Lady Boss (50 page)

Lucky flew back to Los Angeles with only Boogie for company. Lennie hadn't called, and she had too much pride to call him. If this was the way he wanted things to end – so be it.

Face facts
, she told herself. She'd bought the studio for Lennie and he didn't give a damn. He'd felt it was a blow to his ego or some such masculine crap. Why the hell couldn't he just relax and enjoy it?

When she'd arrived back at her apartment in New York, she'd phoned Gino and told him of Lennie's reaction.

‘I tried to warn you, kid,' he'd sighed, ‘I had an idea this was the way he'd feel.'

‘Why do you say that?'

‘'Cause it's a man's thing. You can buy him a sweater or a tie, but a studio… Jeez! What can I tell you?'

‘His attitude is totally old-fashioned. I'm not putting up with it,' she'd said stubbornly. ‘I'm excited about owning Panther. He should be too.'

‘So what are you gonna do, kid?'

‘Leave Lennie in New York until he gets over his sulks.'

‘Big solution.'

‘What else
can
I do?'

‘How about tryin' to work it out?' he'd suggested.

‘Too late. The next move is his.'

The truth was that she felt hurt and frustrated by Lennie's macho attitude. He, above all people, should understand her. She'd never pretended to be the perfect little wife prepared to sit home and have babies. He'd always known she was a woman who liked to take chances. That's why he'd fallen in love with her.

Now he was acting like ‘You – woman. Me – man.' It was almost as if he was saying, ‘Get knocked up or it's over.' They had Bobby and Brigette. Wasn't that enough of a family for now?

Screw
Lennie Golden.

She had a life to live.

From LAX, Boogie drove her straight to the Malibu house.

Miko greeted her with a polite bow. ‘So good to have you back, Madame.'

It was good to be back. She felt strong. She felt invincible. She was ready to accomplish anything.

On Sunday evening Morton Sharkey came over and they spent the evening going over Panther business. She had so many plans to put into operation: new people to hire, decisions on all the various productions, who stayed and who did she dump?

Later, when Morton had left, she walked out onto the deck and stared at the sea.
Everything's going to be all right, Santangelo
, she promised herself, breathing in the crisp night air.

All her life she'd had to make it on her own, prove she could do it. And Panther Studios was no different from anything else. She'd show everyone. And if Lennie didn't want to come along for the ride, she'd do it by herself.

Lucky Santangelo was a true survivor.

Nothing and nobody stopped her.

* * *

Abe Panther had decided they should all arrive at the studio together, so on Monday morning Lucky reported to Abe's Miller Drive home along with Morton Sharkey.

Abe greeted her with a feisty smile. ‘Morning, girlie. Are we ready to kick us some ass?'

‘I'm always ready to kick ass,' she replied, confirming what he'd suspected.

She looked particularly beautiful, with her mass of wild jet hair, olive skin, and dark eyes full of drama.

She wore a cream leather Claude Montana suit and very high heels, diamond hoops in her ears, and a large diamond ring on her finger. She was all business in a classy, sexy, stylish way.

What a difference from drab little Luce! That was the whole idea.

Abe seemed full of high spirits, and so did Inga for once. He'd promised she could come to the meeting, and she'd dressed up for the occasion.

Lucky wondered what the old man was planning to do with all his money. Probably sit on it until he dropped!

‘Are we meeting in Mickey's office?' she asked.

‘Naw, we'll settle in the conference room,' Abe decided. ‘I want to be there before any of 'em arrive.'

‘Mickey usually gets in early,' Lucky pointed out.

‘Maybe not today,' Abe replied with a wicked laugh, ‘Here's a little something for you to feast your eyes on, girlie.'

He handed her a copy of the
Los Angeles Times
. On the bottom of the front page there was a picture of Mickey being led out of a police van. The caption read:

STUDIO HEAD ARRESTED IN RAID ON HOLLYWOOD HOUSE OF SHAME

‘Oh my God!' she exclaimed. ‘He's getting it from all sides today. Do you think he'll turn up?'

‘Of course he will,' snapped Abe.

They set off in convoy, Abe and Lucky in the first car, Inga following behind with Morton Sharkey and Abe's lawyer.

