Martin leaned over to speak to her. ‘Why did you ask Cooper?’ he said in a low voice. ‘What do we need him for?’
‘Cooper’s your best friend,’ she replied guilelessly. ‘I thought you’d be pleased.’
‘I’m not pleased,’ he said irritably. ‘A romantic day for two in San Francisco hardly works when it’s for three.’
She laughed softly. Was Martin jealous? ‘Don’t be silly. Cooper’s hardly a drag. He’ll find plenty to do.’
‘He’ll go off and leave us alone, will he?’ Martin asked sarcastically.
‘No,’ she replied firmly. ‘The three of us are going to have a fantastic time together.’ She kissed him on the cheek, flicking her tongue into his ear just to give him a little taste of things to come. ‘I’m going to freshen up,’ she added, excusing herself.
As she wandered off down the plane she winked at Cooper.
Now was the time for him to have a serious talk with Martin and find out his intentions.
The Swanson jet was luxurious, to say the least. It was set up like an amazing apartment, with a living room, functional stainless-steel Space Age kitchen, glamourous bedroom, and two marble bathrooms.
She shut herself in the bedroom, closed the door, and threw herself on the circular bed. Hey, this is great, she thought. Maybe he’ll lend it to me for the tour.
Not exactly subtle. They still had to keep their relationship quiet.
In San Francisco they were met by a limousine and taken straight to the penthouse suite of the Fairmont Hotel to freshen up. Martin had a short business meeting to attend, so Venus Maria and Cooper admired the panoramic view and ordered a bottle of champagne.
‘So?’ she demanded anxiously. ‘Did you talk to him? What did he have to say?’
Cooper considered his reply. In his opinion Martin didn’t have the balls to leave Deena. He was enjoying his affair with Venus – and indeed who wouldn’t? – but he wasn’t prepared to screw up his perfect marriage. Deena represented stability. She was his wife and they’d achieved a certain social standing that Martin was not ready to give up.
But his opinion was not what Venus wanted to hear.
‘Hey,’ he said, ‘you know Martin – Mister Closed Mouth.’
She was disappointed. ‘Do you mean to tell me you couldn’t get anything out of him?’
‘He thinks you’re fantastic.’
‘Yes?’
‘Oh, yes.’
‘Is that all?’
‘Just that I agree with him.’
She laughed, not taking him seriously at all. ‘You would!’
Later the three of them dined at Stars, causing quite a sensation.
‘You see,’ Venus Maria whispered to Martin. ‘It’s good that Cooper’s with us. Now everybody will think he and I are an item. Can you imagine if we were spotted in San Francisco alone together?’
‘It was a wise decision,’ he agreed.
She hammered the point home. ‘There’s only one way we can be seen out in public, and that’s if you split with your wife.’
It was not the first time she’d said something like that to him.
He didn’t reply.
After dinner they drove down to the bay and drank strong cappuccinos in a small, crowded café. Women appeared from nowhere, strutting their stuff in the hope of getting noticed. Cooper Turner and Martin Swanson in the same place at the same time – what an irresistible challenge! Men eyed Venus Maria up and down. And so did the women. Martin and Cooper gave her their full attention.
‘Don’t you feel like getting laid?’ Venus teased, flirting with Cooper, a mischievous twinkle in her eye.
‘Getting laid today is a perilous business,’ he replied, perfectly serious. ‘I need to know their sexual history for the past seven years. It takes time and energy. Not like the old days. I’m too tired.’
Martin shot him a look. ‘I never thought I’d hear you say that.’
Venus Maria shook her platinum curls. ‘Oh, he’s always saying that. Take no notice.’
Cooper smiled. ‘I’m saving myself.’
‘Who for?’ she asked curiously.
‘I’ll let you know when she comes along.’
He held her gaze.
She looked away.
Later they boarded Martin’s plane and flew back to L.A.
‘Do you want to stay at my house?’ she asked Martin.
‘I’m desperate to stay at your house,’ he replied. ‘I didn’t fly in early for my health.’
‘Just the two of us this time,’ she promised.
‘No more games?’
Was it her imagination, or did he sound just the tiniest bit disappointed?
‘Yes, Martin. Just the two of us.’
They said goodbye to Cooper in the limo.
‘I’ll call you tomorrow,’ she said. Cooper was rapidly turning into her best friend.
