before their arrival in New York. She'd hoped to spend a few days at her house in LA, but there wasn't time. Three frantic days of costume fittings and interviews in New York, and then she had to leave for the house the studio had rented for her in the Hamptons. Cassie had flown in several weeks earlier to check the place out.
"It's absolutely your style,"
Cassie had assured her.
"Very Martha Stewart - comfortable, with a pretty garden and beach access. Oh yes, and you'll love this - extremely private."
Cassie knew her well, when she wasn't working she loved seclusion. Parties and the night life were not for her.
A limo took her straight to the St Regis Hotel, where she was booked into the Oriental Suite, courtesy of Orpheus Studios, who
33 were in charge of her for the next seven weeks while she shot The Dreamer - a light comedy about two divorced people who meet, fall in love, fall out of love, and finally get together for good. It was a contemporary piece - a welcome change from Richard's film, where day after day she'd been locked into excruciatingly uncomfortable period gowns. She'd loved making the movie hated wearing the clothes.
Her co-star in The Dreamer was Kyle Carson - a bankable star who'd recently separated from his wife of seventeen years. Lara had met Kyle briefly at several industry events and he'd seemed attractive and charming - she hoped his recent separation hadn't changed him. The director was Miles KiefFer, an old friend, who'd directed her in her first movie.
The hotel staff greeted her with welcoming smiles, remembering her last visit. She was gracious to everyone, it wasn't in her nature to be otherwise.
The manager personally ushered her upstairs to the sumptuous suite, making sure she had everything she required.
She often reflected on the strangeness of her life. Limos and rented houses, firstclass travel, everybody ready to grant her slightest whim. It was understandable that movie stars grew to believe their own publicity and importance. They were so protected and cosseted that reality ceased to exist.
She'd been thinking about Nikki's project, and wanted to read the book. She called out to Cassie, who was in the bedroom, busily unpacking for her.
"Do me a favour, Cass,"
she said, wandering into the room.
"Call Barnes & Noble and have them send over a copy of Revenge."
"It's done,"
Cassie said, heading for the phone.
The book arrived within the hour. After eating a light roomservice dinner, she sat down to read.
She read way into the night, finally falling asleep with the book in her lap. She awoke early, and at nine a.m. New York time called her agent in LA.
"Quinn,"
she said,
"is it true I'm booked for the next three years?"
"You're as busy as you want to be, Lara,"
Quinn replied,
34
struggles to wa^e UP-
"I COUW have you working steadily for three, four, five years - take your pick."
"What if I felt like making a small lowbudget movie?"
That really woke him.
"Why would you even consider such a thing?"
he asked, alarmed.
"Could I do it?"
she persisted.
"It's possible."
A pause.
"Is there something I should know about?"
"Not right now."
"Good,"
he said, relieved.
"Can I go back to sleep?"
"You certainly can."
Thoughtfully she replaced the receiver. Quinn was an excellent agent, but like most agents his prime interest was making money. She pictured his face if she told him she wished to do Nikki's film.
And if the script turned out to be as powerful as the book, there was a strong possibility.
35
Chapter Six
^^^.Jf^ THEY FORMED a group in the corner of the ^^^BI^Rb** room - two casting women, the male director and a female producer. Joey concentrated on the women. One by one he gave them powerful eye contact penetrating looks that signalled If this was another time - another place - Fd like to fuck you until you screamed for mercy. Until your hot little pussies couldn't
"It's absolutely your style,"
Cassie had assured her.
"Very Martha Stewart - comfortable, with a pretty garden and beach access. Oh yes, and you'll love this - extremely private."
Cassie knew her well, when she wasn't working she loved seclusion. Parties and the night life were not for her.
A limo took her straight to the St Regis Hotel, where she was booked into the Oriental Suite, courtesy of Orpheus Studios, who
33 were in charge of her for the next seven weeks while she shot The Dreamer - a light comedy about two divorced people who meet, fall in love, fall out of love, and finally get together for good. It was a contemporary piece - a welcome change from Richard's film, where day after day she'd been locked into excruciatingly uncomfortable period gowns. She'd loved making the movie hated wearing the clothes.
Her co-star in The Dreamer was Kyle Carson - a bankable star who'd recently separated from his wife of seventeen years. Lara had met Kyle briefly at several industry events and he'd seemed attractive and charming - she hoped his recent separation hadn't changed him. The director was Miles KiefFer, an old friend, who'd directed her in her first movie.
The hotel staff greeted her with welcoming smiles, remembering her last visit. She was gracious to everyone, it wasn't in her nature to be otherwise.
The manager personally ushered her upstairs to the sumptuous suite, making sure she had everything she required.
She often reflected on the strangeness of her life. Limos and rented houses, firstclass travel, everybody ready to grant her slightest whim. It was understandable that movie stars grew to believe their own publicity and importance. They were so protected and cosseted that reality ceased to exist.
She'd been thinking about Nikki's project, and wanted to read the book. She called out to Cassie, who was in the bedroom, busily unpacking for her.
"Do me a favour, Cass,"
she said, wandering into the room.
"Call Barnes & Noble and have them send over a copy of Revenge."
"It's done,"
Cassie said, heading for the phone.
The book arrived within the hour. After eating a light roomservice dinner, she sat down to read.
She read way into the night, finally falling asleep with the book in her lap. She awoke early, and at nine a.m. New York time called her agent in LA.
"Quinn,"
she said,
"is it true I'm booked for the next three years?"
"You're as busy as you want to be, Lara,"
Quinn replied,
34
struggles to wa^e UP-
"I COUW have you working steadily for three, four, five years - take your pick."
"What if I felt like making a small lowbudget movie?"
That really woke him.
"Why would you even consider such a thing?"
he asked, alarmed.
"Could I do it?"
she persisted.
"It's possible."
A pause.
"Is there something I should know about?"
"Not right now."
"Good,"
he said, relieved.
"Can I go back to sleep?"
"You certainly can."
Thoughtfully she replaced the receiver. Quinn was an excellent agent, but like most agents his prime interest was making money. She pictured his face if she told him she wished to do Nikki's film.
And if the script turned out to be as powerful as the book, there was a strong possibility.
35
Chapter Six
^^^.Jf^ THEY FORMED a group in the corner of the ^^^BI^Rb** room - two casting women, the male director and a female producer. Joey concentrated on the women. One by one he gave them powerful eye contact penetrating looks that signalled If this was another time - another place - Fd like to fuck you until you screamed for mercy. Until your hot little pussies couldn't
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