Hollywood Divorces • Hollywood Wives: The New Generation

  So you should be, you bastard. It was all your fault.

  ‘Who’s Selma?’ Maria piped up, in her thin annoying voice.

  ‘Lola’s sister,’ Miss Know-it-all Petra said. ‘The one who got shot. I read about it in the Star. It was horrible! OhmiGod—’ she exclaimed, suddenly realizing who Tony was. ‘You were with her, weren’t you?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Tony said. ‘I was there.’

  An awkward silence ensued while Maria looked at him questioningly, waiting for an explanation. There was none forthcoming.

  ‘Oh,’ Petra said, waving across the room. ‘Isn’t that Ricky Martin? I must go say hello.’ Dragging Jump by the arm, she departed, leaving Tony, Maria and Lola standing by themselves.

  There was another awkward silence. This time Tony broke it. ‘Maria,’ he commanded, ‘go look at the paintings.’

  ‘I’ll wait for you,’ Maria ventured.

  ‘No,’ Tony said sharply. ‘Go look now. I’ll catch up with you.’

  Maria was too young to argue. She took off with a hurt expression.

  ‘Dealing in juveniles now?’ Lola said, arching an eyebrow.

  ‘She’s eighteen,’ Tony replied evenly. ‘Is that a bad thing?’

  ‘Let me ask you something,’ Lola said. ‘If I was with an eighteen-year-old boy, would you think that was a bad thing?’

  ‘Ah, but you wouldn’t be,’ Tony responded knowingly. ‘You prefer your men seasoned.’

  They exchanged a long, lustful look.

  ‘Have you explored this house?’ he said. ‘The architecture is quite something.’

  ‘That’s what I told Matt,’ she said. ‘He didn’t seem to get it.’

  ‘Where is your old man?’

  ‘Watching a ball game in the kitchen with the waiters.’

  ‘Then maybe I should show you around. I’ve been here many times before. Jorge is a close friend.’

  ‘Why not?’ she said, her voice husky.

  ‘Come,’ Tony said, taking her arm, and leading her in the opposite direction to Maria.

  Somehow, now that Selma was better, her bargain with God did not seem so important.

  ‘What are we going to do?’ Pete asked. They were sitting in his SUV in Shelby’s driveway.

  ‘Nothing right now,’ she replied.

  ‘We can’t go on pretending that there isn’t something happening between us.’

  ‘Pete, you know the position I’m in.’

  ‘Yes, I do. And I also know that you shouldn’t wait any longer,’ he said forcefully. ‘Linc’s living with someone–doesn’t that tell you it’s over between the two of you?’

  ‘I suppose so,’ she answered listlessly.

  ‘Then act on it.’

  ‘I will.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘Monday.’

  ‘Promise?’

  ‘Yes, I promise.’

  He leaned over and kissed her on the lips, gently at first, but as the kiss progressed, things became more intense.

  She found herself responding to him with a rush of passion, remembering the long, steamy necking sessions they’d indulged in way before she’d met and married Linc.

  After a few minutes he backed off. ‘Why don’t we go to my house?’ he suggested.

  ‘I can’t,’ she said breathlessly. ‘This is my parents’ last night in L.A. I have to be here for them in the morning.’

  ‘You sound more like a schoolgirl than a big movie star,’ he said, amused.

  ‘Aren’t we all kids when it comes to our parents?’

  ‘Guess so,’ he said, and he leaned in and started kissing her again, long, dreamy soul kisses. ‘When?’ he asked.

  ‘As soon as they leave,’ she promised, thinking that Pete was a very special man, and if Linc hadn’t come along, who knew what might’ve happened?

  ‘I’ll wait,’ Pete said.

  ‘I know you will,’ she answered softly, reaching for the door handle.

  ‘Where are you going?’ he asked, loath for her to leave.

  ‘Home. I live here. Remember?’

  ‘Can I come in with you?’

  ‘No, Pete. My parents…’

  ‘Man,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘You’re making me feel like I’m back in high school.’

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘Don’t be,’ he said, jumping out of the driver’s seat, and running round to open the passenger door for her. ‘I kinda like it. Makes me feel young.’

  She stepped out of the SUV and into his arms. He kissed her again, holding her close for several minutes.

  ‘Tomorrow,’ she whispered, extracting herself.

