Breaking Hollywood (34 page)

‘I did.’

Wes roared with laughter again. ‘I’d swap my girlfriends for you anytime. Just say the word.’

‘I won’t,’ Mirren told him, going for somewhere between charming and amusing. ‘But now that I’m here and we both know where we stand, I wouldn’t mind having
lunch with an old mentor, if that’s OK with you?’

Wes raised his glass in toast once again. ‘That’s fine with me, honey. But let me tell you, I do want Clansman at Lomax. I’ve waited a long time for it, and I’ve been
patient because I know that loyalty is important to you. But if you ever genuinely want to think about leaving that crowd of incompetents at Pictor, I’ll be waiting at the bank.’

‘Thanks, Wes. I appreciate that.’

The waiter returned to take their order – two ten-ounce Kobe New York strip steaks, both medium rare, broccoli, spinach and sauce on the side.

They passed the next hour with industry gossip and Wes’s recklessly indiscreet insider stories about things that were going on in the town. The action star who still hadn’t left his
wife despite the fact that he’d been having an affair with his male manager for over five years now. The ageing actress who was currently in a Beverly Hills clinic having the butt implants
she’d had inserted in the Dominican Republic removed because one had exploded. The British ex-soccer player who was screwing at least six of the moms on his kid’s Little League team
bench.

Outrageous, but in Wes’s twisted hands, utterly hilarious.

They’d switched from champagne to coffees when Wes’s face had a glimmer of sadness. ‘You know, I’m sure glad I was mostly right about why you wanted to see me today. It
did cross my mind that you might want to plead Zander’s case.’

‘Plead Zander’s case for what?’ she asked, puzzled.

Before he could answer, her phone buzzed to signal an incoming text. Her hand moved to switch it off when she noticed the name of the sender.

Brad Bernson.

‘Excuse me a second, Wes. I need to check this.’

‘No worries. I’m just heading to the washroom.’

As soon as he’d left the table, she held up her phone, opened the text.

‘Confirmed. Marilyn McLean entered the US on 10 January 2014. Flew London Heathrow to LAX. Hired black GMC at airport. Present whereabouts unknown. Request permission to recruit additional
investigators to track.’

Her stomach threatened to collapse and her hands automatically began to shake.

Breathe. She had to breathe. Had to make her fingers work.

‘Do what you need to do. Any cost. Find her now.’

Her trembling thumb pressed ‘send’. Her instincts had been spot on. The woman on the beach when they were commemorating Chloe’s birthday. The wave of utter dread that came upon
her when Sarah mentioned her name. A sick, niggling feeling that was there every time she pictured her mother’s face. It wasn’t the face of now. It was Marilyn’s face from twenty
years ago. Now? Mirren had no idea what she looked like. She could be sitting at a nearby table on the Ivy’s patio and Mirren would be entirely oblivious. Instinctively, she scanned the other
diners, then exhaled. All too young, too male or too famous. Thank God. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t out there somewhere, across the street perhaps, just watching, waiting. Oh fuck,
Logan!

Mirren immediately forwarded the text to Sarah with a supplementary ‘Watch over my boy – alert the band’s security.’

She’d call her as soon as she got out of here too. In fact, she wanted to get out of here now. The job was done. Mission accomplished. The news would undoubtedly already have reached
Pictor that Mirren was being courted by Wes Lomax.

Wes was taking his time getting back to the table and she could see him stopping to shake hands with half the diners at the inside tables. She summoned the waiter and hurriedly paid the bill.
There was no way she was letting him pick up the check. This was her deal, and there was every chance the cash benefit of today’s lunch was going to have many more zeros than the cost of two
steaks. Although in truth, she couldn’t give a rat’s ass about percentages and profit right now. All she cared about was getting the hell out of there so she could think.

He finally slid back into his chair and she summoned every ounce of self-discipline she had to cover up the fear and act like nothing was wrong. Just another five minutes, then she could switch
her full focus to the Marilyn situation.

‘Wes, thank you for today. I have to get back to the office.’

‘No worries, m’darlin’. Mirren, I was serious when I said I want you at Lomax. I’ll beat your deal. When you’re ready. Anytime.’

‘Thanks, Wes.’ Lifting her purse and phone from the table, she was about to stand when his previous comment sprang back into her mind.

