'That's impossible,' she said, yawning. 'Tony's in New Orleans. He doesn't get back until today.'

'I'm not talking about you and Tony,' Faye said grimly. 'It's you and your very married co-star.'

'My co-star?' she said innocently.

'Linc Blackwood.'

'Me and Linc?' she said, feigning surprise. 'You must be kidding. Could it be they sneaked a photographer on to the set while we were working?'

'No, Lola,' Faye said brusquely. 'Apparently you were out to dinner with Mr Blackwood last night. They have the two of you kissing outside the restaurant.

That touching scenario is all over the front pages.'

'Oh, no,' Lola said, pretending to be dismayed. 'We might have exchanged a friendly peck on the cheek. I never saw any photographers.'

'Don't bullshit a bullshitter,' Faye growled. 'This is a real kiss. And it's not good publicity, especially after last weekend's press.'

'I thought all publicity was good publicity,' Lola said, tongue in cheek.

'Y'know, as long as they spell my name right.'

'May I remind you that you're supposed to be getting a divorce,' Faye said.

'First you're caught with Tony Alvarez, now it's Linc Blackwood. This kind of publicity makes you look like a tramp.'

'I think it enhances my reputation,' Lola said.

'What reputation?' Faye responded sourly.

'Aren't I the Latina sex bomb that every man wants to sleep with?' she said, with a knowing laugh. Big Jay knocked on the door. 'Come in,' she called. He entered the room and handed her the papers. 'I'm looking at the photos now, Faye. I'll get back to you.'

'Do that,' Faye said, in her smoke-enhanced voice. 'The press are driving me crazy for a statement.'

'Tell them this. Linc Blackwood and I are merely co-stars. We were discussing our script.'

'I'm sure they'll believe that,' Faye said curtly, and hung up.

Lola checked out the papers. There she was on the front page of both of them.

The Daily News ran a headline that screamed, 'LA LOLA! DOES IT AGAIN!"The Post's headline was, 'LOLA AND LINC TOGETHER? WHERE'S SHELBY?'

She studied the pictures. The kiss worked perfectly. Linc's eyes were closed, and he certainly looked like he was having a fine time.

She wondered how he'd feel when he got an eyeful of them. Not too happy.

Ha! His wife had some innocent picture in People, and here he was on the front page of the Post and the Daily News kissing Lola Sanchez. She didn't give his marriage much chance.

Mission accomplished.

So, why didn't she feel better about it?

Because he'd been too easy, that was why. Where was the satisfaction in bringing down a guy who was obviously a total screw-up?

It was all his wife's fault. He was pissed about her movie, pissed about her brilliant reviews, and pissed that her photo was in a magazine with another man.

That was why he'd turned into a falling-down drunk.

He certainly wasn't the man he'd been six years ago. The macho movie-star stud she would've done anything for. The man who'd obliterated her chances of ever giving birth.

Maybe Shelby Cheney didn't want to stay married to Linc Blackwood. That was a thought.

The phone rang again. This time it was Tony. 'Hey, baby,' he crooned, sending shivers down her spine.

The sound of his voice made her realize how much she missed him. 'When are you coming back?' was her first question.

'Not soon enough,' he said calmly. 'I guess you've seen the New York papers?'

'Yes, I know. It's so ridiculous, Tony. There were ten other people with us.

Linc was drunk, he grabbed me outside the restaurant, and that's what ends up in the papers. You know how those things go.'

'Shit happens, baby,' he said, not sounding at all upset.

'You're not mad?'

'Why should I be? I had a girl here.'

'You did?' she said, shocked.

'Yeah. It wasn't happenin' for me, so I put her on a plane back to L.A.'

'What girl?' Lola asked, suddenly furious.

'The foxy chick I was about't' get engaged to when you came runnin' back.'

Now she was totally outraged. 'Are you telling me she was in New Orleans with you?'

'Sure, baby.'

'You left my bed to fly to New Orleans to be with some putta?' Lola yelled, stunned that he would do that. 'I can't believe you'd be with another woman.'

'So you're sayin' it's fine for your photo to be all over the papers with another man, but me - I gotta keep it down, huh?'

'I explained to you what that was all about.'

'This our first fight, baby?' Tony said, laughing. "Cause if it is, I think it's turnin' me on.'

'Get your ass here,' she said, quickly backing down. 'I'm working this afternoon, but tonight I'm all yours.'

'An' that's exactly the way it should be,' said Mr Sure of Himself.