All the way Lucky could feel Abe's excitement building. When they approached the studio gates he really started to buzz.

‘This is like coming home, girlie,' he said rubbing his hands together. ‘Can't think why I ever left.'

‘Why
did
you leave?' she asked curiously.

He shrugged. ‘Don't know. We were entering a new decade. I didn't like what was goin' on in the movies anymore. The public wanted to see things I wasn't prepared to show 'em.'

She could understand that. Abe came from a different era. A kinder, gentler time. ‘How does it feel to be coming back?' she asked.

He bobbed his head happily. ‘Pretty damned good!'

Up in the conference room there were nervous secretaries flitting all over the place.

‘Good morning, Mr. Panther.'

‘Welcome back, Mr. Panther.'

‘Is there anything I can get you, Mr. Panther?'

Abe took his place at the head of the table and indicated to Lucky that she should sit on his right.

She did so. Although the studio was officially hers, she wouldn't dream of cheating him out of his moment of glory.

At ten o'clock precisely Mickey Stolli marched in. He was followed by Abigaile, Primrose, and Ben.

Abe waved his hand in the air. ‘Take a seat everybody. Make yourselves at home.'

Mickey glanced around the room. His eyes passed over Lucky without a flicker of recognition.

‘You're looking well, Grandfather,' said Primrose, rushing over to kiss him.

‘How come you never write or call?' Abe demanded, clicking his false teeth in and out.

Primrose sighed as if he had no right to ask such a question. ‘We're all so busy, Grandfather. The children send you their love.'

‘Sit down,' instructed Mickey sharply. He didn't need Primrose kissing the old man's ass.

When everybody was settled, Abe got right to it. ‘I've been outta here ten years,' he said roughly, ‘an' I let you all do whatever the hell you wanted. Now I've made other arrangements. I've sold the studio.'

There was a stunned silence. And four shocked faces.

Mickey was the first on his feet. ‘You've done
what?
' he asked incredulously.

‘I've sold the studio,' Abe repeated with a crafty cackle. ‘It's mine to sell, eh?'

‘Grandfather, you can't do that without consulting us,' Abigaile protested, a flush spreading across her face.

‘Certainly not,' agreed a distressed Primrose.

‘Girlies, I can do what I damn well please. I'm old enough and ugly enough.'

‘What you're saying is you've sold the studio, is that it?' Mickey said harshly.

‘This is good,' joked Abe. ‘The man understands English.'

Ben joined in. ‘Who've you sold it to?'

‘Ladies and gentlemen.' Abe savoured the words. ‘I'd like you to meet the
new
owner of Panther Studios.' He turned to Lucky. ‘Allow me to introduce Lucky Santangelo.'

There was another long silence. Once again Mickey was the first to break it. ‘What is this? Some kind of joke?'

‘You can't do this, Grandfather,' shrieked Abigaile.

Morton Sharkey rose to his feet. ‘Miss Santangelo will be taking over, effective today,' he said. ‘In the future you will report to her.'

‘If you think I'm staying to be told what to do by some dumb broad – you're wrong,' spat Mickey. ‘I'm out of here.'

Good
, Lucky thought.

‘Now wait a minute,' interrupted Ben. He knew who Lucky Santangelo was. He was well aware of her reputation. She'd taken over the Stanislopoulos shipping empire when Dimitri Stanislopoulos passed away, and today – under her management – it was more successful than ever. Lucky Santangelo knew what she was doing. ‘We're going to have to discuss this unexpected situation.'

‘Who gets the money?' asked Abigaile furiously, unable to control herself. ‘It's
our
money.'

‘Grandfather,' Primrose said, the voice of reason, ‘we have to sit down and talk privately. Not in front of all these people.'

‘I feel like I'm at my own funeral,' Abe cackled, enjoying every minute. ‘What? You think I'm dead already? I can do what I want with my money. It's not
your
money. It's
my
money.'

Lucky spoke at last. ‘Gentlemen, there'll be a meeting of all department heads at noon today. Right here.'

‘What do
you
know about the movie business?' Mickey asked rudely, turning to glare at her.

