Lady Boss (32 page)

‘Good,' Abe said. ‘Leave it to me, girlie. I'll handle it.'

‘Thanks.'

‘I've got t'go now. My granddaughter's payin' me a duty visit.'

Lucky knew what the visit was all about. Listening in on Mickey's conversations she'd discovered the reason he'd met with Martin Swanson. The New York tycoon was interested in buying or gaining control of a movie studio, and from Mickey's conversation with Ford Werne, whom he'd later confided in, it seemed one of the studios Martin was interested in was Panther.

‘I'm gonna get Abigaile to sit down with her grandfather. See if the old man shows any interest in selling out,' Mickey had said to Ford. ‘When she speaks to him, she won't tell him what they're willing to pay. She'll suggest he makes an agreement with me, then
I'll
sell the studio. That way I can get myself a cushy management deal and I'll be here forever. And so will you, Ford. You and I work well together.'

‘What if he doesn't want to sell?' Ford had asked.

‘Then I got a new plan. There's another studio my connection is considering. If he buys, I'm there.'

‘What about Panther? You'd walk away?'

‘Hey,' Mickey had said. ‘A deal is a deal is a deal. I treat the old man as good as he treats me, an' he's not treating me so good.'

‘You'd really go?'

‘Do rabbits fuck? But only if the deal is right, Ford. It all comes down to the deal.'

The more Lucky listened to Mickey, the more she realized that here was a man with no conscience. His life consisted of business, his mistress, and brief trips home, although in the last couple of days he seemed to have added Madame Loretta to that list.

Boogie had found out Madame Loretta was the biggest madam in town, running a high-class brothel high in the Hollywood Hills, supplying only beautiful young girls to the rich executives who could afford the exorbitant prices. Obviously Warner was not doing her job. Mickey was restless.

Olive returned to Los Angeles and managed to hobble into the studio on crutches.

Mickey, ever sympathetic, emerged from his office, glared at her, and said accusingly, ‘How could you do this to me?'

‘I'm so sorry, Mr. Stolli,' Olive apologized, as if she could have helped it. She would have kissed his feet if she'd felt it would do any good.

Mickey merely glared at her and stomped back into his office.

‘What happened with your fiancé? Did everything work out?' Lucky felt obliged to ask.

Sadly Olive shook her head. ‘It was not to be,' she said, crestfallen. ‘I shouldn't have gone.'

‘Bad break,' Lucky said, trying to look suitably sympathetic.

‘These things happen.' Olive glanced around the office, checking to make sure everything was in place. ‘How are you managing?'

‘Fine,' Lucky said carefully.

‘Hmmm…' Olive didn't seem pleased. She'd rather hoped things would fall to pieces without her conscientious touch. ‘Mr. Stolli isn't an easy man.'

‘I'm glad to say you taught me well. I seem to be making him happy.'

Olive looked even more displeased. ‘I should be back in about six weeks,' she said waspishly. ‘When my cast is off.'

‘Excellent.' Lucky tried to make her feel good. ‘Everyone misses you.'

Olive brightened. ‘What about your Mr. Stone? Aren't you supposed to be working for him again?'

‘I discussed it with Mr. Stolli. He thought it best if I stayed here. Mr. Stone doesn't mind. He's extending his vacation.'

After more small-talk, Olive finally left the office. Later, Lucky observed her having lunch in the commissary with Harry Browning. She hoped Abe had already talked to Harry and warned him not to open his mouth.

With only one more week to go, Lucky felt she was coming to the end of a long prison sentence. It seemed amazing to her that some people actually led their lives like this. Day in, day out, being bossed around by a crude, irascible boss. Taking shit from all the people who visited his office. Putting up with rude sexist comments from the men. And this was while she'd made herself look as unattractive as possible. God knows what the other girls had to put up with, the secretaries in their miniskirts and low-cut blouses and long blond hair.

Hmm… Maybe they loved it. Maybe they'd been brainwashed into thinking getting hit on by randy married men was a compliment.

Eddie Kane hadn't been in for over a week. Lucky decided to pay a visit to Brenda and Talon Nails, his two faithful secretaries who stood guard downstairs, and find out what was going on.

Now that she was officially known as Mickey Stolli's personal assistant, most of the other secretaries in the building knew who she was.

