Hollywood Divorces / Hollywood Wives: The New Generation (10 page)

Gregg fixed himself a Scotch.
Her
liquor, he didn’t even spring for
that.

He sat down on the couch, still complaining about Lissa, then said something that
really
got her angry. ‘Take off your bra, babe. Shake those titties an’ gimme an eyeful.’

Who did he think he was talking to? A hooker? A stripper? A lap dancer?

She was suddenly livid. ‘Gregg,’ she began, in an uptight tone, ‘I’ve been thinking…’

‘You have?’ he said, interrupting her. ‘Clever girl.’

‘Don’t talk down to me,’ she snapped.

He was surprised: it was the first time Deidra had raised her voice to him. ‘What’s up?’ he said.

‘First you ask me to take my bra off, then you treat me like I’m some kind of bimbo,’ she said, steaming. ‘I am
not
a bimbo, I’m your…your lover. And I’ve been thinking.’

‘Don’t give me shit, Deidra,’ he said, starting to frown.

‘What makes you think it’s shit?’ she said, still simmering.

‘Cause you’ve got that face on.’

‘What
face?’

‘The face women get when they’re gonna say something that’s gonna bug the crap outta me.’

‘You come here, we make love, you go home,’ she nagged. ‘What’s in this for me, Gregg? Are you planning to divorce your wife or what?’

‘Jesus Christ!’ he said, standing up. ‘Who mentioned divorce?’

‘I
did,’ she said defiantly.

‘Hold on a minute,’ he said, his expression tight and nasty. ‘We’ve only been seeing each other a few weeks.’

‘It’s not a few weeks, Gregg. You’ve been coming over here most nights for the last two months.’

‘What’re you doin’, counting?’

Her voice rose to a high pitch. ‘And
I
’m not getting anything out of it.’

What the fuck? Why couldn’t women keep their pissy little complaints to themselves? ‘Didn’t realize you were looking to get something out of it,’ he said with a sneer.

‘I can’t waste my time if this isn’t going anywhere,’ she said, now in full nag and unable to stop. ‘You talk about Lissa as if she’s the worst thing that ever happened to you. If you divorced her, we could be together and start living normally, instead of sneaking around. I want to live somewhere nice, move up in the world. I want to be with you.’

‘This is
all
I fucking need,’ Gregg groaned.

‘What’
s all you fucking need?’ she said, her patience snapping. ‘Me to take off my bra and parade around so that you can stare at my tits?’

He slammed his drink down on the table. ‘Why else d’you think I’m here, baby? For your intelligent conversation?’

‘What did you say?’ she asked, her lower lip trembling with indignation.

‘I get enough shit at home,’ he growled. ‘I’m not listening to it here. So if you don’t like our arrangement, screw you!’

He started towards the door.

She went after him. ‘Where are you going?’ she demanded, nervous because this scene was not playing out the way she’d imagined.

‘Wherever the fuck I want,’ he snarled.

She grabbed his arm.

He lashed out, knocking her to the ground.

‘You bastard!’ she cried.

He looked down at her with contempt. ‘Like I’d divorce Lissa for a pitiful tramp like you,’ he spat. ‘Don’t you get it? Lissa’s somebody. Who’re you? Just a nobody with sideshow nipples. S’ long, Deidra. Thanks for the ride.’

And then he was gone.

T
hursday night Michael and Carol were invited to dinner at the Robbins house. Since Quincy was laid up, Michael decided it might be a good time to fill him in on office business.

The first thing Quincy wanted to hear about was Lissa Roman’s situation.

‘I told you,’ Michael explained. ‘She’s waiting until tomorrow. I’m expecting a call from her first thing, then I’ll go right over and deal with it.’

‘Lissa’s a nice lady,’ Quincy said. ‘You gotta make sure she’s taken care of.’

‘I will,’ Michael said.

‘And that’s
all
you gotta do,’ Quincy added warningly.

‘What’re you getting at?’

‘
Mister
Casanova.’

‘Bullshit, Q.’

Carol was in the kitchen with Amber, the hum of their conversation drifting into the living room as the two women chatted about their daily lives. The children were upstairs in bed.

