She nodded. ‘He certainly did. We’ll all have dinner next time he’s out here.’
‘If I’m around.’
‘Don’t give me that. You’re going to be around forever.’
The lawyers were lined up and waiting. Morton had two assistants with him, while Abe’s lawyers consisted of two businesslike men in three-piece suits.
Abe made quite a ceremony over signing the final papers. He’d had Inga put out the best glassware, all the better to serve vintage champagne.
Just before signing he handed Lucky a Cartier box. ‘Got you this, girlie,’ he said proudly. ‘Wanted you to have a souvenir of today.’
Lucky was quite touched. She opened the box. Inside was an exquisite gold panther pin. On the inside was inscribed To Lucky, from Abe Panther. Kill ’em, girlie!
She leaned over and kissed him. ‘This is beautiful, Abe. I’ll wear it proudly. And I’ll look after your studio.’ Her black eyes gleamed. ‘Bet on it!’
Abe signed the papers with a flourish, and the champagne flowed. ‘Here’s to the end of an era,’ he said, toasting her. ‘The start of somethin’ new.’
‘It’ll be something new all right,’ Lucky said. ‘I made you a promise and I’ll keep it. Panther Studios will be great again.’
They locked eyes. Lucky Santangelo and Abe Panther. Nearly sixty years separated them, but they were perfectly in tune.
An hour later Boogie drove her to the airport. She was elated beyond her wildest expectations. Lucky Santangelo. Owner and President of Panther Studios. God damn it! Who would ever have believed it? She couldn’t wait to see Lennie’s face. And the rest of him.
Triumphantly she boarded the chartered plane.
Boogie made sure the luggage was aboard, and joined her.
It was a clear L.A. night. Lucky gazed out of the window as the smooth jet zoomed down the runway and took off into the star-studded night sky.
She ordered champagne from the steward and toasted the sea of lights spread out like a shimmering blanket beneath her.
‘Here’s to you, L.A.,’ she said. ‘And here’s to Panther.’
A new adventure was just beginning.
Chapter 48
The white treble-stretch limo snaked its way through the crowds to the front of Grauman’s Chinese Theater on Hollywood Boulevard. A red carpet led from the sidewalk into the theatre. Lining the sides of the carpet were various members of the press and camera crews from many different countries. The huge crowds spilled over into the road. When they saw the white limo approaching a chant went up from the crowd. ‘JOHNNY! JOHNNY! JOHNNY!’ screamed the masses. ‘WE WANT JOHNNY! WE WANT JOHNNY ROMANO!’
Safely ensconced in his limo, Johnny Romano could hear the tribal yell. He grinned at his date, a pretty young actress with large breasts and a twinkling smile. He’d called her at the last moment. The woman he’d really wanted on his arm was Venus Maria, but since Venus wouldn’t honour him with her presence he’d settled for this one.
Also in the car were his two faithful bodyguards and his manager.
When the limo pulled to a halt, they all stayed put for a couple of minutes, allowing the excitement to build outside on the sidewalk.
‘What’s going on?’ the actress asked. ‘Why are we waiting?’
‘Foreplay,’ Johnny replied with a suggestive wink.
The manager got out of the car first, followed by the bodyguards, followed by Johnny’s date, and finally the great Johnny Romano himself.
A hysterical scream went up from the crowd.
Johnny acknowledged his fans with a kingly wave, pausing by the limo for a few seconds before strutting down the red carpet, his bodyguards flanking him on either side, his date trailing behind, his manager bringing up the rear. Reporters and camera crews pleaded for a moment of his time.
He ignored them all until he reached Entertainment Tonight. ET was his favourite TV programme. He watched it every night.
Jeannie Wolf was there with a microphone and a welcoming smile. ‘Johnny, are you pleased about the movie?’ she asked.
‘Hey, Jeannie. Good to see you. Howya doin’?’ he said, playing Mister Humble Movie Star to the hilt. ‘Yeah, I guess I’m kinda pleased. Motherfaker’s gonna surprise a lot of people. I put mucho heavy work into it. My fans are gonna like it. My mother’s gonna like it. My father’s gonna be ecstatic!’
The crowd roared its approval. They wanted Johnny to be a hit. They rooted for him.
