Page 29 of Hollywood Divorces


  “Great! What if something happens and you get delayed—”

  “Look,” she interrupted, “It’s all good. I’ll spend the day here, and be on a flight back tonight. It’s only Saturday; we don’t start work until Monday. Everything’s cool. Okay?”

  “Why didn’t you tell me you were going? I would’ve come with you.”

  “It’s not like I need help, but thanks anyway,” she said, spotting a cab, “I’ve never had someone I could rely on before.”

  “I’m here if you need me, Cat.”

  “Thanks,” she said, jumping into the cab and giving the driver Luanne’s address. “I’ll check in later. I’m leaving Kennedy now, on my way to Luanne’s.”

  “Do not get into a fight with Jump,” Jonas ordered sternly. “Remember, there’s nothing to be gained by losing your temper.”

  “What makes you think I have a temper?”

  “I’m sure it’s lurking in there somewhere.”

  She sat back and checked the messages on her cell. Nick had called, which didn’t surprise her, Nick was one of those guys who felt it was his duty to sleep with every woman he came in contact with, and he wouldn’t be satisfied until he’d closed the deal.

  Too bad for him. She was not about to add herself to his considerable list.

  She called Luanne to warn her she was on her way. They’d first met in their drug days, both of them zonked out of their heads. Later, when they’d cleaned up their acts, they’d remained friends. Luanne had married the wrong guy, but at least she had a gorgeous baby boy to show for it. Currently she was working as a P.R. girl at a downtown fashion house.

  The cabdriver was a maniac. Cat was amazed they arrived unscathed. She paid him, and ran up the steps to Luanne’s place.

  “You look great,” Luanne exclaimed, flinging open the door. She was a flaming redhead with an abundance of freckles and a gummy smile, “I was expecting, y’know, like a haggard My-husband-is-screwing-around-on-me total wreck.”

  “Yes, well, that’s exactly how I feel,” Cat said. “Pathetic, isn’t it?”

  “You didn’t have to come,” Luanne said, ushering her inside. “I would’ve dealt with everything for you.” “I had the weekend off. It seemed like a plan.”

  “You came so that you could see the tape, right?” Luanne said knowingly.

  “Right on.”

  After Cat had fussed over Luanne’s baby boy, she and Luanne went into the bedroom, closed the door, and viewed the incriminating videotape of Jump’s indiscretion.

  Cat stared at the TV screen. The images were incredibly graphic, and incredibly upsetting—especially as all the action took place on their bed.

  She tried to keep it together. Crying was for sissies, and she was too tough to break down in front of anyone. Although actually watching her husband screwing someone else was pretty devastating.

  “Guess that gives me all the ammunition I need for a fast divorce,” she sighed, when it was over. “Can I keep the tape?”

  “It’s all yours,” Luanne said, slipping the offending tape out of the VCR.

  “What a bastard!” she said fiercely.

  “Aren’t they all?” Luanne agreed.

  Later they took a cab over to the loft to deal with her move. Luckily, when they arrived, Jump was nowhere around.

  “The movers are on their way,” Luanne said, checking her cell phone. “They should be here any minute.”

  “I have no clue what to take,” Cat said, looking around with a helpless shrug.

  “Everything that’s yours,” Luanne urged. “Ship it all to L.A. And since he’s not here, take your wedding presents too.”

  “You think?”

  “Don’t be an idiot,” Luanne said. “Did he consider your feelings when he screwed that ho in your bed? Anyway, you’re entitled to the presents, from your side of the family.”

  “I’m not shipping TVs and stereos to L.A.,” she said. “I’ve already bought new ones,”

  “Then what are you taking?” Luanne asked.

  “Personal stuff,” she said, wishing she didn’t have to deal with this. “I’ll start with all my manuscripts, then my paintings, and of course my books.”

  “Okay, girl,” Luanne said encouragingly, “get packing.”

  • • •

  Before Shelby was ready for her first interview, Kara was able to locate copies of the newspapers from the previous day. Shelby took a look at the photos and failed to understand why Linc was so angry at her. The photo of her and Pete in People was nothing compared to the ones of Linc and his sexy co-star sharing a passionate kiss.

