Hollywood Wives - the New Generation (9 page)

He finished quickly, thank God, stood up and hoisted his swimming
trunks back into position.

'Not bad,' he said condescendingly. 'And I thought you were getting
frigid on me. See you later, hon.'

And with that he ambled out of her dressing room as if nothing had
happened.

She was stunned. What kind of a man was he anyway?

A bullying monster, that's what kind.

And the sooner she was rid of him the better.

Later in the day Saffron and Nicci sat side by side in a Korean
beauty shop on Westwood Boulevard enjoying manicures and pedicures.

'I was thinking of inviting Evan's brother to dinner at the house
when they get back,' Nicci said, wriggling her bare toes.

'Why?' Saffron asked. 'You told me he was a totally into getting
laid jerk - and now you want to have him for dinner. What's the scam?'

'He
is
about to be my brother-in-law,' Nicci pointed out,
determined not to reveal her crush, although she was dying to confide
in someone, and who better than Saffron? 'So this will be my major
peace move.'

'How come?' Saffron demanded, stretching out her elegant fingers as
a short Korean woman applied gold polish to her long nails. 'Did you
two get into a fight?'

'No. It's just that Brian's kind of cold towards me,' Nicci
explained, as a second Korean woman placed her feet in a bowl of warm
water. 'I know it's 'cause I'm marrying his brother and that probably
doesn't
thrill
him. They may not look alike, but they
are
twins. And I've heard twins have this kind of cosmic karma - like if
one gets married the other one feels deserted.'

'Twins. Very close,' the manicurist painting Saffron's nails said,
in a low, sing-song voice.

'I don't get it,' Saffron said, yawning. 'You can't even cook. So
what's the deal?'

'I'm planning on hiring a chef for the night.'

'Oh, wow.' Saffron giggled. 'Now you're going Hollywood on me.'

'I can't do it without you, so you'd better show up.'

'Yeah, yeah - wouldn't miss it. That's if I can find a sitter for
Lulu.'

'Doesn't your mom ever sit?'

'Get real!' Saffron exclaimed, hooting with laughter. 'Can you
imagine
the great Kyndra sweeping into my tiny house and
babysitting
?
Oh, when she has a free moment she takes Lulu. But you know what? That
woman
never
has a free moment - exactly like Lissa.'

True
, Nicci thought.
My mom always has something going
on. If it's not work, it's a man
.

'Will you bring Mac?' she asked.

'I cannot
only
be seen with screaming gay men,' Saffron
said. 'I might bring a studly actor I met at an audition last week.'

'Studly actor good,' the manicurist interjected, nodding knowingly.

'How come you haven't mentioned him?' Nicci asked.

'Cause you're always too busy catering to Evan.'

'I do not cater,' Nicci said crossly.

'Yes, you do.'

'I so
don't
.'

'Whatever,' Saffron said, admiring her manicure.

'Coffee? Tea?' the manicurist asked.

'No, thanks,' Nicci answered, as the other woman gently dried her
feet with a towel.

'Can somebody run out and get me a Jamba Juice?' Saffron said,
tossing back her long dreadlocks. 'Raspberry with all that health stuff
in it. I need energy.'

'So, have you come up with any ideas for the bridesmaids' dresses?'
Nicci asked.

'I was thinking short and muted purple. Something way sixties with
an edge.'

'Sounds cool.'

'Maybe you should approve them?'

'When do I have time?'

'It's
me
you're talking to, Nic. You got the time to do
anything you want, it's not like you have a
job.'

'Organizing a wedding
is
a job.'

'I mean a
proper
job.'

'I've
tried
a million and one jobs. Anyway,
you
can talk, all
you
do is go on auditions and
never
get the part.'

'Thanks for reminding me,' Saffron said huffily. 'It's
so
good to have encouraging friends.'

'Sorry!' Nicci said quickly, realizing she'd stepped into a
sensitive area.

'Anyway, let's get real,' Saffron said. 'We're both supported by our
families.'

'True,' Nicci admitted. 'Only
I'm
marrying Evan, so no
more hand-outs.'

'Then
he'll
support you,' Saffron said. 'What's the
difference?'

'There's plenty of difference,' Nicci said irritably. 'And anyway,
how come that big dumb basketball player doesn't give you more money?
Lulu
is
his daughter.'

