Vendetta: Lucky's Revenge (24 page)

BOOGIE AMBLED INTO HER HOUSE EARLY IN THE
morning.

Lucky was waiting for him. “We need to have a meeting,” she said. “Immediately.”

Boogie followed her into the den without saying a word.

Maria ran out from the kitchen, falling into step behind them. “Me come, too, Mommy! Me, too!” she singsonged.

“No, sweetheart,” Lucky said firmly. “You stay with Cee Cee. Mommy’s got business to conduct.”

“Bus-a-nez,” Maria said and giggled uncontrollably. “Me come, too.”

“Cee Cee,” Lucky called out.

Cee Cee appeared.

The little girl began kicking and yelling. “Wanna be with Mommy. WANNA BE WITH MY MOMMY.”

“I promise we’ll go see Grandpa later,” Lucky said. “But only if you’re a good girl and eat up all your breakfast.”

Cee Cee scooped Maria up and carried her back to the kitchen.

“Maria’s exactly like me,” Lucky said ruefully, running
a hand through her long dark curls. “When she wants something, she wants it now.” Boogie nodded. “Nice vacation, Boog?” He nodded again. “Okay,” she said. “Let’s get down to it—here’s the big news. While you were away, Panther was taken over.”

Boogie let out a long, low whistle.

“Yeah, I know, it was a shock to me, too.” She lit up a cigarette, drew deeply, and continued. “What I need is a full report on the woman who did this—family, where she’s from, information on any company she’s involved with, who her business partners are, all of that. If you have to hire other people, that’s okay, as long as you keep it confidential. And I want everything as soon as possible.”

“Right,” Boogie said, his long, thin face alert.

“And put Morton Sharkey under surveillance. Something’s wrong—I don’t know what. Get me stuff on his wife and kids, too—maybe his behavior has something to do with them.”

“No problem,” Boogie said.

“Then there’s a Mrs. Smorg, whose only address is care of a lawyer in Pasadena. Find out who she is, where she lives. And everything about Conquest Investments—a company based in the Bahamas.”

“You got it.”

She walked over to the drinks tray and contemplated pouring herself a Scotch.

Too early. Not the answer. Besides, she still had a lingering hangover.

“Okay, I guess that’s it for now.”

Boogie followed her across the room. “Are you all right?” he asked.

She shrugged. “The truth is, I feel totally helpless until I get a full picture.”

“I’ll do my best. Some of the information might not be accessible until the beginning of the week.”

“I understand that. I’m taking the kids to Gino’s for the weekend.” She handed him copies of all the relevant papers. “The moment you have something, contact me there.”

As soon as Boogie left, she hurried into the kitchen. Maria was happily sitting at the table gobbling down Frosty Pops, her big eyes tracking a Bugs Bunny cartoon on television. She seemed perfectly happy. “Hi, Mommy,” she said with an angelic little smile.

Lucky frowned. “Who
was
that girl?” she said sternly. “The one doing all that screaming?”

“Don’ know, Mommy,” Maria said, gazing innocently at her mother.

“Hmm…” Lucky said, still pretending to be cross. “I
think
it was
…you
!” She pounced on her daughter, tickling her tummy.

“No, Mommy!” Maria screamed.

“
Yes!
I think it was a naughty little girl with big eyes and a big mouth,” Lucky teased.

“Wanna see Daddy,” Maria said, her lower lip suddenly quivering, not quite sure if Lucky was mad at her or not. “Wanna see my daddy.”

“Daddy can’t be here now, sweetheart,” Lucky said softly, thinking,
How do you tell a two-year-old that her daddy is dead, and that she’ll never see him again?
“He’s away…making a movie.”

“Wanna see Daddy,” Maria repeated, her small face puckering, a single tear rolling down her cheek. “Wanna see Daddy
now
.”

Lucky picked her up, holding her close. “Tell you what, angel. Later we’ll go visit Grandpa in Palm Springs.”

“Okay, Mommy,” Maria said, the tears stopping as she stroked her mother’s face. “Love you, Mommy.”

Lucky hugged her even tighter. “And I love you, too, baby. I love you the whole wide world.”

