Lady Boss

This was unexpected. Lucky wasn’t sure how to play it. ‘I’ve no idea what you’re talking about,’ she said at last. ‘I never lured you anywhere. You asked me out and I offered to cook you dinner. It’s not my fault you hit the booze.’

  Harry narrowed his eyes beneath his wire-rimmed spectacles. He was unhappy with the way this was going. He’d expected her to be more unsettled, not quite so in control. Determined to get to the point, he pressed on. ‘I know what you’re up to,’ he said.

  ‘If you know,’ she replied coolly, ‘how come you’re asking me?’

  This stumped Harry for a moment. He didn’t like her attitude. He didn’t like her. And he certainly didn’t like the fact that she’d made him turn to the bottle again. ‘Does Mickey Stolli know who you are?’ he demanded hotly.

  ‘Who am I?’ she replied, staring him down.

  ‘Who are you?’ he persisted. ‘Why don’t you tell me? Or do I have to ask Mr. Stolli myself?’

  ‘What would you ask him exactly?’

  ‘To investigate your background. I know that’s a wig you’re wearing. And you don’t need glasses. I also know you visited Abe Panther the other night.’

  She stared him down. ‘Then perhaps you should ask Mr. Panther what this is all about.’

  Harry lapsed into silence. Spotting a mark on the tablecloth he went to work, rubbing vigorously with his napkin.

  Lucky took a slow beat. ‘Whose side are you on, Harry?’ she asked, keeping an even tone.

  ‘What do you mean?’ he asked suspiciously.

  ‘You’re well aware of the kind of product this studio is turning out. You know how it used to be.’

  ‘It used to be great,’ he said vehemently.

  Lucky nodded. ‘It can be great again, Harry. Just trust me.’

  He was indignant. ‘Why should I trust somebody who tried to get me drunk?’

  ‘I had no idea you had a… problem.’

  He jumped on that one. ‘Did Mr. Panther tell you?’

  ‘Abe Panther never mentioned you.’

  She wasn’t sure whether he believed her or not, but she decided she wasn’t hanging around to find out. She got up from the table and prepared to leave. ‘Harry,’ she said, ‘you’d be doing me an enormous favour if you didn’t tell anybody what’s going on.’

  ‘I’ll do what I like,’ he said curtly.

  ‘In two weeks’ time,’ she said slowly, ‘everything will be clear.’

  ‘I’ll do what I like,’ he repeated. ‘You’d better be careful. I’m watching you.’

  Hurrying back to the office she thought about things. Another week working for Mickey Stolli. Another week closer to the end of this charade. And what had she discovered? That most people were stealing. That there were a lot of petty scams going on. And that men in the film business used women as commodities.

  When she took over, Mickey Stolli was out, and so were most of his little band of merry men. She already had her lawyer, Morton Sharkey, preparing a list of suitable replacements.

  ‘Let’s bring some women executives aboard,’ she’d suggested, and Morton had agreed. Already he was coming up with suggestions, although there weren’t that many women executives to choose from.

  In the meantime, Lennie was still on the missing list. Nobody seemed to know his whereabouts.

  She knew why he was doing it. Lennie had this childish habit of retaliating with more of the same. She’d done it to him, so he figured he’d pay her back.

  She really couldn’t blame him, because if the situation were reversed she’d probably behave in exactly the same way.

  Her conversation with Harry Browning was disturbing. What exactly did he know? Maybe she should have stayed and talked to him some more. But the quickest way out of a difficult situation seemed to be retreat.

  She made it back to the office five minutes before Mickey. He returned from his lunch early and shut himself away, telling Lucky that when Leslie Kane arrived she was to keep her waiting. ‘And if Eddie calls,’ he added, ‘don’t let him know his wife’s here.’

  Lucky had realized from Mickey’s previous conversation and meeting with Eddie that they were indeed into some distribution scam with certain underworld figures. She’d instructed Boogie to investigate, and Boogie had come up with the news that Eddie Kane was dealing with Carlo Bonnatti.

  It was a strange and unwelcome coincidence. Carlo, the scumbag brother of Santino and son of Enzio. The Bonnattis had always been enemies of the Santangelos. Their feud went back to the good old Vegas days. And now that Santino and Enzio were deceased, it was Carlo who controlled the family drug and porno empire.

  It was weird, Lucky thought, how the Bonnattis stayed connected to her life. She would be more than happy if she never had to hear the name again.

