Hollywood Divorces / Hollywood Wives: The New Generation (53 page)

BOOK: Hollywood Divorces / Hollywood Wives: The New Generation
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Chapter Twelve

A
few days after Merrill’s successful party, the Cannes Film Festival began to wind down, and most of the major players boarded their private planes and left. Merrill gave several people a lift on his jet to London, where he was staying for a week. The group included Cat, Lola, Matt and Jonas. Merrill’s Russian girlfriend had been left in the South of France, and now another statuesque brunette was accompanying him. This one spoke English, which did not seem to please Merrill, because every time she opened her mouth he told her to shut up.

‘Where
does
he find them?’ Cat whispered to Jonas as they boarded the plane.


They
find
him
,’ Jonas replied. ‘He’s always got a new one.’

‘How convenient.’

Cat had decided that from London, she was hopping on a Qantas flight to Australia for a fast visit. Surprising Jump was a good thing. He’d never been on tour without her, and she had a feeling he was in a resentful mood because she wasn’t with him. According to Merrill, the financing for
Caught
was a done deal. Several foreign distributors had come in, so it was now a go situation. She was excited, although she tried not to show it. Cool was better.

Half-way to London she was shocked to discover that
not only had Merrill offered the lead in
Caught
to Shelby Cheney, but he was also trying to persuade Lola Sanchez to say yes. And the
only
reason she discovered this was because her script was perched on Lola’s knee.

Outraged, she shot out of her seat and cornered Jonas at the back of the plane. ‘Exactly
why
is Lola Sanchez reading my script?’ she demanded.

‘Because Merrill asked her to,’ he explained.

‘She’s totally
wrong
for it,’ Cat fumed.

‘Who’s right? You don’t like Shelby Cheney either, so who
do
you have in mind?’

‘Angelina Jolie’s the actress I want.’

‘Then you’d better tell Merrill.’

‘Don’t worry, I will.’

Merrill was sitting at a round table, magazines spread out before him, puffing on a cigar, filling the cabin with acrid smoke.

Cat slid into the seat opposite him. She was steaming. How come he’d conveniently forgotten to mention that he’d given her script to Lola Sanchez? Who else did he have in mind that he wasn’t going to tell her about? Gwyneth Paltrow? Nicole Kidman? Madonna? Yes, she could understand that he wanted a star, but if that particular star was wrong for the role, then she shouldn’t even be considered. And Lola Sanchez was
definitely
wrong.

‘Merrill,’ she said, ‘can we talk casting?’

‘Premature,’ he said, dismissing her with a wave of his cigar.

‘No, it’s not,’ she said stubbornly, determined to be heard. ‘About Lola Sanchez—’

‘Not now,’ he interrupted, blowing smoke in her face. ‘We’ll talk about it another time.’

He was the most annoying man in the world. But right now he was her ticket to ride, and this probably wasn’t the time to make waves.

 

Lola flicked through the script, her eyes barely registering the words. She wasn’t at all interested in appearing in a movie written by a girl like Cat Harrison. Who cared? Cat was a flash success story. One amateur movie and everyone was doing handstands, including Merrill–who should know better. This kind of project did not intrigue Lola at all. She was more interested in finding a script like
Rapture
, and a director of Russell Savage’s calibre.

It wasn’t fair: she never got to work with top directors, and yet she knew she had it in her to do so. Nobody had thought Salma Hayek could pull it off until she’d starred in
Frida
, and Jennifer Aniston was certainly not taken seriously until she appeared in a small film called
The Good Girl
. Lola decided that she had to work on Merrill to come up with a project worthy of her talent.

She was well aware that after
New York State of Mind
she’d better do something career-wise that made an impact. Shelby Cheney’s reviews were spectacular and it galled her.
She
could have played that role,
she
would have been just as good–if not better.

She glanced across at Matt, who had obviously decided he would be Merrill Zandack’s new best friend, and was regaling him with tales about the tennis circuit.

Merrill obviously wasn’t listening. The only reason he was bothering to give Matt the time of day was because the schmuck was married to her.

