wasting time, and car trips allowed her the perfect opportunity to scan
the papers.
She went through the New York Post in record time, perused the Wall
Street journal, glanced at Newsday and stopped at a column piece in the
News. It was a short gossip item about Nick. He'd been spotted out
and about with his latest leading lady. Nothing new about that.
Hmm, ifNick Angel had screwed every woman he was linked with he'd be
dead.
She put the paper down and frowned. She wished she could stop thinking
about him. She wished that he would vanish. But this was not to be.
Nick Angel was a superstar. He was everywhere she went.
She thought about the last time she'd seen him, in Jessie George's New
York apartment and shivered. Every so often she relived that night in
her head. Being in the same room with Emerson, Lorenzo and Oliver was
unnerving enough-but when she'd seen Nick everything had changed. At
first it had been so good to see him, so wonderful, and she'd gotten
carried away with the moment. But it was only for a moment, because
reality soon reminded her that she was a married woman. And not only
that, she was pregnant-or at least she'd thought so at the time.
A week later she'd gotten her period. It had all been a false alarm.
"Probably the European trip threw you off schedule," her gynecologist
had told her. "It often happens."
If there wasn't Oliver to consider she would have been a free person.
She'd thought about calling Nick and seeing him again, but she didn't
have his number in L.A.-although it would have been easy enough to find
if she'd really wanted to. But did she?
She woke up one morning a few months later and realized that yes, she
did. Maybe if she divorced Oliver there'd be a chance for her and Nick
to be together after all.
She'd decided to use her connections, find out where he was and call
him.
Before she had a chance, the papers were full of the news. Nick Angel
had gotten secretly married.
With a dull feeling of hopelessness she'd known it was too late for her
to do anything.
Lauren arrived at the cocktail party late. Oliver glowered at her.
"It was important for me that you be here earlier," he snapped.
"I'm sorry," she replied coolly, not really sorry at all. "I was in a
meeting. Surely you understand better than anyone that business comes
first?"
She knew why he wanted her there. People were impressed when they
found out she was his wife.
After the cocktail party there was a boring dinner with business people
Oliver wished to impress. She excused herself and left early, much to
his chagrin.
Back at the apartment there were several messages on her private
answering machine. Two were from Lorenzo.
Ah, sweet faithful Lorenzo. He'd never given up hope, even though he
was now a married man. He'd wed a beautiful eighteen-year-old Italian
girl, but he still lusted after Lauren.
She called him first. "What can I do for you, Lorenzo?"
He laughed. "You know what I would like you to do for me,
bellissima.
4Cut it out, Lorenzo. It's late, I'm tired and I'm not in the mood for
your phony Italian bullshit."
"Ah, such a lady. Whatever happened to the sweet innocent girl I used
to know?"
"She grew up.
"I was thinking," he said. "Would you entertain the idea of adding a
line of cosmetics to your fragrance line?"
Lorenzo sure knew how to make a girl interested.
"It's a great idea-when did you come up with it?"
"Your fragrance has been so successful, the other directors and I
thought it might be a good idea if we started a limited line. We would
call it the Lauren Roberts Collection. You like that?"
ù "I like it," she said enthusiastically. "Can you stop by my office,
say at noon tomorrow, and we'll discuss it?"
"But of course," he replied, pleased because he had her full
She hung up the phone and smiled. The more she achieved, the better
she liked it. Three years ago Marcella had financed her with her own
scent collection. It had been an enormous success. To branch into
makeup would be an interesting challenge.
Being a model had never been enough. She felt that her beauty was a
gift and that taking advantage of it and forging a good professional
career was an excellent way to handle that gift. Her business acumen
she'd developed. In a way it was much more important to her than
merely looking good. She wasn't going to be a model forever.
She was thirty now and she had to protect her future.
There were several more messages on her answering machine. The only
call she decided to return was the one from Samm. It was past eleven,
but Samm was a night person.
"I'm not waking you, am I?" she asked.
"Not at all," Samm replied. "I was hoping you'd get back to me
tonight."
"What's up?"
"Can you fly to Los Angeles tomorrow?"
