Divas (37 page)

‘Don’t worry, ’ she said. ‘I like it rough, but I’ll go easy on you this time. And no marks, not unless you want them.’ Her smile deepened. ‘Trust me,
you’re going to love it.’

Lawrence was still sitting back on his heels, the position he’d adopted after Carin’s full-body massage. He gazed at her, his eyes calm and clear, no change in his expression even
after Carin had bared her breasts to him.

He’s very cool, this one
, Carin thought.
Oh, I like this. I like this a lot. I can’t wait to see him get hot and sweaty. I’m going to make him moan and pant for
me
. . .

Going on her knees on the soft blue gym mat, she reached out towards him, one hand slipping up his thigh, over the fabric of his track pants, letting him feel her nails as they dragged lightly,
pressing into the skin below. He barely moved; of course he didn’t. He must be enjoying himself tremendously now he knew what was about to happen. This was the dream for most trainers,
wasn’t it – get to make a nice amount of extra money by having sex with a woman with a kick-ass body?

Carin’s hand cupped into Lawrence’s crotch.
He knows how to be passive
, she thought, very pleased:
he knows how to sit still and let me run the show.
Carin was all
about switch-hitting, and she liked a man to be able to do that too, give her a good hard fucking when she wanted it, but lie there and take whatever she wanted to do when she felt like
dominating.

Still, there was a reason Carin always preferred to fuck her employees. In the end, she had to be in charge. And she was more than happy to pay the men who worked for her extra so she could snap
her fingers and get them to dance to her tune whenever the impulse took her that way.

Lawrence was shaping up to be a great addition to her stable.

And then she realised, in absolute shock, that he wasn’t shaping up at all. Her hand closed around an unmistakeably soft, yielding package of male genitalia. She could feel his balls in
the palm of her hand, could roll and separate them out like ripe, slightly squashy nectarines. She loved to feel men’s balls, their weight, to stroke and cup them and then squeeze them, just
a little too tightly, seeing if their owner would respond by a groan and an extra stiffening of the dick, to see if his dick wanted a sharp slap or flick of the fingernail. You couldn’t teach
that. Either a man’s dick and balls liked a little pain, or they didn’t.

But right now, all she was aware of – with rising indignation and amazement – was that Lawrence’s goddamn dick, which she was now holding through his sweatpants between thumb
and fingers, was as soft as fucking toffee.

‘What the hell is
wrong
with you?’ she demanded, her head snapping back, staring angrily into his face. ‘Why the fuck aren’t you getting it up?’

Lawrence’s hand closed over hers, and gently, but firmly, lifted it and removed it from his crotch.

‘I think there’s been a misunderstanding somewhere, ’ he said, his expression apologetic. ‘You’re a very beautiful woman with a fantastic body, Carin, but I play
for the other team.’ His hands turned upwards, in a ‘what-can-I-do?’ gesture. ‘I’m gay.’

‘You’re
gay?
’ Carin sat back on her heels, facing him. ‘You’re
kidding!
’ She stared at him, taking this in. ‘Shit, Julia could have
fucking warned me!’

And then she burst out laughing. ‘So that’s why you did that tit massage. There was me thinking it was the best come-on ever! But to you it was just a chest massage, yeah?’

He smiled at her, such a sweet, yet detached smile that any doubts she’d had about his homosexuality were swept away. Reaching up to pull his hair out of its elastic band, he said:

‘It’s always a pleasure to work on such an aesthetically pleasing body, Carin. But no, I’m sorry. It was purely business.’

Carin let out a long whoosh of air, shaking her head from side to side, trying to clear some of the built-up sexual tension.

‘Do you want me to continue working with you as a trainer?’ Lawrence asked, smoothing back his hair and re-tying it in the elastic. ‘If the misunderstanding doesn’t
bother you, it certainly doesn’t bother me. I’d be more than happy to keep you on as a client.’

‘Oh hell, yeah!’ Carin said, standing up. ‘I’m not going to can someone who does massages like that. You’ll be here three times a week, two hours at a time. Panio
will book you in and pay you on the way out. Tell him if you need any extra equipment, and he’ll order it in for you.’

‘Great, ’ Lawrence said, jumping easily to his feet. ‘Sorry about the misunderstanding, Carin.’

She shrugged.

‘Just be careful you don’t make your massages
too
good, ’ she warned, raising her eyebrows. ‘You don’t want me getting carried away and raping you, do
you?’

