Private Lives

Jessica knew she’d been damn lucky to escape serious injury in the car accident. It had only been the airbag that had stopped her going through the windscreen. Apparently if the other guy had hit her a fraction of a second earlier, her legs would have been crushed like flower stems. As it was, he’d caught her front end which had spun the Aston around a few times, ending up perched on the central reservation. Jessica had been in shock, but she had still had the presence of mind to grab her phone. Her first call had been to Sylvia. Despite the fact that she had fired her in Maui, her publicist was the only person she had wanted to speak to after the crash, pleading with the older woman to help her. And what a marvellous job Sylvia had done too, wiping the car crash from history. Not one hint that anything untoward had happened had appeared in any newspaper or tabloid. Even better, she had somehow managed to come to some agreement with the emergency services and the driver of the other car. According to Sylvia, the poor sap didn’t even know who she was and thought it was all his fault, so there was zero chance of him trying to sue her. Of course Sylvia had got her pound of flesh – she was back on Team Jess, and getting an extra three thousand dollars a month in her retainer. Still, she was earning her keep. Maybe Sam should have employed Sylvia, thought Jessica. Then none of us would be in this mess.

She picked up a tumbler and downed the painkillers she was taking for whiplash and bruising. In the background, the intercom was buzzing. She crossed the room to press it.

‘Hey, gorgeous, it’s Jim. Jim Parker.’

Not exactly the first person she wanted to see after a spell in Cedar Sinai, but she had been intrigued when he had called saying he had a proposition for her.

Jim walked in holding a slim leather briefcase in one hand and a white cardboard box in the other, giving out the delicious aroma of Chinese

food.

‘What’s that?’ Jess said, wrinkling her nose.

‘Lunch.’

She shook her head.’

I’ve eaten.’

‘Yeah, right,’ said Jim, setting the box down on the kitchen counter. ‘A handful of shrimps and asparagus?’

‘Actually I’ve just been working my way through a tub of Ben and Jerry’s.’

‘That’s my girl,’ said Jim. ‘You don’t get a body that good without letting go every now and then.’

He looked at her, his face serious.

‘How are you, by the way? After the accident, I mean.’

She shouldn’t have been surprised. Jim Parker was one of the most connected men in the industry; of course he would know about the crash. Sylvia had probably called him up with the news, to be filed away against some future favour. It was how Hollywood worked. Jess waved a hand; she wasn’t going to bother pretending.

‘I was lucky, I guess.’

‘Well you look amazing,’ said Jim.

Jessica almost laughed out loud. She’d made no effort at all for Jim’s arrival; wearing J Brand jeans, a skinny-rib T-shirt and no bra, she looked as if she was off to Whole Foods. What would he have said if she’d dressed up? she wondered.

Jim was unpacking the food: honey soy spare ribs, salt and pepper squid, yellow bean duck. She wanted to eat, it all smelled so good, but now that Jim knew about the ice cream, she couldn’t indulge again.

‘You go ahead, Jim,’ she said, opening the fridge and pulling out some white wine. ‘A little something to go with it?’ she asked.

‘Sure, let’s live dangerously.’

Jim perched on a breakfast stool and popped a couple of pork dumplings into his mouth while Jessica poured out two large glasses of the Sancerre. It will probably react with the meds, she thought, but what the hell. If you couldn’t mix things up after a near-death experience, when could you?

She sipped her wine and watched Jim eat. He was a handsome man, the sort of bone structure that could have got him a gig on a daytime soap if he’d chosen a different career. He was wearing a sheer black polo shirt and grey slacks, but she could tell he was super-toned under there. Ten years earlier she’d have jumped at a man like Jim: sexy, powerful. In fact she had jumped at many men like Jim. She’d worked out early on who could help her and who was just bullshitting, who it was worth giving up a little pussy for. She had never felt any qualms about it. She had never really enjoyed sex, but she was well aware of the power she had in her body and was happy to use whatever leverage was required.

‘So have you heard from Sam?’ asked Jim, wiping his mouth on a napkin.

Jessica had almost forgotten that the last time Jim had been here was to remove the last of Sam’s possessions. That all seemed so long ago.

She shook her head.

‘He knows better than that.’

‘Don’t be so hard on him, honey,’ said Jim. ‘Sure, he acted like a prick – I mean, who would risk losing someone like you? – but I think he’s hurting. You must have seen he’s gone a little AWOL?’

She had read about Sam losing the Dreamscape contract and his crazy theatre production in Edinburgh. It did look as if he’d gone off the rails. But she wasn’t sure if that was grief or just symptomatic of whatever crisis that had made him jump into bed with that hooker in the first place.