“A Hollywood mystery, a page-turner, a love letter to everything great and horrible about TinselTown.”
Vickie Lester
Anne’s mother emerged from the kitchen carrying two mismatched mugs. The one she handed to Anne was emblazoned with The Rolling Stones’ lips and lolling tongue logo; it reminded Anne of her mother’s infrequent drunken hints that she had once had a “thing” with one of the Stones back in the mists of time. So what Jill said next was surprising. “Friend of your father’s,” she said, nodding at the mug. “You owe him a very big thank you.” Anne looked puzzled. “How’s that?” “Back in the day he set what my attorney called The Jagger Standard for child support. Thirty grand a month, minimum, for the rich guy’s babies,” Jill was lost for a moment in perfectly posed reverie, head cocked slightly back, eyes cast to the side. “A big thank you.” She continued to muse, and added acidly, “That’s one man who believes in family values.”
I’m writing another Hollywood novel, but in the meantime…