Jeannie laughed politely.
Johnny threw a long, lingering look straight to camera. ‘All you folks out there, go buy your tickets for Motherfaker. You’ll have a good time. Johnny – he promises you that.’
‘Thank you, Johnny,’ said Jeannie.
‘Thank you, Jeannie,’ said Johnny, waving to his fans as he strode manfully into the theatre.
* * *
Crawling along Hollywood Boulevard, caught in a horrendous traffic jam, trapped in a small sedan, were Abigaile and Mickey Stolli. They’d bickered all the way from their house. First of all the car had arrived late, and when it finally did get there Abigaile had freaked out when she’d realized she was expected to ride to the première in a small sedan. She’d thrown an absolute fit, screaming at the driver, an out-of-work actor who almost walked off the job.
‘I never ordered a car like this,’ she’d yelled. ‘I’ve never been in a car like this in my life. Where’s my stretch limo?’
‘It’s down on the sheet, ma’am,’ the driver had replied politely. ‘This is the car you requested.’
Abigaile had narrowed her eyes, naturally blaming Mickey. ‘I’ll murder that secretary of yours. She’s an idiot. And it’s your fault.’
‘Don’t worry about it,’ Mickey had replied calmly. ‘I’m firing her first thing Monday.’
‘Monday isn’t soon enough,’ Abigaile said ominously, before turning her attention back to the driver. ‘Why are you so late?’
‘Six-forty-five, ma’am. That’s the time I was told to be here.’
‘I expected the car to be here at six-thirty,’ Abigaile had said through clenched teeth. ‘This is simply not good enough.’
Mickey had shrugged. There were enough things on his mind. He didn’t need Abigaile screaming too.
She’d wanted him to send the car back and get a limousine, but he’d pointed out there wasn’t time. ‘I’ll have the driver arrange everything while we’re in the theatre,’ he’d assured her. ‘There’ll be a limousine to meet us when we leave.’
She’d finally agreed and got in the car reluctantly. Image was all-important to Abigaile and this just wouldn’t do.
Even earlier than that, when Mickey had arrived home from the studio, they’d discussed Abe Panther calling a Monday-morning meeting without consulting either of them.
‘I don’t understand what’s going on,’ Abigaile fretted. ‘Why would he contact Primrose and Ben without first telling me? I saw him this week. It would have been easy for him to mention something.’
‘Why is he coming to the studio at all?’ Mickey had growled. ‘There’s something out of line going on.’
Abigaile had muttered her agreement, wondering if now was the right moment to tell him about Warner.
Eventually she’d decided against it. Mickey would accuse her of being insane if she admitted she’d called a number and gone to see a woman who claimed to be having an affair with him.
Mickey had not returned Warner’s urgent phone calls. Why should he? He’d finally decided it was time to ease out of the relationship, and the fact that she’d called his office twice really annoyed him.
They were the last to arrive at the theatre. The television camera crews were packing up. Only the stragglers remained. Mickey hustled Abigaile inside.
‘Sorry,’ said an officious usher. ‘The doors are closed.’
‘Do you know who I am?’ demanded Mickey in a rage.
‘I’m sorry, the doors are closed,’ the usher repeated firmly.
‘I’m Mick
ey Stolli, President of Panther Studios. You’d better let us in right now if you plan to keep your job.’
The usher snapped to attention. ‘Certainly, sir,’ he said, changing his tune in a hurry.
To get to their seats they had to squeeze past Johnny Romano, who was not pleased. ‘You’re late,’ he hissed at Mickey. As if they didn’t already know.
Finally they were settled. Abigaile gazed at the screen, her mind elsewhere.
Mickey settled back and tried to concentrate on the film.
‘You motherfuckers,’ sneered Johnny Romano in full close-up, his handsome face filling the screen.
‘Who you callin’ motherfucker?’ answered the actor playing opposite him.
‘Don’t fuck with me, man,’ said Johnny menacingly. ‘Don’t do it.’
‘Listen, motherfucker, I fuck with anyone I want,’ replied the other actor.
Oh, nice, Abigaile thought to herself. Another one of Mickey’s classy productions. She leaned over to her husband and whispered sarcastically in his ear, ‘Are there going to be any normal words in this picture?’
