Secrets of the Hollywood Girls Club (9 page)

“Yes, he is,” Jennifer said. She tore her gaze away from Jay. “Everything’s out back: the bar, the food, most of the people. I’ll be out in a few. I want to say hello to everyone, and this spot seems to be perfect.”

Jen tossed her hair and smiled. A very polite dismissal.

Lydia walked through the house toward the deck, spotting several studio execs—three from Worldwide. She waved to Oliver and Owen, talking near the bar. A cool ocean breeze blew through Lydia’s hair when she reached the open deck doors. She stood and surveyed the scene. Celebs, producers, and execs mingled on the deck. Most wore heavy sweaters and still shivered under the heat lamps dotting the deck. The thermometer hovered around seventy degrees, and there was a rhythmic chill as the sun played peekaboo with the earth. The tangy smell of ganja drifted past Lydia’s nose.

“May I get you something?” A waiter wearing a long-sleeved blue Lacoste shirt and khaki pants hovered, waiting to take Lydia’s drink order.

“Grey Goose and tonic,” Lydia said. “I’ll be over that way.” She pointed to the corner of the deck, where a blond bombshell was holding court on a chaise lounge. Men sat on the deck at her feet and hovered around her chair.

“Can you believe it?” Cici exclaimed as Lydia walked up to the crowd she had drawn. “He wanted me to actually blow the actor on camera! I said, well, excuse me, Vincent, I know in your last film the lead was okay with that, but I did not sign up for a porno.”

“And what did he say?” a tall surfer standing next to Cici’s chair asked.

“Not one word. He cut the entire scene. And I still believe that’s the only reason the film got into Sundance. Otherwise it would’ve been NC-seventeen for sure, and Robert wouldn’t have touched it.”

Lydia watched as the crowd nodded at Cici’s assessment.

“Lydia!” Cici jumped up from her lounge chair and grabbed Lydia’s arm. “I didn’t know you were coming.” She pulled Lydia close for a hug and whispered into her ear. “Get me away from all these people; I don’t know any of them.”

“So did you get a chance to read that script?” Lydia asked loudly.

“I did. I left word at your office. Didn’t Toddy tell you? Let’s walk and discuss, want to? Excuse me, gentlemen,” Cici said. She raised her eyebrow and gave the crowd her signature Celeste Solange look. “Business.”

She made her way through the mass of male bodies and grabbed Lydia’s hand. “Thank you,” she whispered as the waiter appeared and handed Lydia her drink.

“Where’s Ted? I’d think he’d scare most of them away,” Lydia said. She usually heard from Ted, her boss, a couple times a week. But he seemed especially busy lately.

“Somewhere in Hong Kong. Or maybe it’s Beijing? I thought you knew? Location scouting or something.”

Lydia paused. This was an odd position; Worldwide didn’t have a film with any Asian location sequences in preproduction. She didn’t know whether to tell her friend or stay loyal to her boss. She trusted Ted to have Cici’s best intentions at heart.

“Got it,” Lydia said.

Perhaps Ted had picked up a script or read a book he thought would make a great film and was trying to do a little scouting before saying yes and handing it over to his executive team to actually make the movie.

“Come on,” Celeste said. “It’s quiet upstairs and I have a ton to tell you.”

*

Lydia sat on the bed. She leaned against a half-dozen pillows with a bowl of chocolate-covered raisins perched on her lap. The sounds of the afternoon party wafted up through the windows. Cici pulled out a joint. “Jennifer won’t care. We used to smoke up here all the time,” She rifled through the top dresser drawer and pulled out a pink enamel Zippo lighter and crystal ashtray. “Some things never change.”

Cici smiled and placed the flame to the end of the joint. Lydia watched as Cici closed her eyes and inhaled. Lydia took the joint when Cici handed it over.

“It’s been a while for you,” Cici said. She held her breath for a moment. “How long?” she asked, exhaling.

“Five years,” Lydia said, holding her breath. Her abstinence resulted from a total lack of time. She never had the luxury of a couple of hours to let loose.

“I never do it anymore. Ted hates it,” Cici said.

Lydia giggled. She couldn’t imagine Ted Robinoff, her boss and Cici’s lover, ever taking a hit.

“What?” Cici asked, taking the joint from Lydia’s hand.

“Ted? Can you imagine?” Lydia asked as she exhaled.

“Not in a million years,” Cici said. She took another hit. “I love him, but he’s a little Wall Street stuffy, if you know what I mean.”

