True Hollywood Lies (18 page)

Freddy nearly choked on his champagne, and Christy took a very large gulp of hers. We all stared at Sandy.

“Sandy,” I started, “aren’t you even a
little
curious why Rex always has these guys—that he likes to ‘mentor’—well, you know—”

“What Hannah is trying to say, Sandy honey, is that Rex has already been outed,” finished Freddy. “Accept it, sweetheart.”

“Not until I hear it from him myself,” she growled, as she stalked off.

“Bummer,” moaned Christy. “Everyone has such bad news. But hey, not me!” She turned to us excitedly. “Guess what? Donnie wants to help me with my career. Isn’t that great?”

“Just what does
that
mean?” I asked warily.

“That he thinks I have potential. He says the first thing I should do is get out there. You know, promote myself. And he’s going to mentor me, like Rex does—with his associates.”

“I’ll just bet he will,” guffawed Freddy.

“Don’t laugh. I’m being serious. Look—” Christy unzipped her cardigan sweater. Beneath it she was wearing a thin, skintight, midriff-baring French-cut T-shirt that barely enveloped her chest and did absolutely nothing to hide the dark shadows of her braless nipples. Emblazoned on it was the logo for Ta-Ta’s. While the restaurant’s hamburgers were barely a mouthful, the same could not be said for its waitresses’ breasts, which, disgustedly enough, were its main attraction.

I couldn’t help but stare at it. “But you don’t even
work
at Ta-Ta’s!”

“That’s okay. Donnie owns a chunk of it.”

“And now he wants to own a chunk of you, too,” muttered Freddy.

“Don’t be silly,” pouted Christy. “I’m not going to work there. I’m too important to Donnie for
that.
I’m just playing on their softball team. You see, they play all kinds of companies—movie studios, radio and TV stations, even Playboy bunnies—so I’ll be getting all kinds of exposure.” She giggled again at the thought. “He says that all I have to do is to be able to hit a ball and run the bases. They’re excited, though, ’cause, in middle school, I was an all-star pitcher!”

She threw back her arm for a warm-up toss, then let an imaginary ball fly. Her shirt rose with the motion, exposing a plump, rounded breast, along with an already bared midriff.

“I can only imagine. But Christy, don’t you feel a bit . . . uh, exposed?”

“Oh, I know: playing without a bra isn’t the safest thing to do,” she conceded.

“What I meant,” I continued, “was that it may not be such a great career move.”

“Oh, leave her alone, Hannah. She’s certainly a
big
girl. I’ll bet she can take care of herself just fine. ”

At the sound of Louis’s voice, I looked up, only to find him mesmerized by Christy’s breasts. Pleased as punch with his attention, Christy’s cheeks turned pink. Unconsciously, she puffed out her chest even more.

Showtime
. Zeroing in on her, Louis smiled, licked his lips, and headed her way.

The last thing I needed was Louis breaking Christy’s heart. “Is the party ending so soon?” I asked brightly as I grabbed his arm and steered him back toward the table where the other actors were still holding court.

“Not soon enough,” he murmured. “So, Donnie’s doing some investing, is he? Smart boy.” He twisted back around to get a second glance at Christy. “Say, speaking of Playboy bunnies, Randy and I are headed over to the Mansion now. Hef’s having a poker party. You don’t think your little friend there would like to—”

“Sorry, she’s already got plans.”

“Oh? Are you girls going out for a night on the town?” His eyes turned back to me. He watched me as I squirmed.

“We haven’t really finalized anything,” I answered warily.

“Got it. Well, if you change your mind, you’ll know where to find us.” He said evenly. “If you don’t, then here, have a drink on me anyway.” He peeled a hundred-dollar bill from his wallet and handed it to me.

“What? Gee—uh, thank you, Louis. That’s very generous.” As I stared at it, he closed his hand around mine.

“Just a little token of my affection. For all you’ve done.” He smiled angelically. “Oh, and Hannah, I’ve told Genevieve to raise your salary—to $100,000.”

Cha-
ching!

Louis was doubling my salary?

For the first time since Leo died, I felt as if an anvil had been lifted off my back. The extra income would make a big dent in my debt load.

“Wow! Louis, I—I don’t know how to thank you!”