Mickey grunted. ‘It’s a money-maker,’ he replied gruffly.
At the party afterwards everybody told Johnny Romano he was wonderful, the movie was a sure-fire hit, and how creative and clever he was to have starred, written, and directed.
Johnny Romano accepted their praise modestly, with a shrug here, a smile there.
Privately the buzz was – How come this asshole gets away with making a piece of shit like this? And how come it’s going to score a fucking fortune?
Johnny strutted around the party giving interviews, greeting friends, playing superstar to the hilt.
Some of the early reviews on the movie had been less than positive, in fact there’d been some killers. Johnny didn’t care. He knew he could do whatever he wanted to and the public would accept it. He was Johnny Romano and they loved him, and they’d take anything he cared to dish out.
Abigaile and Mickey sat at a table with several Panther executives. Mickey knew something deadly was up when Ford Werne leaned across the table and said, ‘What’s all this about a meeting on Monday morning?’
‘Huh?’ Mickey feigned ignorance.
‘I received a communiqué from Abe Panther,’ Ford said. ‘Apparently he’s coming to the studio on Monday, and has requested a meeting with all the senior executives at noon.’
‘Really?’ Mickey was aware of a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Crafty old Abe Panther was finally emerging, and he was up to something serious. Maybe he was coming back to take over.
Mickey decided he’d better call Martin Swanson and find out what was happening with the other deal, because if Abe Panther came back to work, Mickey Stolli was getting the hell out. There was no way he was answering to a decrepit, senile old man. No way at all.
As he was thinking all this, he happened to glance up, and there was Warner, all six feet of her, wearing a short spangly dress, talking to Johnny Romano. Jesus Christ! She was actually talking to Johnny Romano!
Mickey double-taked. What the hell was Warner doing here? He’d gotten her tickets for the movie, certainly not an invitation to the party.
No doubt that stupid secretary of his had fucked up again and left a party invitation along with the tickets. From the perfect replacement, Luce had turned into dumb cunt of the year. He couldn’t wait to fire her.
‘Oh my God!’ exclaimed Abigaile, spotting Warner a few moments after her husband. ‘It’s that dreadful woman.’
‘What woman? Where?’ spat Mickey, knowing Abigaile couldn’t possibly mean Warner.
‘Over there,’ Abigaile hissed, pointing straight at Warner. ‘Talking to Johnny Romano. It’s her.’
Mickey looked blank. ‘She’s just another one of Johnny’s dates,’ he said. ‘What are you getting so bothered about?’
‘I should have told you what happened today,’ Abigaile said excitedly, her face flushing.
‘What?’ Mickey was in no mood to hear about Abigaile’s day.
‘I… I called your office,’ she said, ‘to find out where you were so I could tell you about Primrose and Ben and the telegram.’
He had a dull feeling he wasn’t going to like what came next. ‘Yes?’
‘And your secretary gave me a phone number. I called and this woman answered.’
‘What woman?’
‘The one talking to Johnny.’
‘Get to the point, Abigaile. Make sense, for chrissakes.’
‘A woman answered the phone and told me she was a cop, and she was your girlfriend. Can you believe such nonsense? Anyway, I didn’t know what to do.’ Abigaile hesitated before plunging on. ‘You’re going to kill me for this, Mickey, but I was so confused, I got in my car and I went to see her. She lives in a tacky little apartment. She tried to threaten me. I’m sure it was some sort of kidnapping plan. Of course, I got out of there as fast as I could.’
Mickey scratched his head. ‘I don’t fucking believe what I’m hearing. Some woman says on the phone she’s my girlfriend, and you buy that? And you go over to a strange apartment?’ He shook his head wearily. ‘Abby, Abby, you’ve gone too far this time.’
Abigaile lowered her eyes. ‘I know, Mickey, it was a foolish thing to do. I’m fortunate to have escaped.’
While Abigaile was talking, Mickey was thinking fast. Once Abigaile got to consider what had taken place she would realize all was not as it seemed. He had to come up with some explanation as to why his stupid secretary had given her Warner’s number. And then he had to explain who Warner was.
‘Listen,’ he said quickly. ‘I didn’t want you involved in this, but now I guess I’ll have to tell you what it’s all about.’