  And she entered her house, wondering how he’d feel when she told him she was pregnant.

  ‘I’m ravenously hungry!’ Cat exclaimed, as Nick’s Maserati sped along the Pacific Coast Highway at ninety miles an hour. ‘And you’re about to get us arrested.’

  ‘For what?’ he said, clicking on the CD player, flooding the night with the raucous sounds of Fifty Cent.

  ‘Speeding, of course. And driving half drunk.’

  ‘I am not half drunk,’ he protested. ‘Had a coupla beers, that’s it. Besides, alcohol doesn’t affect me.’

  ‘It might not affect you,’ she lectured, ‘but I don’t think the cops would be too happy. The speed limit on PCH is probably like thirty-five. What do you think?’

  ‘I think I like this car a lot,’ he said, shooting her a quick look. ‘Almost as much as I like you.’

  ‘Oh, so now I’m in competition with a car, am I?’

  He laughed. ‘You’re not in competition with anyone. You’re an original. You’re funny, talented, unusual, knowledgeable, and now all I gotta do is find out if you’re a great lay.’

  ‘Ha! I don’t have to prove anything,’ she said. ‘You do.’

  ‘You wanna know if I’m a great lay?’ he said quizzically. ‘I’ll give you a book of references, how’s that?’

  ‘Your girlfriends write you references, do they?’

  ‘I’ve had a couple of English ones write about me in the London tabs. “Nick Logan is the greatest lover I’ve ever had,” and that’s a direct quote.’

  ‘I know all about the English papers. Those girls say it about any famous guy they can lure into bed. They get paid big bucks for scoring with a celebrity–doesn’t matter who it is. Jack Nicholson, Nic Cage, Rod Stewart. They always claim the guy is the greatest lover they ever had with the biggest dick. It sells more papers.’

  ‘No shit?’

  ‘Like you didn’t know.’

  ‘I didn’t,’ he protested.

  ‘Yes, you did.’

  ‘No, I didn’t.’

  ‘Where the hell are we going, Nick? Did you buy me a beach house?’

  ‘Yeah, right.’

  ‘Then where?’

  ‘You’ll see.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘Stop bitchin’.’

  ‘Can we pull over and get something to eat?’

  ‘Close your eyes and be patient.’

  ‘I am patient.’

  ‘No, you’re not.’

  ‘It’s been such an incredible night for me.’ She sighed, leaning back in her seat. ‘Finishing the movie and then the party.’

  ‘The party was great,’ he agreed.

  ‘So…right now I’m not into a magical mystery tour. I’m tired and I’m hungry.’

  ‘Can we add horny?’

  ‘You wish.’

  ‘Five more minutes,’ he promised. ‘How’s that?’

  ‘Okay,’ she said, glancing pointedly at her watch. ‘But I should warn you, I’m timing you.’

  Five more minutes and, true to his word, he spun the car off the road towards a private gated estate. He entered a security code and the large gates swung open.

  ‘Where are we?’ she asked curiously.

  ‘A friend’s house. He lent it to me.’

  ‘What friend?’

  ‘You have to know everything, don’t you?’

  ‘
As a matter of fact, I do.’

  ‘A very discreet friend, ’cause I knew you wouldn’t want to go to a hotel.’

  ‘You could’ve come to my place.’

  ‘Nope. We’re not doing it at your apartment where you can throw me out after it’s over. This is neutral territory. Not my turf or yours. Smart, huh?’ he said, speeding the car up the long, palm-tree-lined driveway.

  ‘This must be a very rich friend,’ Cat remarked.

  ‘He’s got a buck or two.’

  ‘It’s not your Mafia friend who owes you a favour, is it?’

  ‘I didn’t say he owed me a favour, I said they offered me a favour. Big difference,’ he said, pulling up the Maserati in front of the house. ‘C’mon,’ he said, jumping out of the car. ‘It’s time for you and me to see if we really connect.’

  ‘What do you think you’re doing?’ Lola asked, her heart pounding, because Tony always had that effect on her.

  ‘Locking the door,’ he told her.

  ‘You can’t do that,’ she argued.

  ‘I can’t, huh?’ he said, throwing her one of his looks.

  ‘This is obviously the master bedroom, and the windows overlook the party.’

  ‘Nobody’s spying on us.’

  ‘You’re sure about that?’

