Hollywood Divorces

  “Do me a favor tonight, do not call me Lucia. My name’s been Lola for the last five years. The world knows me as Lola, so why do you all persist in still calling me Lucia?”

  “Because it’s your name.”

  “It’s not my name anymore. I’m Lola, understand?”

  Selma looked unconvinced.

  “Now, what are you going to wear?” Lola said. “You have to look gorgeous. After all, you are my sister.”

  • • •

  “He never told me he was married,” Miranda kept on repeating, looking quite crushed.

  “Seems he didn’t figure it was that important,” Cat said bitterly.

  “Weren’t you even a little bit curious when you noticed a closet full of women’s clothes?” Luanne asked.

  “He said they were his sister’s,” Miranda explained. “I believed him. I had no reason not to.”

  “Sorry to disillusion you,” Cat said. “He’s a lying, cheating asshole.”

  “I know that now,” Miranda muttered.

  “I’m only here today ’cause he threatened to throw my. stuff out onto the street. I guess it was that or give it all to you. I’m sure that was his plan.”

  “Sorry about the jacket,” Miranda said, shrugging it off. “We happen to be the same, size.”

  “You can keep it,” Cat said.

  “Didn’t you used to have blond hair?” Luanne asked, staring at Miranda.

  “Yes,” Miranda said. “How did you know?”

  “The magic of film,” Cat murmured.

  “What?”

  “Nothing,” Cat said. How could she be mad at the girl, when Miranda obviously had no idea Jump was married? It was Jump who was the serial cheater. What a jackass he’d turned out to be.

  The packers were finished; all of her personal things were out of the apartment. Time to move on.

  “Give Jump a message from, me,” she said to Miranda.

  After I’ve given him one of my own,” Miranda replied. “I’ve never been so embarrassed,”

  “C’mon,” Cat said, almost sympathetic. “It’s not your fault.”

  What’s your message?”

  “Tell him to never contact me again. If he’s got anything to say, he can talk to my lawyer. That’s it.”

  “I’ll be happy to tell him.” Miranda promised. “Right after I say goodbye.”

  Outside on the street, Cat gave Luanne a big hug before hailing a cab to take her to the airport.

  Mission accomplished.

  She was now ready for a revenge fuck.

  • • •

  Once more, Linc was not in the suite. Shelby paced around, rehearsing what she would say. Either he listened to reason and stopped giving her ultimatums or she was catching a flight back to L.A. She called the airport to check on times. There was a ten o’clock she could be on if things didn’t work out.

  When Linc finally arrived back, he was definitely drunk. He had that glittery, mean look in his eyes, the look she’d grown to dread.

  “You made a decision?” he demanded, marching into the suite. “What’s it gonna be? You walking off the movie? Or does my dear old pal Pete get the boot?”

  “Neither,” she said, facing up to him.

  “Quit the I’m-not-going-to-do-what-my-husband-says crap,” he said roughly. “You’re not a fucking feminist, you’re my fucking wife. Now what’s the deal?”

  “I told you, Linc—neither. You cannot continue treating me with such a lack of respect. You say things to me that nobody should say to anybody. You insult me and call me names. It’s not right, and I don’t intend to accept it anymore.”

  “You deserve it,” he said, his voice filled with animosity. “Act like a moron, an’ I’ll treat you like one.”

  “Linc,” she said, determined not to cry. “This is serious. I am not fooling around.”

  “Interesting choice of words,” he sneered. “Fooling around.”

  “I wasn’t going to bring this up,” she said, “but how do you explain the photos of you with Lola Sanchez?”

  “For crissakes,” he snarled. “They’re taken from the set.”

  “No, they’re not. You’re kissing her outside a restaurant.”

  “Are you tryin’ to turn this around?” he screamed.

  “No, Linc,” she said, standing up to him for once. “I’m merely stating the facts,”

  “Do not fuck with me, Shelby. I want Pete off your fuckin’ movie. Understand?”

  “I’m not doing it, Linc.”

  “Yes, you are,” he said fiercely.

  “No, I’m not. And stop telling me what to do.”

