Breaking Hollywood (44 page)

Davie laughed. ‘No way am I missing that. I’m co-hosting the show, and I don’t care if I have to commando-crawl on my knees carrying an AK47 and a SWAT shield, I’m
going.’

‘Your own risk, Davie,’ Mike answered. ‘But I’m saying it’s too big a risk to take.’

‘And I’m telling you I’ll take it.’

‘Stronger’ – Cher

Mirren

Mirren had been reluctant to leave the ranch, but what choice was there? What were they to do – just hang out up in Santa Barbara until the end of time? It wasn’t
realistic.

But more than that, she would not be a victim. No way. She hadn’t let Jono Leith make her a victim back then, and she’d be damned if she’d let Marilyn do that to her now.

Where the fuck was she?

And why hadn’t Brad and Mike come up with anything yet? What the hell was she paying them for? They were her hope for putting an end to this and they’d failed.

So what now?

Now they were all back in LA, they’d ramped up security around their houses. Plus Logan wasn’t going anywhere without an armed bodyguard, and they weren’t making any
unnecessary journeys.

Mirren didn’t mind that bit. Gave her an excuse not to go into the office. The thought of running into Mark Bock didn’t fill her with joy. It had been different this time – no
phone calls, no emails, no flowers. It struck her that she should probably be the one to make a move, but frankly, she had other things on her mind.

‘You OK, Mom?’ Logan asked her, as he wandered in wearing just a pair of board shorts and carried out his normal morning regime – kitchen, fridge open, orange juice, straight
from carton until finished.

‘Morning, son. I’m good. You?’

He shrugged. ‘Deeko called. They took Jonell to rehab this morning. Apparently he’s mad as hell and wants to kill me.’

Mirren felt her heart go out to him. ‘You’re doing the right thing now, Logan. And it will pass. When he kicks it, he’ll see that you made the only good choice, for his
sake.’

Logan nodded. ‘I guess. Feels like crap right now, though.’

‘I know, honey,’ she said sadly. It was one of the feelings she wished she could forget. Every time she got Chloe to rehab, her daughter would lash out, cut her off. Every time she
confiscated her stash, Chloe would scream that she was a fucker and a bitch. Every time she told Chloe she was doing it out of love, her daughter replied that she hated her.

Being an addict was hard.

Helping an addict was harder.

Yet, she’d still give anything,
everything
to be fighting with her daughter right now instead of looking out on the ocean on which they’d scattered her ashes.

On the counter, her cell phone rang. Logan was nearest, so he picked it up and tossed it over to her.

‘Hello?’

‘Mirren, it’s Hollie.’ Mirren automatically smiled. She liked Zander’s assistant and loved the fact that she took no crap from him. Although, there had definitely been a
weird vibe between them up at the ranch. Not surprising, really. These were stressful times.

‘Hollie, hi. Is everything OK?’

‘Yes and no.’

‘That doesn’t sound good.’

She heard Hollie sigh. ‘Look, I’m probably way out of line calling you, and Zander would kill me if he knew . . .’

‘But?’

‘I need help. Mirren, he’s a nightmare. He’s so stubborn and unreasonable and proud, and I can’t get him to see that he’s in danger of screwing things up
permanently.’

Mirren almost smiled. Hollie had Zander down pat.

‘What’s happened?’

‘Wes Lomax. He’s being a prick and he won’t consider that the drug test wasn’t authentic. Zander won’t tell him what we know now. So it’s a standoff. Zander
is saying he doesn’t care, and Wes is lining up a replacement. The thing is, Mirren, you know how this will play out. If it gets out, Zander’s career is over, no going back. And I get
that he doesn’t care right now, but he will in the future, I know it. If he wants to quit the business, fine, but he can’t do it under a cloud of shame that destroys everything
he’s achieved. I can’t let him.’

Mirren inhaled deeply. For someone who was about as laid back as it got, that guy could be hard work. He was flawed, troubled, had his demons, but God, she loved him. More than that, she
owed
him. She should never have believed he was using again.

‘Leave it with me. I’ll call you back.’

An hour later, she was dressed in a black roll-neck sweater and a white pencil skirt with coordinating Jimmy Choo monochrome heels. In the car, she put a call in to Wes Lomax’s office.
‘Monica, this is Mirren McLean. I need to see Wes in half an hour. Where will he be?’