Lydia did in fact know. Ted Robinoff was all business.

“With Zymar at your house, I’d think you’d light up every now and then. He always has some great stuff.”

In the evenings, the aroma of weed often drifted up to Lydia’s bedroom window as she lay in bed reading scripts. A final toke before Zymar ended his day.

“I’m sure he’d share. I just never ask. I’m always reading or at a meeting,” Lydia said. She scooped up a handful of chocolate-covered raisins.

“I’m killing this for now.” Cici stubbed the joint out in the ashtray and flopped onto the bed. She grabbed a handful of Raisinets. “These are so good, but I’ll pay for them tomorrow morning with my trainer.” Celeste dropped the candy into her mouth.

“So, what’s up?” Lydia asked. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages. Three weeks, maybe?”

“Press for
California Girl
. And by the way, that new photographer your marketing department used to shoot the one sheet is a complete asshole.”

“Name?” Lydia asked.

“Nathan something.”

“British?”

Cici nodded yes. “I have to meet with him again this week.”

“Why? Once the shots are finished you don’t ever have to see him again, especially if he’s an asshole.”

Cici rolled over onto her back and stared at the ceiling. Lydia glanced over at her suddenly silent friend.

“Cici, what is it?” Lydia asked.

“There’s a problem.”

Lydia’s heart fluttered. Another problem? She’d yet to tell Cici about the letters she’d received.

“Are we speaking as friends?” Cici asked. She looked into Lydia’s eyes.

In entertainment, the line between friendship and business was more ephemeral than one drawn in the desert during a sandstorm. Cici was one of her closest friends, but she was also America’s biggest star. A star who did the majority of her films at Worldwide. In fact, right now Worldwide had almost a quarter billion dollars’ worth of finished Celeste Solange films waiting for their release dates, to say nothing of the five other films slated for the next three years. With prints and advertising costs, Worldwide had close to a half billion dollars invested in Cici. In this town, where all your friends were also your business associates, the division between friendship and business was impossible to maintain.

“Of course,” Lydia said.

“Remember the DVD that Damien had during the divorce?”

“Yes.” Lydia’s heart rate increased in tempo. “He gave you the original.”

Cici gave Lydia a serious look. “He
said
he gave me the original.”

“Oh, no.”

Lydia sat up from her semi-horizontal position. Raisinets spilled from the bowl and clattered onto the wooden floor.

“Fuck,” Lydia said. “Who’s seen it?”

“Your Brit photographer, for one.”

The fear that had been drifting through Lydia’s mind since the arrival of the first letter reemerged. Were the notes about the DVD? Now Lydia remembered why she didn’t smoke weed anymore; it made her incredibly paranoid. She ran her hands through her hair. She needed to find Jay, and they needed to call Briggs Montgomery. With Worldwide security and Ted’s money, they could hopefully stop the X-rated footage of Celeste before it went public.

“Who knows about this?” Lydia asked.

“You, me, and Howard,” Cici said.

“And Ted?”

Cici shook her head. “Plausible deniability is the term Howard used when it came to Ted. Howard didn’t even want me to tell you.”

“Cici, there is no way you can keep this from Ted. What’s Howard doing about it?”

“He’s got a snoop looking into it.”

“So there is another person who knows.”

Lydia’s heart pounded. There were no secrets in Hollywood. Once news of a sex tape of Celeste Solange leaked, every reporter, tabloid, publicist, agent, manager, and scum-sucking porno distributor would be clamoring for the DVD. Wasn’t pot supposed to be a downer? She suddenly felt hopped up on speed.

“Do not tell anyone else,” Lydia said. “Do you understand?” Her tone was the harshest one she’d ever taken with Cici, but a sex tape was a big problem. Lydia stood from the bed and walked toward the bathroom. She needed to splash water on her face.

“Celeste, if there is even a whisper in the community about a sex tape, everyone will be after it. It could go public. It would be bad.”

“I know.”

Lydia paused at the bathroom door. A faint moaning emanated from the other side. Lydia motioned for Cici to come place her ear next to the door.

“Do you hear that?” Lydia whispered to Celeste.

“Somebody is getting something,” Celeste said. “Want to see who it is?”

“Cici, you cannot open that door.”

“Why not? If it’s unlocked it’s their fault.”

Before Lydia could stop her, Cici pulled open the door. The superstar sat on the counter with her legs spread for the supermodel. Both smiled at Lydia and Celeste.