  From what Boogie was able to find out, Eddie Kane had made an arrangement with the Bonnatti organization to distribute their porno films in Europe, hiding them along with legitimate Panther product. If Lucky read Mickey correctly, he was anxious to get out of the deal, and wisely so, for Lucky knew it was a big mistake to fuck with the Bonnattis.

  Leslie Kane turned up promptly at three o’clock. She gave Lucky a friendly smile. ‘I’m here to see Mr. Stolli,’ she said brightly. ‘My name is Leslie Kane. I have an appointment.’

  Lucky was surprised. She hadn’t realized Eddie was married to such a fresh-looking beauty. ‘He’s expecting you. Take a seat, I’ll let him know you’re here.’

  Leslie sat down, picked up a copy of People magazine, and leafed through it. After a moment she put the magazine down. ‘I’m not too early, am I?’ she asked anxiously.

  Lucky glanced up. ‘You’re exactly on time. Your appointment is for three.’

  Lesley nodded thankfully. ‘That’s right.’

  Mickey kept her waiting twenty-five minutes. He didn’t come to his office door to greet her. Lucky had noticed he only made that meaningful move for major stars. As soon as Leslie entered his office, Lucky put on her miniature headphones, activated the tape machine, and began picking up every word.

  ‘Sit down, sit down,’ Mickey said, gesturing at Leslie.

  She sat in a chair opposite him, full of rapt attention. ‘You wanted to see me, Mr. Stolli?’

  He cleared his throat and shuffled some papers around his desk. ‘Uh… y’can call me Mickey.’

  Leslie, the wide-eyed beauty, gazed at him. ‘Thank you.’

  Mickey wondered where Eddie had stumbled upon this Iowa beauty queen. She still had corn in her hair. ‘Honey,’ he said, ‘we got ourselves a problem.’

  ‘What’s that, Mr. Stolli?’ she asked, full of concern. ‘I mean… Mickey.’

  Oh God! He’d found out about her past!

  ‘Your husband is a jerk,’ Mickey said flatly. ‘I’ve tried to help him – God knows I’ve tried. Over the years I’ve given him jobs an’ he’s screwed up. I’ve given him help an’ he’s thrown it back in my face. And now he’s got us into a mess I refuse to take responsibility for.’

  Leslie lowered her eyes. She had long, sweeping lashes. ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered, overwhelmed with relief that this meeting wasn’t about her.

  ‘It’s not your fault,’ said Mickey, wondering what she was like in bed.

  ‘Then why am I here?’ she asked, frowning slightly.

  Mickey chewed the end of his pen. ‘You’re here because Eddie’s in trouble,’ he said. ‘And this time I can’t help him.’

  ‘What kind of trouble?’ she asked, sweeping lashes going into overdrive.

  ‘A million big ones.’

  Leslie felt a flutter in the pit of her stomach. She hadn’t taken Eddie seriously when a couple of weeks ago she’d asked him if something was bothering him and he’d replied, ‘Nothing that a million bucks and a little cooperation from Mickey Stolli can’t fix.’

  ‘What can I do?’ she asked earnestly, leaning forward.

  ‘You’d better get Eddie to dig into his pockets and come up with the money,’ Mickey said harshly. ‘Cau
se if he doesn’t, he’s gonna find himself wearing cement boots on the wrong end of Santa Monica pier.’

  ‘Mr. Stolli… uh, Mickey… Eddie did mention this to me a couple of weeks ago. I thought he was joking.’

  ‘You go into business, you take the consequences. Eddie put together a deal. He brought it to me. And then he cheated me and his other partners, and now he’s got to pay the price. He tells me he has no money. What’s he done with it, Leslie, spent it on you?’

  She sat up straighter in her chair. ‘No, certainly not.’

  ‘That’s good, because he’s going to need it and I can’t help him. If he thinks I’m bailing him out yet again – I ain’t doing it. He’s on his own and he’d better pay up or he’s in over the top.’ Mickey picked up a script and began to flip through it. ‘That’s all,’ he said brusquely.

  The meeting was over.

  Leslie got up to leave. ‘I’ll do what I can,’ she murmured.

  She had a pair of legs on her that could strangle a giraffe! ‘You’d better,’ he said gruffly.

  ‘I will,’ she assured him earnestly.

  ‘Oh,’ Mickey added, ‘and do yourself another favour. Get that asshole husband of yours into drug rehab. He’s snorting his life away. I hope he hasn’t got you doing the same thing.’

