'Dead right if I'm doing your next movie,' Linc agreed.

'Bet your ass,' Freddy said, swatting a fly from his face. 'The studio were screamin' for Vin Diesel. I told 'em to go fuck 'emselves. This script is yours.'

Freddy had flown in the night before to meet with Linc and talk about the film he wanted him to sign on for. Although it was another big action adventure, Linc figured that after the romantic comedy it would be a wise move to return to his usual genre.

He hadn't had a chance to mention Freddy's movie to Shelby, although he was sure they could work it so that they'd both be able to spend time on each other's locations. After all, work was work, and she'd chosen to do another movie rather than stay with him in New York. He conveniently forgot that he'd persuaded her to do so.

Freddy insisted that they go to the Carnegie Deli for brunch.

'Can't go there,' Linc objected. 'I'll get hassled for autographs an' shit.'

'You got security,' Freddy pointed out. 'This is New York - nobody gives a crap about you.'

'Thanks. Did you happen to see the paparazzi hanging out the fuckin' trees?'

'What they gonna say about you?' Freddy said. 'That you're a fag 'cause you're out joggin' with me?'

Linc laughed. 'That'd make a change.'

'Have your guys meet us at the deli,' Freddy suggested, leaning against a tree, totally out of shape.

Linc signalled to one of his security team. 'I'll see you at the Carnegie Deli.

I'm going in Mr Krane's car.'

Freddy's car and driver were waiting at the entrance to the park. The two men got in the car and the driver took off.

'How was Cannes?' Freddy enquired, lighting a cigarette. 'Same old rat-fuck?'

'I got my usual shitty reviews.'

'Throw 'em in the crapper. I never had a decent review, an' I'm the richest goddamn producer in Hollywood.'

'Yeah, you and Arnold Kopelson.'

'Arnie's the greatest. But I make the best action films,' Freddy boasted.

The Carnegie Deli was crowded. Freddy pushed to the head of the line. When the hostess saw Linc, she immediately made room, seating them at a corner table.

Freddy summoned a waitress and ordered eggs, smoked salmon, lean corned beef, bagels and cream cheese for the two of them.

'No surprise you got a gut,' Linc remarked. 'Whatever happened to fruit and yogurt?'

'Screw the healthy crap,' Freddy scoffed. 'My cholesterol's rising, but who gives a shit?'

'You should look after yourself,' Linc lectured. 'You're no kid.'

'Yeah, yeah,' Freddy said, not listening. 'We'll have dinner tonight, you'll meet my new girl.'

'Christ, Freddy,' Linc groaned. 'Not another would-be actress.'

'You did okay, an' you married an actress,' Freddy pointed out, attacking a large onion bagel.

'Shelby's different.'

'You always were one lucky sonofabitch,' Freddy said, slathering on the cream cheese.

'You can say that again.'

An energetic, tanned man approached their table. Freddy jumped up and they exchanged high fives.

'Kenny, m'boy!' Freddy greeted. 'How're they hangin'?'

'No complaints,' Kenny replied, with a big smile.

Freddy turned to Linc. 'This guy knows everyone in New York,' he enthused, 'and he manages't' keep a sharp eye on my portfolio. Made me a bundle last year.

Kenny Rickle meet Linc Blackwood.'

'A pleasure,' Kenny said, slipping his card in Linc's direction. 'Anything you want while you're in town, call. I'm a big fan?

'I'll do that,' Linc said, pocketing Kenny's card.

Kenny drifted off to join a table crowded with several New York models.

'The dude's a player,' Freddy said, sitting down and piling even more cream cheese on his bagel. 'Jeez!' he added, waxing nostalgic. 'Remember our single days?'

'You rarely had a single day,' Linc reminded him. 'You skipped from one wife to the next.'

'Fuckin' alimony whores,' Freddy grumbled. 'Those bitches are worse than the IRS.'.

'Who's this one tonight?' Linc asked.

'One of those supermodel types - she's lookin' to break into movies.'

'Ambitious. The worst kind.'

'You'll like her, she's a far-out broad. An' talkin' of broads, how ya doin'

with La Sanchez? She as hot as everyone says?'

'She's a number, all right.'

'I bet she is,' Freddy said, busily stirring three lumps of sugar into his creamy coffee. 'Saw her on Letterman the other night. Y'know, there's somethin'

about her that's kinda familiar.'

'Sure there is,' Linc said, drinking his coffee black. 'She's been in - what?

Five movies in the last four years?'

'I'm wonderin' if she was an extra on one of my movies,' Freddy said, slurping his coffee. 'It's like I know her from before.'

'Before what?'

'Before she was a star, schmuck.'