“Care to join?” The supermodel asked in her heavy Russian accent.

“So sorry,” Cici said. “Let me lock this for you.” She pulled the door closed.

“And I thought that I gave Jennifer the perfect birthday gift,” Lydia said.

*

The DJ was just starting to warm up when Lydia kissed Jennifer good night. Stoned, drunk, and exceptionally happy, Jennifer lounged on the couch between her boyfriend and her supermodel.

“Let me know if you ever want to give it a try,” Jennifer whispered into Lydia’s ear as she hugged her good-bye. A smile played across her lips and she glanced at Jay. “Or if you both want to.”

“I will.” Lydia had learned never to appear surprised and always checked her judgment at the door. Besides, what was a good Malibu party about if not the people you met and the wild things you tried?

Lydia watched Jay hand the valet her ticket. He had indeed found her just as she was ready to leave. Was he a mind reader? After her conversation with Cici, she hoped not. Lydia had lost her buzz before she left the bedroom. First the letters and now Cici’s sex tape? The two must be connected. Lydia ran through the words of the letters in her head. According to Briggs, until the author made a demand, they could do nothing but wait. And Lydia was not used to waiting. She spent her entire career making things happen, not waiting for people. Lydia shifted her weight from foot to foot as she watched her Bentley come to a stop before her.

“Little edgy, aren’t you?” Jay whispered in her ear as he opened her door.

Edgy? If he only knew how edgy. Lydia slid into the front seat and bit her lower lip, reminding herself not to tell Jay about the DVD. Jay slid behind the wheel as Lydia’s hands-free phone rang. She looked at Jay. They had a system. She nodded and he pressed the button on the wheel.

“You got it?” An unrecognizable voice filled the car.

Lydia squinted and looked at Jay. Who was it? She couldn’t even tell if the voice was male or female. “Got what? Who is this?”

“My note.”

Lydia’s stomach lurched.

“Check your bag.”

She lifted her Kelly bag from the floorboard and peered inside. She shivered when her fingertips felt the paper, soft as suede. She pulled the envelope from her purse. Lydia sat frozen as Jay motioned for her to speak.

“I’m sorry. To what do you refer?”

A soft laugh crackled across the phone. “Well, I sure hope it’s in your purse and not someone else’s. The letter could be”—the voice paused—“damaging.”

Fear spread through Lydia’s limbs, and she felt her chin quiver. “What do you want?” she asked. She listened to the silence, waiting for more instructions. But the line went dead.

Lydia placed her head against the headrest in the car. She exhaled. She hadn’t realized that she was holding her breath as she waited for the caller to fill the silence. Her chest felt tight, and a cold sweat moistened her upper lip.

“Lydia, are you okay?” Jay asked.

She couldn’t answer. The caller had failed to answer the one question to which she needed a response. How could she possibly stop this if she didn’t even know what the person wanted? What could she give them? Money? Power? Prestige? Her breath became shallow. The car felt like a vacuum. She looked at Jay and reached over to open the window.

“Okay, breathe slow and deep,” Jay said, turning to her. He rested a hand on her shoulder and started taking deep breaths, as if trying to teach her how to breathe. “That’s right, that’s right,” Jay said. He glanced out the windshield and then into the rearview mirror. Lydia heard a rapping on Jay’s window.

“Sir, is everything okay?” the valet asked through the window.

Jay nodded. He glanced into the rearview mirror again, put the Bentley in drive, and pulled out. Cars were piling up behind them; everyone in Malibu for the good times at Jennifer’s party.

Rule 9: Never Believe Actors — They Lie for a Living

Mary Anne Meyers, Screenwriter

Mary Anne luxuriated in postcoital bliss. Holden had arrived on her doorstep three days before, and aside from a quick trip home yesterday, he’d yet to leave her bed. And she enjoyed every minute. What was she, doing? She blushed at the thought of the last three days. Never, ever had she experienced this kind of sexual freedom. He heated her to her core every single time. Who actually had this kind of sex? Could it continue? She doubted it. But right now she didn’t care.

Mary Anne looked around her room. Another question had been at the back of her mind and was nagging at her more and more—what were they doing? Having sex, obviously. But dating? She doubted that, too.

“Babe, you’re almost out of eggs,” Holden called from the kitchen. She heard his heavy footfall as he walked toward the bedroom. The sight of Holden standing in the doorway forced the breath from her lungs. How could anyone possibly be that physically perfect?