Hollywood Wives - the New Generation (12 page)

'We'll talk tomorrow,' he'd said. 'I gotta get over to my agent's.'

Graciously she hadn't pursued it. Not that he'd given her much
choice.

A fuck would've been nice. A celebratory fuck.

Maybe tomorrow.

She phoned Larry from the car.

'Where are you?' he asked.

'Shopping,' she replied.

'I'm putting Edie on - give her the name and address of those people
who helped you yesterday.'

'What people?' she asked, totally blanking on her lies.

'The neighbours.'

'Oh, yes,' she said quickly. 'The neighbours… I uh… didn't get their
exact address. And you know - I'm not sure of their name.' A pause.
'Why do you need to know anyway?'

'Because I thought we should send them a gift basket, or champagne.
Something to let them know we appreciate what they did.'

'Absolutely,' she said. 'I'll find out and let Edie know.'

'Speak to her now, give her the name of the writer you were on your
way to see. She'll get the information.'

'I'll deal with it myself,' Taylor said quickly. 'I'd like it to
seem more personal.'

'Don't forget.'

'I won't.'

She clicked off the phone. Larry was always so worried about other
people. He had his precious personal assistant, Edie, who'd been with
him forever, do everything. Send flowers. Write
notes. Buy gifts. God forbid someone didn't get a proper thank-you.

Taylor drove her car directly to Neiman's and indulged herself with
two hours of ferocious shopping to calm herself down. Everyone was
getting what they wanted.

When was it
her
turn?

Deidra Baker was fed up with working for a living. She had a plan,
and that plan was to snag herself a rich man. She didn't care what he
looked like or how old he was: as long as he had big bucks he would do.

Deidra was twenty-five, not a beauty, but an attractive, if somewhat
short, brunette, with long hair and a compact body. Her best asset,
unfortunately for her, had to be kept under wraps. Deidra had quite
phenomenal nipples. They were huge and dark brown, and when aroused,
startlingly erect. Men flipped over her nipples, but she had yet to
find the man who'd flip out enough to pay her rent so she could give up
her job and start enjoying herself like the affluent women she waited
on at Barneys, where she was a salesgirl. It was better than her
previous job, which was working at a children's clothing store in the
valley.

Crossing over the hill had been the best move she'd ever made. At
least she got to meet people now. Rich people. Rich
men
.

At night she hung out at the latest clubs, always on the look-out
for a man who could take her places. Sitting at the bar she made
connections, although never the right ones, merely guys who were
looking to get laid and nothing else.

Then one day along came Gregg Lynch. Deidra recognized him
immediately when he wandered into the store to check out cashmere
sweaters. Mr Lissa Roman. Husband of the superstar.

Deidra was smart, she didn't let on she knew who he was. After some
banter back and forth, he came on to her. She responded. Why not?

He took her out for coffee a couple of times, and before long they
were sleeping together.

Gregg discovered her nipples with a vengeance, toying with them for
hours on end. He truly got off on them - most men did.

Deidra didn't mind, for she was under the impression that she'd
finally found her ticket to the big time.

Only one problem. He
was
married.

It took him weeks before he told her who he was. When he did, she
acted all surprised, especially when he revealed the identity of his
wife.

Because she didn't throw a fit, he started to feel very comfortable
with her, and soon he was complaining about his famous wife non-stop.
According to him, Lissa Roman was a cold, unloving bitch with the
biggest ego in the world, and his most fervent complaint was that she
refused to help him with his career.

Deidra had listened to a few of his songs, immediately understanding
why Lissa couldn't help him. The man had no talent except in bed.

Of course she didn't tell him that. She told him he was the most
gifted, fabulous, hot, sexy man she'd ever slept with. And he had the
biggest, most admirable cock she'd ever seen. And his wife was an idiot
because she did not appreciate him.

Gregg believed every word - he was a man, wasn't he?

After a while it occurred to Deidra she was not getting anything out
of the affair except a litany of complaints about Lissa Roman. Gregg
was not offering to pay her rent. Gregg was not buying her presents.
Gregg was not mentioning that he would divorce his wife - thereby
ending up with big alimony. He wasn't even taking her out to dinner,
claiming it was too risky for them to be seen together in public.

All they were doing was hanging out in her tiny apartment indulging
in endless sex. Which wasn't a bad thing because Gregg
was
quite a cocksman. On the other hand, Deidra had to think about her
future, and if Gregg wasn't prepared to come up with a plan that suited
both of them
and
some big bucks, she'd better start looking
elsewhere. After all, she wasn't getting any younger, and Hollywood was
chock-a-block with beautiful babes, a new batch arriving every day.

Deidra decided she'd better make a stand, so when Gregg arrived at
her apartment on Thursday night, she was ready.

He entered, complaining. Nothing new about
that
.

Deidra listened for a while, stifling a yawn because it had been a
long day - even though she'd had the pleasure of admiring Brad Pitt
from afar when he'd come into the store with his wife, Jennifer
Aniston. How lucky could one girl get? A hit TV series
and
Brad Pitt. It didn't seem fair.

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.

Thursday 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?