Wes Lomax might be one of the most important men in the business, but there was never a question over whether he would see her. It had been a lot of years since anyone stalled or refused Mirren
McLean.

Monica came back on the line. ‘He’ll be here, Mirren. Are you OK to come in?’

‘I’ll be there.’

Twenty-nine minutes later, she was standing in Wes Lomax’s office.

‘Go on in, Mirren,’ Monica told her warmly.

‘Thanks, Monica.’ Mirren returned the affection. Twenty years before, when she first arrived in Hollywood, Monica had helped her find an apartment and settle in. The fact that she
was still working for Wes said that under that charming exterior there was a core of steel. Or a monumental pay cheque. Or both.

Wes was sitting behind his legendary marble desk when she entered. There was a crack that ran all the way down the centre. Urban legend had it that he’d attacked it with an axe in a fit of
rage after a deal went sour. The truth was, he’d had an energetic four-way with three generously proportioned German students and it had proven too much for Italy’s finest marble.

‘Mirren, darling,’ Wes roared, greeting her like an old friend.

Mirren had a sudden urge to roll her eyes and gag.

Ignoring the effusive welcome, Mirren sat down on the black leather chair opposite him. ‘I’ll get to the point,’ she told him.

‘We can do that,’ he agreed, sitting forward.

‘Zander Leith.’

‘What about him?’

‘You’re going to put him back on the next Dunhill movie.’

Wes laughed. ‘I don’t think so. Failed a drug test. The boy’s uninsurable. Toxic.’

Mirren barely let him get the words out. She was busy, no time for this bullshit. ‘The test was faked. I’m not going to explain how or why right now, but trust me, it was. So
here’s what’s going to happen: you’re going to put him back in the Dunhill, and I’m going to cover his insurance bond.’

‘Are you crazy? It’s millions.’

‘I have millions, Wes,’ she pointed out the obvious.

‘But if he fucks up, the money is gone. Mirren, I know you can write this cheque, but you could lose it all.’

‘I won’t. He’s clean. Always will be.’

‘Mirren, I can’t—’

She cut him off. ‘Also, you need to call him and persuade him to come back on board. Don’t tell him I’m covering it. Don’t tell him I had anything to do with it. Just
make it happen.’

‘Mirren, you know I’d do anything for you, darlin’, but—’

‘And I’ll bring Clansman to you. Two-movie deal. My existing terms. No merchandise. One-time offer.’

He paused, mid-sentence, and she could see the wheels of his mind working like cogs in a cheap, garish, hyped-up watch.

He wasn’t stupid. It wasn’t the best deal in the world, but it was a guaranteed rainmaker that would net the studio tens of millions of dollars. More than that, Wes would just get so
much satisfaction over taking this from Bock at Pictor. A twinge of regret surfaced over that, but what was she to do? If they hadn’t tried to play hardball, then they wouldn’t be in
this situation in the first place.

But what did it all boil down to? There was something about Mark Bock she found irresistible. In another time or place, they might have had something. But this came down to a choice between a
guy she barely knew and one she loved. No contest.

‘Darlin’, you got yourself a deal.’ Wes leaned over to shake her hand, his grin as smug as it was victorious.

Mirren reciprocated, then stood. ‘I’ll have my people draw up the contracts in the morning. It all hinges on you making Zander believe this, Wes. He can’t know I had anything
to do with it.’

‘Don’t you worry, honey – I got this.’

Mirren didn’t doubt that he had.

In the car, she phoned Hollie. ‘Expect a call from Wes Lomax any minute,’ she told her.

‘Oh God, Mirren – I don’t know how you did that, but thank you. I owe you big time.’

‘You really don’t,’ she said softly. Zander had already paid it forward. He’d tried to help Chloe, really tried. One addict to another. He’d almost succeeded, and
he was heartbroken when she died. He and Mirren shared that, and he’d been there for her ever since. She owed him.

A tidal wave of weariness swept over her and she realized that she needed a break. Since Chloe died and Jack left, she’d worked non-stop, desperate to stay busy, but she could see now that
she was exhausted. As soon as the Oscars were over, she was taking time off. Perhaps Logan could come with her. If he could be prised away from Lauren for long enough.

