Jaine Austen 2 - Last Writes by Laura Levine Read Free Book Online

something about the way she said it, her voice husky with emotion, that roused my suspicions. Call me crazy, but she sounded a lot more like a betrayed lover than a disinterested head writer. Was it possible, I wondered, that Audrey had been having an affair with Quinn?
    Quinn shrugged lazily. “Sorry, babe,” was all he offered by way of an explanation.
    Audrey turned and marched out of the sound stage, her heels clicking angrily. Stan hurried after her.
    I stood gawking, like a witness at the scene of an auto accident. Kandi grabbed me by the elbow and led me away. I turned back one more time to look at Quinn, zipping up his jeans. And to my utter amazement, he winked at me. Good Lord. He’d just finished boffing Vanessa, was possibly screwing Audrey, and now he was flirting with me. The man had the scruples of a gnat.
    At that moment my Quinn fantasies bit the dust. I didn’t care how dazzling his smile was; the last thing I needed was an amoral sexaholic who had no qualms about sleeping with a minor. I was definitely going to have to kick him out of my Malibu beach house and find someone new to marry.

    Kandi was strangely silent on our way back to the Writers’ Building. I thought she’d be bubbling over with excitement at the giant nugget of gossip that had just been dropped in our laps. But she said nothing, just marched ahead grimly, her script clutched tightly to her chest.
    “Kandi, is anything wrong?”
    “Yes,” she said, her voice catching.
    It was then that I noticed two teardrops oozing out from the rims of her sunglasses.
    “What is it?” I asked.
    “Remember the guy I told you about yesterday? The one I was so crazy about?”
    “Oh, God. It’s not Quinn, is it?”
    She nodded.
    “We’ve been seeing each other for the past month.”
    By now she was openly crying, tears streaming down her face, snot running from her nose.
    “I’ve got to get a grip,” she said, wiping her nose with her sleeve. “I can’t let Stan and Audrey see me this way.”
    But she needn’t have worried, because just then Audrey came storming out of the Writers’ Building, followed by a bewildered Stan. The two of them got in their matching Mercedes and drove off the lot in a cloud of expensive exhaust fumes.
    “You know what you need right now?” I said.
    “Intravenous doses of Zoloft?”
    “You need a nice frosty margarita.”
    She smiled wanly. “That does sound nice.”
    Fifteen minutes later we were seated across from each other inhaling egg rolls and margaritas in a cozy booth at the Formosa Café. The Formosa is a popular Hollywood watering hole with worn leather booths and 8x10 glossies of long-dead celebrities hanging over the bar.
    “He told me he wanted to marry me,” Kandi said, stirring her margarita morosely.
    “He did?”
    “Well, he said someday he hoped we could be together. Isn’t that the same thing?”
    “No, Kandi,” I sighed. “It’s not the same thing. When a man wants to marry someone, he says, Will you marry me? When he wants to get in a woman’s pants, he says, Some day I hope we can be together. ”
    “He said we could move in together as soon as his divorce was final.”
    “His divorce? Don’t tell me he’s married!”
    “Separated. His wife lives in Manhattan. They haven’t gotten along for years.”
    “Or so he says. He could be flying back east and boffing her on the weekends for all you know.”
    “No, he couldn’t be. He’s been with me every weekend.”
    “He has?”
    “Not every weekend,” she admitted. “But a lot of them. Well, one or two, anyway.” She took a mournful slurp of her margarita and sighed. “And all the while I thought he loved me, he’s probably been screwing V.D.”
    “Actually, Kandi, I think he may have been having a thing with Audrey, too.”
    “Audrey?” Kandi’s eyes widened with disbelief.
    “Didn’t you see the look on her face when she saw him in bed with Vanessa?”
    “No.” Kandi sniffled. “I was too busy trying not