Lola knew this. Matt, of course, did not. He thought people liked him because he was a friendly guy. He had no clue that as soon as she announced they were divorcing he would return to being a nobody. Sure, the tabloids would follow him for a short while, just so they could write about whom he was dating next, but then his name would fade from the headlines.

She tapped her long, manicured red fingernails on the open script balanced on her lap, hoping Elliott Finerman had finally got his act together and offered Linc
New York State of Mind
. Linc’s latest reviews in the trades were abysmal, so he should leap at the chance of making something different.

Faye, sitting in the seat behind her, passed over a copy of
USA Today
. ‘Read the interview with Shelby Cheney,’ Faye ordered. ‘Read it and learn how careful you have to be with the press.’

Oh, yes, that was exactly what she wanted to do, read another story about Shelby Cheney. She was sick of reading about the woman.

She took the paper anyway. There was a large photograph of Shelby on the front page, and a heading that read:
‘SHELBY CHENEY–MARRIAGE TO LINC BLACKWOOD IS NOT EASY’.

Hmm
…Lola thought.
This looks interesting
.

And she started reading.

 

Shelby and Linc sat side by side on an Air France flight to London. Linc was not in a good mood. Shelby was forever carrying on about his drinking, and her constant nagging was beginning to get him down. Why couldn’t she shut the fuck up? It was okay for her, she had a hit movie and glowing reviews, whereas his movie had not been received well, and he’d had to endure the usual shitty reviews in the trades, such as, ‘
Another Linc Blackwood action adventure with not enough action and certainly no adventure in Linc’s performance
.’

Did Shelby
really
expect him to stay sober after reviews like that? He was on a binge and he knew it. Only he couldn’t stop, didn’t
want
to stop. Fuck! Why should he?

So they were barely talking, and then he’d picked up
USA Today
at the airport and once they were airborne he began reading Shelby’s interview aloud. ‘“Shelby Cheney settled into her seat while every red-blooded man in the restaurant turned to stare at her. What a beauty! ‘I’ve been told my smile lights up the screen,’ Shelby murmured, smiling seductively.” Christ!’ he said, throwing her a disgusted look. ‘You didn’t actually say this shit?’

‘You
know
I’d never say anything like that,’ she assured him, highly embarrassed. ‘The journalist said it to
me
.’

Linc shot her another look and continued reading aloud. ‘“Everyone thinks Linc can’t act. It’s a shame that he’s so underrated. It really upsets him, especially in view of
my
big success.”’

‘That’s not true,’ she wailed. ‘I told you–he’s putting
his
words into
my
mouth.’

‘Quote: “And Linc hated
Rapture
,” Linc said, really getting into it. ‘“He hated watching me make love to another man, and quite frankly, I’m jealous watching him with all the beautiful young actresses
he
works with. Our marriage isn’t easy. Although we’re both professionals, we try to do the best we can.”’ He threw down the paper in a fury. ‘Try to do the best we can, huh, Shelby? Is that what we do?’

‘He’s twisted what
he
said to
me
and made it look as if
I
picked those words,’ Shelby repeated miserably, her face flushed.

‘Well, honey, you’d better learn to be a lot smarter than that if you wanna stay in this business,’ Linc said, in a hard voice, clicking his fingers for the flight attendant. ‘I’m having a drink and I don’t want to hear any more of your bitching and nagging. Okay?’

Then he picked up the script Elliott Finerman had sent over and started reading.

 

It was cold and raining in London, a damp drizzle that refused to quit.

‘My God, it’s
freezing
,’ Lola complained, wrapping her lynx coat around her and shivering as she alighted from the aircraft. ‘I wish I could stay on Merrill’s plane all the way home.’

‘You can’t,’ Matt said, touching his annoying little goatee. ‘Not unless you’re prepared to spend a few days in London. Hey–if we do that, I’m sure Merrill would give us a ride to L.A.’

‘No way!’ she said, frowning. ‘It’s too cold and miserable here. I need the sun. Besides, British Airways is comfortable enough. They have those seats that turn into beds.’