Brenda, as usual, was perusing magazines, while Talon Nails sat in the corner making personal phone calls.

‘Is Mr. Kane around?' Lucky asked. ‘We haven't seen him in a while. Mr. Stolli was asking.'

‘He's sick,' Brenda volunteered.

‘Flu,' Talon Nails added, covering the mouthpiece of the phone with her hand.

Lucky wondered if he'd had the crap beaten out of him by Carlo Bonnatti's boys, or if this was merely an interim period while he struggled to get his act together and come up with a million bucks.

‘Perhaps you can let our office know when he returns,' Lucky said, all business.

Brenda put down her magazine. She had a snippy expression on her face. ‘May I ask you something?'

Talon Nails hung up the phone and shot Brenda a warning look.

‘What?' asked Lucky.

‘We were wondering,' said Brenda belligerently.

‘
She
was wondering,' interjected Talon Nails.

‘Bull!' Brenda said sharply. ‘
You
were wondering just as much as
I
was.'

‘Can we get to the point?' Lucky asked politely.

‘How come you snuck in out of nowhere an' grabbed the key job around here?' Brenda stared at her accusingly.

What the hell, Lucky thought, would it hurt if she jumped out of character – just this once? The temptation was too much. ‘I slept with the boss,' she answered, straight-faced – and made her exit.

Brenda and Talon Nails were speechless.

* * *

As usual Abigaile insisted Tabitha accompany her when she went to visit her grandfather. Naturally Tabitha complained, but Abigaile was having none of it. ‘You'll come with me and like it,' she insisted firmly.

‘I'll come with you, but I won't like it,' Tabitha retorted with a sulky glare.

‘Young lady,' Abigaile said grandly, ‘it's about time you learned to treat me with respect. I do not appreciate your attitude.'

‘Please!' Tabitha said in disgust. ‘Don't start playing mommy with me now. It's a little late.'

Abigaile glared at the girl. Thirteen years old and with a smarter mouth than her father.

Inga was as pleased to see them as they were to be there. ‘Come in,' she said haughtily, and stalked away, leaving them to fend for themselves.

They found old Abe out on the patio surrounded by newspapers, magazines, and a blaring television.

Dutifully Abigaile kissed him on the cheek. Dutifully Tabitha followed suit.

‘Another month zip by already?' Abe asked, squinting against the bright sun.

‘I beg your pardon?' said Abigaile.

‘Another month,' repeated Abe. ‘You only come every four weeks. I bet Mickey says the same thing!' He cackled at his own ribald joke.

Tabitha sneaked a smile. The thought of her mother coming was ludicrous. In fact, the thought of either of her parents having sex was the funniest notion she'd ever heard of.

Abigaile dusted off a patio chair with a tissue and sat down. ‘How are you feeling, Grandpa?' she asked solicitously.

Abe's canny old eyes crinkled. ‘Why? Whattaya care?' he asked suspiciously.

‘Don't be silly, Grandpa. How come you're always so abrasive with me?'

‘'Cause I calls it the way I sees it, girlie.'

‘I'm sorry you feel that way,' Abigaile replied, primly, smoothing down the skirt of her Adolfo suit. ‘Now, Grandfather, there's something I wish to discuss with you.'

‘Go on,' Abe said. ‘Shoot.' He winked at Tabitha, who giggled.

‘Well.' Abigaile plunged ahead, deciding to ignore his irascible attitude. ‘You're not getting any younger.'

Abe chortled. ‘Zippo – the girl's developin' brains. I'm not gettin' any younger. Eighty-eight years old and she finally realizes it!'

Abigaile took a deep breath. This was going to be difficult. She'd told Mickey he should come with her. Selfish as usual, he'd refused. Gamely she pressed on. ‘Um, what would you say if I told you that Mickey could possibly sell the studio?'

Tabitha picked up on that. ‘What do you wanna sell the studio for, it's Daddy's,' she said sulkily. ‘He's gotta keep it. I wanna have my sweet sixteen there.'

‘Shhhhh,' hissed Abigaile.

‘I'm not gonna shhhh,' Tabitha retorted. ‘You told me I had to come with you, so why do I have to shhhh?'