‘Tomorrow,’ he said.
‘Goodnight.’ She kissed him lightly on the cheek.
And then she was alone with Martin.
* * *
Dennis Walla stared at the current edition of Truth and Fact. At this very moment it was being delivered all over the country. The front page was the strongest layout he’d seen in a long time. It made the latest headlines in the Enquirer and Star look sick.
First of all there were the headings in blazing red letters:
MARTIN SWANSON – BILLIONAIRE LOVER!
VENUS MARIA AND COOPER TURNER!
THE HEIRESS AND THE WIFE!
Surrounding these headings were five photographs. In the centre was the large picture of Venus Maria with Martin Swanson. On the left, a small shot of Venus entering Spago with Cooper Turner. Beneath that, another photo of Venus and Cooper, taken on the set. And the two smaller photographs on the right were of Deena Swanson and Paul Webster in Central Park, and Paul strolling along the street with Brigette Stanislopoulos.
Dennis was more than delighted. He’d never expected this to turn out to be such an important story. At first it was merely going to be Emilio’s revelations about Venus Maria. Now they’d held that part of the story for the following week, and this week they’d concentrated on the various romantic entanglements of the main players. Excellent coverage!
Bert Slocombe had really come up trumps when he’d discovered Deena stepping out. But he’d doubled Dennis’s pleasure when he’d managed to catch a photo of Deena’s toy boy with Brigette Stanislopoulos, the teenage shipping heiress. What a coup!
There was more copy above the photographs:
BILLIONAIRE’S MISTRESS IS VENUS MARIA!
BROKEN WIFE DEENA SEES YOUNGER MAN!
DOES COOPER KNOW SHE’S CHEATING?
Dennis Walla threw the magazine down on his coffee table. He was well pleased. As far as he was concerned every editor in town was going to be after him.
Dennis Walla was about to become the hottest tabloid journalist in the world.
* * *
Without the silken bindings and the two exotic hookers to excite him, sex with Martin seemed a little pedestrian. He was too fast in every way.
Much to Venus Maria’s chagrin, foreplay seemed to have gone by the board, and all he could give her was a cursory going-over. Sex by numbers. Touch the breasts for twenty-five seconds, move the hands down, spread the legs, and go for it.
Venus Maria was disappointed. This wasn’t the way she liked to make love at all. He had no stamina either. It was all over in minutes.
‘What’s the matter with you tonight?’ she asked edgily, feeling totally unsatisfied.
Obviously he wasn’t aware anything was amiss. ‘Aren’t you happy?’ he said.
She frowned. ‘No, I’m not particularly happy. It was so quick.’
Martin seemed unconcerned. ‘What did you expect?’ he said, yawning. ‘It seems like I’ve been on planes for the last twenty-four hours. I’m not Superman.’
You can say that again, she thought bitterly.
Venus Maria hated bad sex. It
made her feel dirty and used. Sex was supposed to be long and leisurely and satisfying.
Bad sex reminded her of the sort of behaviour her brothers used to dish out to the neighbourhood girls who would come to the old house in Brooklyn whining and crying about their treatment.
It was quite obvious her brothers considered women were put on the earth to clean, cook, fuck, and shut up.
Charming monsters.
Observing them had given Venus Maria a great deal of determination to make it as a strong woman, capable of anything. And she’d done it. She’d really done it!
Now that she was a modern-day sex symbol it had to drive her brothers crazy.
She jumped out of bed and marched into her bathroom, slamming the door behind her. Damn Martin. Did he expect silken ties and two hookers every time they did it?
She imagined that Cooper Turner didn’t need any props. He was probably a master between the sheets. Well, he’d had enough experience over the years, hadn’t he? Mister Casanova – the Don Juan of Hollywood.
She wouldn’t care to go to bed with him. God, no! The comparisons! He’d had some of the most beautiful women in the world.
Ah… the Cooper Turner Hall of Fame. Venus Maria planned never to be part of that long parade.
Martin was asleep when she returned to the bedroom. He lay on his side, snoring loudly.
Maybe she wasn’t being fair. He’d had a long journey and was probably exhausted.
She snuggled into bed beside him and closed her eyes. It took forty-five minutes before she was able to fall asleep.
Chapter 63
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 righ
t 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.’