‘Wes, what did you say before about Zander?’

‘About pleading his case?’

‘Yeah, that’s it. Why would I want to plead his case? Something happened?’

Wes leaned forward to ensure confidentiality for the first time in the last hour. Mirren immediately realized that didn’t bode well. If the most indiscreet alpha male in Hollywood wanted
to keep something on the lowdown, it must be seriously bad.

‘Listen, this is between you and me. Wanna keep it quiet. Although, it won’t stay that way for long,’ he said pragmatically.

That sick, queasy feeling was gripping Mirren’s stomach for a second time.

‘He failed his drug test. Cocaine.’

If he’d announced that Zander had just walked bollock naked down Beverly Drive and announced his candidacy for president, she couldn’t have been more shocked. No. It just
couldn’t be. He wouldn’t.

‘Wes, that’s got to be a mistake.’

Wes shook his head. ‘Honey, that’s what I’ve said every time I’ve pulled him out of a clinic or a cell. Look, it breaks my heart. We’ve been together for a long
time. But sometimes you just have to face facts. The guy’s an addict. He’s always been an addict, he will always be one, and we ain’t gonna change that.’

No. No. No. No. She struggled to process.

‘Wes, he’s not now. I know how bad it was, but you don’t get it. He promised Chloe, and he’d never break that. He can’t be using again.’

It was the pity in his eyes that caused her heart to crack.

‘Mirren, I know it’s hard, and I know what you’ve been through. But I had the sample tested twice. This isn’t a mistake. Ask yourself how many times you’ve seen
this before.’

The crash just became a full-scale breakage. He was right. Time after time after time Chloe made promises, swore she was clean, vowed that she’d never touch the stuff again. And every
single time she lied. Every time. That’s what addicts did.

She’d believed Zander, she truly had. But medical drug tests didn’t lie. If he was using again, she didn’t want him anywhere near her for two reasons: she would despise him for
betraying his promise to Chloe, and she couldn’t love him because she couldn’t even contemplate the thought of losing someone else she loved to an overdose of poison. She couldn’t
lose another piece of her heart or grieve for another soul.

Zander Leith and Davie Johnston, the two guys – after Logan – that she loved more than any others, had only just come back into her life.

Now she knew that she couldn’t let either of them stay.

‘Don’t Give Up’ – Kate Bush & Peter Gabriel

Zander

The Santa Monica cliffs rose high over bungalow 1 at the Fairmont Miramar Hotel on the corner of Ocean Avenue and Wilshire. It was a paradoxical view. Turn one way and glance
over the calm blue seas of the Pacific Ocean; glance in the other direction and your eyes met the towering force of nature that was the mountains.

Right now, Zander was neither looking nor impressed with either. Instead, he was sitting on the whitewashed steps outside the bungalow, smoking a cigarette and nursing a double espresso
purchased from a drive-through Starbucks on the way here.

Living the dream.

Hollie, sitting shoulder to shoulder with him, leaned over, removed the cigarette from his hands, took a long, satisfying puff on it, then handed it back.

‘You don’t smoke,’ Zander pointed out.

‘I’m starting,’ Hollie replied. ‘I’ve come to the conclusion that the only way to deal with this life and you is to imbibe as many chemical substances and cocktails
as possible. Excuse the irony in that statement.’

Despite himself, he smiled, then leaned over and nudged her. ‘Thanks for believing me. I can’t decide whether that makes you loyal or deranged.’

‘I think definitely both. But you know if I had any doubt at all, I’d kick your ass.’

He knew that was true. In the car home after the meeting with Wes, he’d had one priority – making Hollie believe him.

As soon as the doors were closed, he’d turned to her and spoken slowly and calmly. ‘I didn’t use.’

At first, she didn’t reply.

He repeated, ‘I. Didn’t. Use.’

Her gaze locked on his. ‘I know. I believe you.’

The strange thing was, he knew that this time she did. She had no reason to trust anything he said. God knows, he’d lied to her before, usually right before she found him lying upside down
in a pool of his own vomit beside a dumpster in a strip club’s alley.

‘Why?’

‘Because if you were using, then right now you’d be ranting and raging, and you’d probably have punched at least one wall on your way out. You get crazy defensive when
you’re guilty. But more than that, I’ve watched you every day since Chloe died and I know that even when you want to get completely wasted, she stops you. I think she always
will.’

