Thrill! (5 page)

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 luck)"

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."

"BulldWt!"

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

otice 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 Revenge,"1 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. lHe 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'm a big fat mega-rich producer with an out-of-control coke habit, a live-in stud and a majorly inflated budget, the first person I'll hire will be Richard Barry - who by that time will be an ancient out-ofshape drunk, living in Santa Barbara with nothing but his memories and a couple of senile fart-rilled dogs."

"Thanks, darling,"

Richard said ruefully.

"You sure know how to make a person feel good about himself."

"Only joking."

"Like I didn't know that?"

"Don't get uptight."

"Who's uptight?"

"You two,"

Lara said, shaking her head and laughing.

"You're acting like a roadshow version of Virginia Wolf!"

"Let's go get a drink,"

said Richard.

"We may as well be first."

if ft &

Much later in the evening Harry Solitaire grabbed Lara on the dance floor. He was sweating through his red polo shirt, his hands clammy as he placed them clumsily on her shoulders. His wife, a pleasant-looking English girl who'd arrived in time to spend the last weekend with her husband, sat in a corner conversing with the first AD. Lara felt sorry for the poor girl. After Harry's aborted attempt at making it with her, he'd had a series of one-nighters with her standin, the continuity woman, and two extras. There was no such thing as a secret fuck on location, everyone knew the moment it happened.

"I want to thank you for not saying anything about the other night,"

he said, shooting a furtive glance at his wife, feverishly hoping the first AD was not saying anything he shouldn't.

"Why don't you try being a gentleman and stop cheating on your wife?"

Lara suggested.

"What would you do if she carried on the same way?"

"She wouldn't,"

Harry said gruffly.

"Maybe she should,"

Lara retorted crisply.

"See how you'd like it."

I

30

"My wife's not that kind of woman,"

he said, sweat beading his

upper Up.

"What makes you so sure?"

"It's different for men,"

he said, as if she should understand.

"Everyone knows that."

"No,"

Lara said unwaveringly,

"that's where you're wrong."

Harry was not about to argue. He had the delectable Lara Ivory in his arms, and this was his last chance to score. He pulled her so close she could feel his erection pressing against her thigh. Before she could move away, he managed a sly - Td give my left ball to make love to you. You know that, don't you?"

"Oh, for God's sake, grow up, Harry,"

she said, pushing him away and leaving the dance floor.

Wrap parties. Sometimes they were too much of a good thing.

fr

The next morning Lara departed early for the airport. Nikki and Richard came to the door of the villa to see her off - both clad in terry-cloth bathrobes, bleary-eyed with monster hangovers.

"Can't believe it's over,"

Nikki said, stretching her arms high above her head.

"I know what you mean,"

Lara agreed.

"I feel the same way."

"Be sure to look after yourself, sweetheart,"

Richard said, squeezing her hand.

"Anything you need - call me. You know I'm always here for you. Day or night."

"I hate goodbyes,"

Lara said, giving them both a quick hug and jumping in the car, her luggage already loaded. She didn't look back as the car left the driveway.

Her loyal assistant, Cassie, met her at Nice airport. Cassie was an overweight woman in her mid-thirties who bore a fleeting resemblance to Elizabeth Taylor in her Larry Fortensky years. She'd worked for Lara for six years and made sure everything went smoothly. Today she was anxious to get Lara on the plane to Paris, where they would make a connection to New York.

"I'm tired,"

Lara said, yawning.

31 "You don't look it."

A man from the airline fell all over himself to help them aboard. Another airline representative met them in Paris and escorted them to their Air France flight to New York. Lara settled into her firstclass window seat. Cassie handed her the script of The Dreamer, and a large plastic bottle of Evian water.

"Thanks,"

she said, taking an unladylike swig.

"If I fall asleep, don't wake me."

"Not even for food?"

"No, Cassie, especially not for food!"

A businessman across the aisle was stretching his neck to get a better look at her. Finally he couldn't stand it any longer and came over.

"Lara Ivory,"

he said, his middle-aged voice filled with a mixture of awe and admiration.

"That's me,"

she said brightly, knowing exactly what he would say next.

She was right.

"You're far more beautiful in the flesh,"

he managed.

She smiled, dazzling him - even though it was still morning and she had on casual clothes and hardly any make-up.

"Thank you,"

she murmured.

Cassie ran interference, placing her considerable bulk between Lara and her admiring fan.

He took the hint and returned to his seat.

"Civilians!"

Cassie muttered.

Lara wondered what it would be like to go out with a civilian. The only men she came in contact with were connected to movies

- actors, producers, directors, the crew. She'd met Lee while working on a film - Richard had set up their first date. Lee had been painfully shy - a condition not helped by being thrust into the limelight as her boyfriend. They'd spent most of their year together at her house in LA. She'd known two months before the break-up that it was coming. There was no passion left in their relationship, and Lee wasn't happy living in her shadow. Plus she was being tracked by an obsessed stalker which made him crazy. Eventually they'd agreed to part amicably, and she hadn't heard from him since.

32

"The steward wondered if he could get your autograph,"

Cassie

said.

"Sure,"

she replied.

"Tell him to come over."

A few minutes later, the steward - a gay guy with impossibly long eyelashes and gentle eyes - knelt beside her seat. Tm so sorry to disturb you, Ms Ivory,"

he said in reverent tones,

"only my friend would hang and quarter me if I dared to come home without your signature. Is it a terrible imposition if I ask you to sign his book?"

"Of course not,"

she replied, with a faint smile.

"Do you have a

pen?"

"Right here,"

he said, fumbling in his pocket.

"What's your friend's name?"

she asked, taking the blue leather book from him.

"Put "To Sam, the man of my dreams"."

Graciously she did as he requested. Some stars wouldn't sign autographs at all, others made their fans pay for it. Lara felt privileged that she even got asked. Being a movie star was a big responsibility - people looked up to her. She remembered seeing Demi Moore on David Letterman once, stripping off to an almost non-existent bikini. At the time Demi was the highest-paid female star in the world, and it seemed so dumb that she would get up and blow her image in front of millions of viewers - becoming just another babe with a body. Of course, she'd redeemed herself with a stellar performance in Gljane, but was that enough?

Lara slept most of the journey, waking half an hour before their arrival in New York. She'd hoped to spend a few days at her house in LA, but there wasn't time. Three frantic days of costume fittings and interviews in New York, and then she had to leave for the house the studio had rented for her in the Hamptons. Cassie had flown in several weeks earlier to check the place out.

"It's absolutely your style,"

Cassie had assured her.

"Very Martha Stewart - comfortable, with a pretty garden and beach access. Oh yes, and you'll love this - extremely private."

Cassie knew her well, when she wasn't working she loved seclusion. Parties and the night life were not for her.

A limo took her straight to the St Regis Hotel, where she was booked into the Oriental Suite, courtesy of Orpheus Studios, who

33 were in charge of her for the next seven weeks while she shot The Dreamer - a light comedy about two divorced people who meet, fall in love, fall out of love, and finally get together for good. It was a contemporary piece - a welcome change from Richard's film, where day after day she'd been locked into excruciatingly uncomfortable period gowns. She'd loved making the movie hated wearing the clothes.

Her co-star in The Dreamer was Kyle Carson - a bankable star who'd recently separated from his wife of seventeen years. Lara had met Kyle briefly at several industry events and he'd seemed attractive and charming - she hoped his recent separation hadn't changed him. The director was Miles KiefFer, an old friend, who'd directed her in her first movie.