Alex slumped in his seat on the plane back to L.A., suffering from a monster-sized hangover. He hadn’t meant to, but he’d laid one on the night before with a reluctant Russell, who was more interested in getting back to his hotel room and phoning his wife than accompanying Alex on a tour of the strip clubs.

They’d covered them all, and at each place Alex had gotten more and more despondent. These girls, these lap dancers, would throw their tits in anybody’s face, wriggle their ass all over your lap, come on to you like you were the most attractive man in the world. And all they really wanted was the big buck. There was something completely soulless about sex when it was presented in such a purely commercial way. Although, once they recognized him, Alex Woods—the famous film director—they were all over him like a pack of vultures picking away at fresh meat.

Everybody was a star fuck.

He was pissed off at Lucky’s response to his phone call; she was not reacting as planned. Too bad for her, there were plenty of women who’d cream at the chance to spend ten minutes in his company. Tin Lee would do anything he asked, so would a lot of other females he could think of.

He had that
I just wanna lie down and die
hungover feeling. And now he had to arrive back in L.A. ready to deal with Johnny Romano’s and Venus’s vast egos, because he knew it wasn’t going to be Disneyland once those two got together.

When he arrived at his office, he found a stack of messages to be dealt with. In his absence, Lili could handle only so much; many things needed his personal attention.

“Johnny Romano requires a script conference,” Lili
informed him. “He’s also insisting Armani design his clothes, and as wardrobe has quite rightly pointed out, Armani was not around during that time period.”

He’d known when Freddie had talked him into using Johnny Romano that the superstar actor was going to be trouble. He’d hired him anyway, because Johnny was exactly right for the part. Thank God he’d gone with an unknown actor for the other lead role.

“I’ll deal with it,” he said shortly. “He’s coming in to test with Venus today, right?”

“He said to be sure to tell you he’s only doing it as a personal favor to you.”

Alex laughed dryly. “Some thrill, huh? Dealing with stars.”

“You’ll handle him,” Lili responded in her usual unruffled fashion. “You always do.”

“You coming to the set with me today, Lili?” he asked, feeling like some sympathetic female company.

“If you want me to,” she said. She liked it when Alex was in one of his needy moods.

“What would I do without you, Lili?” He sighed, flashing a wan version of his killer smile, well aware that whatever he did, she would always be his faithful fan.

“You’d manage,” she said crisply, knowing full well he wouldn’t. He’d fall to pieces without her smooth organizational skills keeping everything together. Alex was not easy to work for, but she’d mastered the art of keeping him happy. She met his every need—except sexually. Lili was glad that part of their relationship was over; he’d been a selfish lover, but that was okay, she’d understood he was damaged. Alex didn’t know how to give because he’d never had to. His domineering mother had ruined him in that area.

“Okay, let’s go,” Alex said, always on the move. “And bring the Vicodin—I’m half dead.”

Every day, Leslie Kane read the trades from cover to cover. She felt it was important to know exactly what was happening in town, it gave her an edge.

Today she noted that Lucky Santangelo was out at Panther Studios. Interesting. Then she went on to read that Mickey Stolli was being reinstated as studio head. Very interesting, because it was Mickey’s wife, Abigaile, who’d discovered her and made Mickey give her her first big break.

Next she read about Venus testing for the part of Lola in Alex Woods’s hot new movie,
Gangsters
. She immediately grabbed the phone and called her agent.

“Why aren’t I up for this role?” she demanded.

“Because it’s only a cameo,” her agent replied.

“I don’t care. It’s a cameo in an Alex Woods film. Get me a script.”

“I’ll talk to Alex today.”

“You do that. Oh, and Quinn—in future, kindly apprise me of everything—let
me
make the decisions.”

Who did he think he was dealing with? The same naive girl who’d been discovered in a beauty parlor? No, she was Leslie Kane, the current darling of the American screen and, as such, she should be treated with the right amount of respect.

She decided to play it out without using her connections as far as Mickey and Abigaile were concerned. They were her insurance—Leslie knew that if she put on the pressure, the part was hers.

Sometimes Leslie wondered what Abigaile would say if she knew about her sordid past. Mickey didn’t remember her—even though he’d once attended a bachelor party for a big producer in her call-girl days. He and his friends had behaved appallingly, all they were interested in was humiliating and degrading the
women, and getting their dicks sucked. A bunch of out-of-control pigs.

