Vendetta: Lucky's Revenge (37 page)

THE STOLLIS’ DINNER DRAGGED ON
.

Jeff got drunker; Leslie got sulkier; Mickey got bolder; Abigaile got fussier; Alex got angrier; Tin Lee got tenser; Johnny got hornier; Venus got flirtier; George got quieter; Donna got gloomier; Veronica got louder; and Cooper got more detached.

As soon as coffee was served, Alex was on his feet. “C’mon,” he said to Tin Lee, roughly pulling her to her feet. “Say good-bye.”

They stood outside the house next to their respective cars.

“Would you like me to come home with you?” Tin Lee asked, tentatively placing her hand on his arm.

“Y’know, Tin Lee,” he said, realizing it was not fair to string her along any further. “This isn’t working out for either of us.”

“Excuse me, Alex?” she said, removing her hand.

“I can’t make you happy.”

Oh
, she thought miserably. The “
I can’t make you happy
” speech, which, roughly translated, means “
You can’t make me happy
.”

Her eyes filled with tears. Over the months, she’d grown attached to Alex, and even though he was not the
world’s greatest lover, she had a need to be with him. Deep down she felt he needed her, too, because she was a calming influence on his otherwise turbulent life. Surely he realized it?

“Alex—” she began.

He cut her off. “I don’t want to talk now,” he said abruptly.

“If we don’t talk now, when will we?”

“Look, I’m starting my movie, I’m very busy. I shouldn’t even be out.”

“I visited your mother tonight,” she said quietly. “We had an interesting talk. I saw your family photo albums. You were a sweet little boy, Alex.”

“Why did you do that?” he asked, mad at Dominique for allowing such intimacy.

“Your mother is lonely, Alex. She loves you very much.”

“I’m not interested in hearing what you think about me and my mother,” he said angrily. “Dominique is
not
your friend, okay?”

Tin Lee sighed. “What do you want from a woman, Alex?” she asked. “What would make you happy?”

He didn’t answer immediately, he considered her question. “Peace,” he said at last. “That’s what I want, peace.”

Venus and Johnny Romano made their exit shortly after Alex. Comfortably lounging in the back of his limo, Johnny stretched out his long legs and poured Venus more champagne. “Really boring, babe,” he announced. “Those people got no clue how to get down.”

“Maybe that
is
their idea of getting down,” Venus remarked.

Johnny smoothed back his Latin-lover heavily greased black hair. “Well, they got one dull life.”

“Abigaile doesn’t think so.”

He swigged from the champagne bottle. “So how come you told me not to say anything about the movie?”

She gave a small, triumphant smile. “Because…I’ve got the role.”

He smiled broadly. “Hey, baby—must’ve been something I said.”

“I’m sure it was, Johnny.”

“We gotta celebrate,” he said. “Wanna stop by my place?”

“What kind of celebration is that?”

“Don’t put it down till you’ve seen it.” He leered. “
Wanna
see it, babe?”

“See what?” she asked, as if she didn’t get his double entendre.

He grinned lasciviously, patting his immediate erection, quite obvious in his tight-fitting black pants.

Venus averted her eyes, feigning a yawn. “I’m more interested in getting a good night’s sleep…by myself.”

“Hey—baby, Johnny Romano
never
forced himself on anyone. Never had to. But I’m telling you,” he added boastingly, “you got no idea the goodies you’re missing.”

“My—what a big ego you have,” she drawled.

“Yeah, all the better to eat you up with.”

She couldn’t help laughing. Johnny’s lines were outrageously corny.

“Hey—” he said, reaching for more champagne. “Did you catch the face on that fat kid when he saw you?”

“What fat kid?”

“The Landsmans’ son. He took one look at you and nearly came in his pants!”

“Johnny!”

“Maybe he’s your number-one fan, babycakes.”

“I didn’t notice him.”

“You’re so cool. He’s gonna be talking about you for months, and
you
didn’t notice the poor kid.”

“I saw the Stollis’ daughter twirling her little navel ring in your direction.”

“Sixteen? Too young.”

“What?” she said, amused. “By about three months?”

He laughed. “You’re funny. We’re gonna have good times on this movie.”

“You bet we are, Johnny. First we’ll work
very
hard,
then
we’ll have good times.”

