Hollywood Divorces / Hollywood Wives: The New Generation (16 page)

‘Y
ou’re making a mistake,’ Taylor said, as she and Larry sat at the breakfast table on their patio, where they had a magnificent view of the Santa Monica mountains and the ocean.

‘What kind of a mistake would that be?’ Larry answered, eating his oatmeal.

‘This Oliver Rock person,
why
are you taking such an interest in him? It’s not like he’s a relative or anything.’

‘That’s true,’ Larry said, taking a sip of hot water and lemon, his preferred morning beverage.

‘Anyway,’ Taylor continued, ‘I thought you never read other people’s material. You get sent scripts all the time and you always have Edie send them back unread. I’ve seen you do it a hundred times.’

‘Isaac has known Oliver’s parents forever,’ Larry explained, ‘and the kid needs guidance.’

‘He doesn’t look like he needs any guidance to me,’ Taylor snapped. ‘He looks like a real smartass. And he’s
not
a kid, he’s a grown man.’

‘You’re always so critical of people,’ Larry remarked, moving onto a plate of sliced papaya, apple and banana.

Taylor stared at her genius husband. He ate exactly the same breakfast every day–it drove her a little bit nuts. Why did he always have to be so precise? ‘I’m merely
being honest,’ she said sharply.

‘That’s your prerogative,’ he responded.

‘Anyway,’ she said, deciding to upset him, ‘I’ve got my own news.’

‘You have?’

She picked up her glass of freshly squeezed orange juice and took a sip. ‘Remember that movie I discussed with you a few weeks ago, the one for cable?’

‘Yes.’

‘I’ve decided to do it.’

That stopped him half way to a slice of papaya. ‘You
what
?’

‘I’m taking the part, Larry. It doesn’t suit me sitting around doing nothing.’

‘You’re not doing nothing. You’re still developing your script.’

‘Yes, but it’s not right yet, and I have to keep myself busy until it is. I need my creative urges fulfilled.’

‘But, darling—’

‘You go to the studio every day,’ she said, interrupting him. ‘It’s fine for you, you’re a very busy man. I’m an actress, and I want to work.’

‘Where is all this coming from?’ Larry said, frowning. ‘I thought you were perfectly happy.’

‘I find it extremely frustrating not being creatively involved,’ she said restlessly, ‘so I’ve accepted the role. We start filming immediately.’

He took off his glasses and placed them on the table next to his neatly folded copies of the
New York Times, USA Today,
the
Wall Street Journal,
and the trades. ‘Shouldn’t I read the script?’ he said.

‘No, Larry,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘It’s not written by some young writer who’s craving your advice.’

He began tapping his fingers on the table, a sure sign that he was disturbed. ‘Can I ask who the director is?’

‘A woman.’

‘I suppose that’s understandable,’ he said peevishly. ‘After all, it
is
a gay movie.’

‘Now, now, Larry,’ she chided, quite enjoying her moment of triumph, ‘that’s not a very politically correct thing to say, is it? And for your information, it’s not a gay movie, it’s a touching love story between two women.’

‘I’m surprised you made this decision without consulting me first.’

‘Why would I bother you?’ she said guilelessly. ‘You’re busy with your movie.’ A heartfelt sigh. ‘It’s such a shame there isn’t a role for
me
in
your
film, although I’m sure you’ll find something for Isaac as usual.’

Larry was silent for a moment. ‘Is everything all right between us, Taylor?’ he asked tentatively.

‘Of course.’

‘You’re
sure
?’

‘Why wouldn’t it be?’ she countered.

‘I know you’re angry that I haven’t done more to get your movie made, but sweetheart, you have no idea what a cut-throat business this is.’

‘Larry,’ she said impatiently, ‘I’ve been a working actress in this town for years. I’ve made ten movies and countless TV shows. You might not remember most of them, but before you, I
never
stopped working.’

‘I know,’ he said. ‘However, we’re talking about a production where real money is involved. Yes, I admit that I have been dragging my feet when it comes to your project, and that’s only because it would hurt me to see you fail.’

‘Why would you think I’d fail?’ she asked coldly.

‘Anyway,’ he said, quick to move on, ‘I did set something up at Orpheus. Now all you have to do is deliver a script they like.’

‘I’ve submitted three scripts to them, Larry,’ she said
caustically, ‘and what do you know? They don’t like any of them.’

‘I can understand your frustration.’