  “Fuck you, Shelby. If you don’t do it, I’m divorcing you. Understand?”

  Suddenly she felt a calmness overcome her. It was almost as if she was in the eye of the storm, and everything seemed very clear I me was damaged goods, and she wasn’t capable of mending him. It was time to stop trying. “If that’s what you want.” she said quietly.

  “It fucking is!” he said, quivering with rage.

  “Then I’ll leave now.”

  “Good. Get the fuck out and don’t come whining back, ’cause we’re oven I’ve had enough of your holier-than-thou, sanctimonious shit.”

  “And I’ve had enough of you, Linc.”

  “Get out,” he shouted, “Go flash your tits in another fuckin’ movie. You’re useless. You hear me—fuckin’ useless,”

  • • •

  Tony was on a high. He greeted Selma with a courtly bow, kissing her as if she were his long-lost cousin, “You’re a beauty, like your sister,” he said, turning on his considerable charm. “That’s some sexy dress.”

  Selma was wearing a slinky black cocktail dress that Lola had purchased for her at Bergdorf. It suited her admirably. Lola had also summoned a hairdresser and makeup artist to come to the suite and minister to her shy sister. They’d managed to make Selma look quite glamorous; the result was impressive. Isabelle would be a jealous wreck.

  Lola desperately wanted Selma and Tony to like each other. That way Selma could go back to L.A. and tell the family what a great guy he was.

  Tony took them to a happening Cuban restaurant, one of his favorite places for dinner. They gorged themselves on pineapple chicken, special rice, black beans, and a full selection of delicious coconut dishes.

  Lola, clad in a pale blue silk Roberto Cavalli dress, could see that the two of them were getting along. Tony’s mood was extremely buoyant, and even though she was sure he was responsible for the beating of Tyrell White, she decided not to mention it again. It was over, and Tony would never admit he had anything to do with it, so what was the point?

  Thinking about it made her shiver. Tony was a wild man; it was unwise for anyone to cross him.

  But he was her man, and whatever anyone said about him, he always would be.

  • • •

  Cat was in a line at the departure gate, waiting to board the United flight to L.A., when she heard a familiar voice.

  “Cat, is that you?”

  “Shelby!” she said, turning around. “What are you doing here?”

  “I flew in for the Rapture press junket,” Shelby replied. “And you?”

  “I’m not supposed to be here, so you cannot tell Merrill. He’d be livid if he knew I’d left L.A. in the middle of the movie.”

  “Actually, I flew in on Merrill’s plane,” Shelby said.

  “Lucky you. Please be extra sure you don’t mention I was here.”

  The airline official escorting Shelby aboard asked if they would like to sit together.

  “Certainly,” Shelby said, and he went off to arrange it.

  “How was your press junket?” Cat asked, once they were settled in their seats.

  “It left my head spinning,”. Shelby replied, fastening her seat belt, “People are being so nice about the movie, I’m totally overwhelmed.”

  “Congratulations,” Cat said. “You deserve it.”

  “I’m sure you experienced the same t
hing with Wild Child.”

  “Well . . . I was this big discovery for ten minutes. I mean, it’s not as if a lot of females get to direct movies—especially young ones. Fortunately for me, being a director is not like movie star fame.” She wrinkled her nose. “Doesn’t having no privacy drive you totally nuts?”

  “Sometimes,” Shelby replied. “Although 1 certainly don’t have the kind of fame Linc has.”

  “Where is Linc?”

  “Making a movie in New York with Lola Sanchez.”

  “At least you got to see him for a few hours,”

  “Not really,” Shelby said wistfully, “We’re not in a very good place right now,”

  “Join the club,” Cat said. “My day was brutal.”

  “It was?”

  “My girlfriend and I went up to my loft to pack up my things—I’m divorcing my husband. Anyway, in walks this girl who I’d recently seen having sex with my old man on a videotape. This same girl is wearing my favorite jacket, which he gave to her as a gift. How’s that for a bad day?”

  “Even worse than mine.”

  “I’m glad I caught him before it was too late. We’ve only been married a couple of years, so I haven’t wasted too much-time.”