  She was indignant. ‘I don’t touch drugs.’

  ‘Make sure you stick to that.’

  Leslie rushed out of the office.

  Lucky watched her on her way. Mickey Stolli was a mean bastard. What did he expect a young girl like Leslie to do about the mess Eddie had gotten them into?

  Mickey left his office soon after. ‘I’m going out,’ he said on his way to the door.

  Lucky knew better than to ask where. When he wanted to reveal his destination he did so. She figured another visit to Warner was about to take place.

  ‘What time can I expect you back, Mr. Stolli?’ she asked politely. This perfect-secretary shit was driving her nuts!

  ‘Expect me when you see me.’

  ‘And how shall I handle your afternoon appointments?’

  ‘Cancel ’em.’

  Fuck you, asshole. ‘Yes, Mr. Stolli.’

  It was amazing that people were prepared to do business with Mickey at all. He cared about nobody except himself.

  Twenty minutes after he left the building, Venus Maria appeared in the office. She wandered in wearing torn jeans, an oversize T-shirt, sneakers, and a Lakers baseball cap.

  At first Lucky thought she was a teenager. ‘Can I help you?’ she asked.

  ‘I need five minutes of Mickey’s time,’ Venus Maria said. ‘A mere five minutes so I can tell him what I think, an’ then I’m outta here.’

  Lucky recognized her voice. ‘I’m sorry, he’s not in his office.’

  ‘Shit!’ Venus Maria exclaimed. ‘I really needed to talk to him today.’

  ‘Is there something I can tell him?’

  Venus Maria threw a script onto Lucky’s desk. ‘Yeah. Tell Mr. S. this script stinks. He promised me a strong woman, and naturally he’s come up with the usual dumb bimbo victim. There’s no way I’m playing this sexist crap.’

  Lucky picked up the offending script. It was Bombshell, Mickey’s pet project.

  ‘I’ll be happy to tell him,’ she said.

  Venus Maria threw herself into a chair. ‘It’s not your fault. Jesus! When are these dumb jerks ever gonna learn?’

  Here was a woman after Lucky’s own heart. ‘Are you not doing it because of the way it’s written?’ she ventured.

  ‘You can bet your ass I’m not,’ Venus Maria replied vehemently. ‘I only do things I believe in.’

  ‘That’s the right attitude,’ Lucky said approvingly, forgetting her role for a moment.

  Venus Maria glanced at her. ‘It’s nice to know you agree. All girls together, huh?’

  ‘It’s about time somebody stood up to these… producers.’

  ‘Hey, you’d better not let your boss hear you talk that way.’ She looked around. ‘Where’s the English angel?’

  ‘Olive’s on sick leave. She broke her leg.’

  Venus Maria stifled a laugh. ‘What did Mickey do, kick her out of the office?’

  Not wanting to blow her cover, Lucky didn’t respond, although she realized this was a woman she could get along with just fine.

  Venus Maria stood up, yawned, and stretched. ‘Well, I guess it’s back to the grind. I’m on the set if he dares talk to me. He can call me in my dressing room or at home later. Just tell him – this is not the story line we discussed. The woman in this script is a victim, and this baby ain’t playing no victims.’

  Lucky was delighted. Venus Maria had a big future at Panther. She would make sure of that.

  Chapter 33

  Eddie was pacing restlessly around the house when Leslie arrived home. He hadn’t been to the studio for three days. He looked haggard, there were bags under his eyes and the beginnings of a full beard. ‘Where have you been?’ he demanded, staring at her accusingly.

  Leslie wasn’t sure whether she was supposed to tell him she’d been summoned to visit Mickey or not. She decided honesty was the best way to handle this. ‘Um… I went to see Mickey Stolli,’ she said, taking off her jacket.

  Eddie immediately exploded. ‘What the fuck did you go see him for?’

  ‘Because he asked me to,’ she explained patiently.

  ‘And if he asked you to give him a blow-job, you’d do that, too, huh?’

  She walked into the kitchen. ‘Eddie, don’t be silly.’

  ‘Quit talkin’ to me like I’m a schmuck, OK? You go see Mickey an’ you don’t even tell me about it. Then you come back here an’ try to put me down. What’s the game, Leslie?’

  She looked at him with wide eyes. ‘We’re in trouble, Eddie, aren’t we?’