‘I hope you told the concierge to book us the middle seats so we can sit together.’

‘Faye tried–they were already booked,’ she lied, having no desire to spend the next ten hours side by side with Matt. She wanted her privacy so that she could daydream about Tony Alvarez and how great their reunion would be. She also wanted to plan the punishment she would dole out to Linc. After the dismal reviews he’d received for his movie, she was certain he’d be into taking on a different role. Why
wouldn’t
he want to work with her? She’d been all over him in Cannes, and he hadn’t been able to take his eyes off her cleavage.

Yes, in spite of his precious wife he was hot for her already. Lola knew these things.

Simone, an attractive woman from British Airways, met them at the plane, whisked them into a private car and took them over to the British Airways terminal, where she checked them in, then accompanied them upstairs to the first-class lounge.

Several people came over to ask Lola for her autograph. She obliged, with a big movie-star smile. Lola knew how to put it on better than anyone. Besides, she genuinely loved the attention. The little girl from Silverlake had made it all the way to the top, and the feeling was exhilarating.

 

Cat was psyched to be getting away from all the bullshit and on her way to see Jump. A week apart seemed like a year, and even if she was only able to spend a few days with him, it was worth it. The big Kris Phoenix concert was coming up in Sydney, and that was the most important night for Jump and his band. After a few more unsatisfactory phone conversations, she wanted to be there for him–front row and centre–supporting him in every way, just as he’d supported her when he’d got her off drugs.

When Merrill’s plane landed, she had to hurry to make her connection, barely finding time to say goodbye to everyone. She saved Jonas for last: he’d been the one bright spot of her trip. Once she’d got him out of his Prada he’d turned out to be a cool guy–and not even gay! When she got to L.A. she’d have to hook him up with one of her girlfriends.

Even though she considered herself a New Yorker, she’d rented an apartment in L.A. for the next six months, because that was where
Caught
was set, and where Zandack Films was based. Australia would be a nice break between the South of France and getting back to work. She could have stayed in London for a couple of days and visited her mother, if her mother had been there. Mommy Dearest was currently on a photographic safari in Africa with a man twenty years her junior, who, if he played his cards wrong, was about to become husband number six.

Oh well, that’s my mother
, Cat thought wryly.
Nothing’s going to change her
.

‘I’ll see you in L.A.,’ she said to Jonas.

He nodded, busy on his laptop.

‘Anything you want from Australia?’ she asked, thinking that he’d been kind of elusive for the last few days–ever since their fun time at the beach.

‘No thanks,’ he said, closing his laptop and standing up.

‘You okay?’

‘Sure,’ he said noncommittally. ‘Why wouldn’t I be?’

‘I just wondered.’

‘Did you tell your husband you’re coming?’

‘Nope,’ she said, grinning. ‘Surprises are the bomb!’

‘Not always,’ he cautioned.

‘What do you mean by
that?

‘Nothing. Jump is a lucky guy.’

‘And I’m a lucky girl.’

‘Didn’t I already tell you that?’

They exchanged a look.

‘Well…I guess I’m outta here,’ she said.

‘Have a safe trip.’

‘I will.’ Impulsively she kissed his cheek. ‘See you in L.A.’ Then she hurried from the plane.

Chapter Thirteen

T
he first thing Lola did upon arriving home was rush upstairs, shut herself in the bedroom and call her lawyer, Otto Landstrom. ‘You’ve got to help me, Otto,’ she pleaded. ‘This is urgent.’

‘What’s the problem, Lola?’

‘I want a divorce.’

‘That’s impossible. You only recently got married.’

‘It simply isn’t working out. Europe was especially bad, and the truth is…marriage is not for me.’

‘What does Matt have to say about your change of heart?’

‘He doesn’t know. I want
you
to tell him.’

‘You want
me
to tell him?’

‘Yes,’ she said persuasively. ‘After all, you
are
my lawyer. You’re supposed to take care of this kind of thing.’

