Hollywood Girls Club (20 page)

Hot always trumped cute. Brie would win tonight. Bradford might think that he loved Christina Darmides, but for men hot sex beat out love every time. Besides, it wasn’t as if Bradford was married (not that marital status had ever mattered to Brie, obviously). This afternoon at the beach, even Christina said that she and Bradford were just friends. Bradford was open game.

Brie heard the security buzzer from the front gate. “Sarah,” Brie called to her housekeeper, “will you get that? Send Mr. Madison up to my room.” Brie leaned forward, perking her breasts in her demi-cup bra.
Yes
. She smiled into the mirror.
She looked irresistible.

Chapter 20

Jessica Caulfield and Her Curled Toes

Jessica Caulfield stretched her arms over her head. She wiggled her bare toes under the down comforter. Early Saturday morning light crept in through the white silk curtains on her bedroom windows. It was already a beautiful day. A perfect day.

She rolled slightly to her left. He was still there. Mike Fox. Adorable Mike Fox, in her bed, snoozing away. When they’d been together years ago, Mike never spent the night. It didn’t matter what time they got back from dinner or a premiere. As soon as they finished making love, Mike was out the door. Not anymore. Not this time. This Mike Fox spent the night. This Mike Fox sent her flowers, cooked for her, and even told her he loved her.

Jessica was satisfied. Gluttonously, sexually satisfied. She felt as if she’d feasted after a long famine. Tender caresses, long kisses, and fantastic sex replenished her. She felt alive. And happy. The stress, the anger—it had all drained away. Jessica ran her fingers along Mike’s cheekbone as he snored. His brown hair was rumpled. Yes, this Mike Fox was the Mike Fox she’d always wanted.

It was almost effortless, the transition to having him around again. Round two began with a casual dinner party at a mutual friend’s home three weeks before. She and Mike both arrived sans date (Jess was still wondering if she’d been set up). Dinner led to an after-dinner drink at the Polo Lounge, which led to two more dates, a party, and just like that, Mike had slipped back into her life. Effortless and fulfilling, the way Jessica had always imagined that the right relationship would be.

Although he was the same Mike (he still loved to have a good time), he was different, too: Not nearly as inebriated with the glitz and the glam as a few years ago, Mike, like a number of Hollywood executives (at least the ones who didn’t burn out or crack their nut), understood you needed something
real
in your life. The biz would let you down; it couldn’t be the only thing in your life (no matter how tempting the siren song of screen success, the A-list parties, yachts, supermodels, and blow). It was all an illusion, a pleasure palace that in the end couldn’t sustain your soul.

Jessica had allowed herself to be numbed by the office, and now, for the first time in seven years, she was coming down from her workaholic high. The last person she’d ever have expected to meet her (with his feet planted solidly on the ground) was Mike Fox.

Jessica slipped quietly out of bed. She’d shower, then go downstairs, make coffee, and read scripts. Jessica looked at the clock; she was to meet Celeste, Lydia, Christina, and Mary Anne at the Four Seasons for breakfast in three hours. Christina was returning to Oxford in three days, and Lydia wanted a confab on Christina’s future career in the film trade. Lydia had already offered Christina a job at her production company as a reader (a much easier way to break into the film biz than as an assistant), but as Lydia had mentioned, who better for a producer-intraining to sit down with than a writer, a powerful Hollywood agent, and a superstar?

Jessica wanted to get some reading finished so that after breakfast she could spend all day with Mike. They’d talked about driving out to Palm Springs for the night or maybe going to Coronado. If they wanted to be really naughty, Mike could steal Summit’s corporate jet for the rest of the weekend and they could go to Cabo or New York. There were no stars to worry about, no bottom lines to meet, no phone calls to return. Every bit of business could wait. She’d put it all on hold (she’d even turned off her BlackBerry!). Jessica pattered down the staircase, toward her coffee and her scripts.

*

Settling into the oversized white chair and ottoman in her study, Jessica picked up the first script on her pile of ten. Paul Peterson, head of Summit, had sent her this one with a $20 million offer for Maurice Banks and a $20 million offer for Holden. It was a two-hander, a buddy picture. Holden had finally started to see the acting coach, Gary Moises; at least now he had a chance of actually doing some acting and having a career for the next ten years. Paul wanted Lydia to produce; he was already asking Jessica if Lydia would consider moving her overall deal to Summit from Worldwide after
Seven Minutes Past Midnight
was released.

