Secrets of the Hollywood Girls Club Page 7

  “Works for me. Can you tell me the client?”

  Howard paused. “Did you see Seven Minutes Past Midnight?”

  “Two times. I liked that one.”

  “It’s the star.”

  “Bradford?”

  “The female star,” Howard said.

  “Got it. I’ll see you at eleven.” Sherman snapped his phone closed.

  Tonight was the third time this week he’d dealt with things close to Celeste Solange. First the sex tape Sherman had watched at a party, then shooting photos for the head of security at her boyfriend’s studio, and now her attorney.

  Sherman had experienced the sex tape thing several times before, with a number of celebrities. Celeste’s team was obviously worried. One of her people must have discovered that the footage of Celeste in flagrante was making the rounds at high-end sex parties in Los Angeles. Now her team would circle the wagons in preparation for the media attack.

  He glanced over at the NBA superstar, where a hot blonde had assumed the lap position. She pushed her breasts into the player’s cheeks. Sherman snapped off more shots—he was positive that the basketball star’s soon-to-be ex-wife would pay top dollar for the photos. After all, she’d much rather own the shots than see them on the cover of the Enquirer.

  *

  Cici glanced over at Ted. He breathed deeply and his face looked calm as he slept. Her distress made her twitchy, and she kicked her leg out from under the covers. She was envious of Ted’s peaceful slumber—he was unaware of the secret that could potentially sink his studio. Cici had three pictures in the can at Worldwide and another going into preproduction. If Nathan were telling the truth, and Cici feared he was, Ted’s half-a-billion-dollar investment in Celeste Solange films would be worth pretty much zero. America’s sweetheart would be seen as a sexual deviant by most of America. Celeste’s secret could potentially bankrupt Ted’s studio.

  Even when Damien promised he gave Howard the original and only DVD, Celeste knew that the DVD was too tempting. Damien claimed no one had burned a copy, and she trusted him at the time, but she knew his divorce attorney, Janice, had kept the DVD for a short time during their divorce. Any one of her assistants, paralegals, or even an inquisitive member of the cleaning crew could have burned a DVD. But why now? And why wasn’t the footage all over the Net? Celeste scoured the Internet after speaking with Howard. Three search engines and two hours later, she couldn’t find any trace of pornographic footage of her. So where was this tape? How had the photographer, Nathan, seen it?

  There was one way to find out. But why would Nathan Curtis tell her the truth? And why would he have told her that he had seen it—what was he after? She cringed at the thought. She doubted he simply wanted money. She had an idea of what it might take to get the horny little Brit to spill. As if reading her mind in his sleep, Ted rolled over and flopped his arm protectively across Celeste. Sex with celebrities was like big-game hunting for some men. As if the number of actresses they banged were testament to their ability as lovers. But Celeste discovered early in her celebrity career that a man’s perpetual need for high-profile conquests usually meant he had a tiny penis.

  She’d give Howard a small window of time, and then she’d call Nathan. She placed her hand on Ted’s arm, now resting across her chest, and watched him sleep, his solid chin and lips outlined against the bedroom window. He was a good man, a protective man. For Celeste, he represented everything she had hoped for in a partner but had failed to find until now. Her heart swelled with love as she watched him. Ted couldn’t know. Celeste set her mouth into a firm line. She’d do anything so that Ted never found out.

  Rule 8: When You’re Invited to a Party in Malibu, Go

  Lydia Albright, President of Production, Worldwide Pictures

  Lydia sat beside Jay as he pulled her Bentley up to the gate at the edge of The Colony. Lydia preferred staying home on the weekends, but When an A-lister like Jennifer invited you to her afternoon birthday soiree and you were president of production at a studio—especially a studio that wanted to do the actress’s next film—attendance became mandatory.

  “Lydia Albright,” Jay said.

  Lydia watched as the guard scanned the list and put a small check next to her name. He waved them through. Already a dozen cars waited behind them. Lydia knew all the vehicles were headed to Jennifer’s birthday party, because after Labor Day, aside from the hard-core residents, The Colony remained empty. But Jennifer loved the beach and refused to move inland with the rest of the migratory Los Angelenos.

  Jay pulled up to the valet outside the house, hopped out of the car, and dashed around to Lydia’s side.

  “What are you, my date?” Lydia joked.

  “No, just here watching out for you. I’ll walk you in and then I’ll be circling.”

  “And when I’m ready to leave?”

  “I’ll know,” Jay said. He held Lydia’s elbow as they walked up the steps to the front door.

  “Oh, you’ll just know?” Lydia quipped.

  Jay looked at Lydia, his joking tone replaced with a serious look. “Yes. I’ll know.”

  Lydia tilted her head to the side and looked at Jay. For a second, a nice feeling of safety encapsulated her.

  The birthday girl stood just inside the front door with her current boyfriend, greeting her guests. Her honey-colored hair caught the sun beaming through the deck doors. Lydia heard the surf pound.

  “Lydia!” Jennifer threw her arms around Lydia, engulfing her in a hug. “I’m so glad you came.” Jennifer eyed Jay, assessing him. “Hi, I’m Jennifer.”

  “This is Jay,” Lydia said.

  “Nice to meet you,” Jennifer said. “And thank you for the gift.” Jennifer looked at Lydia. “I absolutely adore Lagerfeld.”

  “You’re sure? Because if you don’t, please tell me; I can get you something else.”

  “Lydia, I’ll be outside,” Jay said and touched her on the arm.

  Jennifer watched him walk toward the deck. “Could you get me one of those?” she asked. Her eyes hungrily ate up the rear view of Jay.

  “He’s one of a kind,” Lydia said. She handed her purse over to one of the party’s staff who had magically appeared by her side.

  “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 su
permodel 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.”