‘I’m a lawyer, not a marriage counsellor,’ Otto said, sounding pissed. ‘I can’t call him up and say, “Your wife is divorcing you”.’

‘Why not?’ she said petulantly.

‘Does he have any hint you’re thinking of divorce?’

‘No. We just got back, and all he’s interested in is sitting in front of the TVO checking out what sports programmes he missed.’

Otto sighed. ‘Exactly
why
did you marry him, Lola?’

‘Cause I
thought
I could make it work. And anyway,’ she added truculently, ‘
you
advised me to, along with everyone else.’

‘Then why are you divorcing him?’

‘He’s
boring
, Otto. And since when did I need a
reason
to get divorced?’

‘You
always
need a reason.’

Why did everyone have to make it so difficult? ‘You’re my lawyer, Otto,’ she said sharply. ‘This is an instruction. ‘Do it.’

Otto did not appreciate her tone. The time was coming in the not too distant future when he would give up representing movie stars. They were too much damn trouble. ‘When do you expect me to take care of this?’ he asked.

‘Like yesterday. I’ll go to a spa with one of my sisters and you can tell him then. That way he can be gone by the time I get back.’

‘When are you leaving?’

‘Maybe tomorrow,’ she said vaguely. ‘I’ll let you know.’

‘I’ll do it, Lola. But you have to talk to him first. At least give him some indication that all is not well.’

‘I’m not
good
at confrontations,’ she wailed, mad at Otto for refusing to make it easy for her. ‘
You
handle everything, that’s what I pay you for.’ She clicked off her phone. God! How come Otto was making it such a major deal? She shelled out big bucks for him to take care of business–
including
personal.

The intercom buzzed, and Jenny, her assistant, informed her that her mother was on the phone.

Damn! She’d have to tell her family before they read about it in the tabloids. They’d all been at the wedding, her many cousins and other assorted relatives, mingling with the stars, their mouths half open in awe as they recognized all the famous faces.

She’d tell Mama first. Claudine Sanchez was fond of Matt, and why shouldn’t she be? In
her
mind her daughter had married a white-bread sports hero.

Yeah, sure. A loafer. A sponger. A man who expects me to pay all the bills.

On the other hand her dad wasn’t so crazy about Matt. ‘He don’t have that macho thing goin’,’ Louis Sanchez had complained the first time she’d brought him home. ‘You’d be smarter to find yourself a Latino man.’ A cave-man grin. ‘Sexy, like me.’

Yeah, well, Louis Sanchez should know all about
that
. Mr Stud. The bull of the neighbourhood.

Lola often wondered how Claudine had put up with his philandering over the years. She would
never
take that kind of crap from a man: it was disrespectful and insulting.

Hmm…she’d better arrange that visit to a spa with one of her sisters. Both of them enjoyed all the perks that came with her stardom. They loved it when she went to an award event and scored a huge basket filled with thousands of dollars worth of stuff, which she always handed over to them. She was very generous to her family–Mama called it sharing the luck. Recently she’d bought her parents a house in Hancock Park. It had cost a fortune, but it had been worth every dollar to see the look on Claudine’s face. Her dad wasn’t so thrilled, he didn’t like leaving the old neighbourhood and his many cronies, so she’d bought him a new red Corvette to make up for his loss. That soon shut him up. Now he could visit his lady-friends in style.

‘You must do something for your sisters next,’ Mama had informed her before she’d left for the South of France. ‘They need your help.’

Why? They both had husbands. Still, to appease Claudine she’d agreed to create a trust to pay for her nieces’ and nephews’ future education. It wasn’t such a hardship because she could certainly afford it, and she adored the
kids, especially as she knew she could never have any of her own. That was
her
secret, a secret she kept close to her heart. A secret that haunted her and drove her crazy.

She clicked on her phone. ‘Hi, Mama.’

‘Welcome home, Miss Movie Star,’ joked Claudine. ‘I’m happy you’re safely back.’

‘Thanks.’

‘Did you have a wonderful time?’

‘Of course.’