Jessica thought a move to Summit was the perfect solution to Lydia’s problem with Arnold. Summit would pay for Lydia’s overhead (staff, operating expenses) and sweeten her producer’s quote ($5 million plus ten percent of gross), and in exchange, Lydia would let Summit look at every project she wanted to make first before she discussed the project with any other studio. Paul was fair, and Lydia had worked with him at Birnbaum Productions. (As his first job in the industry, Paul interned for Weston when Lydia was a reader, so they went way back. And Paul knew what a dumbass Arnold was.)

“You left me alone.”

Jessica looked up and smiled. Mike stood in the doorway with a sheet wrapped around his waist.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” she said.

“I’m still tired,” Mike said, walking over to her. “Come back to bed with me.”

“Can’t. Already drank two cups of coffee.”

Mike bent over, his lips grazing Jessica’s ear. “Then you’ve got some energy. I’ll make it worth your while.”

Jessica felt a tingle in her spine and her toes curled. Mike was so sexy. She could feel herself getting wet just from his whispering. He wasn’t even touching her.

“But then again,” he said and slid his lips down her neck. “Who really needs a bed?”

*

Jessica waited for the girls at a big table in the Four Seasons restaurant. All of them were late. Jessica had been worried that she’d be the one keeping them waiting, especially after the rendezvous on the floor of her study at home. She’d rushed through a shower, thrown on silk pants and a shirt, and dashed toward the door, leaving Mike standing in the kitchen (still wrapped in a sheet) grinning and sipping his first cup of coffee.

“I’ll be here when you get back,” he said.

Jessica stopped at the front door and turned around. “You will?”

“Yes, Jess, I will.”

That was when it hit her. Really hit her. Mike Fox would be there. He’d be there when she got home, when she got up, and when she got old.

“Jess, I know I made a big mistake when I left five years ago, and I’m not making that mistake again. So yes, I will be here when you get home.”

“Okay.” Jessica smiled and picked up her keys from the crystal bowl in the foyer.

“Hurry up and get back here so we can do something fun for the rest of our weekend.”

“You got it,” she said.

“Tell the girls I say hello. And tell Celeste I want her to do my film next, no matter what her agent says about the script.”

“I’ll tell her, but you know her agent is kind of a ballbuster.”

The memory made Jess smile, and it made her impatient. She had the sexiest man alive standing naked in her kitchen and she was waiting at an empty table.

“I see a grin,” Lydia called as she and Celeste clipped across the marble-tile floor to the table. “That must have been put there by one Mr. Mike Fox.”

“Is it that obvious?”

Celeste bent down and gave her an air kiss. “Well, if the rumors are true, and they usually are, then I have to agree with Lydia. You are indeed getting banged on a regular basis.”

Jessica flushed, smiled, and lifted her menu.

“We saw Mary Anne pulling in when we parked,” Lydia said. “Christina’s on her way. She was going to stop by Brie Ellison’s to pick up some shoes Brie borrowed.”

“That’s another one making some time. Christina spends more nights at my house with Bradford than she does at your place,” Celeste remarked to Lydia.

“Yes, well, her father seems to believe that when Christina’s out all night, she’s with her girlfriends,” Lydia said.

“Only if she’s a lesbian and Bradford is having a party. The other night they were so loud I thought the house would come down. ‘Oooh, ooh, ooh!’ Do you remember what it’s like to get fucked like that?” Celeste looked at Lydia and Jessica. Both of them sheepishly peeked over their menus. “Oh, silly me! I forgot you two and your new loves. Of course you do. How is it I’m one of the sexiest people alive, according to
People
magazine, and you two are getting more action than I’ve had in the last six months? Hmmm.” Celeste looked at her menu.

“That’s not what I hear,” Jessica quietly singsonged.

“What?!” Celeste put down her menu. “What
do
you hear?”

“I hear that a certain celebrity, who will remain nameless, has been rendezvousing upstairs at this very hotel with a certain movie mogul, who will also remain nameless, whenever that movie mogul happens to be in Los Angeles from New York.”

Celeste pressed her lips together and picked up the silver coffee carafe from the center of the table. “Lies, rumors, and more lies. You know how this town is.”

“What if I had pictures?” Jessica said, and smiled.

“Oh my God!” Celeste yelped, practically jumping from her chair. “I almost forgot.”

