Hollywood Sinners

25



‘I got news for you, kiddo,’ said Rita Clay. ‘Your premiere’s going to the Orient.’

Lana sat down on the bed. She pressed the phone so hard against her ear that it hurt.

‘The Orient Las Vegas?’

Rita sounded confused. ‘Where else? We’re not catching a plane to China.’

Lana felt the ground go out from under her. Next summer came at her with gathering, terrible speed, like a train hurtling towards a gap in the line.

I’m going to see Robbie again.

Except he wasn’t Robbie any more: he was a world-famous billionaire. And he hated her.

She managed a small, ‘Why?’

‘Is something the matter?’ Rita asked. ‘I thought you’d be pleased.’

Lana squeezed her eyes shut. So she’d be meeting Robbie again–so what? It had to happen sooner or later and she’d just have to deal with it. She didn’t have to talk to him; she didn’t even have to look at him. Except when she thought of the pictures she’d tried to avoid seeing but ultimately couldn’t resist–pictures showing his smile, his chin, his kind eyes, his arms–she didn’t know how she would manage. She wanted him so much it stopped her heart.

Rita interrupted her chain of thought. ‘I’m serious, Lana, what is it? ‘

‘Nothing,’ she told her agent. ‘Shooting’s almost over and it’s been an exhausting few weeks.’

‘OK. You know I don’t believe you.’

Lana ran a hand over her crisp white bed linen–Cole’s staff were perfectionists in every task and never risked a thing. Her fingers were shaking.

‘I used to know the guy behind it,’ she found herself saying. She closed her eyes. ‘A long time ago.’

‘What guy?’

‘Robert St Louis.’ It was good to finally speak his name, though it trembled in her throat. ‘He owns the Orient.’

‘A ha!’ exclaimed Rita, missing her friend’s tone. ‘There’s a history there, I knew it. No wonder you’re acting so shook up. Was he good?’

Yes, he was good. He was so, so good.

Lana harnessed her emotion. ‘It was nothing, really,’ she lied. ‘Just a fling.’ Forget the rest of it. Forget that she had been deeply in love with him. Forget that he had saved her life. He might take the blame for it, but she knew better. The decision she had made that terrible night had been the truly unspeakable one.

‘He’s a little bit to die for,’ said Rita, a smile in her voice. ‘You are one hell of a lucky lady, Ms Falcon.’

Lana stood up and went to the window. She looked out at her world, the perimeter of Cole’s mansion as solid and unyielding as it had ever been. She would not think about Robbie today, she would not let herself. Later, lying in bed, her thoughts would turn to him as they had for the past ten years, only this time with a sense of inevitable collision, like two cars running head-on in the night.

Next summer. Seven months.

After the women hung up, Lana lay down on her bed. She stared up at the blank ceiling for what felt like hours, listening to the quiet.