The Boy Who Never Grew Up Read Free Page B

this bit about Matthew forcing her to make love to Johnny in a bathtub while he watched them.”
    “Did he?”
    “Of course he did. That was the big love scene in Badger Goes to College , when Badger tries to change Debbie Dale’s tire and gets all covered with mud, remember? It was in the movie. He was directing the two of them.”
    I nodded, though I hadn’t actually seen Matthew Wax’s last picture. The critics had massacred it. Most everyone had stayed away. Matthew Wax, it seemed, could do nothing right these days.
    “And the rest of it?” I asked.
    “A mean-spirited smear campaign on the part of Zorch. He’s trying to get Matthew to cave in.”
    “Will he?”
    “His attorney is advising him not to.”
    “Who’s his attorney?”
    “I am,” Shelley replied, grinning.
    I tugged at my ear. “All in the family, huh?”
    “It won’t work, Hoagy. We won’t give her half of the studio. I don’t care if the Iguana smells the record or not.”
    “Which record is that?”
    “Biggest Hollywood divorce settlement of all time,” he replied. “The record right now is the $112 million Frances Lear got from Norman. Amy Irving supposedly got a hundred mil from Steve Spielberg. Zorch won’t be satisfied unless he can top both of them.”
    “Can he?”
    “Not without one hell of a court fight from us.”
    “There was no prenuptial agreement?”
    “None. They just ran off to Vegas like a couple of crazy kids and got married. I just wish I could get the two of them in a room together. Get them communicating again. But Zorch won’t allow it. As far as he’s concerned, this is war. It’s criminal, the way he’s using her. That’s his specialty—preying upon confused, vulnerable women. He doesn’t care what happens to her or the baby. All he cares about is headlines. She swears she gave him all of that personal stuff about Matthew in the absolute strictest confidence. He promised her it was for his ears only. As soon as he got hold of it, he ran right to the papers with it.” He shook his head, disgusted. “I mean, really, whose business is it how often Matthew Wax cuts his toenails?”
    “Not mine.”
    “He’s even got detectives following Matthew around, hoping to catch him with another woman.”
    “Will he?”
    “No way. There’s nobody else. Doesn’t stop the scumbag, though. We had to kick one off the lot the other day, passing himself off as an electrician.” He reached for another Danish and bit into it. “I’ve tried to set her straight. The poor kid’s as much a victim here as Matthew is. She’s hurting. I told her, hey, sweetie pie, Zorch works for you. You turned him loose. You want to cool things off, fire him. You know what she said to me? She said ‘You’ve never respected me, Shelley.’ Can you imagine?”
    “Is she really having an affair with Trace Washburn?”
    He nodded. “Another prime user of vulnerable women. They’ve been seen together all over town, hugging and kissing. A man Matthew once looked up to. God, what a mess.”
    “How is he holding up under all of it?”
    “He’s tearing his hair out.”
    “And where do I come in?”
    “It seems Zorch has put Pennyroyal together with a publisher,” he said. “They’re giving her over a million bucks to tell all about her life with Matthew. The dirtier the better.”
    “Who’s writing it for her?”
    “A woman named Cassandra Dee.”
    I winced.
    He noticed. “You know her?”
    “I’ve scraped her off the bottom of my shoes a couple of times.”
    “She’s not reputable?”
    “Cassandra and reputable are not two words I would put together in the same sentence. Or novella. Cassandra D’Amico is her full name. She’s a bareknuckle fighter from Bensonhurst. Got her start stringing for Page Six of the Post , then moved up—or down—to the Enquirer , depending on how you look at it. She’s now considered the mistress of the slash and burn. Did that sleazy Rock Hudson book, the unauthorized Julia Roberts bio.