Private Lives

31



Jessica opened her pale green eyes and sat up, propping herself up on her elbows. God, these hospital beds were uncomfortable, and she’d been lying in it most of the day. Who’d have thought a death scene would need so many takes? She caught a glimpse of herself in a prop mirror: pale make-up, darker around the eyes, a few dribbles of fake blood on her cheek where she’d been coughing it up to dramatic effect. Exactly how I feel, she thought. She was drained, exhausted. For some reason, since Jim Parker had removed Sam’s treadmill and shaving kit, the house had seemed empty and she’d been finding it hard to sleep. Normally she would have taken a Xanax, but she had to stay sharp for the reshoots. Although sharp wasn’t the word. She felt lethargic and moody all the time. Maybe she was coming down with something.

‘All right, people,’ said Judd Spears, the director of Slayer, the serial killer thriller that Jessica was filming. He beamed with pride as he stepped away from the monitor. ‘I think we can say that’s a wrap!’ He slapped Jessica on the shoulder. ‘We nailed it, baby. You were a sensational stiff.’

‘Great,’ said Jessica, forcing a smile as she slid her legs off the gurney.

Joe Kennington, the leading man, walked over.

‘Good work, Jess,’ he said with a smile.

‘Thank you.’ She blushed. Joe had a reputation for being exacting with his own performances and consequently very critical of his co-stars, with stories of on-set dust-ups and sub-sequent freeze-outs of the offending actors, so she was chuffed with the compliment.

‘Hey guys, there’s a party in the Hills,’ said Judd. ‘Wanna come?’

Jessica’s heart sank. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to keep her eyes open, let alone have the necessary sparkle at an industry networking gathering.

‘Not for me,’ said Joe, holding up a hand. ‘I’ve got some interview with Rolling Stone in the morning.’

Judd bounded off and Joe turned to Jessica, raising his eyebrows.

‘He makes me feel really old,’ he laughed.

‘Rubbish. You’re the hottest, fittest guy in Hollywood.’

It wasn’t strictly true. Joe was pushing fifty; not even a facelift could stop the dying of his looks. But it was never a bad idea to suck up to industry grandees like him.

‘How about dinner? Catering wasn’t up to much today, was it?’

Jessica smiled prettily. What a wonderful idea. And if the paps spotted them, it would only add weight to the rumours of an on-set romance that were already fluttering around.

‘That sounds good,’ she said. ‘Just let me wash this blood off first.’

Maki Soba was a low-key Japanese restaurant off Melrose. Lit inside by glowing pink and yellow paper lanterns, it had the most flattering lighting this side of the studio lot.

‘Try the tempura,’ said Joe, pointing to the bowl with his chopsticks. ‘It’s so light.’

Dutifully Jessica popped some in her mouth and pulled a suitably ecstatic face. ‘This place is amazing,’ she said. ‘How did you find it?’

‘I’ve been coming here for years,’ said Joe. ‘It was a favourite of Sia’s.’

Jessica nodded solemnly. Sia was Joe’s ex-wife. They’d been married for twelve years – a lifetime in Hollywood terms – and only separated the previous spring. Rumour had it Sia had run off with her personal trainer and that Joe was still in mourning.

‘So what do you think about Judd landing Purple Skies?’ he asked, referring to the hot new project their director was attached to.

‘I’m not sure,’ she said honestly. ‘Do you think he’s sensitive enough to pull it off?’

‘Ah, so you’ve read it too,’ grinned Joe. ‘I didn’t think anyone else in Hollywood had actually heard of it. I love that book.’

‘Doesn’t everyone?’ She laughed lightly. In actual fact, she had only read the PEN Award-winning novel because Sam had practically forced her. He had gone on about how clever and moving it was, and she had finally given in.

‘Well that’s what I was worried about. Can Judd do it? When you have a property that delicate, that personal, it would be so easy to turn it into some hokey thriller, but I was at Tori Adams’s house at the weekend. Apparently she thinks Judd is the new Spielberg – that he can turn his hand to anything from Schindler’s List to Indiana Jones.’

Jessica wasn’t convinced. Not if the rushes of Slayer were anything to go by. But if Tori Adams rated him, well, that was a different matter. Tori, who was producing Purple Skies, was one of the most powerful women in Hollywood, notorious for her tight inner circle of influential friends, including studio bosses, directors and, of course, top stars like Joe, who all helped each other.

‘How long have you known Tori?’ she said casually.

‘Thirty years.’ Joe smiled, picking up a shiitake dumpling. ‘We shared a flat in Venice Beach when we were just starting out.’

‘I wonder who they’ll cast?’ she said nonchalantly.

‘I think Tori’s keeping a tight rein on it. At least Judd’s ego isn’t so big yet that she can’t still control him. She’s having a party on Saturday, so I’ll get the inside track on what she’s thinking then.’

