Lady Boss

  She gazed at him, perfectly innocent. ‘Is there something in it I should know about?’

  ‘Yes, Deena, there certainly is.’ He took her manicured delicate hand in his pudgy little fist. On his pinky there was an enormous sapphire ring surrounded by diamonds.

  She stared at the glittering ring and sensed she was about to hear something she wouldn’t like. ‘What, Bobo?’ she asked, her tone even and well modulated, her slight accent thickening.

  ‘There’s a story about your husband and Venus Maria,’ Bobo said, getting right to it.

  Her stomach tightened, but she managed to remain in complete control. ‘There is?’ she asked carefully. ‘Everybody’s always trying to link Martin with some little popsy or other. Surely not another one?’

  ‘There’s a photograph of them together,’ Bobo said. ‘And the story goes into quite a few details.’

  ‘What kind of details?’ Deena asked, withdrawing her hand.

  ‘Oh, that they’ve been seeing each other for several months. And that Martin is supposed to be crazy about her, and that she loves him.’ He paused, then zeroed in. ‘I wouldn’t bring this up, Deena, but I hardly wish to see you eaten alive by the press. The magazine only came out today, and I’m trying to protect you.’ He paused again, waiting for her reaction. She remained cool, so he continued. ‘I’m ready to hear your side of the story. And to report it any way you like.’

  ‘There’s no story to hear,’ Deena said through clenched teeth. ‘I’ll have to look at this magazine, Bobo. When I’ve seen it, perhaps I’ll be able to comment.’

  He reached for the manila envelope he had with him and handed it to her. ‘It’s in here, Deena. Go to the powder room, read it, come back, and talk to me.’

  She took the magazine and, head held high, walked towards the ladies’ room.

  When she read the story, the colour drained from her face.

  When she stared at the picture of Martin with Venus Maria, she knew she had to act.

  Venus Maria had signed her own death warrant.

  Deena Swanson was about to make sure of that.

  Chapter 71

  After getting together with all the department heads, Lucky decided she should meet with the various stars who had deals at the studio. She’d set up her office in the conference room as a temporary measure, giving Mickey Stolli a couple of days to get out. He’d robbed her of the pleasure of firing him. Too bad.

  Morton Sharkey had found an experienced assistant and promptly stolen him from another studio on her behalf. Otis Lindcrest was an efficient black man in his late twenties. He certainly seemed to know his way around, and worked hard setting appointments and making Lucky feel as comfortable and secure as possible.

  There was so much to do that she couldn’t quite decide where to start. The most important thing of all was overseeing the projects the studio had in post- and pre-production, and then deciding the direction Panther should take in the future.

  Out of the executives she’d met with she wasn’t sure whom she could trust. It would take a while to get to know them as individuals and assess their loyalty.

  Her immediate plan was to sit down with them one by one over the next few weeks. In the meantime, she’d sent for Lennie’s contract and told Morton she wanted it rescinded.

  ‘Send him a letter,’ she’d instructed, ‘saying he’s out of his deal with Panther. We’re releasing him – unless he wants to stay.’

  ‘Why are you doing this?’ Morton had asked.

  ‘I don’t want him thinking he has any obligation to Panther just because I own it. If he decides to come and work here, that’ll be great. But if he doesn’t, he’s free to go elsewhere.’

  ‘Lucky, he’s an asset,’ Morton pointed out. ‘A big one.’

  ‘He’s also my husband,’ she replied firmly. ‘And I can’t have him feeling he’s tied here.’

  Flowers began to pour in from various people she didn’t know. They were accompanied by warm and welcoming notes. They were from agents, producers, and managers. The stars didn’t bother. Being a star meant never having to send flowers – merely receive them.

  Otis gave her a rundown of all the players. For a young man he certainly knew plenty.

  ‘How long have you been in this business?’ she asked curiously.

  ‘Started as a set PR. Moved on to the mailroom at CAA. Almost got into producing. And I’ve been personal assisting for five years.’

  She noted that he’d like to produce. Somewhere down the line she’d take care of it. Right now Otis was invaluable.

  She didn’t leave the studio until nine o’clock. Boogie handed her a copy of Truth and Fact in the car. ‘I thought you’d want to see this,’ he said as he drove her home.

  She glanced at the magazine, skipping over the stuff about Martin Swanson and Venus Maria. Who cared? She never believed anything she read in these papers anyway. But when she saw the picture of Brigette, she was immediately concerned. After Brigette’s bad experience with Tim Wealth, Lucky knew she was far too young and vulnerable to get involved with another renegade. And that’s exactly what Paul Webster looked like, with his long hair and intense eyes.

  ‘Remind me to phone Brigette first thing in the morning,’ she said. ‘And call London and alert Mike Baverstock at British Airways to watch out for Bobby and his nanny. They’re flying in on Friday. Oh, and tell Otis to clear Friday afternoon for me, I’ll meet them at the airport.’

  By the time they got back to the beach it was past ten.

  ‘Any messages for me, Miko?’ she asked hopefully.

  Miko bowed. ‘No, Madame, no messages.’

  Apparently Lennie didn’t feel like calling.

