was looming and if he was truthful to himself, he’d admit that he was stuck in a marriage with a woman he didn’t like anymore. It was time to do something–anything.
“I’ve been thinking,” he said, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel as they continued to crawl along P.C.H.
“Good for you,” she responded, in full pissy mood.
“Seriously, Mandy,” he said, persevering, “I’ve been thinking that maybe it might help us out if we went to couples counseling.”
“What?” she exclaimed, quite horrified. “Couples counseling! I can’t be seen doing something like that. How would it look?”
“Couples counseling is about two people seeing a counselor privately,” Ryan explained. “And, I might add–paying big bucks to do so.”
“Why would you even think about us doing something like that?” Mandy demanded, staring at him accusingly.
“’Cause surely you must realize that we’re drifting more apart every day.” There, he’d said it. He’d opened the gates and he was glad.
“No, we’re not,” she said stubbornly. “Why would you say that?”
“Because it’s true,” he said, wishing the traffic would move faster. He paused for a moment before plunging ahead. “When was the last time we had sex?” he asked, thinking that he may as well go for it, this was as good a time as any.
“Ha!” Mandy snorted. “So that’s what this is about. Sex. I should’ve guessed.”
“You can’t fight the truth, Mandy. We haven’t had sex in months.”
“Is that all you can think about?”
“Jesus Christ! Face it. When a married couple stops having sex—”
“Y’know,” Mandy said, interrupting him, because he was saying things she did not wish to hear, “I should listen to my father more often. He taught me that most men think of nothing else.”
“Your father taught you a lot of things,” Ryan muttered. “None of them good.”
“Are you criticizing Daddy?” she shrieked, outraged.