‘Who did you see? What did you wear?’ Claudine was totally into hearing all the details.

They chatted for a few minutes, then Lola promised to phone her in the morning.

Next she called Tony. His voicemail picked up.

‘Hey,’ she purred into the receiver, ‘guess who’s back in town?’

When she finally made her way downstairs, Matt was still in the library, switching sports programmes on the TVO.

‘What’re you searching for?’ she asked impatiently.

‘I’ve got plenty of catching up to do,’ he said, busy clicking his remote. Obviously it did not take much to turn Matt on.

‘Can’t you do it later?’ she said, yawning. ‘I’m going to bed and you’ll disturb me when you come up.’

‘Go to bed later,’ he advised. ‘That way you won’t get jet-lag.’

‘What’re you, an expert?’

‘Why are you so bad-tempered lately?’ he asked, taking his eyes off the TV for a moment.

She shrugged. This seemed like a good opportunity to give him a hint. ‘We don’t seem to be getting along so good, do we, Matt?’

‘I think we get along fine.’

‘It’s just that now we’re married, you don’t
do
anything. And if you want the truth, it bugs me.’

‘I told you,’ he said firmly. ‘I gave up tennis because I’m writing a screenplay and planning on being an actor. Give me time and I’ll surprise you, you’ll see.’

‘It’s not that simple.’

‘Yes, it is,’ he said stubbornly.

‘No, it’s not,’ she countered.


You
made it from nothing,’ he said pointedly. ‘Why can’t
I?

‘Because you’ve got to be realistic, Matt. You’re married to
me
.’

‘So?’

‘So there’s no way you can go out on auditions for bit parts. It wouldn’t be dignified for either of us.’

‘Then put me in one of
your
movies,’ he said. ‘You have plenty of control. Elliott Finerman likes me. I could even play the lead in
New York State of Mind
.’

Was he
insane?
‘You’re
not
an actor,’ she reminded him sharply. ‘You’re a tennis player.’

‘And what were
you
before you started acting?’ he retaliated. ‘I seem to remember that you were a waitress.’

‘The difference is that
I
wanted to be an actress ever since I was a little girl,’ she said heatedly. ‘It was my lifelong ambition. I worked hard to get where I am today.’

‘Yeah,’ he sneered. ‘And what did you have to
do
along the way, Lola?’

‘Ex
cuse
me?’ she said, outraged.

‘Is it true what they say about Merrill Zandack?’

‘Who’s
they?
And what do
they
say?’

‘That he has to get serviced by all the actresses he works with.’

‘Oh, for God’s sake,’ she hissed, prancing out of the room.

Now she didn’t feel so bad. Matt had a stupid dumb-ass attitude. Let Otto go ahead and do her dirty work. She didn’t care any more.

 

Martha and George Cheney lived in a large house in St John’s Wood, an upmarket area of London. George, a retired stockbroker, worshipped his daughter. Shelby reminded him of her mother: she was kind and giving with a genuinely sweet nature. It often surprised him that she’d chosen to become an actress. Such a strange and difficult profession.

Martha Cheney had invited them to stay at their house, but Shelby knew it would not be a good idea, for Linc was extremely demanding. He expected room service, cable TV and all the amenities of a luxury hotel. Instead, she’d opted for a suite at the Dorchester, where Linc would have everything he required–including a gym where he could perform his daily workout.

Ever since he’d read the unfortunate
USA Today
interview, Linc had been in a foul mood. He absolutely refused to believe her protestations of innocence.

‘Goddamn it, Shelby. You should be smart enough to know that journalists twist your words,’ he said, once they were settled at the hotel.

‘Hasn’t it ever happened to you?’ she asked, tired of his relentless complaining.

‘Yeah,’ he retorted. ‘When I was young and stupid. You’ve been a working actress for long enough. You should know better.’

‘In future I’ll have a publicist and a tape-recorder present so I can prove it to you.’

‘You
must
have said some of those things.’