  ‘Yeah, baby, I’m sure.’

  She wandered around the room, taking in the lush furnishings–everything in various tones of brown and beige. Then she sat on the edge of the king-size bed. ‘Well,’ she said, her heart still beating fast, ‘here we are again.’

  ‘Yeah,’ he replied. ‘Here we are.’

  ‘What do you want from me, Tony?’ she asked.

  ‘What do I want from you?’ he replied. ‘The question is, what do you want from me?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Then why did you come in here with me?’

  ‘Because I thought you were showing me the house.’

  ‘Last time I saw you it was a different story,’ he said. ‘Remember?’

  ‘Nothing’s changed,’ she replied, wishing he wasn’t so damn hard to resist. ‘We still shouldn’t be together.’

  ‘That’s why I got myself engaged.’

  ‘Because of me?’

  ‘Yeah. Thought it might cool things down for you now that you’re back with that prick you’re married to.’

  ‘Y’know, I should be going,’ she said, getting up and heading for the door.

  Tony moved quickly in front of her, blocking her way. She attempted to dodge past him. He refused to allow her to. Then he began running his hands up and down her body.

  ‘Tony,’ she said, in a low husky voice, ‘this is impossible.’

  ‘Missed you, babe,’ he said, touching her breasts, before sliding his hand up the slit in her skirt, and caressing the top of her thigh.

  ‘We…can’t do this,’ she said, his touch already driving her crazy. ‘I’m back with my husband.’

  ‘You get off on it, babe. I know you too well.’

  ‘There’s people outside,’ she protested. ‘Your girlfriend, my husband. We could be seen.’

  ‘Who gives a fuck?’ he said, unzipping his pants. ‘We got a thing goin’ nobody can break. So, c’mon, baby, suck my cock. You know you do it better than anyone.’

  She thought about refusing, walking away, telling him to get lost.

  But the truth was that she was incapable of doing or saying any of those things.

  She didn’t want to. Tony Alvarez was still her addiction of choice.

  Chapter Forty-One

  Nick’s friend’s house was not a simple beach shack, it was a magnificent ocean-front mansion.

  ‘Who does it belong to?’ Cat asked, exploring the series of huge reception rooms that all overlooked an enormous marble terrace, which in turn overlooked the beach.

  ‘A record producer dude I know,’ Nick answered, going to the bar and taking out two bottles of beer. ‘I played a rock star in a movie. This guy did the music.’

  ‘Single?’

  ‘Why? Wanna hook up with him?’ he said, handing her a beer.

  ‘You’re hilarious,’ she said. ‘I was wondering how his wife feels about us borrowing their house.’

  ‘The dude’s on the loose. No wife. He’s the kinda guy runs three girls at a time.’

  ‘Sounds like a pimp.’

  ‘What can I tell you?’ Nick said, swigging beer. ‘He’s a player.’

  ‘Then it’s no surprise the two of you get along.’

  ‘We’ve shared a girlfriend or two,’ he admitted.

  ‘Is this his picture?’ she asked, picking up a silver frame from the top of a baby grand piano and staring at a silver-haired man with a George Hamilton suntan.

  ‘That’s him.’

  ‘Not bad-looking in an older-man sort of way.’

  ‘The dude’s pushing sixty.’

  ‘I can’t stand all those old geezers who think they’re so hot,’ she said, wrinkling her nose. ‘All they do is chase after girls a quarter of their age. It’s a total turn-off.’

  ‘At least they can still get it up.’

  ‘What’s the point if they can only get it up with Viagra?’

  ‘You don’t believe in Viagra?’

  ‘My philosophy is that if you can’t get it up in the normal fashion, why bother?’

  Now it was Nick’s turn to laugh. ‘Tell that to all the old guys,’ he said, opening up the doors to the terrace. ‘I’m thinking Jacuzzi. How about you?’ he said, walking outside.

  ‘You know what,’ she said, following him out. ‘This is too over the top for me.’

  ‘Huh?’ he said, shooting her an I-do-not-believe-that-you’re-backing-out-on-me look.

  ‘This whole cool playboy scene,’ she said restlessly. ‘Y’know, the fabulous mansion, the outdoor Jacuzzi. I feel like I’m in some cheesy TV reality show.’

  ‘Does that mean you wanna go somewhere else?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You’re kidding, right?’

