Thrill! (4 page)

he chided.

"I was thinking."

"What about?"

"My ex-lover, if you must know."

"Did you dump him?"

"He dumped me, actually."

Harry laughed disbelievingly.

"That's impossible."

"Told me he couldn't take the heat."

"You have to be joking."

A long deep sigh.

"I'm not."

Harry considered the possibilities of a red-blooded male actually dumping Lara Ivory. It seemed highly unlikely.

"Why would he do a thing like that?"

he asked at last.

"Was the fool brain-dead?"

"Too much attention,"

Lara said wryly.

"And all directed at me."

"You need to be with a fellow actor,"

Harry said confidently.

"We know how to share."

Sure, Lara thought. The only thing actors know how to share is a scene, and then they'll kill for the close-ups.

She'd met enough megalomaniac actors in her time.

The movie star with the polished pecs and the wry humour. He was addicted to steroids and only slept with models.

The macho action hero with the slit eyes and thin smile. He got off beating up on women and sexually abusing them - but only if they were below the line and couldn't fight back.

The popular black star who only considered busty blonds candidates for his extremely large waterbed.

The charismatic king of comedy with the enormous dick who was currently screwing his children's nanny.

And the

"serious"

New York actor who could only get it up for transvestites.

Ah yes, movie stars, a charming, well-adjusted bunch.

While she was busy with her thoughts, Harry seized his

23 opportunity. Swerving the car to the side of the road, he leaned over, pressing his warm lips down on hers.

"Harry!"

she exclaimed, managing to push him away.

"What do you think you're doing?"

Words tumbled from his mouth in a senseless torrent as his hands went for her breasts.

"You're so fucking beautiful, Lara . . . so gorgeous . . . the first time I saw you . . . my wife's a cold fish . . . we never sleep together . . . maybe a couple of times in the last year . . . my cock burns for you . . ."

She slapped him hard across the face - a theatrical gesture, but one that seemed to work.

"Good God!"

he exclaimed, stopping his extended grope.

"Harry,"

she said, sounding more calm than she felt.

"Get control of yourself. I do not get involved with married men, so kindly start the car and take me home."

He slumped away from her like a rejected fool.

"It's not that I don't find you attractive,"

she continued, her voice softening.

"But everyone has to stick to their principles."

Her smooth words soothed him.

"Sorry, Lara,"

he muttered, quite abashed.

"It won't happen again."

Ton bet it won't, she thought.

"Cause this is the one and only time I'll find myself alone in a car with you.

Til forget if you will,"

she said quietly, saving his damaged pride.

"Thanks,"

he mumbled, and drove her to the villa where Richard waited at the front gate - standing outside like a protective father.

"Wasn't sure you had your keys,"

Richard said, glaring at Harry.

Lara marched into the villa without a word to either of them.

Men! If only she could find one worth keeping, then maybe she'd be happy.

Or would she?

Could anyone make her forget the dark memories of her past?

Could anyone make everything all right?

24

-^^_^lfc ALISON SEWELL was never the pretty girl ^^^PIBL^i always the outcast, a loner with no friends. By the time she was fourteen, she already weighed over a hundred and sixty pounds. Hefty and round-faced, the kids at school taunted her, calling her all sorts of names.

"Sewer"

was a favourite,

"the Dump"

and

"Big Boy"

two others. Just because her mother made her cut her hair in a manly crop, it wasn't fair to call her Big Boy - that was downright mean. But Alison didn't care, she knew she was smarter than all of them, even though she managed to flunk out in most subjects.

"You're an idiot,"

her father often said to her.

Then one day he fell off a ladder, hitting his head and suffering an untimely death. Who was the idiot now?

Shortly after her father passed away, Alison and her mother, Rita, a small sparrow of a woman who worked as a laundress at a downtown hotel, moved in with Rita's brother, Cyril. He lived in a small ramshackle house a short walk from the seediest part of Hollywood Boulevard. He was divorced and childless, and since he'd recently broken his leg while "on the job', he needed help.

On the job for Cyril was photographing celebrities - usually when they didn't care to be photographed. He hung around outside popular restaurants and clubs, camera at the ready grabbing any shots he could. His big claim to fame was catching Madonna and Sean Penn in a steamy embrace before anyone knew they were a couple. Pure luck, really. But he made plenty of money from those particular photos, and garnered a modicum of respect 25 from the other freelancers, who couldn't believe Cyril had finally scored.

Alison was fascinated by Uncle Cyril, to her he was a celebrity himself. As soon as he recovered from his broken leg, she began following him around, watching in awe as he went about his job. Since Cyril had no children of his own, he didn't mind Alison trailing him, especially as she was strong enough to carry his equipment, and big enough to shove other photographers out of his way - a task she seemed to relish.

By the time she reached the age of twenty, Alison was taking pictures too. She knew where to go to catch the famous faces, and she didn't care what she had to do to get the shot. She proved to be more tenacious than Uncle Cyril, chasing her famous subjects aggressively into their cars and limos if they failed to cooperate taunting them with insults - getting away with it because she was a female. Not an attractive one by any means - overweight, surly, pushy and rude. But because she was a woman they didn't dare fight back.

Uncle Cyril said she was a natural, but the other photographers loathed her. They nicknamed her

"the Hun"

and steered clear.