'Yeah, yeah,' Linc said sarcastically. 'You discovered her. According to you, everyone from Meg Ryan to Julia Roberts was your discovery.'

'It probably was me. I got the eye,' Freddy said, watching two tall blondes who were standing by the counter.

'You've got an eye all right,' Linc said, swivelling his head to check out the blondes. 'New York women, stylish, right?'

Freddy rubbed his hands together. 'Forget about style,' he said with a raucous chuckle. 'Gimme a hot L.A. body any day. Fake tits an' a cocksuckin' mouth.

That's my style!'

Chapter Twenty-Two.

Working with Nick Logan turned out to be a pleasant surprise. He was on time, knew all his lines, looked almost handsome once the makeup and hairdressing department had shaved off his beard and cleaned him up. Best of all, he was a terrific actor.

Cat had dealt with a raggle-taggle band of amateurs on her previous movie. Now, working with professionals was a major kick. Her cinematographer was a thoughtful and extremely helpful collaborator. He advised her, but not in a superior way, which made her feel that she was getting the best out of him and still implementing her own ideas.

There was so much to think about, so much to do. As the director, everyone came to her for decisions. It was a huge responsibility, but one she felt she was capable of taking on. She even had her own assistant, Kodi, a cute Chinese girl who was probably older than her but did everything she asked, which was kind of cool.

Fortunately Jonas was there for her, watching her back, making sure it all went smoothly. Even Merrill visited the set on the first day of shooting to wish everyone luck. He was his usual powerful presence, puffing on a huge cigar, trailed by a temporary assistant - a skinny man with bright red hair, handpicked by Jonas.

On the second day of principal photography Cat's lawyer called her on the set.

'I know you're in the middle of a thousand things,' Leo said, 'only I thought you should know that I've had a response from your husband. He doesn't want a divorce, refuses to hire a lawyer, insists that he talks to you, and says this can all be worked out when he gets back.'

'That's crap, Leo,' she said angrily, cradling her cellphone. 'He doesn't get it. There's no way I'm putting up with him screwing around on me.'

'I hear you,' Leo said. 'Don't worry. I'll deal with it.'

'Please do,' she said, and clicked off her phone.

Like she didn't have enough to deal with, and Jump was not a priority.

'What's up?' Nick Logan asked, sidling over, a cigarette dangling from his lower lip. 'Boyfriend problems?'

'Were you listening to my conversation?' she demanded.

'Half the set heard it,' he said, squinting at her with sleepy amber eyes. 'You were fuckin' yelling.'

'I was not,' she responded indignantly.

'If you say so.'

'And I don't have a boyfriend,' she added. 'If you must know, I have a husband.'

'Nasty.'

'What?'

'Husbands who dick around,' Nick said, flicking ash on the ground. "Specially on a knock-out babe who looks like you.'

'Don't hit on me, Nick,' she said, fixing him with a steely glare. 'I'm not into it.'

'Then you'd better let me know when you are, an' maybe we'll do somethin' 'bout it.'

Before she could reply he drifted off, conferring with the script supervisor who definitely had a crush on him.

God, he was annoying! Although his cocky attitude didn't seem to stop every woman on the set from developing a crush on him.

Cat couldn't care less. As long as he did good work, that was all that mattered.

She had no eyes for getting involved, and certainly not with an actor.

Shelby continued to see Pete, reasoning to herself that she wasn't doing anything wrong. She was well aware that her husband would hardly approve of her spending time with an old boyfriend, but what Linc didn't know wouldn't irritate him.

On the other hand, Pete was a good friend, and it wasn't as if she'd ever slept with him. During the time they were together they'd indulged in a few steamy necking sessions, which was kind of juvenile, considering the amount of women Linc had slept with in his past.

The truth was that she enjoyed Pete's company. He didn't drink or smoke, he simply got on with things in a down home kind of way. He reminded her of normal life - the way it was before she'd moved to Hollywood and married a famous movie star with a drinking problem.

She drove to Pete's gym in Santa Monica, found a parking meter and left her car on the street.

The gym was massive, with huge windows overlooking the ocean, and all the latest equipment. It was full of toned, hard bodies working non-stop to make them even fitter. 'I feel so out of shape,' she said ruefully, looking around.

'You're not,' Pete responded, once again obviously delighted to see her. 'You're very toned and, uh... very beautiful.'

'Thanks,' she murmured, wishing he wouldn't go there. She wasn't seeking compliments, merely friendship.

'I'll give you the tour,' he said.

'I'd like that,' she said, following him around as he showed her the steam room, lap pool and massage rooms.

'Gotta say I'm looking forward to seeing you in Rapture,' he remarked. 'I hear your performance is quite something.'

'Oh,' she said, suddenly shy. 'You must've heard about the nude scene.'

'The word's around.'