  ‘No. Why don’t we get in the car and drive?’

  ‘Where to?’

  ‘Anywhere we feel like.’

  ‘C’mon, Cat.’ He groaned. ‘It’s late, an’ we’re already here.’

  ‘Don’t tell me you’re chicken?’ she challenged.

  ‘Me?’

  ‘Chicken, ’cause you’re not into taking chances.’

  ‘Who said I wasn’t?’

  ‘Then let’s blow this mausoleum and hit the highway.’

  ‘You’re crazier than me, you know that?’

  ‘Actually,’ she said, smiling sweetly, ‘I never doubted it.’

  As Tony reached a noisy climax, somebody began rattling the handle of the bedroom door, and a loud voice said, ‘This is Security. Open up.’

  ‘Oh, shit!’ Tony said, zipping up his pants.

  ‘Oh shit is right,’ Lola gasped, adjusting her dress. ‘Now everyone will see us come out. This is terrible!’

  ‘Lock yourself in the bathroom, I’ll go out first.’

  ‘Open this door now!’ the security guard commanded.

  ‘Go on,’ Tony urged. ‘Get in there. I’ll handle this.’

  She hurried into the bathroom and locked the door. Her hands were shaking, her cheeks flushed. This was madness. She and Tony were over.

  And yet…tonight she’d been powerless to resist him. Totally powerless. Her career, her family–meant nothing compared to her lust for Tony.

  ‘Pull over,’ Cat ordered.

  ‘We’re in the middle of nowhere,’ Nick pointed out.

  ‘You’re such a wuss.’

  ‘What didja call me?’

  ‘You heard.’

  They were way down the Pacific Coast Highway with tall cliffs one side, and rocks and surf the other. It was pitch black and the roar of the ocean was fierce.

  ‘Pull over,’ Cat repeated.

  ‘Jesus!’ he complained. But he did as she asked, pulling the Maserati on to the hard shoulder of the road and
cutting the engine.

  ‘Out!’ Cat commanded.

  ‘What we gonna do? Take a walk?’

  ‘You’re not very adventurous, are you?’ she teased. ‘We’re going to climb down to the beach and…who knows?’

  ‘Shit, Cat. It’s dark and it’s dangerous.’

  ‘Oh, my God! Nick Logan, big stud, is really a great big scaredy boy!’

  ‘Shut the fuck up,’ he said, laughing–because this girl was nuts, and he liked it.

  ‘Make me,’ she said, jumping out of the car, hiking up her skirt, scrambling over the rocks, then climbing down towards the small strip of sand.

  ‘I’ll make you, all right,’ he yelled, coming after her.

  ‘Yeah? Catch me if you can!’ she shouted, feeling free and exhilarated and totally alive. This was a lot more exciting than lounging around in a Jacuzzi in some rich guy’s fancy mansion.

  Lola could hear loud voices, then there was silence. Was Tony coming back to tell her it was all clear, or was she supposed to wait?

  She glanced at her watch and decided to stay in the bathroom–which, incidentally, was sumptuous. Black marble with touches of gold. A huge tub surrounded with gold cherub fixtures. Ornate gilded mirrors and a lounging area covered in some kind of animal fur with a TV suspended above it.

  She waited five more minutes, then slowly emerged.

  On her knees in the master bedroom, Raja Mestres was going down on Maria–Tony’s innocent little eighteen-year-old fiancée–who lolled casually on the edge of the bed.

  ‘Oh!’ Lola exclaimed.

  Raja raised her head, unperturbed, while Maria lay there like a playful kitten, skirt around her waist, legs spread, exhibiting a small mound of silky pubic hair.

  ‘Excuse me,’ Lola muttered. ‘I was using the bathroom. I didn’t realize—’

  ‘Iss bueno,’ Raja interrupted in her man-size voice. ‘You like join us?’

  Maria didn’t move.

  ‘Uh, no, thank you,’ Lola said, shocked as she edged her way to the door, which was once again locked.

  Raja rose from her knees and quietly let her out, locking the door behind her.

  What a surreal scene that was. Lola couldn’t wait to tell Tony.

  The waiters were discussing the guests, normal observations.

  ‘Didja see the rack on Petra Flynn?’

  ‘Who’s that fat stoner with the attitude?’