‘Can you?’ she said, her eyes flashing. ‘Can you really?’

‘Yes, sweetheart.’

Then give me a role in your fucking movie.

But he didn’t say a word.

When she’d finished ruining Larry’s day, she decided to deal with Oliver. Unannounced, she drove over to his beach-front apartment.

He was home, Kid Rock blaring on the stereo, the smell of pot in the air.

Oliver was dancing around the place shirtless, wearing only a gold stud earring and a pair of torn Hawaiian shorts, a residue of white powder decorating his nostrils.

The bedroom door was open, and Taylor glimpsed a naked girl lying on the mattress, gazing blankly at the ceiling. ‘Sorry,’ Taylor said coldly, directing her words at Oliver. ‘Didn’t realize you were entertaining.’

‘Hey–shit, whasshappenin’, man?’ he said, blinking rapidly.

He was stoned. Taylor wished
she
was stoned–not that she was into drugs any more, she’d only indulged in the old days when she was young and foolish. Now she was the wife of an upstanding member of the community, and couldn’t do that sort of thing.

‘I came for my money,’ she said. ‘I’m sure you don’t want a bad reputation in this town now that you’re mixing in the big leagues, so I figured it would be in your best interest to pay me back.’

‘Jeez,’ he mumbled, ‘you’re a hard one.’

‘A hard one, huh?’ She lowered her voice so the girl couldn’t possibly hear. ‘You come walking into
my
house with
my
husband. What kind of respect does that show for my feelings?’

‘He
called
me,’
Oliver said indignantly. ‘What am I gonna do–turn down a meeting with Larry Singer?’

‘He’s my
husband
, Oliver,’ she said furiously. ‘Don’t you get it? You’re
fucking
his wife.’

‘You’re not gonna tell him, are you?’ he whined. ‘That’d ruin everything.’

‘You know what?’ she said disgustedly. ‘You really are a pathetic little prick. I can’t imagine what I ever saw in you. Write me a cheque and I’ll get out of this dump you call home.’

‘You
sure
you want your money back?’

‘Since you couldn’t do anything with my
tired, old-fashioned
script, I’d definitely like my money back, and I’d like it now. Otherwise, I
will
tell Larry about you and me, and we’ll see how helpful he is to you then.’

‘Shit, Tay,’ he mumbled, rubbing the tip of his nose.

‘Knowing Larry,’ she continued, quite enjoying herself, ‘he’d put a stop to your career altogether. And Larry can do that, he’s an extremely powerful man.’

‘Okay, okay,’ Oliver muttered, scratching his head. He grabbed his chequebook and scribbled her a cheque. She plucked it from his hand.

‘Ollie–you comin’ back to bed?’ the girl called from the other room.

‘Yeah, babe, hang on a minute.’

‘How old is she? Fourteen?’ Taylor asked icily.

‘No.’ Oliver gave a twisted smile. ‘Fifteen. Cute, isn’t she?’

‘Fuck you!’

And with that, Taylor stormed out of his apartment.

After spending another lonely night, and thinking things over, Lissa called Michael on his cellphone. Even though Quincy had been to see her the day before, she still had this nagging feeling that she should talk to him–after all,
he
was the one who’d been dealing with her case.

He answered immediately.

‘Hi,’ she said, friendly yet cool. ‘This is Lissa Roman.’

‘Hey,’ he said, sounding pleased. ‘How’re you doing?’

‘Okay. And you?’

‘The same.’ A beat. ‘Any problems, Lissa?’

‘No. Gregg’s gone, I’m here, the guards are outside. Everything’s under control.’

‘That’s good,’ he said warmly.

‘I was, uh…thinking that we should discuss a couple of things.’

‘Go ahead.’

‘Remember you asked me if Gregg had a gun? Well, now that I’ve had time to think about it, I seem to remember he has.’

‘That’s
not
good.’

‘He told me he didn’t have a permit, so I kind of forgot.’

‘You know, Lissa, maybe we shouldn’t talk about this on the phone.’

‘You’re right,’ she said quickly.

‘I could drop by.’

‘I’m about to leave for another rehearsal, but I’ll be home tonight. Is that any good for you?’

‘Yeah, I think it is.’

‘Should I have Nellie fix you something to eat? Do you like pasta?’

‘I’m Italian, what do
you
think?’

‘Nellie’s German, but I’m sure she can handle pasta.’

‘What time?’

‘Seven thirty?’

‘See you then.’