‘Let's just say as much as you,' she replied coolly.

He recognized something in her voice. Had he met her before? Lucky Santangelo. Lucky Santangelo… Christ! Wasn't she the broad with the gangster father? Wasn't she the one married to Lennie Golden?

Of course! Now it began to make sense. Her husband got pissed off with the studio and the broad bought it to keep him happy. Son of a bitch!

He couldn't look at Abigaile. His dear wife wasn't speaking to him on account of the story of his arrest making the front page of the
L.A. Times
. When Abigaile had seen it she'd turned into a hysterical shrew. ‘Out of this house,' she'd screamed. ‘Out of my life. I'll sue you for every penny you've got. How
dare
you disgrace me and Tabitha! This is the biggest humiliation of my life.'

‘It was a mistake,' he'd replied lamely. ‘I was visiting the place with a director. The guy was researching a movie. I told him a scene he wanted to shoot wouldn't work. He took me up there to prove it would. It was business, Abby.'

‘Mickey Stolli, you've lied to me for the last time,' Abigaile had shouted, narrowing her eyes. ‘We'll meet with my grandfather and behave like human beings. And then you'll pack your bags and get out of
my
house. We're through.'

He wondered how she felt now. Abigaile wasn't going to continue to ignore him after
this
little shocker. He shot her a look.

She was destroyed.

He glanced over at Ben and Primrose. Ben was foaming at the mouth, and Primrose seemed about to burst into tears.

Abe was loving every minute of the confusion he'd caused. Crafty little shithead.

Mickey stood up. He didn't have to take this crap. He'd made Panther the success it was today – he could get a job anywhere in town.

‘I resign,' he said sharply. ‘Find yourself another schmuck.'

Venus Maria slept in the nude. When she was a little girl she'd read an article about Marilyn Monroe.

What do you wear in bed, Miss Monroe?

Chanel Number Five.

Venus Maria wore nothing except her favourite scent, Poison, and a delicate tattoo of two white doves on the inside of her left thigh – souvenir of a two-day visit to Bangkok.

She awoke early, stretched languidly, and reached out for Martin.

He was not there.

She jumped out of bed and checked the bathroom. No note. No nothing.

Who the hell did he think he was dealing with here? Some Hollywood bimbo he could visit when he came into town, bang, and then take off? No way. She was Venus Maria. She deserved better than this. God damn it! Martin Swanson had to be taught a lesson.

Jumping under a cold shower she thought things over.

Martin Swanson… Martin Swanson… Why this obsession?
What was wrong with her, for God's sake? He was just another man, after all.

Once out of the shower, she wrapped herself in a terry-cloth robe and vigorously shook out her wet hair. Today she was supposed to rehearse for the video. She loved it when she had nothing else to do except rehearse. It meant she didn't have to bother with makeup and putting on the Venus Maria persona. She could just be herself, bundle her hair into a ponytail, wear exercise clothes, and relax.

Ron made sure it was hard work – but he also made it fun. Long ago she'd decided she was a Gypsy at heart. Her work was everything, the recognition an added bonus.

She decided Martin Swanson wasn't going to spoil her day. Screw him.

Downstairs, Hannah, her housekeeper, greeted her with the usual large glass of freshly squeezed orange juice, and a dish filled with chopped apples, melon, bananas, and oranges, covered with a healthful sprinkling of bran.

‘Good morning,' Venus sang out, feeling surprisingly good in spite of mediocre sex and Martin's early exit. ‘How was your weekend?'

Hannah didn't mention that her two days of rest were nonstop drudgery while she caught up on household chores in her two-room apartment downtown. With four children and a husband to look after it wasn't easy. ‘Fine, Miss Venus,' she said, clearing up the dishes.

After the juice and fruit, Venus Maria indulged in a couple of pieces of toast liberally spread with chunky English marmalade.

Just as she was in the middle of the second piece, Ron arrived.

She looked up, pleased to see him. ‘What are you doing here? Aren't we supposed to meet at rehearsal in an hour?'

He carried a magazine which he placed carefully on the table. ‘I thought you should hear it from me first,' he announced dramatically. Ron always liked to make the most of everything.