Abigaile looked alarmed. ‘What, Mickey?’
‘Johnny Romano is heavily into drugs.’
‘Oh, dear,’ cried Abigaile.
‘Uh… I’ve had this uh… private cop following him and uh… obviously Luce got confused and gave you the wrong number. The woman must have thought it was Johnny’s girlfriend calling him.’
‘Why would she think that?’ asked Abigaile. ‘I told her my name.’
‘What am I, a thought-reader?’ he snapped. ‘All I know is you should never have gone over there. Don’t you realize your position?’
‘Why is that woman here tonight? Is she watching Johnny?’
‘Yeah, yeah, that’s it. She’s an undercover drug cop. I have to protect Johnny.’
‘I didn’t realize you got involved in these kind of things.’
‘Honey, when you run a studio, you get to watch over everybody and everything.’
Mickey figured he’d covered his tracks, for now anyway. He shot a quick glance at Warner. She was still all over Johnny Romano, and was it his imagination or did Johnny seem to be responding?
In all the time they’d been together Mickey had never seen Warner dressed up before. She didn’t look bad. She certainly had the longest legs in town, and although she wasn’t pretty she had a certain style of her own. Come to think of it he’d only ever seen her in her cop’s uniform or in the nude. This was a new, exciting Warner. He experienced a sharp twinge of jealousy.
‘When can we go home?’ Abigaile whispered. ‘I hated the movie. I hate this party. I hate the fact we don’t know what’s going to happen at the meeting on Monday morning. Let’s go now.’
‘You’re right,’ Mickey agreed. ‘Give me five minutes and we’re out of here.’
‘Where are you going?’
‘I gotta go stroke ego, tell Johnny he’s the greatest thing since banana yogurt. It’ll take me two seconds.’
‘Shall I come with you?’
‘No, stay here. You’ll send him over a gift from Cartier’s tomorrow.’
Mickey walked over just in time to hear Johnny Romano say to Warner, ‘Hey, baby, baby, you got the longest legs I ever put my eyes on. They about measure up to the height of my date. Bet you can do things with those legs I’ve never even imagin
ed.’
Warner, the six-feet seen-everything done-everything hard-knuckled cop, gazed at Johnny Romano as if he was God.
‘How about you an’ me gettin’ together later?’ Johnny suggested, bored with his actress girlfriend, who was busy scanning the room.
Mickey made his presence felt. ‘Hey, Johnny, we’ve got another big money-maker here. Congratulations,’ he enthused.
‘The biggest,’ Johnny replied modestly.
Mickey kissed ass. He knew how to do it when he had to. ‘No doubt about it.’
Johnny stroked Warner’s arm. ‘Have you met… um… What did you say your name was, babe?’
Warner threw Mickey a filthy look.
He was infuriated. What had he done? She was the one at fault, talking to Abigaile on the phone and telling her to come to her apartment. He couldn’t wait to have it out with her. But not now, not while Abigaile was present and probably tracking his every move.
‘Warner Franklin,’ she said, cool as you like.
‘That’s a pretty name, baby,’ said Johnny with a sexy leer. ‘Warner, huh?’
Mickey shook her hand.
She squeezed too hard, favouring him with a real bone-crusher.
‘Hey, baby, this here’s Mickey Stolli, the head of the studio.’ Johnny nudged her and winked. ‘This guy’s an important man to know. What do you do, honey? You an actress?’
‘No.’ Warner loved to shock. ‘I’m a cop.’
Johnny thought this was the funniest thing he’d ever heard. ‘A cop? You? Oh, baby, baby, I wouldn’t mind gettin’ myself arrested by you.’
She shot Mickey a triumphant look. ‘Maybe you will be. Later.’
Seething, Mickey returned to Abigaile, yanked her by the arm, and said, ‘Let’s go.’
The Stollis made their exit – head of a studio and his Hollywood princess wife.
Who knew what Monday morning would bring?
Chapter 49
It was three o’clock in the morning when Lucky, accompanied by Boogie, finally arrived on the sidewalk outside Lennie’s rented New York loft. She looked around. ‘God, Boogie, this is a real dump. Why didn’t he stay at our apartment?’