Hollywood Sinners. Victoria Fox
can’t wait to get out.’
‘You treat her good, don’t you?’ asked Marty, surreptitiously wiping his hand under the table, knowing they were skirting the issue.
‘Of course I do,’ said Cole. ‘I’m kind to her, I look after her; I give her everything she wants. Except …’
Marty made a gruff sound in his throat. ‘Well, that’s another problem,’ he said. As soon as the words were out of his mouth he knew they were a big mistake.
‘Problem?’ Cole leapt on it like a lion on its prey. ‘Is that what you call it? A problem?’ His agent could never know the true root of his impotence, why he was forever this way–to him it was an affliction, a sickness, a disease.
‘Of course not,’ said Marty calmly. ‘It’s just—’
‘Just what? You think it’s my fault I can’t get it up?’
‘Shh!’ Marty looked panicked. ‘You don’t know who’s listening.’
‘No one’s fucking listening. All ears here belong to me–that’s how powerful Cole Steel is. Tell me, Marty: who needs a hard cock when you’ve got that kind of respect?’
Marty tried not to look alarmed. Cole had gone completely red in the face.
After a moment Cole slumped back in his seat, suddenly defeated. ‘And if Lana leaves me, that’ll be two failed marriages.’ He pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘It’s only a matter of time before some smartass reporter traces it back to the bedroom.’
‘That won’t happen,’ said Marty, as kindly as he could. ‘At most it’ll be idle rumour–no one’s gonna seriously believe that Cole Steel can’t–you know, won’t–you know—’
‘You’re right.’ Cole pointed a finger at his agent. ‘Nobody touches me, you got it?’
Marty nodded. He felt sorry for Cole. The very idea of impotence filled him with a cold dread, and seeing the cost of it paid in full by his client was the stuff of nightmares. They’d tried Viagra, the works, but nothing had made a difference–Cole’s prick was about as responsive as a fish out of water. Nothing turned Cole Steel on these days apart from his own glory.
‘As long as that Kate diLaurentis bitch keeps her big mouth shut,’ Cole growled.
Marty laughed hollowly. ‘We paid her enough goddamn money, she won’t say a word.’
Cole rubbed his chin thoughtfully. The kitchen staff came to clear their plates and he waited until they’d hurried off before continuing.
‘Apparently she’s losing it,’ he said, looping a finger up next to his head. ‘Loco.’
‘Yeah, I’m sure,’ sighed Marty, ‘everyone likes to say that about Kate. Thing is they don’t realise she’s a sharp little cookie. She’d never reveal anything, wouldn’t dare. Besides, she’s got her own failing reputation to think about.’
‘You think I’ve got a failing reputation?’
‘No,’ said Marty firmly, ‘I don’t. Because it’s my job to manage that and I don’t lose. I never lose.’
Cole nodded. ‘That’s good,’ he said, ‘I like that. But the fact still remains I want to hold on to my wife, and you’re going to make sure that I do.’ He pushed his chair back from the table. It screamed on the tiles.
Marty made a helpless gesture.
‘You never lose, right?’ Cole raised a cleanly plucked eyebrow. ‘Find a way to make it happen. Whatever it takes.’
15
‘She said what?’ Rita Clay put down her Americano and looked at Lana in disbelief.
‘Yup.’ Lana nodded. ‘Kate asked if Cole could get it up for me. Can you imagine? It was a miracle the other guests didn’t hear. She’s a liability.’
It was a beautiful day and Lana and her agent were having coffee at the Beverly Wilshire. Lana wore a baseball cap and sunglasses to deter paparazzi but had been photographed twice on the way in.
Rita emptied a sachet of sugar into the steaming liquid. She was arrestingly beautiful–tall, with dark, smooth skin and a cap of cropped, dyed blonde hair.
‘Kate’s afraid, that’s all,’ she said. ‘Her career’s in freefall, her husband’s a cheating goddamn sex addict and her children barely know who she is.’ She checked her reflection in a silver compact and applied a slick of plum lipstick.
‘So?’ Lana sipped her drink. ‘Doesn’t that give her more reason to spill?’
‘She’d never risk it, Lana. This is the last ten years of Kate’s career we’re talking about, her heyday. Do you think she’d want the world to know that was as much of a sham as her life is now?’ Rita shook her head. ‘No way. She’s a livewire but she’s certainly not stupid.’
Lana nodded while she digested this. Rita had a point.
‘How are things?’ her agent asked quietly, knowing how tough the arrangement was. It was a move they had discussed at length when Cole’s people had approached.
Lana’s first instinct had been to turn the offer down–she was adamant about making her own way forward and told Rita in no uncertain terms that she did not want marriage. But the counter-argument was strong: Lana, who’d been twenty-four at the time, would not see an opportunity like this again. It was a sensible, logical step for the advancement of her career. Knowing this, Cole had scouted a number of suitable young actresses and settled on one for whom the contract would be difficult to ignore: Lana could spend a lifetime chasing success like that and even then would only catch a sniff of it. Hadn’t she arrived in LA determined to forge a new identity; hadn’t she told Rita when they’d first met that she wanted to change her name, forget the past, become a new person? This was her one-way ticket.
‘It’s not the easiest,’ she admitted, ‘but I can hardly complain. The house is beautiful, I have a job I love … Cole doesn’t beat up on me, he doesn’t treat me badly. Countless women have it a hell of a lot worse.’
‘Are you happy?’ asked Rita.
Lana took a moment to consider this, before saying without a hint of bitterness, ‘I don’t know if that has anything to do with it.’
It was a five-year marriage contract–that was all. Before signing on the dotted line she’d remembered the hellish years she’d spent growing up in Ohio. Marrying a man she didn’t love was nothing compared with that. It had been goodbye, poor little Laura and hello, blockbusting movie star Lana Falcon. Cole was king of this town: as his queen she would be untouchable.
So what if she didn’t love him? Since when did that matter? She had given her heart only once before, given everything, and look where that had got her.
‘Lana?’ Rita looked concerned and reached out to touch her friend’s arm. ‘Are you OK?’
‘Sure.’ She frowned. ‘I didn’t sleep great last night. I’m just tired.’
Rita winced. ‘Talking of the whole sleeping thing …’ Her expression was sympathetic.
The women’s eyes met and after a moment they both burst out laughing.
‘Don’t,’ cried Lana, ‘it’s not funny!’
‘Sorry,’ Rita managed, wiping her eyes, ‘I can’t help it.’ She took a deep breath. ‘I know it’s not funny, I know it’s not.’
‘It’s a small price to pay,’ Lana nodded.
‘I expect it is,’ agreed Rita, and they fell about again.
Lana suspected some kind of impotence was at the root of the no-sex clause, but it was impossible