Linc didn't remember a thing, not one fucking thing. He staggered off the bed, fully dressed, red-eyed and sick to his stomach. He just about made it into the bathroom where he caught sight of himself in the mirror. As usual, after a major bender he looked like crap.

Drinking fucked up his mind, his body and his soul.

Christ! What had happened last night? As far as he could recall, he'd taken Lola to Mario's, Mama Mario had been all over him, and that was it. The rest was a blank. He couldn't remember a goddamn thing.

Blackouts were dangerous shit.

It was all because of Shelby and the stupid photo of her in a magazine with some asshole she'd gone out with years ago. Why had that upset him so much?

Because the asshole was Pete, that's why. And Pete was desperate to fuck with him.

He made his way into the living room and picked up the call sheet from the desk.

One o'clock. By one o'clock he had to be looking human. Yeah, lots of luck.

What time was Shelby arriving from L.A.? He'd forgotten. Maybe five or six, something like that.

He spied an empty Scotch bottle and a dirty glass. He called maid service and ordered them to send somebody in to clean up. Then he forced himself back into the bathroom and stood under a cold shower for ten minutes.

By the time he emerged, he was ready for his first snort of coke. Getting high meant he'd feel better, and it sure beat the hell out of drinking.

No more drinking.

Carefully he laid out the white powder and snorted a couple of lines. Without warning his nose started to bleed. He hurried into the bathroom, grabbed a damp washcloth and held it to his nose.

Jesus Christ! What was happening to him? He was falling to pieces.

As soon as the bleeding stopped, he paged his dealer and told him to come right over. Then he called room service and ordered eggs, bacon and a Bloody Mary to take away the fuzziness.

A half-hour later the room-service waiter delivered breakfast. The sight of food made his stomach turn, and the only thing he could get down was the Bloody Mary.

Soon after that his dealer arrived, the smarmy real-estate agent with a know-it-all attitude. Linc wanted him in and out, but the man always attempted to stay around and talk. Unfortunately he had to deal with him personally - it was safer that way.

They exchanged pleasantries, money and coke, and after the guy left, Linc went into the bedroom and lay on the bed until it was time to leave for the studio.

Lola greeted him in the makeup trailer. 'You're late,' she said, in her low-down, throaty voice. 'And Tony is pissed about our photo.'

'What photo?' he said, not in the mood for light conversation.

'You haven't seen the newspapers?' she said, drawing him over to a corner where they couldn't be overheard.

'No, I haven't seen the goddamn newspapers,' he growled. 'What's the deal?'

'I've no idea who alerted the photographers, but they were there when we left the restaurant last night. And let me remind you, you were feeling no pain. You pulled me into a clinch in front of them.' A long beat. 'It upset me, Linc.

That's why I had Big Jay put you in a cab. You were impossible. I couldn't deal with you.'

'You put me in a cab?' he said, hardly believing she would do such a thing.

'I had to.'

'Great! I was suffering from some kind of twenty-four-hour flu an' you put me in a cab. Thanks a lot for caring.'

'It wasn't the flu, Linc. You drank too much.'

'I hardly drink, Lola,' he said, stony-faced.

'Last night you did. Tony's furious about the photo, he's threatening to beat you up.'

'I could throw Tony Alvarez in a grinder and make mincemeat out of him.'

'You can't blame him. Tony's a Latino man and I am his woman.'

'Jesus Christ!' Linc groaned, his head pounding.

Everything was going from bad to worse, and the last thing he felt like doing was acting. Light romantic comedy was not his genre. He wanted to get back to doing what he excelled at. Action adventure. At least in action movies he didn't have to endure endless closeups and turn on the charm.

'I'll see you on the set,' Lola murmured.

Bitch! They were all bitches.

Chapter Twenty-Six.

Merrill Zandack was in a talkative mood. Shelby had hoped to have time to herself on the plane, but when the host was aboard, conversation became a necessary occupation - one of the hazards of flying privately.

The moment she got on board, Merrill invited her to join him at the round table he always sat at. She could hardly refuse, in spite of the heavy cigar smoke swirling around him, which made her feel slightly sick. After takeoff, he handed her a stack of reviews in a leather folder embossed with her name and the date.

'Had 'em put together in case you haven't seen 'em all,' he said.

'How thoughtful of you, Merrill,' she said, accepting the folder. 'You shouldn't have.'

'I know how most producers treat the actresses in their movies. Your PR shows you this, the studio shows you that. Problem is you never get to see everything.

Read and learn.'

'Learn what?' she asked curiously.

'Learn that you're at the peak of your career, the place every actor dreams about - the big one.'

'The big one?'