She laughed incredulously. "No, Samm, I cannot fly to Los Angeles
tomorrow. What are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about that big chance you've been waiting for."
"I've had plenty of big chances," Lauren replied. "And I'm not waiting
for anything."
"Short memory," Samm said crisply. "For the last eighteen months
you've been badgering me about a film career.
"And you've told me it's not something I should pursue. You said
models do not make good actresses-all they do is make fools of
themselves."
"Yes, Lauren, but when you talk I listen. You're very smart."
"Thanks, Samm. Coming from you I guess that's a compliment."
"Without your knowledge I've been speaking to Freddie Leon. Do you
know who he is?"
"Oh, come on, I took the straw out of my hair a long time ago.
"Anyway, I thought if you were going to have representation in L.A. it
should be the best. As you know, Freddie handles only a very few
clients, and they're all top stars."
"So?"
"So, he's interested in representing you. He wants you to fly to L.A.
tomorrow to test for the new Nick Angel movie." There was a long
silence. "Lauren-are you there?"
"Yes, I'm here."
"Will you do it?"
She took a deep breath. "Yes, I'll do it." zAA How many times must I
tell you, Marik? I have no desire to get married."
"But, baby, baby, we're so good together."
"I know," Cyndra relented-but only a little. Marik was the sweetest
man she'd ever met and she didn't want to hurt his feelings. "I don't
see us married," she said.
Actually she did see them married, but it was impossible. Somewhere
out there was a man named Reece Webster, and she had no idea where.
All she knew was that she was legally married to him, and there was
nothing she could do about it.
Or maybe there was. Lately she'd been considering confiding in
Gordon.
He was an important and powerful man, and now she was his important and
powerful recording star. If she went to him i
n strict confidence,
maybe he could help her.
Of course, she wouldn't tell him anything about the shooting, that was
privileged information. She would just tell him she was once married
to this guy who'd run out on her, and how could she get a divorce.
Over the years Gordon and she had forged a good friendship.
There'd been one little glitch three years ago when she'd come right
out and confessed her feelings for him. He'd sat her down and talked
to her like a father. "Cyndra," he'd said, "when you find what I have,
you never want to risk losing it. You're a beautiful and fine woman,
and I love you in my own way. But Odile is my life, and nothing will
ever change that."
Strangely enough she'd understood exactly what he was saying and
accepted it. Since that time they'd been best friends.
Marik and she were still an item. It was better to be with one guy
than fight off the lines of men that came sniffing around after she
became a star.
Stardom. Nick hated it. She loved it. What a trip! She'd had eight
hit singles and three mega-albums, and now she was even contemplating
the offer of her own television series.
One night she and Nick had started laughing about it.
"Maybe there was something in the water at Bosewell High," he'd
joked.
"It's crazy that we've all made it so big. You, me and Lauren."
"What about the rest of them?" she'd asked.
"Yeah, well, you had to drink the water and then get out fast," he'd
explained, laughing. "That's the way it works."
A year ago she'd persuaded Aretha Mae to come and live with her.
The old woman was very sickly and stayed in her room all day muttering
to herself.
"Are you out of your mind?" Nick had said. "What do you want her
around for?"
"Because she brought me up. Because she busted her ass so I could go
to school and have food on the table. And I couldn't live with myself
if I didn't take care of her now."
Marik also thought she was nuts. "I hate the way that batty old lady
looks at me," he complained.
"What do you mean, looks at you? She never comes out of her room.
"She spies on me from her window."
"Big deal. It shouldn't bother you."
"She's loco-and you know it."
"Yeah, but she's also my mother."
Neither she nor Nick had achieved any success with Harlan. He'd never
contacted them. They weren't even sure if they had the right address
anymore, but they both regularly sent money.
"One of these days," Cyndra said, "I'm gonna ride into town in a big
old limo with an entourage and a couple of strong bodyguards.
Then I'm gonna find Harlan, throw him in the back of my car and bring
him back here."
Nick had no doubt that one day Cyndra would do it. She was
strong-willed enough.
Every couple of weeks she and Nick spoke on the phone.