‘My wife’s cookin’ you
my
favourite meatloaf,’ Quincy announced, ‘along with sweet potatoes, collard greens an’ black-eyed peas. You’re a lucky man to be invited to sample her fine cookin’.’

‘And
you
’re a lucky man to have married a woman who’ll put up with you.’

‘Put up with me!’ Quincy roared. ‘I treat her like a queen. An’ while we’re on the subject of women, how come
you
’re not thinkin’ ’bout settlin’ down? Carol seems real nice.’

Michael rubbed his chin, stood up and began pacing. ‘I’m not looking to get involved after Kennedy,’ he said.

‘Kennedy was several years ago,’ Quincy pointed out. ‘Never did understand why you two split.’

‘She was no more into a relationship than I was,’ Michael said restlessly, remembering his feisty ex-girlfriend with a touch of nostalgia. ‘We had a great couple of years together, then we
both
decided it was time to move on.’

‘Y’know what
your
problem is?’ Quincy said, swigging beer from the bottle.

‘What?’ Michael said, hardly interested in Quincy’s take on his problems.

‘It’s all about that crap with Rita and the kid. You gotta let it go.’

‘Don’t call Bella the kid,’ Michael said sharply.

‘Face it, you’re her
uncle,
not her daddy,’ Quincy continued, ‘an’ that’s not such a bad thing.’

‘I’d like to see what
you’
d do if the same thing had happened to you.’

‘Hey,
I’
d friggin’ kill,’ Quincy said, swigging more beer. ‘But you gotta leave it behind. You dealt with gettin’ shot, you can deal with the Bella thing. Carol can help, it’s obvious the woman cares for you. How about makin’ this one a keeper?’

‘How about butting out?’

Dinner was so good that Michael ate himself to a standstill, then he immediately wished he hadn’t. No wonder Quincy was so out of shape, Amber’s cooking was a heart-attack on a plate.

‘Y’see?’ Quincy said, leaning back and patting his stomach happily. ‘
This
is marriage.’

Amber giggled, ‘Throw in some shoppin’ an’ you got it, honey.’

‘Now we’ll watch the game on TV an’ sample my wife’s sweet pumpkin pie,’ Quincy said, winking at Michael. ‘With a lotta sex later.’

Amber rolled her eyes.

‘That’s what I’m always telling Michael,’ Carol said, joining in enthusiastically. ‘A good relationship only takes two people.’

‘Keep
on
tellin’ him,’ Quincy said. ‘He’ll get it one of these days.’

Carol laughed. ‘
My
turn to cook next. Shall we fix a night now?’

‘No,’ Michael said quickly. ‘Next week is out. This case I’m working on is taking up a lot of time.’

‘Work, work, work,’ Quincy said, patting Amber’s fine behind.

‘
You
can talk,’ Michael said. ‘Considering you dumped everything on me this week.’

‘Hey—’ Quincy began.

‘Now, now,’ Amber interrupted. ‘No fighting amongst the boys.’ She smiled at Carol in a conspiratorial way. ‘These two are like a couple of bad-assed brothers. You should’ve
seen
’em in the old days. I had to
pry
’em apart.’

‘Yeah, sure,’ Michael said. ‘It was you an’ Quince that
I
had to separate. And it looks like you’re still at it.’

‘Ain’t nothin’ wrong with
that
,’ Quincy joked.

It seemed only natural when they left the Robbins house that Carol came home with him.

Michael had his speech ready. He’d give it to her when the time was right. So what was wrong with waiting a few more weeks?

Who knew? Maybe Quincy was onto something, maybe she
was
a keeper.

Prowling the bars, an angry gleam in his eyes, Gregg Lynch was furious that a nothing piece of ass like Deidra had spoken to him the way she had. How dare she think that a girl who worked in a department store could tell
him
how to run his life? He was married to Lissa Roman, for crissakes. Did she honestly believe that he’d divorce his wife for her? What kind of a dumb cunt was she?

Women were all the same. Rich, famous and beautiful, or passably attractive with a great pair of tits, they were all the same. Mangy, nagging cunts. He didn’t like any of them. They were there for the fucking, that’s all they were good for.

