Hollywood Wives - the New Generation Read Online Free PDF Page B

marrying Nicci with
his sex-crazed brother. It was none of his business.
    'Everything,' Teena said, clicking off the phone and rolling her
purple-shadowed eyes. 'Abbey doesn't care for her new lines. Harry is
under the impression that his trailer is smaller than hers. And Chris
can't handle it. He's apparently gone into a funk. We'd better get over
to the location, pronto.'
    Abbey Christian - a leggy twenty-two-year-old natural blonde, with a
smile that could light up Christmas. Star of their latest movie. Major
player. Major coke-head.
    Harry Bello - big-deal comedy actor supreme. Rubber-faced and coming
up to fifty. Paranoid about getting older and quite certain that Abbey
was receiving better treatment than he was.
    Chris Fortune. Boy-wonder director. The same age as Abbey and
somewhat intimidated by his two stars - even though he'd directed the
big sleeper hit of the previous summer.
    'Freakin' actors,' Brian grumbled, exhaling smoke. 'We should be
making
animated
movies.'
    'You finally came up with a decent idea,' Evan said. 'No more
over-the-top salaries.'
    'Please, guys, let's move it,' Teena urged, almost jumping up and
down with agitation. 'Abbey won't come out of her trailer. Harry's
sulking. And Chris is heading for a panic attack. We
must
get
over there.'
    'Let's go,' Brian said, carefully preserving his joint in a Kleenex
for later. 'Nothing like a view of Abbey's tits to wake me up in the
morning.'
    'Remember,' Evan said ominously, 'no fucking our star until the
movie wraps.'
    'Hey,' Brian said innocently, 'I can look, can't I?'
    Lissa Roman went to great lengths to keep her private life private.
Which was not easy considering she lived under constant media scrutiny.
Danny, her assistant, was a big help. Earlier that day she'd instructed
him to hire a car, leave it in the parking lot at Saks, and give her
the ticket. He'd done so, no questions asked.
    After lunch, she'd had Chuck drop her off at Barneys, instructed him
to come back in two hours, walked across to Saks, got into the rented
car and driven out to the valley. There was no way she planned to alert
Gregg to what was going on, or anyone else for that matter. This was
her
business, and when Lissa wanted to keep something private, she knew how
to do it.
    Anyway, she was quite capable of driving to the valley on her own.
She didn't need security, just a pair of dark glasses and a baseball
cap to hide her tell-tale platinum hair. Besides, it was an adventure
doing something on her own for a change. She put on talk radio and
listened to the various call-ins, which was always a trip, until
finally she arrived at the Robbins-Scorsinni offices on Ventura, where
she was greeted by a plump, middle-aged Asian assistant in a flowered
pant suit. The offices were old and kind of rundown, but Lissa felt
quite comfortable. She wasn't looking for one of those hotshot
Hollywood PI agencies that knew everyone's business. This low-key place
suited her fine.
    Quincy Robbins, who ran the private investigation/security agency
with his partner, Michael Scorsinni, was a pleasant, reliable man, whom
Lissa had used on several other occasions for various matters. His
partner and himself were ex-New York detectives, and that made her feel
secure. When she'd moved into her house several years ago, she'd hired
Quincy to be her chief security adviser. She'd never met his partner,
but she knew that his reputation was also stellar.
    'Take a seat, please,' the Asian woman said, with a gummy smile,
revealing a row of uneven teeth. 'I am Mai Lee. Michael will be with
you soon.'
    'I'm not here to see Michael,' Lissa said, anxious to get this over
with. 'Quincy is expecting me.'
    'Nobody contacted you?' Mai Lee said, sounding surprised.
    'Not that I know of.'
    'Oh dear,' Mai Lee said, now highly embarrassed. 'I think I was
supposed to call you.'
    'About what?' Lissa said, fast losing her patience.
    'Quincy's laid up at home,' Mai Lee said, fluttering her hands. 'He
broke his