  ‘Trouble?’ he snorted. ‘What kind of trouble are we in, honey?’

  She picked up the kettle and began filling it with water. ‘Mickey says we’re in trouble. He says you owe a lot of money.’

  Eddie paced up and down. ‘Oh, he says I owe money, does he? Well, let me tell you this, baby. The studio owes money. They’re responsible. He’s in this as much as I am, and there’s no way he’s getting out.’

  ‘Mickey says you owe a million dollars.’

  ‘Why is he bringing you into it?’ Eddie snapped.

  Leslie shook her head. ‘Maybe he thinks I can help.’

  Eddie laughed mirthlessly. ‘Help? You? Who the fuck is he kidding?’

  Leslie looked at him with a hurt expression. ‘Maybe I can,’ she said defensively.

  ‘Come on, baby, it’s a million bucks we’re talkin’ here, not ten cents. Wise up.’

  ‘What are you going to do?’

  Eddie shook his head. ‘I haven’t figured it out yet. But whatever it is, Mickey’s gonna be on for the ride. Panther can pay without blinkin’ – why should I take the fall?’

  ‘Eddie,’ Leslie said tentatively. ‘Mickey says you’ve got a drug problem. He says you should do something about it.’

  Eddie exploded. ‘What’s his friggin’ game? It’s none of his goddamn business what I’ve got. So I do a little coke occasionally. Big fucking deal.’

  ‘More than occasionally.’

  ‘Hey, hey, hey, who am I married to, Mother Teresa?’

  ‘I only want to help you.’

  ‘I’ll tell you how to help me, baby. Just shut the fuck up and leave me alone, OK?’

  Leslie nodded miserably. ‘OK.’

  * * *

  Warner was not at home. Mickey couldn’t believe he’d driven all the way to her apartment and she wasn’t there. They’d arranged the rendezvous on the phone the previous day, and it wasn’t like Warner to break a date. He rang the doorbell, and then in frustration kicked the door a few times before angrily making his way down to the underground garage. Climbing into his Porsche, he revved the engine.

  Mickey Stolli liked to get laid on a regular basis. Warner satisfied hi
m, but she had to be there when he needed her.

  Sitting in his car he made a call to Ford Werne. Ford had often mentioned in passing that he did not believe in having affairs, he believed in paying for it. Mickey had laughed in his face. ‘Paying for pussy? In this town!’ he’d exclaimed. ‘L.A. is a free pussy heaven!’

  Ford had responded in a calm and sensible way. ‘You pay for it, Mickey, you know exactly what you’re getting. They don’t want a part in your movie. They don’t want a piece of your life. They don’t want you to take them to Hawaii, give them head, and buy them dresses. They do what you want. It’s the perfect situation. Sex without guilt, served up exactly as you like it.’

  Mickey had visions of a Chicano hooker on the corner of Vermont and Sunset in a fake-leather miniskirt, fluorescent tube-top, and ten-inch heels.

  As if reading his mind Ford had said, ‘And let me tell you something else. The girls I sleep with are far more beautiful than any transient date.’

  ‘Where do you find them?’ Mickey had asked curiously.

  ‘That’s the great thing,’ Ford had replied. ‘I don’t find them, Loretta does.’

  ‘Who’s Loretta?’

  ‘She’s the greatest little madam in town. She has a house in the hills and she hand-picks all her girls. They’re only in action for a few months, and let me tell you this, they’re gorgeous.’

  It sounded like a great deal for those who were interested. After Ford had told him about it, Mickey heard the name Madame Loretta from a couple of other guys. He’d never given it a whirl because he’d always had Warner standing by. But today he needed action, and he needed it immediately.

  When Ford came on the line he requested Madame Loretta’s number.

  Ford chuckled softly. ‘Coming around to my way of thinking?’ he asked.

  Mickey lowered his voice, even though he was sitting in his car where nobody could possibly hear him. ‘Is this woman discreet?’

  Ford reassured him. ‘She gives the word discreet a whole new meaning. I’ll call her and tell her you’re on your way.’

  ‘Do that,’ Mickey said. He didn’t like asking anybody for a favour, but today he had no choice.

  Madame Loretta greeted him like an over-solicitous Jewish mother. She was a plump woman with glowing skin and a warm smile. ‘Welcome, welcome,’ she beamed, leading him into a large living room overlooking the city view. ‘Can I get you a refreshment – coffee, tea, a drink?’