  “How old are you?”

  111 be twenty in a couple of months. Can’t wait. Nineteen is still a teenager. I don’t act like a teenager, though, do I?”

  “Well . . . you don’t exactly dress like an adult,” Shelby commented.

  “I’m not into that whole phony Hollywood glamour bit. Fake tits and your ass on your mouth.”

  Shelby laughed, glad to have something to take her mind off Linc and their disturbing confrontation.

  “What is it with fake lips and boobs anyway? I think they’re a bad joke—something men force women into getting.”

  “Perhaps women do it because they feel inadequate without them,” Shelby offered.

  “Ha!” Cat exclaimed. “Betcha wouldn’t catch men with small dicks doing it,”

  “I’m sure they would if they could,” Shelby said, smiling.

  “Hmm . . . maybe you’re right. Have you seen all those ads for penile enlargements? It’s totally insane!”

  “Here’s what I like about you, Cat,” Shelby said. “You’re a true original.”

  “Thanks.”

  “It’s so refreshing in a town where all the women are encouraged to emulate supermodels. I hate having to go to a premiere, and I’ve been coerced by some stylist into wearing yet another designer dress. It makes me feel as if I’m selling clothes—not to mention all the borrowed jewelry.”

  “What’s your real style?” Cat asked curiously.

  “A tracksuit and sunglasses to hide the bags.” Shelby said wryly. “I never wore makeup when I lived in England, not unless I was working. Linc always used to tease me about it. He says I’m not movie star material.”

  Nothing wrong with being your own person. Look at me.”

  “You’re right. I should be recognized for my acting skills, not for the designer dresses I wear,”

  “You’re, so English,” Cat remarked.

  “Is that a bad thing?”

  “I meant it as a compliment. I can’t get over how good you are as my edgy American cop, yet off the set you’re this perfect English lady,”

  “There’s nothing perfect about me.” Shelby assured her. “I’m actually quite ordinary.”

  “No,” Cat said, shaking her head. “That’s one thing you’re definitely not.”

  • • •

  Tony and Selma seemed to be getting along famously, although Lola sensed unrest in the air, because every club they went to, she found herself getting bothered by fans, and she was worried that if another man came on to her, Tony might lose it again.

  “It’s Saturday night,” Big Jay informed her in a hoarse whisper, “Not wise for you to be out in public on a Saturday night.”

  Big Jay didn’t speak much, but when he did he was always right on.

  “Let’s go back to the hotel,” she suggested to Tony. “We can have drinks in your suite and party there with all your friends.”

  “Nah, I like to stay where the action is. I wanna watch you do your thing, babe. Get up an’; dance.” “Not without you, Tony.”

  “Dance with your sister, then.”

  “Selma’s too shy. Besides, that’s asking for trouble—two women by themselves on the dance floor. You saw what happened last night.”

  “Yeah,” he said with the shadow of a smile. “And Tyrell got his, didn’t he?”

  “Yes,” she answered sharply. “And you’re responsible.”

  “Why you keep on sayin’ that?”

  “ ’Cause it’s true. You can deny it all you want, but I know you too well.”

  He picked up his glass of champagne. “You sure your sister doesn’t swing?”

  “Selma is a married woman,” she answered primly, “The Sanchez sisters,” Tony said, grinning. “How about the Sanchez sisters and Tony Alvarez? Some fuckin’ trio, huh? Four beautiful boobs, two beautiful—”

  “Tony!” Lola said, stopping him short. “This is my family you’re talking about. You want a threesome, call up that puta you sent back to L.A.”

  “Oh, yeah? If I get her here you’ll do a threesome?”

  ‘Grow up!” she said, brown eyes flashing. “You know I’m a one-man woman.”

  He grinned again. “I’m teasin’ your ass, baby. I like watchin’ you get all fiery an’ excited.”

  One of Tony’s friends, Chico, a wiry-looking record producer, moved in on Selma and asked her if she wanted to dance.

  “No, thank you,” Selma said.

  “Go ahead,” Tony encouraged, “You’re in New York, have yourself a time.”