“I’ve got a suggestion: how about a thank-you kiss?” He leaned in closer, his eyes half-closed in a lazy glaze.

“Well . . . I thought—”

“Thought what?”

“That we’d...that we had decided to keep things, you know, just friendly.”

“What’s friendlier than a peck on the cheek between friends?”

A little kiss wouldn’t hurt. Would it?

No. Of course not. We were big people.

Just like Christy.

I nodded reluctantly. He lowered his head to mine and faintly touched my cheek with his lips.

Sweet.

Expertly he shifted his lips onto mine. I gasped, which he took as a signal to explore further the depth of my soul—and my mouth—with his tongue.

“Shit!”
He jumped back, jerking me away before I had a chance to do the same to him.

“What?” I asked, not knowing what I had done, and why Louis was suddenly upset with me. Opening my eyes, I saw Bette scurrying away. Louis was slapping his pant cuff and scraping the sole of one of his $300 Bruno Magli loafers across the floor.

In more than one way, he was pissed.

Then again, so was Mick, who was standing right behind him.

Knowing the movie had wrapped, and assuming Louis would have been halfway to Hef’s pleasure palace by now, Mick had thought he’d surprise me by meeting me at the studio.

He had. And I had surprised him, too.

I sighed, then headed off to find a towel for Louis.

* * *

“It was just a sweet innocent little thank-you kiss!” I was lying.

I was also arguing for my life, which so desperately needed Mick in it.

“No it wasn’t. With Louis,
nothing
is innocent.”

He had a point there. Still, I wasn’t going to concede it, not to him, and certainly not to myself.

“He knows better when it comes to me. We have a pact. That’s the only way it works.”

Mick shook his head in disbelief. “Get real! Do you truly believe that this little pact of yours is working?”

“Yes, I do. Otherwise I’d be out of there!”

He looked as if he wanted to believe me, so I went for what I thought would be the most convincing point of all: “Besides, you’re his best friend. He wouldn’t dare try anything with me, just based on that.”

He laughed hard and mean. “What, don’t you get it?
It only makes him want you that much more
.”

“But I don’t want
him
.” I put my arms around Mick’s waist. “I want you. I need you. He’s just my job . . . ”

I pulled him closer to me in the hopes that he would kiss me.

He did.

The kiss was hard, and deep, and erased anything that was left of Louis that still clung to me.

Then the phone rang.

Mick let go of me and gave me a look that dared me to pick it up.

I paused.

But I had to do it.

He shook his head and turned away.

“I’m surprised you haven’t called me yet.”

“Jasper?” Hearing me say that name, the tension went out of Mick’s stance. “Is something wrong?”

“What, are you kidding? Everything is right!” He laughed. “Didn’t Louis tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“To call me. That schmuck! I ran into him late yesterday, at the Ivy. I’d just come back from the courthouse. It’s over, Hannah. Sybilla agreed to the settlement.”

Jasper had freed up my inheritance. Now I could quit.

“That’s—that’s wonderful news. Listen, Jasper, I’ve got Mick here. Can—can we talk tomorrow?”

“Certainly. Tell him I said hello. And call me before noon.” He rang off.

I hung up the phone.
So, Louis had known since yesterday.

That was why he gave me the raise.

Because he needs me.

Mick nuzzled my neck from behind. “What’s up with Jasper?”

“The settlement went through.”

“Isn’t that great?”

“Yeah, sure.” I forced my mouth into a smile before turning back around to face him. “How should we celebrate?”

“I know: let’s write your resignation letter together.” He moved over toward the desk. Spotting some paper, he pulled a pen from his pocket and started scribbling: “‘Dear Louis, It’s with great regret’—scratch that—‘great
relief
that I can finally tell you what I really think of your whiny, egotistical bullshit’”–

“Hey, let’s not talk about Louis.” I picked up the paper, rolled it into a ball, and tossed it at the trashcan.

“You’re right. Let’s talk about
us
. How we’re going to take a long vacation, go somewhere there’s a deserted beach…”

“I—Mick,
I can’t
.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I—I can’t quit now.”

“Why not?”

“Because we’ve got too much happening. We just got greenlighted on
Killer Instincts
, and we have a whole promotional tour for—”

“ ‘We’ haven’t gotten greenlighted, and ‘we’ don’t have a promotional tour.
Louis does
.” He walked away from me.