‘No, Linc, I didn’t,’ she answered wearily. ‘
He
told me he thought you were an underrated actor and I agreed with him.’

‘Christ!’ he muttered, heading for the mini-bar.

‘The truth is you
are
underrated,’ she said, following him. ‘You
should
be doing different things.’

‘I am,’ he said, swigging from a bottle of Scotch, daring her with his eyes to stop him. ‘I’m instructing my agent to accept Elliott Finerman’s movie.’

‘What movie is that?’

‘I read the script on the plane. It’s a romantic comedy with Lola Sanchez.’

‘Lola
Sanchez
,’ she exclaimed. ‘Do you honestly think the two of you have chemistry? I mean, she takes over the screen, and the last thing you should do is play second fiddle.’

Immediately the words left her mouth she knew she’d made a mistake.

‘You think I’d be second to Lola Sanchez, huh?’ he said, glaring at her. ‘How come you didn’t put
that
in your fucking interview?’

‘I’m sorry,’ she said haltingly. ‘I didn’t mean—’

‘I’ll be in the gym,’ he said, and stomped out of their suite.

Shelby realized that lately she couldn’t say anything right. Linc’s lacklustre reviews had set him off and the
USA Today
piece hadn’t helped his black mood. The interview wasn’t
that
bad, but unfortunately it had given him something to vent his anger and frustration on.

Her immediate problem was that they were expected at her parents’ for dinner that night, and how was she going to ask him not to drink? Whatever troubles they were experiencing, she did not want her parents to know.

Meanwhile, according to her agent, everyone was anxious to work with her. Word of her performance in
Rapture
had reached the States. The trades had given her glowing reviews, while Linc’s were dismal. ‘Your price is skyrocketing,’ her agent told her over the phone. ‘Word is that when the time comes you’ve got a good chance of being nominated. Congratulations, Shelby. You’ve done a great job.’

She was excited, yet she couldn’t let Linc see it because she knew it would only upset him further.

What a dilemma! If only she could enjoy her amazing success and not have to worry about Linc all the time. Sometimes she felt as if she were treading on eggshells.

Later, when he returned from the gym, Linc flopped down on the bed and calmly announced that he wasn’t going to her parents’ for dinner.

‘You can’t do this to me,’ she said, struggling to remain calm. ‘They’re expecting you. If you don’t come with me it will look bad.’

‘I’ll give you a choice,’ he said, activating the TV remote. ‘You can go by yourself. Or if I come, I’m drinking, and I don’t want you nagging me in front of them.’

Great, what kind of a choice was
that
?

‘Okay,’ she said tightly. ‘But you
will
behave, won’t you?’

He threw her a filthy look. ‘Y’know, Shelby, sometimes you talk to me like I’m a fucking kid, and I’m bored with it, okay? You’ve got a habit of boring the shit outta me.’

Obviously he’d had another drink or two at the bar.

She nodded miserably. Dealing with Linc was becoming more and more of an ordeal.

 

Cat managed to view several DVDs on her flight to Australia. She also had time to listen to some new CDs she’d picked up at the airport.

During the long flight she got talking to a friendly flight attendant who informed her she was the biggest Kris Phoenix fan in the world.

‘I’ll get you tickets,’ Cat promised.

‘Oh, my God! That would be incredible!’


And
a backstage pass,’ Cat added. ‘How about that?’

‘Fantastic! And I’ll give
you
a bag full of miniature bottles of booze.’

‘Deal,’ Cat said, grinning. ‘I’m sure Jump won’t object.’ Although she had no doubt that there was no shortage of booze on the tour.

Not that Jump was a big drinker, he was into his weed and that was about it. In view of her insane drug past she was happy that he didn’t indulge in anything else.

Jump had saved her from a total wild-child life, although if she hadn’t been such a wild child, she would never have had the material to write her movie, so it had all worked out in the end.

A stern-faced Customs officer took one glance at her standing in line clad in her tightest frayed jeans, cropped top and studded earlobes, and decided she looked suspicious. He pulled her out of place and searched through her luggage piece by piece–checking everything.

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