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Table of contents
But when he discovered how his corrupt father really made his fortune, Freddie abandoned his billions. When fate brings Lulu and Freddie together, sparks fly—and gunshots follow. Suddenly Lulu finds herself framed for attempted murder.
Hollywood Places
Together, she and Freddie set out to clear her name. But can they escape their pasts and finally find the Hollywood ending they long for? Evelyn Hugo is finally ready to tell the truth about her glamorous and scandalous life. But when she chooses unknown magazine reporter Monique Grant for the job, no one is more astounded than Monique herself. Los Angeles, Present Day. Los Angeles, Violet Mayfield sets out to reinvent herself in Hollywood and lands a job on the set of Gone With the Wind. There, she meets enigmatic Audrey Duvall, a once-rising film star who is now a fellow secretary.
What they are willing to risk, for themselves and for each other, to ensure their own happy endings will shape their lives far into the future. Nearly 30 years earlier, Florrie takes off on an adventure of her own, driving her Model T westward from New Jersey in pursuit of broader horizons. She has the promise of a Hollywood job and, in the passenger seat, Ethel, her best friend since childhood. In parallel tales, the three women — Louise, Florrie, Ethel — discover that not all journeys follow a map. In California, Harlean has everything a girl could want: a rich husband, glamorous parties, socialite friends; except an outlet for her talent.
But everything changes when a dare pushes her to embrace her true ambition: to be an actress on the silver screen.
Touchstones
With her timeless beauty and striking shade of platinum-blond hair, Harlean becomes Jean Harlow. And as she's thrust into the limelight, Jean learns that this new world of opportunity comes with its own set of burdens and she is forced to confront the difficult truth that fame comes at a price For Lili Marlene, neither fame nor marriage and motherhood can cure her wanderlust.
As Hitler and the Nazis rise to power, she sets sail for America. Desperate for her return, Hitler tries to lure her with dazzling promises. Marlene instead chooses to become an American citizen But one day she will return to Germany. Lillian Frost has traded dreams of stardom for security as a department store salesgirl Party girl Ruby died wearing a gown she stole from the wardrobe department at Paramount Pictures, domain of Edith Head.
All they have going for them are dogged determination, assists from the likes of Bob Hope and Barbara Stanwyck, and a killer sense of style. In show business, that just might be enough. Clara is a handful. Then more waiting for the EMTs to take you to the nearest hospital. Malibu was stone sober, of course, and his driving record was spotless, since it was erased every time he did one of these jobs. His volunteer work with kids with leukemia fake would pop up, as well as his Habitat for Humanity projects also fake. No one would give him a second glance.
But mostly they would focus on the actress. Malibu wanted to take her out on Decker Canyon Road, but it turned out she knew these roads just as well as he did. Sure, he could pull some fancy surefire moves that would nudge her sweet little ass off into the canyon. The word came back quick: no. This had to look as mundane as possible.
Something that would make headlines briefly, but nothing that would be followed up. Malibu liked working with members of the acting community. They were fun. You knew exactly what they were going to do, exactly how they were going to react. Like they were following a script. They had the idea that they were above it all—. Lane was approaching the exit to Highland Avenue—the Hollywood Bowl. It was still painfully early.
The sky over L. Make herself a big strong cup of coffee—one of those Cuban espressos she used to drink all the time. Put on some Neko Case, wait for her manager to wake up. Plan her next moves. You see the fucking dentist and move on. She signaled to change lanes, and saw the Chevy Malibu in front of her again.
Damnit, the same one from Decker Canyon Road. Glass sprayed. The air bag exploded. Mann watched the accident from approximately fifty yards away. Now it was time to pull over to the shoulder and be one of those friendly citizens who offers to hold your hand until the police arrive. There would be no hello, no speech, no nothing. Just death. The speedball contained enough heroin and coke to take down a Belushi-size human being; it would probably stop her heart in under a minute.
But better if it looked like a pure speedball. That way, Lane Madden would die and go to Hell still wondering what had happened. The Devil could fill her in. Lane was numb for a few moments. The signals in her brain were crossed. She looked around, trying to solve it visually.
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She had broken glass in her lap. The air bag had smashed her in the face. She half pushed it aside. Her right ankle was throbbing. Her foot had somehow wedged itself under the brake pedal. The stranger grabbed her left wrist, twisted it, jammed the needle into the crook of her arm, depressed the plunger.
Oh God, what was in that fucking needle? Her vision went blurry. She clawed at the passenger seat, felt the smashed beads of glass. She plucked it out it, threw it to the side, then tried to crawl out of the car. Meanwhile her attacker flailed around, blind, looking for her. Cursing, raging at her. Her heart was racing way too fast, her skin slick with sweat. The world looked like it had been wrapped in gauze. Lane crawled away on her hands and one good knee, all the way to the fence at the edge of the The captain told everyone it was just a little trouble with a valve.
Fifteen minutes, tops. Nothing serious. So after two hours of being baked alive in a narrow tube, Charlie Hardie took the advice of the flight crew and stepped off to stretch his legs. After an eternity of standing around, his belly rumbling, he decided to make a run to a bakery over at the mall between Terminals B and C. Hardie had taken exactly one bite of his dry bagel when the announcement came over the loudspeakers: Flight fourteen seventeen ready for takeoff. All passengers must report immediately to Terminal B, Gate….
By the time Hardie returned to his seat, carry-on in hand, someone had already commandeered his space in the overhead bin.
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Hardie glanced forward and back to see if there were any gaps in the luggage where he could slide his bag. Everything was jammed in tight. He refused to check it.
A flight attendant—young, smiling, wearing too much makeup, trying to ease the bottleneck in the middle of the plane. Trying to avoid some kind of incident.