She’d broach it with him after the ceremony, see what he thought.

One last hurdle. Much as she’d rather do anything other than parade in front of the watching world, she had to show up, put her best smile on and act like she was thrilled to be there.

The screen on the AMG signalled an incoming call.

Davie.

‘Hey, I was just thinking . . . I’m guessing you’re looking forward to tomorrow night like you look forward to a dose of the clap.’

Despite her worries and weariness, Mirren laughed. Davie had always had that effect on her.

‘Indeed.’

‘So why don’t we stick together? Sarah’s not up for it – doesn’t like watching when I’m hosting, in case it all goes horribly wrong. Think I should be
insulted that she’s the only chick in town who refuses a ticket to the Oscars?’

‘I like her style,’ Mirren told him truthfully.

‘And I’ll need to go early, because I have preshow rehearsals. How about we tie up there and then head to the after-parties?’

‘Sounds like a plan. I’ll see you there, my friend.’

As she hung up, she realized that she hadn’t been bullshitting him. If she had to go, put on a smile and spend the night pretending to be a glittering part of the establishment, the only
people she wanted to be with were Davie and Zander.

It was only one ceremony. One night.

She could do this.

‘Home’ – Blake Shelton

Sarah

Sarah pulled her cup out from under the $7,000 coffee machine, removed a large tub of butter-pecan ice cream from the freezer and headed for the sofa.

She already had her monitor up on the coffee table, and the TV on in the background.

This time last year, she’d watched the Oscars in her Glasgow flat at 2 a.m., entranced by the dresses, the glamour, thinking it was all a pretentious but fabulously entertaining piece of
nonsense.

Now, she was in Marina del Rey, watching the Oscars at 6 p.m., entranced by the dresses, the glamour and knowing for sure that it was a pretentious but fabulously entertaining piece of nonsense.
One that included her boyfriend. Her actual boyfriend. At that very moment, Ryan Seacrest announced that Davie Johnston had just pulled up and the camera at the entrance area zoomed in to catch his
arrival. He must be exhausted. He’d been there all day rehearsing, then home for just an hour to change before heading back for the red carpet. Of course, he had to make an entrance. Every
other star arrived in a limo. Davie had the agency send over a driver to chauffeur him in one of his own cars – the Bentley this time.

‘If you’ve got it, flaunt it, honey,’ giggled Sarah, raising a butter-pecan spoon to the TV in a toast. This was definitely the best way to experience the Oscars. If she was
there, she’d be worried about saying something stupid or fretting about Davie’s live performance. Not that she didn’t have faith in him to be brilliant. But that didn’t stop
the nerves on his behalf. She watched as Davie worked the red carpet, worked the press, and worked the crowd, and so he should. He was back on top in this town. His talk show was a massive hit,
American Stars
was number one, and
Beauty and the Beats
, prior to Jizzo’s death, had been number three.

Mirren, Zander and Hollie would be arriving on screen in about twenty minutes. Meeting Hollie had been an unexpected and very welcome bonus from last week. The two of them had clicked
immediately, bonded by their similar situations. Sarah was in love with a star. Hollie worked for one. Although, Sarah did wonder when Hollie would realize that her feelings were more than
professional. It was blindingly obvious she cared about Zander in more than just a PA-boss capacity.

Sarah had a hunch those feelings were reciprocated. Just a hunch. Although it was backed up by the fact that Zander had only agreed to go tonight if Hollie would walk the red carpet with him.
She’d eventually decided to go, but she was leaving straight afterwards, skipping the after-parties. They weren’t her thing, she’d decided. Too many celebrities, too much air- and
arse-kissing, too sore on the feet. She’d offered to come, kick off the heels and chill here with Sarah instead.

That’s what new friends were for.

When he disappeared off the screen, Sarah turned her attention back to the work in front of her. She’d made up a chart, like a police investigation board, with Davie, Mirren and
Zander’s names at the top. Feeding off each one, a list of the incidents that had occurred in the last month or so – a list that was all the more chilling now that Hollie had filled her
in on the shit that had been happening to Zander.

Davie: house fire, shots fired, blood thrown. Someone with a grudge?

Zander: fight with Raymo, drug test, apartment break-in, accusations of sexual impropriety. Why?

Mirren: possible sighting of her mother. No other attacks. Why?