‘What’s the occasion?’

‘Oh, you know Tori, she’s just dropped some huge bundle on three Matisse sculptures and she wants to show them off. We’re supposed to turn up and drool with jealousy. Which we will, of course.’

‘I never saw you as an art aficionado,’ said Jessica.

‘I started collecting five years ago. Mainly Twombly, Warhol, Clemente.’

‘I have a Francesco Clemente at the beach house,’ Jessica said, wide-eyed, happy to compete. She had worked out a few years earlier that collecting was a signifier of status, intellect, particularly when you didn’t have any, or were working on it.

‘You must just sit and stare at it for hours,’ Joe said earnestly.

Jessica shook her head sadly.

‘No, not any more. It . . . well, it reminds me of Sam too much, you know?’

He nodded, perhaps thinking about his own break-up.

‘Are you looking for a buyer?’

‘Maybe,’ she said. ‘The Gagosian are interested . . .’

‘Perhaps we could cut out the gallery?’

‘Why don’t you come and have a look at it after we’re done here? You don’t have to be anywhere, do you?’

He hesitated for a moment, then clicked his fingers for the bill.

‘Not until my Rolling Stone interview, no.’

She was glad of the forty-minute drive out to Malibu. Joe had been a tough nut to crack on set, but she knew he was someone worth getting to know a lot better.

Oh shit, she thought with a jolt as they pulled up at her home. My mother. She couldn’t take Joe Kennington back to her Malibu love nest and have him walk in on Barbara lying on the sofa in her velour sweatpants eating potato chips and watching Jersey Shore.

She slid her key into the lock and before she even had time to push the door fully open she could hear her mother’s sing-song voice.

‘Hi, honey. How was it being dead?’ said Barbara, appearing in the hallway.

‘Hi, Mom,’ Jessica replied, glancing back at Joe. ‘Not at the gym?’

‘At this time?’ she scoffed, stopping as Joe stepped forward.

‘And you must be Jessica’s sister,’ he said, offering her his hand. ‘I’m Joe.’

Cheesy bastard, thought Jessica, smiling despite herself. Barbara looked like a hooked fish, her eyes staring, her mouth opening and closing.

‘Joe Kennington. How are you?’ she said greeting him as if he was a long-lost friend.

‘Of course you’re at Sarah’s tonight, aren’t you?’ prompted Jess, hoping Joe hadn’t seen the warning glances she’d flashed at her mother.

Barbara winked at Jessica with all the subtlety of a brick. ‘Sarah? Oh yes. Friend of mine, having a few problems, you know. I’ll just grab the car keys. See you again, Joe, hopefully.’

With relief, Jess listened to the engine of Barbara’s SUV gun away, then calmed herself, listening to the gentle background swoosh of the ocean.

Joe was standing with his arms crossed in front of him, smiling with a gentle look of amusement.

‘It’s great you have such a close relationship.’

‘It has its moments. So. Drink? Vodka? Tequila?’

‘Not for me. Just a soft drink.’

Another teetotaller, she thought wearily.

She pulled a carton of juice from her Sub-Zero fridge, filled a tumbler and added a large measure of vodka when he wasn’t looking.

‘To the movie,’ she smiled, raising her own glass. ‘I’m sorry I took so long to die.’

Joe chuckled as they clinked the glasses together.

‘Well I guess you’d better show me this Clemente,’ he said.

‘This way.’ She snaked through the house to the top floor, swaying her hips just a little more than usual, knowing that Joe’s eyes were going to be glued to her ass.

‘This place might be too big now I’m on my own.’

‘How you holding up?’ he said with concern.

‘Truthfully, Sam and I had run our course. We’d both agreed that. But I wish it could have ended in a different way. The press intrusion has been tough.’

He nodded.

‘I can sympathise. When Sia and I separated, we were hounded for weeks. I didn’t even think the press were interested in us.’

‘You’re the biggest movie star in the world,’ said Jessica. ‘Of course the press are interested in you.’

He shrugged. ‘I’m fifty years old and my face isn’t quite as pretty as it once was.’

‘Men just appreciate with age,’ said Jessica. ‘Like good art.’

‘Talking of which, where is this painting?’

‘I thought you’d never ask,’ she said, beckoning him with one finger into the master bedroom. ‘Et voilà,’ she smiled.

The painting was on the wall right above her eight-foot bed. Seven feet wide, it depicted a naked woman stretched out. It was powerful, provocative, but at the same time it had a delicacy and vulnerability to it. She hoped Joe would recognise those same qualities in the painting’s owner.

‘Wow,’ he said quietly, his eyes glittering as he gazed at it. ‘That is amazing.’

‘Isn’t it?’ she said, looking at Joe’s tall frame, his swimmer’s physique. He was separated after all. It was only his Catholic faith that stopped him being officially on the open market, and that meant he was fair game. And if In Touch were already spreading rumours about their supposed romance, why not make it real?