'Cause I don't care to take money from him,' Saffron said, her face
hardening. 'If I accept his money, then he'll think he has some big fat
claim on her.'

'He should be giving you plenty,' Nicci said.

'I dunno.' Saffron sighed. 'Whatever happened to all our feminist
vows growing up? We were gonna own the world. Remember?'

'Yeah, well, all
I
want to
own is Evan,' Nicci said, which wasn't
strictly true because she didn't want to own him, just be with him.
'Y'know,' she mused, 'it's like I've dated so many bad boys, and
finally along comes a good one so I'm bagging him. Nothing wrong with
that.'

'
And
let's not forget he's
mega
bucks rich,'
Saffron offered.

Nicci hadn't really thought about Evan being rich. But then she
realized that of course he was.
Oh my God
, she thought.
Antonio's
marrying a rich woman. Am I doing the same! Copping out just so I'm
comfortable for the rest of my life
?

No way. I love Evan. And if it wasn't for Brian…

'I mentioned the phone call I had with my dad, didn't I?' she said,
trying not to think about Brian again.

Saffron nodded. 'What was Lissa's reaction?'

'Haven't told her yet.'

'C'mon, girl. You gotta at least
warn
her.'

'I will,' Nicci promised. 'This wedding's getting horribly close and
I'm nervous. Wouldn't
you
be?'

'Don't worry about it,' Saffron said, waving her gold nails in the
air. 'I'm planning an
amazing
bachelorette night for you.'

'You are?' Nicci said, perking up.

'Yeah, top secret. You, my dearest friend, are gonna
love
it!'

'Where were you?' Larry Singer asked, greeting his wife in the foyer
of their Pacific Palisades mansion. He was of medium height, skinny,
with a bearded, pleasant face bordering on homely, and a receding
hairline. 'I've been going crazy trying to find you. I almost called
the police.'

'It's a nightmare story,' Taylor said, rushing toward the stairs.
'Let me take a quick shower and get dressed. I'll tell you everything
on the way to your event.'

Larry followed her up the stairs into their bedroom. 'Were you in an
accident?' he asked, removing his glasses and staring at her. 'You look
terrible.'

'Uh… sort of,' she replied, running into her bathroom and closing
the door.

'What kind of accident?' he questioned, opening the door and
following her in. 'Are you hurt?'

'No, sweetie, I'm fine,' she answered soothingly, 'but, please, let
me get ready, then I'll tell you all about it.'

'Christ, Taylor!' he said, frowning. 'I was worried sick.'

She took a moment to placate him. 'I know, darling,' she said,
patting him on the cheek. 'Everything's all right now. I promise. So go
downstairs, fix yourself a drink, and I'll be right down.'

'Only if you tell me what happened to you,' Larry said stubbornly.

'I was, uh… mugged.'

'
What
?' he roared, enraged.

'The main thing is I'm okay,' she said. 'And I have exactly fifteen
minutes to dress. So… in the car the full story.' And she pushed him
gently out of the bathroom.

Somehow or other she managed to get herself together in record time.
Black velvet Valentino strapless gown, Steiger pumps, Bulgari
jewellery, hair piled on top of her head, and a regal smile. She was
every inch the genius's wife. Beautiful, caring, a fine partner for
such an important and respected man.

Sitting beside her husband in the back of the limo, she wove a web
of lies.

I was on my way to see a writer about my script…

Rundown area…

Mugger came out of nowhere…

Knocked unconscious…

Friendly neighbours took me in…

Wow! She was good. By the time she'd finished her story she almost
believed it herself.

Larry was very concerned, he wanted to know if she'd called the
police. 'No,' she said. 'Who needs that kind of publicity? Certainly
not us.'

Then he wanted to know what she'd had stolen.

'Nothing,' she answered truthfully. A pause before she came up with
more lies. 'My purse was locked in the trunk, and by the time the
mugger tried to pull the rings off my fingers, the neighbours came
running out and scared him away.'

'Jesus Christ!' Larry exclaimed. 'Why didn't you call me
immediately?'

'Because, my love,' she answered, leaning over and kissing his
cheek, 'I know how you get, and I didn't want to alarm you.'

Larry shook his head in amazement. 'You,' he said, 'are my life. If
anything ever happened to you…'

Guilt overwhelmed her.

