Hollywood Sinners. Victoria Fox
would get in the way of a red-blooded male. But Cole had been steadfast to his word. Her first thought was that he must be getting it somewhere else–as long as he was discreet, she would turn a blind eye; after all they were nothing to each other–but that didn’t seem to be the case. For some time she had assumed he was gay, but men didn’t appear to do it for him either.
‘You must be so …’ Rita searched for the word, before whispering it. ‘Frustrated.’
Lana shifted in her seat. If only she could tell her friend about Parker Troy, but there was no way. It was an appalling breach of her contract and as her agent Rita would be outraged.
‘It’s worth it,’ she said, dodging the question. And it was: Lana’s abstinence was reflected handsomely in the financial terms of the contract.
Rita narrowed her eyes. ‘Hmm,’ she said, tapping a long red fingernail on the table.
‘I suppose it’s more that I sometimes feel … I don’t know, caged,’ said Lana quickly, trying to move the subject on.
‘Well,’ said her agent, sipping her drink, ‘that’s because you are. For another two years.’
‘But Cole keeps tabs on everything. I’m forever having to lie about filming running on.’
‘Lie?’
Lana met her gaze. ‘You know, if I need more time on set.’ She bristled. ‘We’re all entitled to a little freedom, aren’t we?’
Rita’s face broke into a smile. ‘Sure, sure.’ She pulled out her purse. ‘I’m just saying, Cole has eyes all over Hollywood. I just don’t think you can hide anything from him.’
‘I’m aware of that,’ said Lana evenly. ‘It’s precisely my point.’ Did Rita know something? No way–she couldn’t.
But Cole’s controlling ways were becoming more extreme with each day that passed. Just two weeks back she hadn’t been able to sleep and so had ventured out into the mansion’s grounds to have a walk and clear her head–and to think, to her shame, about Robert St Louis.
The night had been dark and quiet, with just the sparkle of the Hills glittering in the distance. Then, stepping beyond the perimeter, the security lamps had surged to life and flooded her in white light. The dogs had sprung up from their stations, barking furiously, their chains rattling. She had felt like a fugitive about to be arrested, especially when she had looked up to see Cole silhouetted against a window in his dressing gown, arms folded, looking down at her with an unreadable expression.
‘How’s the movie?’ asked Rita briskly, signing off the check.
Lana forced herself back to the real world. ‘Good.’ She smiled. ‘It’s great to have a role I can really sink my teeth into. It’s a fabulous part–so much depth.’ She knew she had been lucky securing the Eastern Sky gig, and that, too, was down to Cole and the arrangement. Within weeks of entering the contract she and Rita had been approached by Sam Lucas. At the time Cole had informed her in a meaningful way that the right performance could gain her an Award nomination.
‘That’s excellent,’ said Rita, meaning it. ‘Oh, that reminds me: they’re bringing in new blood for the part of Sophie, the English girl.’
Lana nodded.
‘They’ve already found someone they want.’ Rita pulled on her jacket. ‘She’s a model in London, apparently, wants to get into acting.’
‘Poor girl,’ said Lana wryly.
‘Well, Sam Lucas thinks she’s the soul of virtue. I heard he took one look at her shot and knew’–Rita raised her hands in a grand gesture–‘"It’s Sophie."’
‘Ah, the immortal accolade every actress wants to hear.’
‘She’ll be over in a few weeks. Bet she can’t wait to meet you.’
As Lana grabbed her things she remembered when she’d first started out herself. Ten years she’d been in LA. Ten years since she’d last seen Robbie Lewis. Ten years trying to forget.
She’d kept it brief when Rita had asked about Belleville: she was from a broken family; she didn’t wish to discuss it but she was happy to agree to the right story for press purposes. They had settled on a smart bio, a family tragedy not far from the truth, and Rita sent out clear messages to the industry that Lana Falcon did not like to talk about her upbringing as an orphan–who would? Even Cole hadn’t been so unkind as to ask her too many questions when the contract was finalised. If anything it made her more promotable–in an industry where reality TV exposed an individual’s every private sanctum, Lana Falcon was that rare thing: an enigma.
‘New York, right?’ asked Rita as the women made their way out to the car.
One of Cole’s drivers was waiting.
‘Hmm?’ Lana asked as he opened the door.
‘Whoa, you really are a million miles away today, huh?’ said Rita, exasperated. ‘You’re going with Cole to NYC?’
‘Oh, yes, yes, of course,’ said Lana, distracted, as she rummaged in her purse. She checked her cell and had a missed call from Parker. Shit. He’d have to wait till she got back. Cole was filming scenes on location and a press opportunity had been lined up.
‘I’ll call you in the week,’ said Rita, giving her a hug. ‘Be in touch if you need anything.’
Lana smiled. ‘Thanks for the coffee.’ She squeezed Rita’s hand before slipping into the back seat of the car. ‘And thanks for everything.’
Rita watched as her friend vanished behind the tinted glass. Something about Lana today hadn’t been right. Marriage to Cole Steel wasn’t for the faint-hearted, but instinct told her it was more than that.
Lana Falcon had always been a mystery. And she was determined to find out why.
16
Belleville, Ohio, 1992
The first few weeks were bearable.
Lester had a job in the local garage and at the start he made an effort to put food on the table, clean up after himself, make sure she was OK. But slowly, gradually, the mask slipped. Laura had known it would happen. At first, the drinking. Then, the violence. At night, the animal noises that kept Laura awake when he brought home a girl and did things to her.
Laura counted the days till she could start school. Until then she would be responsible for what Lester called ‘a sister’s special jobs’: washing the dishes; mopping the floors; and making sure his meal was prepared every night when he got home. If her brother wasn’t happy with what she had done, he would hit her across her cheek and leave her red skin stinging.
Before bed she undressed carefully in the bathroom, locking the door and stuffing the keyhole with toilet paper. She didn’t know why she did that, but it made her feel safer. Lester was a man, no longer a boy, and she was frightened of what that meant.
On Monday Laura got up early and made herself breakfast. Lester was still asleep, would be late for work: she hadn’t seen him the night before and when he’d staggered in at four in the morning he had fallen over the couch, sending a smash of beer bottles to the floor. She cleaned the mess, knowing what would happen if she didn’t. Then she surveyed the options. The only food in the trailer was stale bread with little buds of green mould flowering on their crusts, so she cut these off and made toast. She found a soft banana and stuffed it in her bag.
At school Laura registered quickly and was shown to her class. The other kids looked much smarter than her and had proper uniforms. Everyone looked at her funny.
‘Hi, I’m Marcie.’ The girl sitting with her in homeroom had fair hair and lots of freckles.