‘I’ll be one moment,’ she said, touching his arm. ‘I’ll leave you to view.’

She slipped into her en suite and quickly took off her vest, kicked off her jeans and, after a moment’s hesitation, pulled off her bra and panties too. Leaning in to the mirror, she licked her lips so that they had a tiny hint of glistening shine. Smiling to herself, she switched off the main light of the en suite and opened the door. She knew that she’d be backlit by the glow from the illuminated mirror behind her: sexy, beautiful, totally f*ckable.

‘What do you think?’ she purred.

He didn’t move his eyes from the painting.

Dismissing a moment’s irritation, she moved over to him. ‘I can think of a better nude than the one you’re looking at.’

He turned to look at her in stunned silence, his eyes wide.

‘Jess . . .’

She put her finger to his lips, then, pressing her bare breasts against his shirt, looped her arm around his neck to pull him closer.

He resisted.

‘I’ll do anything you want,’ she whispered.

He was as still as a statue. She lifted her face to his, expecting to see desire and excitement. Instead she saw disapproval. Deliberately, he took her arm from around his neck.

‘Maybe you should put some clothes on,’ he said, his eyes averting from hers.

She took a furious step back.

‘You’re kidding?’ she snapped.

‘Jess, you’re confused. This . . . this isn’t right.’

‘Confused? Don’t make me sound like I’m crazy. You want this as much as I do.’

‘You’re a beautiful woman, Jessica, and I know if we did hook up it would be good for the movie.’

‘Yes, it would,’ she smiled, seeing an opening. She grabbed his hand and put it on to her warm breast, but Joe snatched it away.

‘Stop it,’ he said, his voice trembling.

She grabbed the sheet from the bed and wrapped it clumsily around her body.

‘What is your problem?’ Her voice was quivering with anger.

‘Don’t you know?’ he said finally.

‘Know what?’ she whispered.

‘It’s not you, Jessica. It’s me.’ He dipped his head and played with his hands, pushing the knuckles into the opposite palm.

‘Tell me, Joe. What’s wrong? Because I’m feeling pretty stupid at the moment.’

‘Look,’ he said, rubbing his hand across his mouth. ‘I’m gay.’

‘Gay?’ she repeated. It just wasn’t possible. Joe Kennington was the most macho man in America, an icon of straight-ahead masculinity – he was a father of two, for God’s sake! Jessica wasn’t naive; she knew at least a dozen Hollywood leading men who were hiding in the closet, but Joe? That was just crazy. She wanted the ground to swallow her whole.

‘But you and Sia . . .’ she said, sitting down next to him.

‘I love her, don’t doubt that,’ he said. ‘And we were a real couple when we got married.’

‘So your kids . . . not out of a tube, then?’

He laughed, and the atmosphere lifted a little.

‘No, they’re all natural. And completely wonderful. So is Sia, but I guess she wasn’t enough.’ He sighed, shaking his head. ‘I’ve always preferred men, but I knew I’d have to hide who I was when I came out here, that’s just the way it is in Hollywood. But when I met Sia, I really did fall in love with her. I thought it was the real thing, and in a way, I was glad. It made life so much easier. Until I met Greg. He’s a teacher from Montecito. We share a house together now, right by Tori Adams’s weekend place.’

‘Shit,’ whistled Jessica, and he laughed.

‘Exactly. I’m older now, but not old enough that people wouldn’t care.’ He turned to look at her. ‘And you know what? It’s not about the money; I’ve got enough of that. It’s because I love what I do and I want to keep on doing it. Does that sound selfish?’

She smiled.

‘What the hell are you asking me for? I’m an actress in Hollywood, it doesn’t get more selfish than that.’

He smiled and touched her bare shoulder.

‘I was wrong about you, Jess.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I thought you were just another one of those hard bitches who’ll do anything to get where they want to go. But you’re okay.’

‘Thanks,’ she said, but she knew he was wrong. She would have f*cked him and milked it for all it was worth. And she wouldn’t have given it a second thought. What was it he had said? That’s just the way it is in Hollywood. Damn right.

‘Still interested in the Clemente?’ She smiled.

‘Too right. It’s beautiful. I’ll get my art consultant to give you a ring this week, get a valuation.’

Jessica nodded. She really didn’t care how much it was worth, she just wanted it out of her bedroom. It had been a gift from Sam and held nothing but bad memories.

‘Hey, you know what?’ she said. ‘I’d love to see those Matisse sculptures of Tori’s.’

Their eyes met for a moment. Joe knew what she was saying: a favour for a favour. An invitation to Tori Adams’s party in exchange for her silence. Now that was what made Hollywood go round.

‘Sure,’ he said smoothly. ‘I’ll set it up.’