Now he did look disconcerted. As he went upstairs, she smiled, watching him go. She’d thrown him off-balance, and the power had shifted back to her again.

Which was exactly the way she liked it.

‘A
re you ready for this?’ David asked.

Lola nodded grimly. They were sitting in the office of the suite at the Plaza, which was appropriately business-like with its dark striped wenge wood furniture, the latest in leather-upholstered
swivel chairs, and a whole wall of conferencing screens and control panels. In front of David was a pile of gossip magazines, tabloid papers, and his own laptop.

‘OK. Item One, ’ David started. ‘Jean-Marc and I are getting married next month. In London.’

He slid two tabloid newspapers, one English, one US, across the desk, folded to the right section, the articles circled with a red marker pen. Lola scanned through them swiftly.

‘Madison, ’ she said, her heart beginning to sink. ‘That was what I told Madison, in confidence.’

‘Item Two, ’ David continued. ‘You think your chin is too pointy, and you want to have it shaved down.’

He opened several magazines to the right pages, which he had marked with those little stick-on coloured tabs. Close-ups of Lola’s face from different angles, with big arrows indicating her
chin, and headlines screaming: ‘
DOES LOLA NEED A CHIN JOB?
’

Lola grimaced.

‘I thought we’d picked that one because I
didn’t
need a bloody chin job, ’ she said fretfully. ‘But when you see yourself all blown up like this . . .’
She poked at the picture of herself in
Star
and
Heat
magazines. ‘It
does
sort of look like my chin’s too pointy.’

David rolled his eyes.

‘Get over yourself, ’ he said. ‘Your chin’s fine. Who did you tell that story to?’

Lola sighed.

‘Georgia. I didn’t really expect her to keep her mouth shut, though. I mean, she promised, but Georgia’d tell anyone anything when she’s drunk or high. Which she is,
seven days a week. Georgia and Madison . . .’ Lola said, sadly. ‘I was hoping that none of the girls would have told anyone what I said to them in confidence. I made them all
promise
not to tell. They’re supposed to be my friends. And it’s not a normal gossip situation. I’ve been
arrested for killing my dad,
for God’s
sake!’

‘I know, honey.’ David reached a hand across the desk and patted Lola’s sympathetically. ‘That’s why we set these girls up, right? You wanted to find out who you
could trust.’

‘After those photos . . .’ Lola shuddered, thinking of the photos of her doing coke at her hen night that had been blazoned across the tabloids when Jean-Marc overdosed.

‘Who do you think took them?’ David asked.

‘One of them, ’ Lola said sadly. ‘And I know you’ve got more bad news to give me, don’t you?’

He nodded.

‘You ready?’ he asked.

Lola lit a cigarette. She was trying to cut down, but the way her life was spinning out of control right now didn’t exactly make it easy for her to stop grabbing at the cancer sticks. Not
having any alcohol in the apartment was doing wonders for her liver, but her lungs were suffering instead. Still, she couldn’t think about that right now: she had much bigger problems much
closer to her than lung cancer somewhere down the line.

‘There’s only one more, ’ David said, clicking on his laptop keyboard.

‘Really?’ Lola’s heart lifted.
It won’t be Devon
, she thought.
Devon’s the one who took me in. Devon confided in me about not liking sex with Piers.
Devon’s the one I’m always been closest to. Devon’s got all the money in the world – Piers gives her everything she wants, so she’s got no reason to sell me out to the
tabs for a pay cheque. And Devon’s got a title and a husband who’s going to be one of the most important peers in England when his dad dies – she’s got no reason to be
jealous of me!

Devon’s my one true friend.

‘It’s the one we made up about you having lost a lot of weight because you’re on antidepressants, ’ David said, swivelling the screen of his laptop round so that Lola
could see it. ‘It’s on Perez Hilton, and the
Mail on Sunday
just picked it up too.’

Lola stared at the picture of her, snapped yesterday, when she was coming back from her meeting with Simon Poluck and George Goldman. It had been a grim couple of hours. They had had time to
review the nurse Giovanni’s testimony to the grand jury, and it was utterly damning. If he repeated that in court, they thought Lola would be convicted. There was a watertight case against
her: Lola’s fingerprints on the syringe and on the insulin bottle. And the motive was plausible – instead of a long, expensive, highly contested lawsuit, with a lot of money siphoning
off to the lawyers, she would inherit half her father’s money as soon as his will was probated. For a girl who was living off an ex-fiancé who had already overdosed, fled rehab, and
come out of the closet, having her own millions as soon as possible was hugely tempting.