It wasn't easy screwing around on a genius like Larry Singer.

Chapter Eight

 

Eric Vernon whistled tunelessly as he followed the girl in her
silver
BMW, watching her as she went about her business _ - such as it was.
After weeks of trailing her, he'd soon realized that she never did much
of anything. Most mornings she attended a kickboxing class, picked up a
styrofoam cup of coffee from Starbucks, then sometimes she went
shopping along Melrose, or met a girlfriend for lunch. Most times she
headed back up to her boyfriend's house at the top of Mulholland where
she lived, then spent the rest of the day lying by the pool, putting in
time on her already perfect tan.

Lazy spoiled bitch. It was patently obvious she didn't have to work
for a living like most people - Eric Vernon included.

He resented her lifestyle. It wasn't right that someone could go
along week after week, month after month, doing exactly nothing.

Eric's mother had been a maid to a rich family in Philadelphia.
She'd had no husband to support her because his dad had walked when he
was only a few months old. This meant that six days a week his mom was
forced to clean up after two adults and three over-privileged children,
two girls and a boy. The boy was the same age as him, and sometimes his
mother had dragged him along with her to help scrub the tile floors.

Help with the floors, for crissakes. He was nine years old and down
on his knees, while the other boy - the sneering, spoiled prick - was
playing with an expensive model train set and laughing at him behind
his back. When he'd complained to his mother, she'd beaten him with a
broom and told him he was useless and a burden and should learn to shut
up.

It wasn't the first time she'd laid into him, and it certainly
wasn't the last. Beatings were a normal part of his day.

Eric learned anger at an early age. He also learned how to hide it.

Eric smiled when the lady of the house passed on her son's
hand-me-downs.

Eric smiled and pissed in their drinking water.

Eric smiled and systematically broke all of the children's toys in
such a way that nobody could ever point the finger at him.

Eric smiled and spat in their food kept in plastic containers in the
fridge.

Eventually his mother was fired, no reason given, simply a month's
severance pay and a heartless, 'We do not require your services any
more.'

She died of heart failure within months. Eric didn't particularly
care. She was a mean bitch and at least he wouldn't have to endure the
daily beatings she handed out.

Years later he'd run into the son of the family she'd worked for at
an after-hours club. He'd recognized him immediately, the same smug
features and preppy clothes. Eric had paid an acquaintance two hundred
dollars to beat the crap out of him. The result - permanent eye damage
-was satisfying.

After his mother's demise, Eric had been sent to live in a series of
foster homes. Nobody kept him long. He was cited as being difficult,
destructive and moody, not qualities anyone welcomed. He spent time
with a couple of state-certified shrinks who labelled him deeply
disturbed and depressed.

Depressed? Shit. Didn't the dumb bureaucrats get it? He was fucking
furious.

At sixteen he was out on his own, making a living any way he could -
delivering drugs, stealing cars, knocking off liquor stores. Until he
got caught and suffered ten months in a correctional institution for
juveniles, a place that
really
fired his anger.

As soon as he got out he was prepared for a life of crime.
Realization had dawned that you sure as hell never got anything the
legitimate way.

Within weeks he'd attached himself to a Puerto Rican drug dealer and
his girlfriend. It didn't take long before he was cheating the man on
his profits and fucking his girlfriend.

When the dealer found out, the evil bastard had hired a couple of
goons to break his arms and legs. They'd left him in a downtown
dumpster like a piece of useless trash.

Eric had never forgotten the pain and humiliation he'd suffered.
Seven years later he'd tracked the man down and beaten him to a pulp
outside a restaurant. Then he'd stood there and laughed as the man
choked to death on his own vomit.

Later, the bitch girlfriend had fingered him, but with the help of a
good lawyer and his entire bankroll, he got away with manslaughter.

Other books

A Cowgirl's Pride by Lorraine Nelson
Soul of the Dragon by Natalie J. Damschroder
Pieces of Olivia by Unknown
The Mercury Waltz by Kathe Koja
Bad Boy Brit (A British Bad Boy Romance) by Caitlin Daire, Avery Wilde
Infinite Devotion by Waters, L.E.
Debt of Ages by Steve White


readsbookonline.com Copyright 2016 - 2024