“What?” Lydia asked.

“I need film of Brie and Damien fucking.”

“Sorry I’m late.” Mary Anne rushed toward the table, her hair still wet.

“Sit. You haven’t missed much, except Cici wants to film her soon-to-be ex-husband having sex with Brie Ellison,” Lydia said.

“Isn’t that illegal?” Jessica asked.

“Excuse me?” Mary Anne said, plopping down beside Lydia and across from Jessica and Celeste.

“Film or tape. I need it to break my prenup.” Celeste sipped her coffee, then leaned in and whispered, “You know Brie Ellison is a minor.”

“No fucking way!” Lydia crowed. “Damien’s really gotten his dick in the wringer this time.”

“It’s too good to be true.” Jessica giggled.

“Well, it is true. Howard pulled her birth certificate from the tiny town in Missouri where she was born. Minor equals illegal, and illegal equals big bucks for me. So I need film. How do we get it?”

Lydia’s cell phone started ringing. She glanced at the number. “Sorry, girls, it’s Christina. Just a sec.” She clicked and answered.

Jessica watched from across the table as Lydia’s face turned from a smile into a frown.

“What? Oh, no. Christina, I’m so sorry.”

Celeste put down her menu and glanced at Lydia and then looked at Jessica.

“Sweetie, it’s okay. Stop crying. Shhh. No, they’ll understand,” Lydia said, glancing around the table. “Uh-huh. Okay. I’ll be home right after breakfast. I promise it will be okay. Did you tell your father? What did he say?”

Celeste leaned toward Jessica and whispered, “Who do you think died?”

“No, honey. He won’t kill him. He’s just being protective. Okay. See you soon.” Without looking at any of them, Lydia reached for her spoon, picked it up, and started to stir her coffee.

“Lyd, what is it?” Celeste asked.

“Well,” Lydia said, exhaling, “it seems that little Miss Brie Ellison is on quite the sexual rampage.”

“What?”

“When Christina got to Brie’s house, she found Brie in bed.” Lydia paused and lifted her coffee cup to her lips.

“So?” Jessica said.

“Well, Brie wasn’t alone, and she wasn’t with Damien, either.”

“Oh, no,” Celeste wailed.

“What? What am I missing?” Jessica asked.

Lydia looked Jessica in the eye. “Brie was in bed with Bradford.”

“But Bradford is seeing Christina,” Mary Anne said, stating the obvious.

“Welcome to Hollywood,” Jessica said.

“Cici, you may run into a bit of a mess when you get home. It seems Bradford is now back at your place and has been calling Christina nonstop. When Zymar asked what was going on, well, Christina told him. Zymar’s on his way to your house.”

“Might be good for Bradford to get his ass kicked,” Celeste said.

“I’m glad we’re finished with production,” Lydia said. “Bruises have a nasty way of showing up on film. They are such a pain for the makeup department to hide.”

“That bitch,” Celeste muttered. “That girl must be stopped.”

“Christina isn’t part of this crazy entertainment world,” Lydia said. “She’s sweet and young. You know, I think she was falling in love with Bradford.”

“Never fall in love with an actor,” Jessica said, and glanced at Celeste. “No offense, Cici.”

“Don’t worry, I’d never fall for an actor. Are you kidding? Marrying a producer was bad enough.”

“I know how she feels,” Mary Anne whispered.

Jessica looked at Mary Anne, as did Lydia and Celeste. Like any good writer, Mary Anne spent most of her time observing whenever they were together. It was a rare occasion when she actually offered information that was personal.

“I walked in on my boyfriend … well, you know. I walked in on him at our apartment with our neighbor.”

“Was this Steve?” Lydia asked.

“How did you know?” Mary Anne looked at Lydia.

“You mentioned Steve and Viève in the ambulance the night Bradford almost killed you.”

“It’s just so awful.” Mary Anne gazed into the distance.

“I think it’s safe to say we’ve all been there.” Lydia glanced around the table. “Or almost there. Maybe not quite as graphic as your and Christina’s scenes, but pretty close.”

Jessica nodded along with Celeste. She sighed. “Twenty million or not, I’m almost glad Bradford Madison isn’t my client.”

“I agree with Cici. I think it’s time Miss Ellison gets a little of what she gives.” Lydia’s eyes narrowed. “Cici, you said you needed film. Well, I think I know just the person who can help us, and she just so happens to work for you.”