“I’m renting a house in Vegas. There’s room for one more.”

“Thanks, Johnny, I’ll get my own house. That’s the nice thing about being a star—I can afford to do whatever I want. And what
I
want right now is to be left alone.”

“I have an early photo shoot tomorrow,” Veronica said, glancing meaningfully at Cooper.

He took the hint and stood up.

“I enjoy those catalogues you appear in,” Mickey said, absently rubbing his bald head. “Very sexy, Veronica. Very sexy indeed.”

“Thank you, Mickey,” Veronica replied, towering over him.

Mickey moved a little closer. He liked tall women, they gave a whole new meaning to going down. “You ever thought about being in a movie?” he asked.

“As a matter of fact, I have. Last week I signed with William Morris for film and commercial representation.”

“Good move.”

She favored him with a horsey smile. “I’m glad you think so.”

He licked his fleshy lips, this one was a definite turn-on. He’d like to squeeze his cock between her big tits and come all over her. “Give me a call at the studio sometime. Maybe I can help.”

“I’ll do that, Mickey.”

Cooper kissed Abigaile on both cheeks. “Nice dinner, Abbey, thanks,” he said, not meaning it.

“We must do this again,” Abigaile gushed, always delighted to have Cooper as a guest.

“Absolutely,” Cooper said, thinking,
No way!
He took Veronica’s arm and led her out the front door. “Sorry about that,” he said in a low voice as they waited for his car.

“I’m sure you’re planning on compensating me,” Veronica purred provocatively.

“Definitely,” he answered, on automatic pilot, although his mind was on Venus. Seeing her with Johnny Romano had really upset him.

He drove to Veronica’s apartment, got out of the car, and escorted her inside.

In the elevator, she suddenly pounced, pinning his shoulders up against the wall, kissing him with the most inventive tongue he’d ever come across. God, she was strong!

This was a switch,
he
was the one usually calling the shots.

“Hey,” he objected as her hands traveled intimately down his body, rubbing his penis. “Let’s not get carried away.”

“Don’t be a tease, Cooper,” she said, exploring his left ear with her probing tongue. “I’ve heard about your reputation. The girls are all dying to know.”

“What girls?”

A low, throaty laugh. “We have a little supermodel club. Y’know, see who can fuck the most billionaires and movie stars.”

“That’s really impressive,” he said sarcastically.

“No,” she said, her hand pressed firmly against his dick. “
This
is what
I
call impressive.”

And before he could say anything, she reached for the
Stop button, and as the elevator lurched to a halt, urgently began unbuckling his belt.

Cooper felt like a girl with a guy who was coming on too strong. Was this date rape?
Oh God, Venus, where are you when I need you?

Before he knew it, Veronica had his pants down around his ankles and was busily working on removing his undershorts.

It occurred to him that any moment somebody could buzz for the elevator, the doors would open, and he’d be exposed for all to see.

“Let’s go to your apartment,” he said.

“I want to do it here,” she countered, breathing heavily as she unzipped the back of her dress, allowing it to fall from her long, lean body.

The most famous underwear model in the world didn’t wear any. She was tall and smooth-skinned, with a shaved pussy and prominent nipples. She was also very, very naked. “Kiss this,” she said, shoving one of her boobs toward his mouth. “Kiss it, suck it—c’mon, lover boy, show me what you can do.”

“Am I about to make your list of billionaires and movie stars?” he groaned, chewing on a nipple.

“Maybe you’ll be top of the list,” she promised, throwing a long leg around his waist, deftly trying to maneuver him inside her.

“Are you sure they don’t have security cameras in these elevators?” he said, feeling his erection slipping away.

“Get with the program, baby,” Veronica encouraged in her guttural voice. “Do it to me—do it to me good.”

A standing-up fuck—just what he felt like.

He wondered what Venus was doing now. Was she in Johnny’s infamous limo? Was he plying her with champagne while telling her she was the sexiest woman in the world?

Johnny was too obvious, Venus wouldn’t fall for his corny crap.

As he thought about Venus, his erection completely deserted him, and he slipped out of Veronica, who was not pleased. “What’s the matter?” she said sternly, sounding like a drill sergeant.

Oh, God, he didn’t want her running back to the supermodel squad, reporting that he was a dud.

