Hollywood Divorces

  Well yeah, actually he did. Sleeping with her was a start, and Freddy leaving town was a second.

  Allegra had no intention of going anywhere without her new movie star boyfriend. She was into booze, drugs, and other girls. In fact, she was into anything Linc wanted. When it came to drugs and drinking, she made him look like a Boy Scout.

  She had long, jet-black hair, slanted gray eyes, and Slavic cheekbones. Her body was long and lean, her small breasts all nipples. If only she would keep her mouth shut and not talk so much, she’d be quite beautiful—in a tall, skinny, supermodel way.

  However, Linc didn’t want a girlfriend. He wanted his wife back, by his side, so that she could protect him like she always had. He felt his life spiraling out of control, and it wasn’t a good feeling.

  Sometimes he thought about Shelby. Drunk, he hated her guts. Sober, he loved her beyond reason.

  Most of the time he was totally out of it, barely able to remember his lines.

  Elliott Finerman was furious. The dailies were shit. Linc was looking worse every day, and Lola was merely going through the motions. When Elliott tried to talk to him, Linc told him to fuck off.

  Elliott Finerman could not believe the two stars he’d gotten stuck with. A dazed Lola Sanchez and a stoned Linc Blackwood. A fine romantic comedy this was turning out to be.

  Linc had his routine down. First thing in the morning a couple of snorts of coke. For breakfast, two Bloody Marys. Lunch, more Bloody Marys and more coke. Then at night, whatever took his fancy.

  Occasionally he experienced a lucid moment or two when he realized he was running on empty. He knew it was bad. Very bad. But he was unable to stop his self-destructive behavior.

  Unasked, Allegra had moved her stuff into his hotel suite. A few nights after she’d moved in, Linc experienced a horrific nightmare. He awoke screaming, his body bathed in a cold sweat.

  Allegra did not stir.

  He got out of bed, made his way into the bathroom, and splashed his face with cold water.

  Jesus! It was the same nightmare he’d experienced over and over again as a child. For years he’d suffered from vivid dreams, then one day they’d stopped. Now the nightmare was back.

  His hands were shaking as once more he pictured the scene. His father was a brutal man, but never as brutal as that particular night when he’d picked up a cast iron frying pan, smashing it across his wife’s face repeatedly, until she’d dropped to the ground covered in blood.

  After killing her, his father had calmly taken his gun and, in front of Linc and his sister, blown his brains all over the kitchen wall.

  The images were scorched into Linc’s mind forever.

  Some things a man never forgets.

  • • •

  Cat found there was no escape from Nick. Since she was directing him in a movie, they were constantly together. Making movies creates a very intimate situation, and Nick was always there—watching her, laughing with her, teasing her.

  Somehow it was becoming extremely comfortable being with him, and quite a kick to be working with someone who was totally on her wavelength. Nick got it. He was an instinctive actor with talent to spare. And on the screen he and Shelby were dynamite together.

  How did I get so lucky? Cat asked herself every morning when she got out of bed. How am I directing a big movie with two major stars? And they’re both a dream to work with.

  Nick was hot to take things further, while her thought was, why complicate matters? She might look like a total raver; however, her raving days were in her wild-child past. Now she was interested in a relationship that meant something, not a few-weeks stand with an admitted carouser.

  On the other hand, as Luanne had suggested, a revenge fuck was not completely out of the question— although she was fearful that if she slept with Nick, it might upset the delicate balance between actor and director.

  She decided to stick to her original decision and wait until the movie wrapped.

  The fix-up between Amy and Jonas couldn’t have gone better; they seemed to like each other. According to Amy, they’d even been out a few times since, without the watchful eyes of Nick and Cat all over them.

  “Okay, so you’re right,” Nick informed her. “Jonas is not gay.”

  “I told you,” Cat responded.

  “Apparently he’s getting real cozy with Sis.”

  “Does that mean—”

  “Yeah, she’s into him.”

  Cat was happy for Jonas. Amy wasn’t a Hollywood starlet type, she was a smart girl with brains and a dry sense of humor, exactly the kind of girl Jonas needed.