Carin’s motive simply didn’t look as strong as Lola’s: she was in possession of everything already, and possession was nine-tenths of the law. All she had to do was instruct
her lawyers to fight Lola’s claim, as long as it took, and hope that Jean-Marc would overdose again, or simply get tired of funding a protracted, very costly lawsuit against his
ex-fiancée’s stepmother.

Of course, this wasn’t taking into consideration what Carin had actually done: killed her husband and framed Lola for the murder. If Lola were found guilty of his murder, Carin would
inherit everything. It was the ultimate two-for-one deal: get rid of husband and stepdaughter at the same time.

But it would be impossible to prove.

No wonder, even after the coup of getting Lawrence to agree to spy for her, that Lola had been deeply depressed by that meeting with her lawyers. The paparazzi shots showed her with head ducked,
big Dior sunglasses covering a large part of her face, a beige Burberry trench belted tightly round her waist.

‘You
do
look skinny, ’ David commented. ‘Makes the antidepressant story very plausible.’

‘It’s the cut of the coat, ’ Lola said automatically, staring at the picture of her, the words over it blaring: ‘
LOLA TURNS TO MEDS FOR COMFORT!
’

‘Could a reaction to the prescription pills she’s popping like candy these days be the reason for Lola’s breakdown in Maud’s, the hip ’n’ happening
burlesque joint
du jour
?’
asked the writer breathlessly.
‘She caused a huge scene when she ran onstage and attacked a pole dancer – were her antidepressants to
blame? Or was it the buckets of champagne she’d been drinking that evening? Got a guilty conscience you need to drown out, Lola?’

‘It’s Devon, ’ Lola said in a very small voice. ‘I
told
her not to tell anyone! I said it would look bad for me.’

‘Well, it doesn’t look like she cared much, does it?’ David said gently. ‘Anyone who knows what you’re going through – who knows how many stories have been
sold about you – would keep their mouth shut tighter than Mother Teresa’s legs.’

Lola managed a tiny giggle, and realised that she must be on the verge of tears because she was sniffing at the same time.

‘Do you want a tissue?’ David asked, reaching into his trouser pocket.

‘No, thanks.’ Lola’s voice grew stronger. ‘After all I’ve been through, I’m not going to cry about a few rich bitches who don’t know the meaning of
friendship.’

‘Attagirl!’ David applauded her. ‘And don’t forget – there’s still one left!’

Lola had been so cast down by Devon’s betrayal that she had completely forgotten about the fourth. She looked at David over the laptop screen.

‘That’s right! You told – ‘ he consulted his list – ‘India that Niels had been trying to get Jean to throw you out of here. And that Niels thought you had
turned Jean gay!’ He giggled. ‘Ooh, we had fun coming up with
that
story. And it’s a juicy one. I can just see the
Post
now!’ David made a sweeping, theatrical
gesture, sketching headlines in the air. ‘
YOU TURNED MY BRO INTO A GAY HO! HOT BILLIONAIRE ACCUSES GORGEOUS BLONDE!
Niels
is
hot, ’ David added lustfully. ‘I
don’t go for the big butch ones usually, but that man is
smoking.
’

‘India!’ Lola exclaimed, snatching up the name to avoid having any sort of discussion about Niels’s hotness. Niels, altogether, was like some sort of radioactive matter that
she had to avoid at all costs: she couldn’t talk about him without blushing, she couldn’t think about him without having the kind of basic, primitive physical reaction that no man had
ever given her. And that was just
thinking
about him, hearing his
name
. Niels was like her own personal Kryptonite, she realised. He made her go weak at the knees.

Stubbing out her cigarette, she met David’s eyes.

‘India didn’t say anything?’ she asked him.

‘Zip. Zilch. Nada, ’ David said gleefully. ‘I’ve looked everywhere. Believe me. The weekly magazines all hit the newsstands yesterday evening and I bought the lot. Plus
the newspapers, all the online sites – I’ve done a
major
search. I even got my intern to spend the afternoon checking in case I’d missed something. He was in heaven.’
He picked up the magazines and papers and stacked them on top of each other. ‘
Nothing.
She’s a hundred per cent passed the test. The only one.’