Hollywood Divorces / Hollywood Wives: The New Generation by Jackie Collins Read Free Book Online Page B

point.
    Reaching for a cigarette she zoomed off down Melrose.
     
    Taylor Singer parked on the street in Venice, reluctantly, because she was a valet-parker addict and hated having to walk anywhere. Locking her Jaguar, she headed down a narrow side-street that led directly to the beach.
    Christ! she thought. If my car is stolen, how do I explain what I’m doing in this seedy neighbourhood?
    No explanations necessary. Larry trusted her. He loved her. He would never believe she would betray him.
    Yet that’s exactly what she was doing. Betraying him big time. She simply couldn’t help herself.
    Her high heels clicked along the street until she reached the entrance to a run-down apartment complex painted a particularly sickening shade of orange. Producing a key from her Hermès Kelly bag, she let herself in the side door, which led to an open overgrown courtyard. There were four apartments in the complex, and she headed to the furthest one. The door was open. Oliver was expecting her. Her skin began tingling in anticipation.
    Oliver Rock. Twenty-two years old. A long-haired, skinny screenwriter who’d yet to sell a script.
    Oliver Rock. Her first cheat.
    He’d been recommended to her by an agent who’dsuggested her script needed to appeal to a younger audience. ‘Go see Oliver,’ the agent had said. ‘He’s gonna be big. Get in at the beginning.’
    She’d got in all right. She’d been getting in for three weeks and she couldn’t get enough of him.
    She entered the small, messy apartment. The living room smelled of cat piss and pot, even though the windows, which overlooked the ocean, were wide open. A word-processor stood on a rickety wooden table. Loud rap played on the compact sound system.
    Taylor took a deep breath, shut the door behind her and locked it. ‘Oliver?’ she called.
    No answer.
    Shrugging off her jacket, she put down her bag and stepped out of her shoes. Then she unzipped her skirt, unbuttoned her blouse, and walked into the bedroom.
    Oliver was sprawled on a mattress on the floor, asleep. He didn’t believe in traditional sleeping arrangements, or maybe he couldn’t afford a proper bed. She didn’t know and she didn’t care. Conversation was not their strong suit.
    For six years she’d been faithful to a man who was not a sexual being. Larry tried, but in the sex stakes he was a loser. Now, with Oliver, she’d finally found her sexual soulmate.
    And even though it was dangerous beyond her control, she was totally helpless, and there was absolutely nothing she could do about it.
     
    Nicci was already settled at an outdoor table when Saffron turned up half an hour late. Saffron was an exotic treat with her finely chiselled features, milk-chocolate skin, gold nose-ring, long black dreadlocks and sinuous body. Heads swivelled to watch her as she wafted to the table.
    ‘Greetings, O Pale One,’ Saffron said, oblivious to the stares. ‘You been considering what I said?’
    ‘No,’ Nicci retorted. ‘And I am like so not pale. I’ve got the best tan I’ve ever had.’
    ‘Bad for the skin, all that lying out burning your body,’ Saffron remarked, sitting down.
    ‘Fine for you to say with your natural year-round suntan thing going.’
    ‘Wanna swap?’ Saffron said, amused.
    ‘Wanna get serious?’ Nicci retorted.
    Saffron stretched sensuously, almost causing a businessman at the next table to choke on his steak. ‘Tell me what’s on your mind,’ she said.
    ‘I need you to take care of the bridesmaids’ dresses,’ Nicci said crisply. ‘Y’know, order them, like get them made in time, see that they fit. All that kind of stuff.’
    ‘Me?’
    ‘No,’ Nicci said, rolling her eyes in exasperation. ‘That guy sitting over there.’
    ‘Isn’t your mom supposed to be taking care of all the details?’ Saffron said, reaching for a bread roll.
    ‘My mom is taking care of the bills,’ Nicci said, slapping her friend’s hand away from the bread. ‘And I have like a thousand other