Hollywood Husbands Read Online Free PDF

big boobs. I’ll never come back.’
    Jack felt uncomfortable with this pale, wan woman who spoke with such bitterness. This was not the Silver Anderson he had watched throughout the years. In a way it was a relief to know he was out from under her shadow – although the shadow had only existed in his eyes.
    ‘Hey—’ He tried to give her confidence. ‘You’re still a beautiful woman. And you’ll always be a big star.’
    ‘Thanks!’ Her tone was full of sarcasm. ‘Words of encouragement from baby Jack. God! When you were still in diapers I was a star. I don’t need you to tell me.’
    She made no comment on his career, Jack Python. Man of the hour. His own network show.
    Settling everything, financial and otherwise, he flew back to California with Heaven. ‘You’ll camp out at your grandpa’s house,’ he told the child. ‘He’s quite a character. And when your mother is better she’ll send for you.’
    ‘No, she won’t,’ replied Heaven, wise beyond her years. She was small, with pinched features and enormous amber eyes.
    ‘Yes, she will,’ he countered.
    ‘Bet?’ questioned Heaven.
    ‘Sure. You’re on, kid.’
    Heaven won her bet. In London, Silver recovered and never did send for her daughter.
    Jack was disgusted. He talked to the head honchos at his network and asked for his show to be moved to Los Angeles. They agreed, and he was delighted. At least Heaven would have someone around – apart from her grandfather – who genuinely cared for her.
    Silver resurfaced on the English stage in a new production of Pal Joey , which brought her excellent reviews and a resurgence of fame. English fame. She loved being back in the spotlight and basked in the light. But it was only English light, and that wasn’t enough. England was a small pond and she wanted America. With that thought in mind she acquired a new agent in Hollywood, Quinne Lattimore, and badgered him to do something about it.
    Quinne did not think they were going to create any fires. Silver Anderson was hardly hot news – she had been around too long and stepped on too many toes to set the town alight. He suggested her name for a few projects and heard everything from ‘She’s too old’ to ‘The broad’s a lush.’ And then along came the unexpected offer of a role in Palm Springs , a daytime soap. Normally Quinne would have rejected the project immediately. Silver wanted to come back, but hardly on daytime television playing an ageing torch singer. However, when City Television came in with an offer that was too tempting to ignore, he called her in London and said, ‘I think this might be the showcase to get you here, so that the people who matter can see you.’
    ‘I’m not doing a soap,’ she steamed.
    ‘It’s a six-week guest spot,’ Quinne interrupted. ‘Top dollar, unlimited budget for wardrobe, and you get to keep the clothes, approve the script, and anything else we want to throw at them. They’re anxious.’
    ‘So they should be,’ she sniffed. ‘A soap indeed!’
    ‘Sleep on it,’ he suggested.
    ‘Why should I?’ she argued.
    ‘Because it’s the only ballgame in the park.’
    Silver did Palm Springs . She was fabulous. The show’s ratings rocketed. The producers made her an offer she couldn’t refuse, to stay on. And Silver Anderson became the hottest actress on daytime television.
    For three years now she had reigned supreme. She was bigger than she’d ever been, and revelled in every minute of her success.
    * * *
    A black stretch limo waited outside the front door of Silver’s mansion high up in Bel Air. Inside the limo sat her publicist, Nora Carvell, a fifty-nine-year-old lesbian with knowing eyes and a gravelly voice (who else could possibly put up with Silver?), and her personal assistant – a tall, jumpy young man who had held the job for two weeks and was about to get fired.
    ‘Good morning, everyone,’ Silver beamed.
    There was an imperceptible sigh of relief. Silver was in a good mood –