  Nick had stopped inviting a parade of nubile girlfriends for lunch in his trailer. He now spent the lunch break with Cat, or he sat around with the crew swapping dirty jokes. Most nights they grabbed a plate of pasta or a burger, and went to bed early. Not together, although Nick refused to give up. “We gotta do the nasty,” he kept on urging her. “This is turning into a freakin’ joke. I’m developing a relationship with my right hand I haven’t had since I was ten!”

  “Didn’t I tell you?” she answered casually. “I’ve decided it’ll be your wrap present. How’s that?”

  “Hmm . . . ,” he said. “How many weeks we got left?”

  “Not many,” she said. “Think you can wait?”

  He grinned his irrepressible grin. “I suppose I can try.”

  • • •

  “She did what?” Lola shouted excitedly over the phone.

  “She moved a finger,” Isabelle repeated.

  “That’s fantastic!”

  “Yes,” Isabelle agreed. “The doctors say it’s an excellent sign, so perhaps she will come out of this coma after all.”

  “I couldn’t be more thrilled,” Lola said. “I only have two more days on the movie, then I’m on a plane. I’ll be able to sit by her bedside, sing to her, tell her stories. I’ve been reading so much about what to do for people in comas. We must be there for her every second. You understand that, don’t you?”

  “Of course we understand it, Lucia,” Isabelle replied, a touch frosty. “We’ve been doing it every day.”

  “Yes, I know. I can’t wait to see you all.” She ran into the living room of the suite, where Matt was watching TV. “Matt!” she yelled. “Can you believe it?”

  “What?” he said, eyes fixed firmly on a college football game.

  “Selma moved her finger. Isn’t that great news?”

  “Great,” he agreed, stuffing his mouth with a handful of corn chips.

  “I think I’ll start getting things together. The moment we wrap, we’re out of here, okay?”

  Matt barely moved his eyes from the TV.

  Lola was psyched; her bargain with God was working. She’d given up Tony in exchange for him bringing Selma back to life; now it was starting to happen.

  She summoned Big Jay to fetch her suitcases from downstairs in the storage room of the hotel, then she called Jenny to come up to the penthouse and help.

  Jenny arrived five minutes later. “Can I put on the TV while I pack?” she asked. “There’s an interview with Nick Logan coming on E.T. He’s such a hottie.”

  “Got a crush, have you?” Lola asked.

  “You bet,” Jenny said, blushing.

  “Okay, go ahead,” Lola said.

  Jenny switched on the TV, then she began removing Lola’s designer gowns from the closet, carefully laying them out on the bed, ready to fold into special plastic bags before she put them in the suitcases. When the Nick Logan interview started, she stopped everything.

  “Hmm . . . ,” Lola said, taking a peek at the TV. “Nick Logan looks like he could use a shower.”

  Jenny giggled. “That’s part of his charm; it’s that grungy bad-boy thing.”

  “I didn’t know you liked bad boys,” Lola teased.

  “Oh yes,” Jenny said. “And tomorrow they’re advertising an interview with Shelby Cheney; she’s in the movie with him.”

  “Wonderful,” Lola drawled sarcastic
ally. “Can’t wait.”

  “Should I turn the TV off?” Jenny asked.

  “No, leave it on. Let’s see what Britney and Justin and all of them are doing today,” Lola said, opening drawers full of unworn cashmere sweaters. “I have to live vicariously now. Matt never cares to leave his precious sports. Not that I want to go out.”

  “Oh look!” Jenny exclaimed.

  “What?”

  “Isn’t that Tony Alvarez?”

  Lola glanced quickly back at the TV. Sure enough there was Tony, strolling into some L.A. event with a girl on his arm. A very young, very pretty girl.

  “Turn the sound up,” she ordered.

  Jenny did so, and they both listened as Jann Carl spoke.

  “Attending the In Style party in L.A. for pediatric AIDS, film director and onetime fiancé of Lola Sanchez, Tony Alvarez, announced his engagement to up-and-coming Puerto Rican singer Maria Estevan. Maria’s first album, Lost, comes out early next year. Tony Alvarez is currently in preproduction on his next movie, Manic, starring Nick Logan and Lara Ivory.”