Thank God she’d had the strength to get out of that particular business after meeting Eddie. At least he’d done
something
for her.

Jeff Stoner entered the bedroom, a towel tied casually around his waist. He had wet hair and a big grin. He looked happy, and so he should, he was living with one of the most successful young actresses in Hollywood.

“Can we go see the new Mercedes today?” he asked.

She’d told him she wanted to buy another car, and she knew Jeff was thinking that if he helped pick it out, he’d more than likely be the one to drive it.

“Maybe,” she said, keeping him hanging.

Jeff was a nice guy, but nobody could live up to Cooper.

For over two months now she’d been plotting and planning how to get Cooper back. He was ensconced in his former apartment and refused to take her calls.

What had she done? Nothing, except love him. The fact that he’d gotten caught wasn’t her fault. He was blaming her, and she didn’t like it.

She’d loved him, now she was beginning to hate him.

But what could she do?

Johnny Romano had the look of a true movie star with his thick, sensual lips, sly smile, and deep-set, sexually inviting brown eyes. He was Hispanic, six feet tall, and of slender build, although he’d developed his upper body enough to boast a powerful set of muscles.

Women couldn’t get enough of Johnny Romano.

Johnny Romano couldn’t get enough of women.

They were his addiction. Conquering them was everything. Johnny had an insatiable sexual appetite—it was not unusual for him to bed one or two women a day.
Ever aware of the peril of AIDS, he protected himself with two condoms and a cavalier attitude, although he’d assured himself AIDS could never happen to
him
. He was a megastar, for God’s sake, and what’s more, he was a
straight
megastar. The condoms were merely a gesture in the right direction, a nod to the good Lord, because Johnny was also a devout Catholic boy.

Eighteen months previously he’d been stood up at the altar by Warner Franklin, a black lady cop. The ungrateful witch had run off with a six-foot-ten American basketball player just before they were due to wed in Europe. Johnny had never forgiven her. As far as he was concerned, Warner had given all women a bad name.

He was pleased to be testing with Venus Maria, he’d always had a thing for her—even though, in the past, when he’d invited her out, she’d turned him down. Now that she wanted to be in
Gangsters
it could be his chance to finally score.

He strode onto the set, his entourage hovering protectively around him, ready to zip into action in case any uninvited mortal approached their star without express permission.

Alex moved over to greet him. “Johnny,” he said as they exchanged a firm, macho handshake. “I appreciate you doing this, so does Venus.”

“That’s okay, man,” Johnny said magnanimously. “Anything for you.”

Yeah, sure. When it suits you
.

“So…” Alex said. “What’s all this crap I hear about you wanting Armani to design your clothes? We all know Armani wasn’t around then. Whoever came up with that idea is just plain dumb.”

Even the slightest hint of being thought of as dumb sent Johnny into a spin. “Sure, Alex,” he agreed. “Armani—ha! Who the fuck thought of
that
?”

Alex said, “I know it wasn’t you.”

Johnny said, “No way, man.”

“Wardrobe is designing special outfits for the character. You’ll love ’em. This part’s made for you, Johnny, you’ll be great in it.”

“I know,” Johnny said immodestly. “And, Alex, we gotta sit down for a script conference. There’s a few things I wanna change.”

“Of course,” Alex said pleasantly, while thinking,
Fuck you, asshole. I’m not changing one word of my script
.

“Where’s the lady?” Johnny asked, strolling behind the camera.

“On her way.”

“Haven’t seen Venus in a while,” Johnny said casually. “Tough broad—stupid, too—she made the mistake of marrying Cooper Turner when she could’ve had me.”

Oh, Christ!
Alex thought.
She never fucked him, and he’s pissed
.

“Good morning, Johnny,” Lili said with a welcoming handshake.

Johnny favored her with a sleepy smile. “Hi’ya, gorgeous. How come the man let you out of the office?”

“To see you, of course,” Lili replied, right on cue.

Alex smiled to himself. Lili always knew the right thing to say to keep a superstar happy.

Venus walked onto the set a few minutes later, dressed in a low-cut, clinging scarlet dress, her hair blonder than ever. She looked spectacular. Accompanying her was a smaller entourage than Johnny’s. Three people—hair, makeup, and Anthony—whom she’d allowed to come along as a special treat.