Abigaile fixed her daughter with a look. ‘Will you kindly be quiet.' Her tone would have quieted the Russian army.

Abe cackled. ‘Why would I wanna sell my studio?'

‘Because,' Abigaile replied in a cool, reasonable voice, ‘we can get an excellent price for it.'

‘Who's the “we”?'

‘Inga and you,' Abigaile replied quickly. ‘And me. And, of course, Tabitha.'

Abe rose from his chair. ‘Big fat news,' he said. ‘I could've had a hundred buyers for Panther if I'd've wanted to sell it.'

‘Then why didn't you?' Abigaile asked tartly.

‘'Cause I didn't want to. An' if I did, it'd be none of your business, girlie.' Without a backward glance he marched into the house.

Abigaile didn't feel like following him. She'd always been in awe of her grandfather, and now that he was a very old man she still felt uncomfortable in his presence.

‘Can we go home now?' whined Tabitha.

Abigaile stood up, ‘Yes,' she said, tight-lipped. ‘Let's do that.'

* * *

Venus Maria strolled into Mickey's office at four o'clock. As she passed by Lucky's desk, she smiled and said, ‘Hi, howya doing?'

As soon as Mickey's door closed Lucky put on her earphones to listen in.

Venus Maria didn't play polite games. She got straight to the point. ‘I hate this script, Mickey,' she said. ‘I hate it with a passion, and there's no way I'm doing it unless it's completely rewritten. Right now the script tells the story from a man's point of view. You promised me this was about a strong woman. A survivor. In this piece of crap she's just another victim. And I'm
not
playing victims.'

‘Aw, c'mon, baby, this is a great role for any actress,' Mickey said in his most charming voice. ‘An Oscar-winning role.'

‘Don't snow me with that tired old bullshit you hand to all the other actresses around here, and I use the word loosely,' Venus Maria said sharply. ‘A rewrite or I'm out of this project. And another thing—'

Cunt!
‘What?'

‘The only way I'll take my clothes off is when the actor playing opposite me strips off too.'

Mickey sounded disgusted. ‘Wake up, baby. Broads don't want to see naked guys on the screen. They're not interested in some poor schmuck with his schnickle hanging out.'

‘That's where you're wrong,' Venus Maria declared. ‘That's
exactly
what they want to see.'

He looked offended. ‘Maybe
you
do.'

‘No, not just me. Women get off on seeing guys with it all hanging out. And the reason we
don't
see it is because men run the film industry, and men can't handle the competition, so they don't want us getting an eyeful. I'm telling you, Mickey, I'm not walking around the screen bare-assed if my leading man is clothed. No fucking way.'

‘You're a demanding broad,' Mickey griped.

‘Yeah,' Venus Maria agreed. ‘And I'm in the fortunate position of being able to demand whatever I want. Are we making contact here?'

He stood up from behind his desk. ‘You need a rewrite, you got a rewrite, OK?'

‘Good. And if I
do
decide to sign for this movie, I also want co-star and director approval.'

This broad was driving him crazy with her demands. ‘You got it. It's in your contract already.'

‘I haven't signed a contract for this film yet.'

‘It's in your old contract.'

‘That doesn't mean anything, and you know it. It has to be in
this
contract. In writing. And I'm not signing until I've seen the rewrite. Am I coming across loud and clear?'

‘Yeah, yeah, yeah,' he said disgustedly.

Venus Maria left his office without another word. She stopped at Lucky's desk. ‘Tell me,' she said, ‘how can you work for such a jerk and stay sane?'

Lucky laughed. ‘It's not easy.'

As soon as Venus Maria left, Mickey came running out, screaming and yelling.

‘Who the
fuck
does that dumb broad think she is? Actresses! They're all the same. You make 'em a star an' they think they did it on their own without any goddamn help. If that bimbo didn't have a studio behind her,
and
a good director,
and
a great lighting cameraman, she'd be checking out dog meat in Safeway. Actresses!'

He didn't like actresses. He didn't like actors. Who did he like?

‘I'm out of here,' he said gruffly.

She knew better than to ask where he was going.

Ten minutes after he left, Johnny Romano made an unscheduled entrance, swaggering his way into the office, macho to the core.

‘Hello, beautiful,' he said. ‘Is the big man around?'