And paying the bills
, he thought. Although lately, Miss Moneybags, Lissa Roman, was getting a little tight around the edges. The last time he’d asked for a hundred thousand to put into the market, she’d demurred, saying that her business manager had invested all her available cash, and that he’d have to wait. That
really
pissed him off. He didn’t believe her. He was her husband, she should give him whatever he wanted, no questions asked.

He was especially annoyed at Deidra because tomorrow was a big day for him. He was working with a new producer, a young up-and-coming guy he was paying to record a couple of his songs. Tonight he’d wanted to relax, get it on with Deidra, go home, have a good night’s sleep, and be out of the house early. Now he was screwing himself over by prowling bars and getting wasted. And it was all Deidra’s fault.

By midnight he was sitting in a strip club on Sunset Boulevard, flicking twenty-dollar bills at an energetic girl with silicone boobs and sinewy thighs. She rode the shiny pole like it was her long-lost lover, and after a while, Gregg decided he wanted to fuck her.

That is, until the manager sidled over and said, ‘Mr Roman, it’s a pleasure to welcome you to our club. Come in any time–the check’s on us.’

He was furious that he’d been recognized. Even more furious that the prick had called him Mr Roman. Wouldn’t do to get caught by the tabloids, Lissa would be pissed. She had a bug up her ass about her precious reputation. ‘Name’s Lynch,’ he growled. ‘Gregg fucking Lynch. Got it, asshole?’

The manager did not appreciate being called an asshole. ‘Sorry, Mr
Lynch,
’ he said tightly. ‘I know you as Mr Roman.’

‘Whaddaya mean, you know me as Mr Roman?’ Gregg said, scowling. ‘My
wife
is Roman, I’m
Lynch.
’

‘Maybe you should cool it with the drinking,’ the manager suggested. ‘Are you driving?’

‘What the fuck does it matter to you?’

‘State law. We can be held responsible if you have an accident. I’ll arrange a taxi to take you home.’

‘Fuck you,’ Gregg said. And he stumbled out of the club muttering to himself.

By the time he arrived home he was in a state. He staggered into the master bedroom, and there she was–queen of videos, princess of movies, little Miss Sex Bomb–asleep in their bed, looking more beautiful than ever.

Most broads when they removed their makeup looked like death took a holiday. Not Lissa Roman. No. She was
always
fucking gorgeous. A prime piece of ass, and she was all his.

He was so drunk that he wasn’t aware of what he was doing as in a fit of spite he dragged her out of bed by her hair.

She awoke, screaming.

‘’S your husband,’ he slurred. ‘Remember me?’

‘My God, Gregg,’ she exclaimed, cringing away from him. ‘You scared me.’

‘Did I now?’

She could smell the booze wafting off him. ‘You’re drunk,’ she said accusingly.

‘That okay with you?’ he said sarcastically. ‘I got the Queen’s permission?’

She stared at him for a moment, wondering what to do.

Tomorrow’s Friday. Tomorrow he’ll be out of my life forever. Tonight’s the last time I have to face him.

‘Why don’t I go downstairs and make you some coffee?’ she said soothingly.

‘
You
wanna make
me
coffee?’ he sneered. ‘Why doncha
call
somebody t’ do it? ’Cause
you
sure as shit never lift a finger.’

‘Gregg, I’ve been rehearsing all day, I’m exhausted,’ she said quickly. ‘Perhaps it’s a good idea if I sleep in the guest room.’

‘Perhaps it’s a good idea if I sleep in the guest room,’ he said, mimicking her voice. ‘Fuck
you!
I’ll tell you where you’re gonna sleep–right here next to your husband.’ And he started unzipping his pants.

She had no intention of enduring another rape. Oh, no! Enough was enough. She glanced at the phone. One buzz and Chuck would come bounding upstairs.

She reached for it.

‘No fuckin’ way!’ Gregg said, wrestling the phone out of her hand.

‘I’m calling Chuck,’ she said, speaking fast. ‘He’ll make you coffee. You’re recording tomorrow. Surely you want to be in good shape for that?’

