The Boy Who Never Grew Up Read Online Free

She works the low road. She’ll do anything to get a scoop, and I do mean anything.”
    “So I’ve been told,” he acknowledged sourly. “You can imagine how Matthew feels about it. All he keeps saying is ‘Why can’t they leave me alone?’ ”
    “I’m afraid that’s not possible anymore. Once this kind of thing starts …”
    “I know, I know. That’s why I contacted you.”
    “Dueling memoirs?”
    “Exactly. Only ours will be tasteful. The self-portrait of a Hollywood genius. I’m here to talk to publishers. Can I trust any of them?”
    “No.”
    He laughed. “Then I should feel right at home. I wanted your input before I sat down with any of them.”
    “I’m flattered.”
    “We’re flattered that a writer of your caliber would even be interested.”
    The stroking. It’s what they give you out there, in exchange for your self-respect. Hardly necessary in this case. We were talking guaranteed best-seller. And my self-respect was long gone.
    “We want class,” he claimed grandly. “We want depth, taste, humanity. We want you. You’re the only writer Matthew would even consider.”
    I lapped this all up in silence. I never said I didn’t like the stroking.
    “And we’ll pay you whatever you want,” he promised. “Just name your price. We won’t even dicker.”
    I sipped my coffee. “You realize, of course, that Pennyroyal may not go through with it. This may be just a scare tactic.”
    “She’ll have to go through with it,” he snarled, turning tough on me. “Because we don’t scare. We fight back. And believe me, Pennyroyal Brim has a lot more to hide than Matthew Wax does.”
    “What have you got on her?”
    “Why?”
    “I’ll have to know.”
    He hesitated. His close-set eyes met and held mine. Then he reached for another Danish, either his third or his fourth. I’d lost count. “She had an abortion her senior year of high school,” he said, gobbling.
    “Who was the father?”
    “Some kid she knew. High school boyfriend. The point is, Hoagy, she’s never been the goody-goody that the public thinks she is. That’s strictly image. We created it. We nurtured it. Very carefully.”
    “What else?”
    “What makes you think there’s anything else?”
    I didn’t bother to answer. At my feet, Lulu began to snore softly. She thinks that’s sexy, too. Trust me, it isn’t.
    Shelley cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Before Matthew discovered her, she had, well, modeled in the nude—under another name. Carla Pettibone. We own the negatives. Bought ’em outright from the shakedown artist who took ’em. I was afraid he’d try to sell them to Penthouse or somebody. I keep them locked away in my office. Sure, I know exactly what you’re thinking—I ought to leak them to the press now and smear her. But I won’t do it.”
    “That’s not what I was thinking.”
    “What were you …?”
    “I was wondering why you didn’t just destroy them.”
    “Hey, I run a studio,” he reasoned. “You never know when you might need some leverage.”
    “Like now, for instance.”
    Shelley shook his head vehemently. “She’s the mother of Matthew’s child. I won’t destroy her. I won’t stoop to Zorch’s level. No way.”
    “Any chance this photographer will resurface with another set of negatives?”
    “Zero chance. He’s dead. Somebody shot him a few weeks after I bought him off. Small wonder, the kind of business he was in. Shambazza was his name. Rajhib Shambazza. Black dude. Convinced Penny he was getting her into show business, apparently. What the hell, she was seventeen. We’ve all been victimized. We’ve all done things we’re not proud of. I didn’t care. Strictly damage control, from my point of view.”
    “And from Matthew’s?”
    “As far as he’s concerned, Pennyroyal Brim was born on the day she met him. She has zero past of her own.” He puffed out his cheeks. “And to think I was the one who encouraged them. She was a sweet kid. I thought she’d make