Thrill! (25 page)

Nikki said, fed up with his constant criticism.

"You've got a crazed director, a drugged-out leading man, and Lara for a leading lady,"

he nagged.

"This is destined to be some fucked-up shoot."

"Thanks, Richard,"

she said flatly.

"I appreciate your words of encouragement."

Later, they lay in bed, both keeping to their own sides. David Letterman was chatting with Sandra Bernhard on television neither of them watched.

This movie is not good, for my marriage, Nikki thought. It's separating us. Driving us apart.

Unfortunately there was nothing she could do. She had to proceed, there was no choice.

-fr & &

170

te

THRILL!

And while Richard and Nikki were safely in bed, Summer was cruising the clubs on the Strip. Her vacation had turned out to be a total blast. It was so cool the way Richard kept on telling her mother to lay off - giving her the freedom she deserved. Things were way too complicated back in Chicago - what with her father and all. If only she could move to LA permanently.

At the Viper Room, Johnny Depp's club on Sunset, she sat in a corner with Jed, Tina, and a few other friends - most of them stoned or drunk.

"OhmiGod!"

she suddenly exclaimed.

"Take a look at who just came in."

"Who?"

Tina asked, stretching her neck to see.

"Aiden Sean and Mick Stefan,"

Summer said, her eyes swivelling to follow the emaciated-looking actor and the gawky director as they walked up to the bar accompanied by a drugged-out redhead in a black rubber tube dress and purple ankle boots.

"They're both so out there!"

she said, flushed with excitement. Tm going over."

"You can't do that,"

Jed said, frowning.

"You don't even know

"em."

"Who cares?"

Summer said recklessly.

"Aiden's going to be in my mother's movie, and Mick's directing it - so it's almost like I know them."

Her blue eyes gleamed.

"C'mon, Tina, go with me."

"No,"

Tina said haughtily.

"I don't pick up men - they come to me.''

"That's right!"

Jed muttered, not pleased Summer was chasing other guys.

"Well, I'm going over,"

Summer said, jumping to her feet and sashaying across the room before anyone could stop her.

She went straight up to Aiden Sean.

"Hi,"

she said, staring directly at him. He ignored her.

"Get lost, blondie,"

said the drugged-out redhead.

"Hello, gorgeous!"

Mick responded, lowering his glasses to gaze at this innocent teenage vision with the pouty lips and big blue eyes.

"How about a drink?"

She was carrying a fake ID Jed had given her, so why not?

"Martini,"

she said, aware that it was a cool drink.

171 "One Martini comin"

up,"

Mick said, licking his rubbery lips.

"Uh . . . thanks,"

she said, still staring at Aiden, who was taking absolutely no notice of her. A real bummer because she considered him killer. It was him she wanted, not the geek-faced director.

Three Martinis later she was feeling delightfully dizzy. Jed came over and said they had to go.

Til take her home,"

Mick said.

"No way, man,"

Jed replied.

"S OK,"

she managed, even though the room was starting to spin.

"Mick'll look after me."

Reluctantly Jed left.

Tm gonna have a big hangover tomorrow,"

she giggled.

"Big, big hangover."

"I got a magic cure for hangovers,"

Mick said with a knowing wink.

"What's that?"

she asked boldly.

"Come outside to my limo an"

I'll show you,"

he offered.

Should she? Shouldn't she?

Why not? If she went with Mick, maybe Aiden would notice she existed.

"OK,"

she said, suppressing a hiccup.

"OK!"

Mick repeated with a wild cackle. And off they went.

172

i

BY THE time I was twenty-one I bad a reputation for being a guy who could deliver the goods. And there were plenty of rich -women in Hollywood who were into regular sex with a man who could actually get it up.

I had my own apartment, a new Corvette, and a slew of regular appointments. In a way I was living the good life, although I didn't have what I really craved, which was to be a movie star.

I was definitely leading a double life. I had a closet full of expensive clothes - most of them bought for me by grateful clients; and a separate closet filled with jeans and Tshirts.

On one hand I was the big stud. On the other - a guy who still went to acting class, mixing with people who were pumping gas and parking cars.

I even had a legitimate girlfriend, Margie - a sweet girl who didn't know shit about what I did on the side. She was under the mistaken impression I came from a rich family.

I liked Margie because of her innocence. Most of the girls I'd encountered in Hollywood were hard nuts who'd gotten where they were by winning a beauty contest or some such shit, after which they'd high-tailed it out to Hollywood, done time at the Playboy mansion, fucked every sleazeball playboy in town, and ended up stoned out of their minds.

Margie was different. She lived in the Valley with her family. A former child star, she'd starred in a series until she was fifteen, when suddenly her career came to a sharp stop.

Now she was nineteen and trying to get back in the business.

173 Margie and I had fun together. It was the first time I'd had fun with a girl who wasn't handing me money.

I had one particular client, Elite von Steuben, who I had a hunch could do me some good. Elite was married to Maxwell von Steuben, a big-shot producer. Elite and I met twice a week in a fancy penthouse on Wilshire Boulevard. I had no idea whose apartment it was, but I suspected it wasn't Elite's since there was never anything personal around.

"This your place?"

I asked her once.

cNo,"

she replied, refusing to reveal any more information.

Elite was probably a real looker in her time, and even in her fifties she could still turn heads. She told me her husband hadn't touched her in years.