‘Whadda
you
care?’ he said belligerently. ‘I’m fucking bored with you. Bored living in this house, I hate it. I hate you.’

‘You’re drunk. Sleep it off.’

‘Don’ wanna do that,’ he said stubbornly. ‘Wanna fuck my wife.’

And he began pawing her.

‘Don’t touch me,’ she warned, backing away.

‘Don’ touch you?’ he repeated, and grabbing hold of her, he ripped the front of her nightgown, exposing her breasts. ‘How’s that for not touching you?’ he said, with a maniacal laugh. ‘How’s that,
bitch
?’

She continued to back away. He came after her. He was easier to avoid than last time because he was so drunk and unsteady on his feet. As he tried to grab her again, she kneed him hard in the balls. He staggered a bit, but kept on coming. Then, just as she was about to run from the room, he grabbed her leg, toppling her to the floor.

‘How does it feel?’ he crowed, standing over her and unzipping his fly. ‘How does it feel t’ be down, bitch?’

She managed to get to her feet and once more tried to make it to the door.

He came after her again.

‘Leave me alone,’ she yelled. ‘Don’t
ever
touch me again.’

‘You’re
my
fuckin’ property,’ he shouted. ‘I’ll touch you whenever I goddamn want to.’

And then he lifted his arm and hit her across the cheek.

Somehow she managed to flee from the room, her heart thumping. She made it into the guest bedroom, slamming and locking the door behind her.

He was too drunk and confused to follow. With a loud guttural groan, he fell across the bed, still clothed, and passed out.

Friday morning, Nicci awoke early. She lay in bed for a moment staring at the stark white ceiling, thinking about everything. Saffron was right, her wedding was creeping closer every day, so the sooner she filled Lissa in about Antonio coming to L.A. the better. No good putting it off any longer.

Propping herself up on one elbow, she watched Evan sleeping beside her. Yes, she decided, he’d make a great husband. He was smart and interesting and crazy about her. They’d even discussed having kids. What more could she ask for?

You’re only nineteen,
her inner voice whispered.
And you’re marrying a man who wants a wife, kids, and a settled life. He’ll be having an amazing time making his movies on location, while you’ll be stuck at home taking care of a bunch of screaming brats.

No way,
she told herself sternly.
I love him. Marriage to Evan will be cool. If there’s one thing I need it’s some stability in my life–considering I’ve never had any
.

The previous night they’d celebrated his home-coming by making love. Evan was not as experimental as she would have liked, he was more into pleasing her, which was nice, but did not exactly lead to wild, uninhibited sex.

I’m nineteen
, she thought.
I want wild uninhibited sex.
Not that she hadn’t experienced it already, but it hadn’t been with Evan.

Surely the fun and excitement and getting crazy wasn’t all over?

She slid out of bed without disturbing him and hurried into the all limestone and chrome bathroom. Stripping off her T-shirt, she stood under the shower and decided that she’d skip her kickboxing class and visit her mom instead.

Saffron was right, the least she could do was warn her about Antonio’s impending visit. It was only fair.

Lissa slept fitfully. By six a.m. she was up. She took one look in the bathroom mirror and realized she was in trouble. Her left eye was swollen and bruised. The bastard had given her a black eye.

She had no intention of leaving the safety of the guest room until he’d left, so she listened at the door until she
heard him go down the stairs. Once she was sure he’d gone, she unlocked the door and hurried into her bedroom, immediately calling Michael.

‘He’s on his way out,’ she whispered into the phone. ‘Can you get here as soon as possible?’

‘I’ll be right over,’ Michael said.

‘Please. It’s important that he never comes back.’

‘I get it, Lissa.’

Gregg was on his way out as Nicci drove up to the house. She realized for the hundredth time that she couldn’t stand him. He had cowlick hair, a permanent tan and big muscles. Why did her mom always go for looks? Didn’t personality count too?

‘Hi, Gregg,’ she said, jumping out of her car, hoping that he wouldn’t try to make
conversation.
He had an ‘I’m stripping you naked’ way of looking at her that was not at all welcome. ‘Is Mom up?’