The A-List Collection. Victoria Fox
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a face. ‘Just got things on my mind.’
‘Well, get over it.’ Marty chewed enthusiastically before washing down his mouthful with a slug of iced tea. ‘We got everything we wanted, right? You got yourself a beautiful wife and no one’s any the wiser. You’re clean, you’re makin’ good movies. Lana’s about to break through to the big time—’
‘Maybe that’s the problem,’ said Cole, dabbing his mouth with a pristine white napkin.
‘What?’
Cole took a deep breath. ‘I gave Lana this opportunity, so her success, in effect, belongs to me. Now I’m hearing good things, excellent things, about her performance. She’ll almost certainly get an Award nomination, if not win the damn thing.’
‘Wasn’t that the point?’ asked Marty, shovelling in some more spaghetti. Tomato sauce clung to the corners of his mouth. ‘It was in the terms of the contract. There’s got to be something in it for her, too, Cole.’ At his client’s stormy expression, he clarified, ‘Apart from marriage to the most famous man in the world, of course.’
‘I accept that,’ Cole said generously. ‘But the feedback I’m getting exceeds even my initial expectations. Lana’s going to be big, Marty. And the point is that her career’s set to go stellar just as our marriage ends. How is that going to make me look?’
Marty waved away his concern. ‘We went through this right at the start. Irreconcilable differences, OK? You’ll stay friends, secretly she’ll still love you, blah-blah-blah. Then it’s on to the next.’
Cole locked his fingers together on the table. ‘I want to keep this one,’ he said.
Marty took some time to digest this. He finished his mouthful, drained his glass and put his cutlery together before saying easily, ‘So we’ll renew the contract with Lana. Whatever you want, Cole.’
‘It’s not that easy, though, is it?’ Cole hissed. A drop of spittle flew from his mouth and landed on Marty’s knuckle. ‘She’s unhappy. I know it. She 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.’
‘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