Over the years Alison made some good scores. Whitney Houston screaming at Bobby Brown outside The Peninsula. Charlie Sheen screaming at her as she chased him and his sexy date to his limo. A dishevelled Nicholson exiting a club. A drunken Charlie Dollar falling down a flight of stairs. An abashed Hugh Grant outside the police station after being arrested for dallying with a prostitute. And Kim and Alec with their baby - a rare sighting.

And then, one day, into her life came Lara Ivory, and everything changed.

Obsession wasn't the word for it.

26

^^^_Jfl FRENCH SUMMER was almost finished and Lara ^^jfl^fL** felt the usual sadness that another film coming to an end always brought. Making a movie especially on location - was like becoming part of an extended family - the family she didn't have. The nice thing was that everyone looked out for her - from the hair and make-up people to the teamsters and grips. She was a special favourite with film crews, because even though she was an enormous star, she wasn't a prima donna, and knew how to treat everyone with fairness and respect. Most of the male members of the crew usually fell in love with her. And why not? She was exquisitely beautiful with a gorgeous body, and as if that wasn't enough, she was smart, friendly, and a good sport.

Nikki had organized a lavish wrap party to take place at the rented villa. There were huge tables of food set up in the garden, and plenty of beer, wine and spirits to accommodate the mosdy English crew. The tennis court had been transformed into a flashy disco complete with a dreadlocked disc jockey who was into sixties soul.

"Everything looks wonderful,"

Lara exclaimed, emerging from her room, dressed in a filmy white sleeveless dress and flat sandals, sfcin glowing, her shoulder-length hair freshly washed.

"Enough with the wonderful shit,"

Nikki responded, hands on black leather clad hips.

"I worked my butt off to make damn sure rt s the wrap of the year. I want everyone to know that when they w°rk on a Richard Barry movie, they know they're appreciated."

27 "I hope Richard appreciates youj Lara remarked.

"He'd better,"

Nikki said with a grin.

"You've been so good for him,"

Lara continued.

"He's a much nicer person."

"Want him back?"

Nikki asked jokingly.

Lara laughed.

"No, thank you."

"That's good,"

Nikki said, with another wide grin.

"

"Cause he's totally unavailable."

As if he sensed he was the subject of discussion, Richard appeared, strolling out to the garden wearing beige linen pants and a casual silk shirt.

"Hmm . . ."

Lara remarked.

"He even dresses better now."

"Of course,"

Nikki said.

"I drag him to Neiman's twice a year and make him spend all his money!"

"Are you two talking about me again?"

he asked, as usual pretending not to enjoy the attention.

"You know, Richard,"

Lara said, lightly touching his arm,

"you're incredibly lucky to have found a woman who cares so much about you."

"Hey"

Richard objected.

"What about her? She got me!"

"Ah . . . the ego gets bigger and bigger,"

Lara murmured.

"And that's not all,"

Nikki said with a lewd wink, flinging her arms around Richard's waist and hugging him.

"Seriously, though,"

Lara said.

"I couldn't be happier for the two of you."

"Now all we have to do is find the right guy for you,"

Nikki said, ever the matchmaker.

"I keep on telling you,"

Lara said patiently,

"I'm perfectly content by myself."

"Bulb/«>!"

snorted Nikki.

"Everyone needs somebody."

"I'm sure Lara is quite capable of finding him on her own,"

Richard said, aggravated that Nikki was so intent on setting Lara up.

Lara wished they'd both leave her in peace. She was happy by herself-most of the time.

"I'm going to miss you guys,"

she said wistfully.

"It won't be the same without you."

"You'll be slaving so hard on The Dreamer you won't even

28

notice we're missing,"

Nikki said, referring to Lara's next movie, which started principal photography in the Hamptons in a week.

"I want to work with you two again,"

Lara said.

"This was a memorable experience."

"Tell your agent,"

Nikki said crisply.

"According to him, you're booked for the next three years."

"Nonsense!"

"Richard,"

Nikki nudged her husband, excitement lighting her face,

"shall I tell Lara about the book I took an option on?"

"What book?"

Lara asked curiously.

"And why are you mentioning it now when I'm practically out of here?"

"It's called Revenue,"

Nikki said, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm.

"A true story about a schoolteacher who gets gang-raped nearly dies - then recovers and exacts her own form of punishment."

"Sounds exciting."

"I'm producing,"

Nikki announced proudly.

"My first attempt."

"That's great!"

"Richard's promised to help - which means he'll be keeping a steely eye on everything I do. I'm going for a hot young director. Unfortunately, it's a depressingly low budget. But the lead's a fantastic role for an actress."

"I don't get it,"

Lara said.

"Why didn't you fe//me?"

Nikki shot a baleful glare at Richard.

"He said I shouldn't bug you."

"Which is exactly what you're doing now,"

Richard interrupted, with a What am I going to do with you? look.

"I've told you, Nikki, this is not the kind of movie Lara would be interested in."

"Do you have a script yet?"

Lara asked.

"Nothing I'm satisfied with."

"I'd love to read it."

"Just for fun?"

Nikki asked hopefully.

"I'm curious to see what you're letting yourself in for."

"She has no idea,"

Richard said drily.

"Try stopping her - / can't."

"Isn't that what life's all about,"

Lara said gently.

"Helping other People achieve their dreams?"

"Right on!"

agreed Nikki, squeezing Richard's arm.

"And when

29 "I hope Richard appreciates you,"

Lara remarked.

"He'd better,"

Nikki said with a grin.

"You've been so good for him,"