She put down the phone, a smile on her face. It seemed so stupid because she hardly knew him, yet she’d actually
missed
seeing him.

It’s only business
, she told herself sternly.
I need to make sure he realizes I still need protection.

A few minutes before she left the house, James called. ‘I refuse to take no for an answer,’ he said firmly. ‘We’re going to the Davis’s tonight, whether you like it or not.’

‘I already told you, James, I’m not in the mood to socialize.’

‘I know, but I spoke to Barbara D and she’s such a darling, and she
insists
that you come.’

‘I already have…other arrangements.’

‘You do? What?’

‘I’m seeing Nicci,’ she lied.

‘That’s nice.’ He hesitated for a moment. ‘I should warn you, there’s a show on TV tonight, and my contacts tell me it’s not very flattering. Perhaps your lawyer should tape it.’

‘What show is that?’

‘A piece of garbage called
The Real News.
’

‘Never heard of it.’

‘You could say it’s
Hard Copy
on speed.’

She sighed. ‘I suppose Gregg’s on it.’

‘You know Gregg–any chance to shine.’

‘Why can’t he go away quietly?’

‘Because, my sweets, he always prayed for stardom, and now he’s got his five minutes.’

‘What does he say?’

‘Talks about you, of course. Why else would anyone put him on TV?’

‘I’ll watch it.’

‘Not by yourself, princess. View it with Nicci.’

‘Thanks, James, I’ll do that. And if I don’t speak to you later, I’ll call you in the morning.’

Nicci and Saffron cruised into Fred Segal on Melrose, their favourite shopping spot. As they walked around inspecting all the new clothes, Nicci kept checking her cellphone messages.

‘
Why
do you keep on doing that?’ Saffron asked. ‘I
mean, you
speak
to Evan like
seven
times a day. So what’s the deal, girl?’

‘I
am
getting married, you know,’ Nicci reminded her.

‘I
know
,’ Saffron replied, tossing back her dreadlocks. ‘Only it’s not
him
you’re checking on.’

‘What
do
you mean?’ Nicci said innocently, pulling a pair of studded leather pants off the rack.

‘C’mon, you
know
you can’t keep secrets.’

‘No secrets,’ Nicci said, holding the pants up for further inspection.

‘Yeah?’ Saffron said, giving her a knowing look.

Nicci was dying to confide in someone–but if she did, wouldn’t that be incredibly disloyal to Evan?

‘It’s nothing,’ she said vaguely. ‘Evan’s brother is flying in from the location, and I’m supposed to give him some papers. If I miss him, it’ll piss Evan off.’

‘Hmm…’ Saffron said with a wicked grin. ‘The
babe
brother?’

Nicci shot her a surprised look. ‘You think Brian’s a babe?’

‘Oh, yeah, the dude is smokin’. Didja get an eyeful of that ass? Man! Gives “tight” a whole new meaning.’

‘Brian’s a major player,’ Nicci said, startled that Saffron had noticed. ‘He sleeps with anyone.’

‘Somethin’ wrong with that?’ Saffron joked. ‘Maybe
I
should date him.’

‘Let’s
not
keep it in the family,’ Nicci said pointedly, throwing the leather pants down and walking off.

‘Jealous?’ Saffron said, right behind her.

‘Are you
losing
it? Jealous–of
Brian
? He’s a sleaze-bag, the kind of guy you go out of your way to avoid.’

‘Uh-huh,’ Saffron said knowingly. ‘The girl is jealous all right.’

‘I am
so not
,’ Nicci said indignantly, snatching up a red T-shirt with
BAD GIRL
emblazoned in sequins across the front.

‘What’s the deal, Nic?’ Saffron persisted. ‘Don’t tell me you like Brian too?’

Nicci shook her head vigorously. ‘I
so
do
not
appreciate this conversation.’

‘Check your messages again,’ Saffron teased. ‘Maybe he’s called. And, girl, that T-shirt is
not
for you. You gotta have no boobs to carry it off.’

‘Anyone ever told you you’re a twenty-carat bitch?’ Nicci demanded, well aware she’d been busted.

Saffron grinned and twirled her gold nose-ring. ‘All the time, girl. All the time!’

Michael and Quincy were in the car on their way to meet a new client, a real estate developer who suspected his business partner was ripping him off.

‘I dropped by to see Lissa Roman yesterday,’ Quincy said, as Michael drove them over the canyon. ‘She seems happy enough.’