“Can’t do it in an elevator—too public,” he explained. “It’s not my thing.”

“Public sex excites
me
,” Veronica said, flicking out her extra-long tongue and wriggling it at him, kind of a snakelike come-on. “I once did it in a bathroom at the White House. Nobody knew.”

“Except the President,” he joked.

She didn’t get it.

“Let me see if I can persuade you to overcome your fear of elevators,” she said, falling to her knees and taking his penis into her mouth, ramming in his balls along with it.

This little move made him nervous, not horny. She had the biggest mouth he’d ever come across. He felt himself shrinking more as each moment passed.

“This isn’t going to work,” he said, attempting to remove himself from her mouth before she crushed his precious balls to pieces.

“Don’t I turn you on, Cooper?” she said in her deep, brown voice. “Every man in America wants to fuck me. They leaf through my catalogue, then look at their fat wives, and go—‘Ah…Veronica…my fantasy woman. I want her tits in my mouth, my tongue in her pussy.’”

“The problem is that I don’t have a fat wife at home,” Cooper said, groping for his pants on the elevator floor and hurriedly pulling them on. “I need a drink,” he added tersely.

“Oh, you have to drink to get it up, is that it?” she said nastily.

He was beginning to dislike her more and more; in spite of her outward appearance, there was nothing feminine about her.

“I was married to Venus Maria,” he said. “In fact, I still
am
. We’re separated.”

“She’s shorter than I expected.”

“She’s a very special woman.”

“Then why are you separated?”

Good question.

Someone yelled down the elevator shaft. “Are you stuck?”

Calmly Veronica stepped into her dress. “Zip me up,” she commanded.

He did as she asked and flipped the On switch. The elevator rumbled into action.

Veronica smoothed down her dress. “How old are you, Cooper?” she asked.

“It’s public record,” he said with an unperturbed smile, secretly livid she would ask such an intimate question.

“Hmm…” she said knowledgeably. “Perhaps you need a shot of testosterone.”

Bitch!
“Not when I’m with my wife I don’t,” he said, wiping the smile off her horsey face.

The only people left at the dinner party were Abigaile and Mickey, Donna and George, a drunken Jeff and an uptight Leslie. She’d been dying to go for the past half hour, but it was impossible to get Jeff to move. He sprawled on a couch with a sloppy smile stuck on his face. “Y’know, Mickey,” he said, “one of these days I’d like to produce.”

You’d better learn to act first
, Mickey thought sourly.
There was nothing he hated more than the slew of good-looking guys who came to Hollywood figuring they could be actors, producers, directors. This Jeff guy was an out-and-out loser. Somebody had to talk some sense into Leslie.

“Where do you think the children are?” Donna said, her lips pressed into a thin, disapproving line.

“Dunno,” Mickey said, not too concerned. “Maybe the movie ran longer than they expected.”

“I’m disappointed,” Donna said, ignoring George’s warning look.

“How’s that?” Mickey said.

“You invited Santo here for dinner, then sent him out to a movie. That’s not very polite.”

“The kids didn’t want to sit around with a bunch of old people like us,” Mickey said expansively. “Tabitha will take care of your boy.”

“He doesn’t need taking care of,” Donna said frostily. “He also doesn’t need to be led astray.”

“What do you mean by that?” Abigaile said, quickly joining in. Nobody was going to criticize
her
daughter.

“Santo is a good boy,” Donna said.

“Are you implying that Tabitha is a bad influence?” Abigaile said, bristling.

“Maybe I should call our house,” George suggested.

“Yes,” Donna said, trying to control her aggravation.

“Use the phone behind the bar,” Mickey offered.

Leslie got up to go to the guest bathroom.

“May I have a word with you, dear?” Mickey said, following her into the hall.

“Sure, Mickey,” Leslie said, listless since Cooper had left with the skinny six-foot model with the phony tits.

“You’re looking tired,” he said.

“Do you think so?”

“Y’know, Leslie,” Mickey continued, putting his arm around her shoulders. “Leading ladies—they gotta be
sparkling at all times. Who
is
this schmuck you’re with?”

“You mean Jeff?”

“What are you doing with a loser like him? Is he a great fuck? ’Cause I can find you another guy who’s better in bed,
and
has brains to go with it.”