  Selma glanced at Lola unsurely. Lola nodded her approval. The Sanchez women were known for their skills on the dance floor, so she wasn’t about to deprive her favorite sister from having a good time. If she wanted to dance with Chico, then she should go ahead and do so. Frankly, she considered Selma’s husband an extremely dull man who probably never took her dancing.

  Once Selma and Chico hit the dance floor, Lola persuaded Tony to get up and join them. She wasn’t about to do any more exhibition dances for him, not in public anyway, and certainly not on a Saturday night.

  As soon as she and Tony began to dance, the crowd cleared, forming an admiring circle around them.

  Lips parted, head back, Lola got into it as the throbbing salsa sound swept her to another place. Tony pulled her close, and they danced as one, his body hard against hers. She was utterly turned on.

  By the time they left the club they were a happy group. To Lola’s delight, Selma and Tony had definitely hit it off. She could tell that her sister liked him. What was there not to like? Tony was handsome, charming, a true Latino sexy man. Now Selma could go back to L.A. and report to the family what a great guy he was.

  They exited the club laughing.

  Throwing his arm around Lola’s shoulder, Tony leaned close, whispering what he planned to do to her when they got back to the hotel. Selma was busy talking to Chico.

  The gunshot fire came out of nowhere, a rapid blast of bullets.

  Tony automatically flung Lola to the ground, his body covering hers. Big Jay fell on top of them, shielding them both.

  There was much confusion and noise and screaming.

  Lola could barely breathe. She struggled out from under Tony and saw Selma fall.

  Tony’s bodyguards were busy pulling guns and firing back. But they were too late; the car holding the gunman sped away.

  “They’ve shot my sister!” Lola screamed. “Oh . . . God . . . THEY’VE SHOT MY SISTER!”

  CHAPTER

  * * *

  31

  Shelby and Cat spent the rest of the flight back to L.A. getting to know each other. Even though there was an eleven-year age gap between them, they found they had plenty in common. Cat talked about her drug days, meeting Jump, and how cool she’d though
t he was.

  Shelby talked about her early days in England, her move to America, and how overwhelming it was for her when she’d first met Linc. “He’s an amazing man when he wants to be,” she said wistfully.

  “I remember seeing him in movies when I was a kid,” Cat said.

  “He’s not that old,” Shelby said with a slight smile. “He’s only in his forties.”

  “I know,” Cat said. “Although it seems like he’s been around forever.’

  The flight attendant came by and served them a light snack. Then the attendant asked Shelby if she’d mind signing an autograph for her niece, who happened to have the same name as her.

  “I’m not sure I can live with Linc anymore,” Shelby confided when the flight attendant finally left. “He has a drinking problem, and it’s getting to be too much.” “Have you told him?” Cat asked, nibbling a cheese cracker.

  “I’ve tried to. He doesn’t seem to hear me. Yesterday he informed me that I had to walk off your movie or have Pete fired.”

  “Pete,’ Cat said, shocked. “Our stunt coordinator?” “That’s right.”

  “Why would he want to get Pete fired?”

  “Because Pete and I used to go out way before I met Linc. I didn’t bother, mentioning to him that Pete was on our movie, so when he saw a picture of us together in People he went berserk,”

  “Ha! Those paparazzi shots can cause big trouble.”

  “I had no idea we were being photographed,” Shelby explained. “Pete and I were having lunch; it was nothing more than that.”

  “It’s all about publicity when you’re famous,” Cat remarked, “You can forget privacy.”

  “I suppose so.”

  “All those crap TV shows, the tabloids, and the magazines. You think the people who run them care about celebrities’ feelings?”

  “No.”

  “Here’s the thing. A person can be in an awesome marriage or relationship—they don’t care—they’ll go right ahead and publish a rumor that you’ve been seen out with someone else, which creates a big mess. And that’s exactly what they’re hoping for.”

  “I agree.”

  “Man! I’m lucky I’m not in the public eye.”

  “Actually you are,” Shelby pointed out, “You’re a young girl directing a big movie, a gorgeous Cameron Diaz-style blonde, so you will get noticed and written about.”