  How could Linc be so vicious, screaming at her about something that was perfectly innocent, while all the time he was obviously enjoying a wild fling with Lola Sanchez?

  She wished she could cancel the press day, go back to the suite, and confront him. But that would be totally unprofessional. The show must go on, she thought ruefully.

  Fortunately, Russell Savage was on hand to calm her down. “Ignore all that garbage you read in the papers,” he said. “They’re a bunch of bottom feeders, searching for a headline. Linc’s making a movie with the broad. It’s all about publicity.”

  “You don’t understand, Russell.” she said, feeling lost because nobody really understood her dilemma. “He’s accusing me of something, when it’s obvious that he’s the one doing it.”

  “Honey,” Russell said soothingly, “I’m sure you’re correct. Only right now you’ve got to forget about it and concentrate on selling our movie.”

  “I’m trying to,” she said, realizing that as nice as Russell was, his main interest was his movie.

  “You should be so proud of yourself,” Russell said. “Mustn’t let this spoil things for you.”

  Merrill’s warning came drifting back to haunt her. One way or the other he’ll try to sabotage you.

  Was Linc purposely trying to ruin her moment of triumph?

  Determinedly she sailed through the day, charming and composed. Only once did someone dare to ask the wrong question, whereupon Kara, who could be quite feisty for such a girly-looking girl, swept the journalist out of the room so quickly that the man barely had time to catch his breath.

  At the end of the day Shelby found herself dreading returning to the suite. She had no intention of walking off her movie, or insisting that Pete get fired.

  It was time for a long-overdue confrontation. Linc had pushed her about as far as she was prepared to go.

  • • •

  Livid, because she couldn’t reach Tony all day, Lola embarked on a ferocious shopping spree, accompanied by Selma. They covered Saks, Bergdorf, and Barney’s. In a generous mood, Lola bought her sister anything she desired.

  “I didn’t come here to go shopping,” Selma protested, loving every minute. “I came because Mama begged me to.”

  “Mama should stop trying to run my life,” Lola insisted, signing an autograph for the salesgirl. “I’m a big girl. I’ve been out of the house for a long, long time.”

  “It’s the family reputation she’s worried about,” Selma said. “Mama’s upset with the things people are saying about you.”

  “I don’t notice her getting upset when they say good things.”

  “She keeps a scrapbook of all your clippings,” Selma revealed.

  “She does?” Lola said, surprised.

  “Yes, she clips everything, the good and the bad.”

  “Both come with the territory,” Lola explained, picking up a white silk scarf and admiring it. “Look at other stars, like Madonna, Jennifer Lopez, and Britney Spears—they’re on the cover of some gossip rag every day. One moment they’re being called divas, the next they’re supposedly into drugs and having sex with multiple men, or they’re breaking up marriages. The papers make terrible things up. Mama has to realize that it’s all a game to them.”

  “I understand,” Selma said, nodding. “But surely you can see that Tony is not a good influence on you?”

  “You have no id
ea who Tony is,” Lola snapped. “You’ve never even met him.”

  “No,” Selma replied, refusing to back down. “I’ve read all about him, though.”

  “We’ll all have dinner tonight,” Lola decided. “Then you can see for yourself what a wonderful guy he is.”. “Dinner?” Selma said unsurely.

  “Yes, dinner;” Lola answered firmly. “You’ll fall in love with him; everyone does.”

  When they got back to the hotel, Selma sat on the floor in the living room, surrounded by shopping bags.

  Lola picked up the phone to check her messages, and automatically switched on the TV.

  A pretty brunette newscaster was reading the five-o’clock news.

  Ex-world heavyweight boxer Tyrell White was badly beaten outside his apartment last night and robbed of several thousand dollars’ worth of cash and jewelry: Earlier in the evening Mr. White was involved in an altercation at a club with film director Tony Alvarez, boyfriend of Lola Sanchez. It is believed Ms. Sanchez was with Mr. Alvarez at the time. Regarding the subsequent beating and robbery; the police have no suspects at the present time,

  Lola stared at the TV in total shock. Her hand flew to her mouth. “Oh my God,” she exclaimed. “Oh . . . my . . . God!”