The uncharacteristic lump in his throat had prevented him from answering. All he wanted to do was reach over and hug her. He had no idea what he’d done in life to deserve Hollie Callan
being a part of it, but he was so, so grateful. His anxiety level plummeted. She was here; she believed him; he didn’t need to say another word.

She’d started up the car and pulled out of the lot, completely silent. Eventually, Hollie cracked.

‘Zander, we need to do something about this. Obviously it’s a mistake. A huge, great, freaking big mistake. We need to get people on it, question it, get it sorted out.’

‘No.’

‘What?’

‘Forget it.’

‘Forget it?’ Hollie was looking at him like he’d gone completely crazy. It might be close to the truth. It was more than that, though. He was seething at the injustice of it
and the fact that Wes hadn’t even given him the benefit of the doubt. Fuck that. They didn’t want him? Fine. He’d move on. He had enough money to last him ten lifetimes, and
let’s face it, the twenty years he’d spent in this business hadn’t exactly brought him happiness and fulfilment. All that mattered was that the people he cared about knew the
truth. But as for the movie bullshit?

Enough.

He was done.

And suddenly, that didn’t feel like such a bad thing.

‘Oh, here we go,’ Hollie had exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air.

Zander wasn’t following. ‘What?’

Hollie was the one who switched straight to rant-and-rage mode. ‘You and your strong, silent, pride bullshit. I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking that if they
don’t believe you, they can go fuck themselves.’

When no argument was forthcoming, she ploughed on. ‘But it’s not that simple, Zander. If they cancel you, the word will go out that you’re using again and your career
won’t survive the backlash.’

‘I don’t care. I’m done,’ he replied calmly.

‘Oh, cut the big, butch nonsense. I believe you’re clean, Zander, but after this, the rest of the world won’t. You think anyone will give Downey Jr another chance if he fucks
up again? Mel Gibson? Come on, you know how it works. If this gets out, there’s no coming back for you. If you want to walk away from this life, then fine. No problems. But do it on your own
terms, not because of some lie or fuck-up that we can’t explain.’

It made sense. He knew it did. But he was suddenly weary. Nothing was where it should be. Nothing was bringing him happiness. Right now, he just wanted to keep on driving, see where he ended up.
Just keep going until this cloud lifted from his shoulders and he felt he was somewhere he wanted to be.

Mirren.

Why did he think of her at that moment?

He had to tell her about this, but how could he? Didn’t she have enough going on right now? But for no other reason than for her, he needed to prove that he hadn’t taken drugs,
hadn’t let down her daughter.

‘OK, I’m buying it. But, Hollie, whatever way this rolls out, I’m done with this. I’m over this business. I hear you on the drug test, though – we need to find out
why it’s messed up.’

‘Hallelujah.’ Hollie immediately snatched her phone and dialled the number of Zander’s lawyer, routing it through the Bluetooth system on the Durango so that it was on
hands-free. For his sins, Bernard Edwards had been on Zander’s payroll for a decade, the different divisions of his company handling everything from assault charges, past and present, to
false paternity accusations, contracts and negotiations.

‘Hollie Callan,’ Bernard stated the obvious. ‘What can I do for you?’

‘It’s not good when your number is preprogrammed into a lawyer’s phone,’ Hollie observed, laughing, ‘Sorry to call you so late – and no, he’s not in
jail.’

‘So you just pre-empted my next question,’ Bernard replied.

‘Is this a bad time to tell you you’re on speaker and Zander is here?’

‘There goes my Christmas bonus. Hi, Zander. Sorry about that. But I’m guessing you’re not calling me at this late hour because all’s going well in your life.’

He had a point.

‘If only. Listen, Bernie, here’s what’s happened.’

He outlined the situation, Wes’s reaction and his own response.

Bernard listened in silence, except for the rustling of paper as he flicked over a page in his notebook. He famously took handwritten notes of every meeting and phone call.

‘Leave it with me. I’ll get the guys on it now. We’ll have a writ on Lomax within the hour demanding complete confidentiality on the test results and on Zander’s contract
termination, and we’ll also secure the test results, clinic details and analysis so our own people can look into it. Do you want to use your own investigators, or shall we use
ours?’