“Well, I run Louis’s life for him. And I can’t just up and quit.” I followed Mick into the living room. “It wouldn’t be fair to him.”

“Admit it, Hannah. You love being in the center of Louis’s universe. You just love the fact that he can’t take a piss without you.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll admit it.” I was relieved. Maybe Mick understood after all. “I do like it. And I’m good at it. And Louis appreciates me for being good!”

“Louis never appreciated anyone in his whole life.”

You mean Samantha, don’t you?

I wanted to say it out loud, but I didn’t. Instead I said: “Having my inheritance reinstated means I don’t have to stay if I don’t want to.”

“But that’s the point:
You want to
.”

“Yes.
For now
.”

“Okay. Fine.” Grabbing his motorcycle helmet, he headed for the door.

“What do you mean? What’s fine? Where are you going?”

“Out. For some fresh air.” He clamored down the front steps, then right back up. “And, oh, by the way, you’ll never quit.”

“Oh yeah? What makes you so sure?”

“Because I know Louis a lot better than you. You won’t quit
, because he’ll fire you first.”

Mick didn’t have a chance to slam the door behind him, because I slammed it first.

And now that I could once again afford the comfort of Château Lynch-Bages 2000 Pauillac, there was none in the house.

The Bouvet Brut would just have to do.

Part Two:Stardust

A cluster of stars too distant to be seen individually, resembling a dimly luminous cloud of dust;

A dreamlike, romantic, or uncritical sense of wellbeing.

Chapter 10: Perturb


When a celestial body deviates from its predicted orbit, usually under the gravitational influence of another celestial object.

“Houston, we have a problem...”
—Jim Lovell, Astronaut, aboard the Apollo 13

Jasper’s usual table at the Ivy was nestled in the only perpetually shaded corner of the restaurant’s garden, which, I’m sure, was the primary reason the legendary entertainment attorney was rumored to have never broken into a sweat no matter what deal hung in the balance, and despite his fondness for impeccable lightweight wool suits. That was where I found him when I arrived (promptly, of course) for our meeting there, which was to include not only Jasper and myself but Louis and Randy as well.

That is, until Randy—who had picked up Louis earlier that morning for a game of golf with Mick and Ethan at the Bel-Air Country Club—called to say, “Hey, tell the old man we’re running late. They screwed us on our tee-time, the stupid bastards! Gave it away, to a bunch of old fart nobodies. Louis is pissed about it. I’ve been losing balls all morning just to keep him happy, so just hang in there and make nice-nice until we show up, okay? That should be easy for you: just whimper about the good ol’ days, when Daddy Dearest was alive...”

It was on the tip of my tongue to say that I didn’t know Randy had any balls to lose. Instead, I hung up on him and broke the news to Jasper that we should go ahead and place our orders.

“Yeah, well, that fourth hole is a bear,” winked Jasper. “That’s okay. This way, we can get some real work done without having to listen to Louis whine about the roles he’s losing out to Jude, or hear Randy’s inane bullshit, neither of which is good for our digestion.”

Between listening to me recite Louis’s agenda for the coming quarter, discussing the status of some of Louis’s upcoming projects, and taking bites of the Ivy’s renowned meat loaf, Jasper accepted the deferential homage proffered by the Industry movers and shakers who stopped by our table. A handshake from Jasper was a virtual Midas touch, assuring favorable future consideration from those who witnessed his acknowledgements and understood their worth in the Land of Awes.

If only Louis had had the brains to do so, too, he would not have been so brazen as to blow off this lunch with Jasper, I thought sadly.

As if reading my mind, Jasper said, “You know, Hannah, it never ceases to amaze me the amount of talent that this town will attract—then chew up and spit out. Few actors are capable of maintaining a career for longer than a few years, and that’s only if they’re lucky.”

His hand swept out toward the other tables, where Hollywood’s key players were slicing up their ahi tuna steaks with the same thoughtful precision with which they cut their deals.

“You’re wise as to how these guys operate. They’re like lemmings: one year, everyone’s clamoring for George, or Brad, or Matt or Clive—and now Louis—to star in their next blockbuster. Then the next year, it’s a whole new set of names: guys who are described as the
next
George, Brad, Matt, or Clive.
Or Louis
.”