  CHAPTER

  * * *

  30

  The original handwritten script of Wild Child was the first thing Cat started searching for. It meant a lot to her, and she was not leaving without it.

  “How can I help?” Luanne asked, wandering around the spacious loft.

  “If you can deal with my clothes and shoes, that would be a big help,” Cat said. “Although maybe I should throw some stuff away.”

  “This is no time to start sorting through things,” Luanne said firmly. “We must concentrate on getting everything out of here.”

  “Okay, okay. I’ll keep looking for my manuscripts and stuff like that, while you organize my clothes.”

  “What about photographs, CDs, and—”

  “All I want are my personal photographs. He can keep everything else.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Absolutely.” Cat said, unable to forget the graphic tape of Jump having sex in their bed. “I can’t believe he did this to me,” she said, shaking her head. “The whole time we were together I was totally faithful to him.”

  “And since you split?”

  “Still totally faithful. I’m too busy directing my movie for anything else.”

  “You need to have a revenge fuck,” Luanne said. “It’ll work like a charm.”

  “For who?”

  “You. Try it, you’ll see.”

  When the professional packers arrived, Luanne steered them into the bedroom and put them to work packing up the clothes from Cat’s closet.

  Half an hour later there was the sound of a key in the door.

  Oh shit! Cat thought. The last thing I need is to see the cheating asshole.

  Instead of Jump walking in, a girl appeared. A tall, skinny redhead, wearing tight jeans, a white peasant blouse, and Cat’s Fendi leather jacket—one of her most prized possessions.

  “Oh,” the girl said, nonplussed. “What’s going on? Where’s Jump?”

  “Who are you?” Cat asked.

  “Miranda,” the girl said. “More to the point, who are you?”

  “This happens to be my home,” Cat said “And you happen to be wearing my jacket.”

  “Excuse me,” Miranda said. “This is Jump’s place, and he gave me this jacket as a present.”

  “News flash,” Cat said. “Jump is my husband, soon-to-be-ex. This is our place, soon-to-be-his. And that’s my jacket, so kindly take it off.”

  “I don’t get it,” Miranda said.

  “Obviously,” Cat retorted.

  Luanne emerged from the bedroom. “What’s the deal?” she asked, staring at the girl.

  And then they both recognized her at once—even though she’d changed the color of her hair.

  She was the girl from the tape. The Jump-having-sex-on-their-bed tape.

  • • •

  After the press junket, Shelby went downstairs to the bar with Russell, Beck, and Kara. They sat around talking about the movie, the reviews, and the upcoming premieres.

  Shelby was glad that nobody was getting into anything personal, because once she went upstairs, she knew she’d have to deal with Linc, and she was dreading it.

  When she finally got up to leave, Russell took her to one side, “Look, honey,” he said in a low voice. “I know things have been tough for you. But remember— you shouldn’t let anyone push you around. It doesn’t matter who it is.”

  “I know,” she said, nodding. “I have to be strong.”

  “And you will be,” Russell said. “There’s no doubt in my mind that you’ve got it in you. So get rid of that goddamn English reserve—an’ go for it, exactly like you did in our movie.”

  Kara came over and gave her a hug, “It’s been amazing working with you.” she said, funky glasses slipping off her nose. “You’re a real pro.”

  “Thanks, Kara, it was nice working with you too. I like the way you handled the journalist who got out of line.”

  “I wasn’t about to take any crap from him,” Kara said. “Who do they think they’re dealing with? I might look young, but I’ve been in this business for five years.”

  “You’re still a baby,” Beck said, affectionately taking her hand. “Sit down and have another drink.”

  Kara did so. There was a twenty-year age gap between her and the actor, but it looked as if things were going well.

  “How about you, Shelby?” Russell asked. “You’re sure you won’t stay for another one?”