  Lola stared at the TV in shock. He’d done it. He’d actually done it. The bastard had gone and gotten himself engaged.

  Who was the little tramp anyway? She looked about twelve years old, with her brown curly hair and slight build. No boobs. No ass. Not sexy at all. Nothing like Lola Sanchez.

  How could he do this to her? How could he?

  She knew why. She’d rejected him, and this time it would not be so easy getting him back.

  Not that she planned on doing so. Hell, no. She’d made a promise to God and it was one promise she intended to keep.

  • • •

  Caught was winding down, and still Shelby had not heard from Linc. She was devastated. They’d been married for over four years, and he’d always come back to her whenever they’d had any kind of fight.

  This time there was an ominous silence, apart from the things she read in the gossip columns and saw on TV. Apparently a photographer was suing him for millions of dollars—claiming assault and battery outside a strip club.

  So now he was frequenting strip clubs. Obviously he was completely out of control.

  Her parents had arrived from London, which was nice. They were not the kind of parents who would question her into the ground; they were there to offer their support if she needed it.

  She invited Pete over for dinner. Her mother helped out in the kitchen, and they cooked a traditional English meal of roast beef with Yorkshire pudding and roast potatoes.

  Pete was a big hit; her parents warmed to him immediately.

  After dinner they all sat outside on the terrace. Shelby played with the puppy, whom she’d christened Tiger, while Pete talked to her father about vintage cars and how surprised he’d be when he saw Shelby doing her car stunt in Caught.

  Later her parents went off for a stroll around the grounds, leaving Pete and her alone.

  “Thanks for inviting me this evening,” he said. “The dinner was great. Those potatoes—I’m hooked.”

  “It’s my pleasure,” she replied. “My parents like you.”

  “Are they here because of what’s going on between you and Linc?”

  “They don’t believe in interfering, so they haven’t said anything, and I’m not volunteering any information.”

  “You never do,” he said wryly. “Not even to me.”

  “Don’t push me, Pete.”

  “I wouldn’t do that. But I see everything too. Now Linc’s photographed leaving strip clubs and beating up photographers with some model girlfriend by his side. I don’t get it, Shelby. You should be instigating divorce proceedings. What are you waiting for?”

  She nodded silently. She knew he was right, but something was holding her back. It wasn’t as easy as everyone seemed to think.

  The next day, as soon as she finished work, she drove over to her therapist’s office.

  “What do you think I should do?” she asked Brenda, hunching forward on the couch.

  “That’s not for me to say,” Brenda replied in measured tones. “It’s your decision, Shelby.”

  “You always say it’s my decision,” she said, wishing Brenda would be more forthcoming. “Meanwhile, I’m coming to you for your advice.”

  “No, Shelby, you’re coming to me because you need to talk about what’s happening. My job is to help you listen to yourself; that’s what you have to do. You’ll know when it’s the right time for you to consider divorce. You don’t need me to tell you.”

  “There’s another man,” Shelby blurted.

  Brenda was surprised. “You haven’t mentioned that before.”

  “He was my boyfriend before Linc. He’s working on my movie, and . . . I think I like him.”

  “Enough to leave Linc for?”

  “Linc’s already left me, hasn’t he?” she said sadly.

  “Has he?”

  “It’s obvious.”

  “As I said before, Shelby, only you can make the decisions that affect your future.”

  Damn! She was getting nowhere fast. Talking to Brenda was like wading through quicksand.

  On the way home she started thinking more deeply about Brenda’s words. Perhaps they made sense after all. It was true—only she could make the decisions that affected her future.

  Then that’s exactly what she had to do—make up her mind. Either her marriage was over or it wasn’t. And only she could decide which it was.

  CHAPTER

  * * *

  37

  At the airport, Matt trailed behind Lola, organizing her piles of luggage. She seemed to have accumulated a dozen more suitcases during her stay in New York.

  The usual army of paparazzi were staked out at Kennedy. Lola was happy to pose with Matt. No more scandal; she was a good girl now.