"Why don't you ever come by the house?" he asked.
"You know why. I try to avoid that wife of yours-she's such a
badtempered witch."
"Lissa misses you."
"Really?"
"You know she likes seeing you.
"So bring her over to my house. Maybe she'll lure Aretha Mae out of
her room.
He changed the subject. "Lauren's coming to town."
"How do you know?"
"Because she's testing for my new movie.
"I'm proud of you, Nick. How did you fix that?"
"Freddie's thinking of representing her. He suggested it."
"Oh, and you didn't exactly fight it?"
He laughed. "Nope. I guess not."
"You'd better not let Annie find out," Cyndra warned. "She'll slice
your balls up and lay em out for the fans."
"You got a graphic way with words."
"How long is it since you've seen Lauren?"
"I look at her every day. All I have to do is pick up a magazine.
"You're not exactly out of the limelight yourself, Nick. Anyway, she's
still married, isn't she?"
"Yeah."
"Then you're both perfectly safe."
"Gee, thanks. That's just what I wanted to hear."
Freddie was totally unaware that Nick and Lauren were already
acquainted. He sent one of his minions to meet her at the airport, and
then visited her when she was installed in a bungalow at the Beverly
Hills Hotel.
He called Nick later. "I'm not usually impressed," he said. "But I
have just met the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. And sweet
too.
And sharp. And intelligent."
"You met Lauren, huh?"
"What's with the Lauren bit?"
"Neither of us advertises the fact, but we went to high school
together."
"You're kidding?"
"No, I'm not kidding."
"Then how come you didn't nail her? She's gorgeous. And you know me,
Nick. I do not get enthusiastic about anybody."
This was true. Freddie rarely noticed or commented on women.
Sexual chemistry was not his thing.
"Uh . . . do me a favor," Nick said. "Keep this information to
yourself. I'm not sure Lauren wants people knowing. And I certainly
don't think it's a good idea to spread it around."
"Why? What's the big secret about going to high school with
someone?"
Nick sighed. "We did more than go to high school."
"You did nail her?"
It was so unlike Freddie to talk like one of the guys that he was quite
shocked. "Hey, Freddie," he said sharply. "Maybe she nailed me.
What's the difference? I don't answer questions like that."
Freddie didn't seem to notice his aggravation. "She's really
beautiful, Nick."
"I know."
After he hung up he was unreasonably pissed off. What the fuck was
Freddie getting interested for? Before he had a chance to think about
it further, Annie buzzed him on the intercom.
"Dinner's ready," she said.
They had a cook, but recently Annie had been attending a gourmet
cooking class and now, three nights a week, they were treated to her
culinary concoctions.
He went downstairs, sat at the dining room table and toyed with a
plateful of pumpkin ravioli.
"Don't you like it?" she asked accusingly.
"It's bitter," he replied, pushing it around the plate.
"God, I can never do anything right, can I?"
"You asked for my opinion."
"You're at home now, Nick," she said angrily. "You're not on show for
the fans. You don't have to make a fuss about everything-I'm not
waiting on you hand and foot, so don't expect me to."
"Annie, you know what?"
She turned on him, eyes blazing. "What?"
4Aw, shit . . . forget it."
That night he couldn't sleep. He lay in bed imagining Lauren ensconced
in the Beverly Hills Hotel. What was she thinking? Was she looking
forward to seeing him as much as he was looking forward to seeing
her?
Annie came to bed wearing her peach peignoir. It signaled sex.
Christ! Occasionally he did it with his wife. He had to, didn't he?
He never would have thought that sex could become a chore, but it
was.
The next morni
ng he was up early and out of the house before Annie
awoke. Lauren was going to be testing with him. He didn't want to
keep her waiting.
The studio limo picked her up at seven. She wore jeans, a sweat shirt,
baseball cap, huge shades-and no makeup.
"Morning, Ms. Roberts," the driver greeted her, checking her out in
ffi& rearview mirror. He was young and good-looking, standard
Hollywood fare. "It's a clear day today. No smog."
"That's nice," she said.
"Unusual," he said.