  “No thanks, Russ, one martini’s given me enough strength to get this over with.”

  Russell gave her the thumbs-up sign. “Linc’s a good guy. We all get caught in compromising positions. It’s these damn locations. If you want your marriage to work, never leave an actor alone on location.”

  “Yeah,” Beck agreed. “Location equals temptation. The last actress I married ran off with the focus puller!”

  “Don’t listen to him,” Russell said. “He knows nothing.”

  Shelby left the bar, got in the elevator, and traveled upstairs.

  Once more she was exhausted from doing a day’s worth of press, and a heated confrontation was not something she was looking forward to. Deep down she hoped that Linc wasn’t there.

  Why couldn’t things be okay between them?

  Why was he all over his co-star?

  Why hadn’t she told him about Pete as soon as they’d bumped into each other?

  No excuse really, except it had been so nice spending time with someone she didn’t have to watch all the time, someone who wasn’t constantly criticizing her. The few days Linc had spent at the Malibu retreat were useless, and they both knew it. There was nothing worse than an alcoholic who would not admit that he had a problem. Lately she’d been closing her eyes to a lot of things; now she had to be strong.

  Much as she loved Linc, it was time to consider her future.

  • • •

  Lola finally reached Tony on the phone. “What did you do?” she whispered, horrified. “How could you?”

  Tony sounded calm. “What did I do about what?”

  “Tyrell White.”

  “Didn’t do nothin’. Why, what’s goin’ on?”

  “Don’t snow me, Tony, I’m no fool. It’s all over the news.”

  “What is?”

  “Somebody beat the crap out of him, and I know who that somebody is—it’s you.”

  “You flatter me, babe. I’m sitting here in my hotel with a split lip. Haven’t left the room.”

  “You arranged to have it done, didn’t you?” she persisted, certain she was right.

  “Don’t even know where the dude lives,” he said casually. “The guy must have a lot of enemies.”

  “Tony—”

  “Yeah, I’m one of them, only that don’t mean I arr
anged to have him beaten.”

  “Are you telling me the truth?”

  “Sure.” A pause. “What’re you doin’? Wanna come over an’ join me in the Jacuzzi?”

  “My sister flew in from L.A.”

  “Your sister? I never met her. What’s her name?”

  “Selma, She’s the nice one.”

  “She look like you, babe? ’Cause if she does—maybe the three of us should get our freak on.”

  “Don’t be bad, Tony. Selma’s a good girl.”

  “Who likes good girls? I like ’em sexy an’ hot an’ naughty, like you, babe,”

  “Selma’s none of those things,”

  “Damn!”

  “I was thinking that we could take Selma to dinner. But only if you promise to behave yourself,”

  “Does Selma dance?”

  “Of course. She’s my sister, isn’t she? Fine dancing runs in the family.”

  “I’m down with that.”

  “You should see my mama, she used to dance professionally—she’s the best.”

  “Maybe I should see your mama. I heard you can tell what a girl’s gonna look like by checkin’ out her mama. I’d better check out yours, huh, babe?”

  “And why would you want to do that?”

  “Y’know, in case we decide to spend the rest of our lives together.”

  “Is that a proposal, Tony?”

  “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he said, with a sly smile.

  “You’re such a bastard.”

  “An’ that’s what you love about me.”

  “Can we take Selma to dinner, or not?”

  “Yeah. Get your hot ass downstairs at nine-thirty, the limo’ll be waitin’.”

  “Thanks, Tony. And you will be good, won’t you?”

  “Baby, I’ll be as good as it gets,”

  Lola went into the spare bedroom, where Selma was happily unwrapping her packages. “We’re meeting Tony for dinner,” she announced.

  “You’ve bought me far too much,” Selma said, holding up a leather Gucci purse. “I’m giving half of these things to Mama and Isabelle,”

  “No,” Lola said. “Everything’s for you. They didn’t fly out to see me, you did.”

  “Mama sent me,” Selma said. “Everyone cares about you, Lucia.”