  Oh yes, and no more Tony, because the bastard had gone and gotten himself engaged to some Puerto Rican tramp. God! How could he walk away from her as if she meant nothing to him?

  No, her inner voice informed her, you walked away from him. And it was a wise move. The man is nothing more than a dangerous thug.

  He might be a dangerous thug, but that didn’t mean she was able to stop loving him.

  “Over here, Lola,” called one of the photographers. “Big smile.”

  She put her arm around Matt and posed, making Matt a very happy husband.

  “Did you enjoy working with Linc Blackwood?” another of the photographers called out.

  “Linc Blackwood is a real star,” she said graciously. “I’m sure everyone who goes to our movie will definitely enjoy it.”

  Matt did not agree. He’d seen the dailies. As soon as they were settled back in L.A., he planned on resuming his acting classes. If Linc Blackwood could be a star, there was hope for anybody.

  • • •

  “Cut. It’s a print,” Cat called out.

  The cinematographer gave her the thumbs-up sign, while the actors in the scene dispersed.

  “Are you okay?” Cat asked, walking over to Shelby.

  “Yes, I’m fine, why?” Shelby answered, as the wardrobe woman took her jacket and handed her a robe.

  “You look awfully pale.”

  “I was feeling a bit headachy this morning,” Shelby admitted.

  “Go to your trailer and take a break. It’ll be at least forty minutes before we get to the next shot.”

  “I think that’s a good idea,” Shelby said.

  “Only a few more days to go,” Cat said, grinning triumphantly. “And we’re ahead of schedule and under budget. In Merrill’s eyes I’m the girl genius.”

  “That’s excellent news,” Shelby said.

  “Are you bringing your parents to the wrap party?”

  “I was thinking of doing so.”

  “Bring ’em. It’ll be a blast.”

  “I’m not so sure. They won’t know anyone. Perhaps I should take them out to dinner instead.”

  “With Pete?”

  “Cat,” she said warningly,
“don’t cause trouble.”

  “Just asking,” Cat said innocently. “I mean, I know Linc is seeing Allegra—it’s all over the papers—so you shouldn’t feel guilty.”

  “You’re a fine one to talk,” Shelby responded. “What’s happening with you and Nick?”

  Cat grinned again. “I’ll let you know in a couple of days.”

  “Oh, I see. It’s like that, is it?”

  “Yeah, it’s like that,” Cat said, suddenly feeling shy.

  Shelby went to her trailer to rest. Tiger greeted her, tail wagging. He’d peed all over the floor, but she didn’t care. She scooped him up into her arms and cuddled him, still not feeling great.

  She lay down on the couch and tried not to think about Linc. Then suddenly it struck her like a flash of lightning. Oh, God! She was two weeks late, and she was never late. Was it possible that she was finally pregnant?

  No. Not now. The timing couldn’t be worse.

  She started thinking back. The last time Linc had made love to her was that fateful weekend in New York. He’d ambushed her on the couch in his hotel, almost forcing himself upon her. And he’d not withdrawn as he usually did.

  How ironic if it had happened then.

  She had to find out. Unfortunately, she could hardly pop into the pharmacy and buy a pregnancy testing kit, because it would be all over the news before she got home. And if she sent someone to get it for her—same deal. So she called her gynecologist and made an emergency appointment for later that day.

  She cuddled the little puppy to her. If she was pregnant, she had no idea what she’d do.

  • • •

  “Here’s the deal,” Nick said, unshaven, his dark, unruly hair flopping on his forehead. “After the wrap party I’ve got a surprise for you, so bring an overnight bag.”

  “Are we eloping to Vegas?” Cat deadpanned. “Do you want to screw me so badly that we have to get married? I hope you’ve booked an Elvis impersonator. I refuse to do it unless you organize the full deal.”

  He laughed. “Sorry to disappoint you. There’ll be no getting down on one knee, and definitely no ring.”

  “Shame!” she said, mocking him. “I’m so disappointed.”

  “Overnight bag. Wrap party. Don’t forget.”