"He's too kinky for me anyway,"

she confided, scratching my back with long talonlike nails.

"He prefers call-girls, so why shouldn't I have my own pleasure?"

No reason, sweetheart. Especially when you're paying me five hundred bucks a time.

Elite was very businesslike. She made sure the money was always on the bedside table -five crisp hundred-dollar bills. And she wasn't into conversation, all she required was sex - and plenty of it.

I could do that. I could do it better than anyone she'd ever had before.

After a while she started recommending me to friends, which was how I built up such an exclusive clientele. The Hollywood women who weren'tgettin"

any - they were all mine. The big director's wife. The ex-wife of a superstar. The horniest old agent in town.

One day I asked Elite if she'd help me with my career.

"I already have,"

she replied coolly.

"I've given you more clients than you can handle."

"That's not the career I'm talking about,"

I replied.

She cupped my balls with a perfectly manicured hand and said,

"You don't want to be an actor, darling. Actors are jerk-offs everybody treats them like garbage. You're king in your field. Stay a king."

I was angry that she took my ambition so lightly. That night in acting class I got up and performed a scene with Margie. We kicked ass. The whole fuckin"

class stood up and applauded.

174

Our acting teacher, an older man with flowing white hair and yellow skin, took me aside.

"It's time you got yourself an agent,"

he said.

"You're ready."

It was the first encouragement I'd ever gotten. He was telling me I was good enough to be a professional! He was saying I could do it. And fuck it -1 could.

I made a decision. I was going to give up hustling and go for it. But first I had to get myself a stash of money. I'd already opened a bank account and taken out a safe deposit box, in which I had a few thousand cash. Now I had to concentrate on really piling it up.

I decided to spend six more months servicing women, then I'd say goodbye to that business. Maybe I'd even marry Margie, buy a little house in the Valley, have a couple of kids - live a normal life.

I started asking Elite about agents. She started telling me to shut the fuck up and do what I had to do. She wasn't a nice woman.

One night I was doing what I had to do, when Maxwell von Steuben walked in on us.

"Jesus Christ!"

he screamed, taking in the scene - Elite with her legs clasped around my neck and me with my ass in the air.

"Jesus Christ! What kind of a whore am I married to?"

"What kind of a whore are you married to?"

she retorted, wriggling out from under me.

"You're the worst whoremonger in this city, and you have the gall to criticize me?"

While they were screaming at each other I began scrambling for my clothes, not forgetting to scoop up the money sitting in its usual place.

Maxwell von Steuben ignored Elite for a moment, turning his anger on me.

"Who are you?"

he yelled, red in the face.

"Who the fuck are you ?"

Oh, yeah, like I was gonna tell him.

"You'd better get your filthy ass out of this town. I never want to set eyes on you again."

I grabbed my clothes and ran.

Elite usually called me every Monday to set up our weekly appointments. The following Monday she did not call, nor did any of her friends.

The truth dawned. Elite had been caught, and I was blacklisted.

Fuck!

175 I decided it was a sign - I'd go straight.

So I sold my expensive suits, moved out of my costly apartment, rented a small place, and with my savings managed to keep it together while I did the rounds of agents, and spent more time with Margie who, although she was very sweet, had begun to bore me, I finally got me an agent who liked me as much as I liked myself. A woman, naturally. Had to fuck her, of course, but then she started sending me on auditions, and that was a real kick. I actually landed a couple of small pans in TV shows. And I was good. One thing led to another, and one day I was sent out on an audition for a big action movie.

The day of my interview I sat in an outer office in Hollywood with seven other guys, all of us nervously sweating until it was our turn to go in.

Eventually I was called. I sauntered into the casting room determined to impress.

Sitting around were the usual casting people, a well-known director, and - wouldn't you know it-Maxwell von Steuben himself.

What kind of a lucky break was this ?

Our eyes met. It took him a couple of seconds, but he recognized me. The old man leaped to his feet, waving his arms in a blind fury.

"Get him out of here!3 he screamed.

"Get him the fuck out! You're finished in this town. Finished! Do you hear me, punk?"

The entire town heard him.

So once again my career as a movie star was put on hold.

176

^^^.^f^ DINNER WITH Joey was another memorable ^^I^P^B^^ experience. Lara felt so comfortable with him - it was as if they'd known each other for years and were in perfect synch. Halfway through the evening he reached for her hand across the table and said, "Something's happenin"

here, Lara, an"

I'm not sure what."

"We're falling in like,"

she said, smiling nervously - she who was usually so in control.

He smiled back.

"So that's what it is."

"Maybe."

They exchanged a long, intimate look.

She held her breath, lost in the moment. Kyle Carson chose that exact moment to enter the restaurant with his date for the night - an almost fully clothed Wilson, in a short orange tank dress that barely covered her ass, and pointy-toed stiletto heels. On her head was the Lara wig.

"Oh, no!"

Lara groaned, spotting them and quickly sliding down in her chair.

"What?"

"It's Kyle - with my body double."

Joey glanced over to where Kyle and Wilson were being seated at a nearby table.

"They seen us?"

he asked, squinting across the room.

"I'm not sure,"

she replied, dismayed they'd chosen the same restaurant.

"Somehow I got a feelin"

you don't want them to."

177 "Guess again."

"Let's split, then. You slide off to the John, I'll grab the check. We'll meet outside."

"Can we get away with it?"

she asked hopefully.

"Yeah - if you go now, before they see you."