  She was too tired to eat, too tired to do anything except fall into bed and drop off into a deep sleep.

  She awoke refreshed and invigorated, showered, dressed, sat down for breakfast. The trades were full of news:

  LUCKY SANTANGELO TAKES OVER PANTHER

  MARTIN SWANSON MOVES IN ON ORPHEUS

  She couldn’t wait to get to the studio. There was a lot of hard work ahead, but one thing she knew for sure: running a studio was becoming an addiction.

  * * *

  Johnny Romano was her first appointment. He swaggered into the conference room, entourage hovering close behind.

  As soon as he walked in the room he did a double-take. This woman was beautiful.

  ‘Can we talk by ourselves, Mr. Romano?’ she asked.

  ‘Hey, baby, my pleasure.’ He signalled his entourage to leave.

  Lucky got up from behind the conference table and walked over to shake hands. ‘The name is Lucky Santangelo,’ she said. ‘Baby doesn’t cut it.’

  He took her hand and pulled her towards him. ‘You’re a very beautiful lady,’ he said in a husky voice. ‘Welcome to my life.’

  She removed her hand from his. ‘That’s about the corniest line I’ve ever heard. How many times have you used it?’

  He laughed. ‘It usually goes down pretty good.’

  ‘Not with me.’

  ‘OK, OK, so you’re a beautiful woman and I – Johnny Romano – am coming on to you. Such a terrible thing?’

  She decided to ignore the obvious come-on. ‘You know, Johnny, your movie grossed big this weekend.’

  ‘Sure, baby,’ he said confidently.

  ‘But I think we’ll see a substantial drop next weekend.’

  He lifted his chin, displaying a great movie-star jawline. ‘What you sayin’, baby?’

  She didn’t hold back. ‘I’m saying Motherfaker is a sexist piece of crap.’

  Johnny’s face darkened. Nobody ever spoke to him like that. ‘Are you crazy, woman?’ he glowered.

  She shook her head. ‘Not crazy, just giving you some useful advice.’

  ‘What’s that?’ he said arrogantly.

  ‘You can take criticism, can’t you?’

  ‘You think I can’t?’ he countered.

  ‘Johnny, you’re a sensational-looking guy. Everyo
ne loves you. You’re macho, handsome, and sexy. But this movie cancels out a huge audience for you. Kids can’t see it, old people won’t want to. I don’t understand it – for some crazy reason you make yourself into an anti-hero. The result is that everyone ends up hating the character you play. And every other word is motherfucker. You wrote the film, Johnny. Surely you have a larger vocabulary than that?’

  He glared at her. ‘This movie’s gonna make a fuckin’ fortune for Panther and you’re criticizing it?’

  ‘I’m saying I know you’re capable of so much more. And I’d love you to do another movie for Panther. But I’m willing to tear up your contract and let you walk, because I’m not prepared to make another Motherfaker. If you’re after a lasting career you have to build it, not tear it down. What you’re saying to your audience is “Fuck you. I can do what I like and get away with it.” It doesn’t work anymore, Johnny.’

  ‘You’re a crazy woman.’ He laughed. ‘I can go anywhere in this town an’ get any deal I want.’

  ‘Then maybe that’s what you should do,’ she said evenly.

  He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Was this broad insane? ‘OK. OK, lady, if that’s what you want, maybe that’s what I’ll do.’

  ‘Go ahead,’ she said, challenging him. ‘But if you’re smart you’ll listen to me. Don’t make an instant decision. Think it over, and we’ll talk next week.’

  When Johnny Romano left the room he was not a happy man.

  * * *

  Venus Maria was Lucky’s second appointment.

  The blonde superstar breezed into her office with a big grin on her face. ‘This is really great,’ she said enthusiastically. ‘A woman in charge! My wildest dream come true. Howdja do it?’

  Lucky grinned back. ‘I thought it was about time. My plan is to kick a little ass. Are you on for the ride?’

  Venus Maria’s grin widened. ‘Oh, have you picked the right star here!’

  ‘I hope so,’ Lucky said. ‘I need all the support I can get.’

  ‘You know so,’ Venus Maria replied, flopping into a chair and sticking her legs out. She wore cut-off jeans, a Save the World T-shirt, and a long vest covered with pins. Her platinum hair was bunched on top of her head, and on her feet she wore short white socks and Reeboks. ‘I’m rehearsing,’ she announced, ‘for my upcoming video. It’s gonna be a trip!’

  ‘I’m delighted you’re with Panther,’ Lucky said warmly. ‘I know you’re committed to do Bombshell, and I also know you’re not happy with the script.’

  ‘How do you know that?’

  ‘Because you told me.’

  Venus Maria looked puzzled. ‘I told you. Have we met before?’

  Lucky reached for a cigarette. ‘Oh, yeah, we’ve met. Only you don’t remember, do you?’

  ‘In New York?’

  ‘No. Right here at this studio. You bitched to me about the script – and now that I’ve read it, I couldn’t agree more. There’s a rewrite in the works. In fact I met with the writer before you came in. He knows what we want.’

  ‘He does?’

  ‘Oh yes.’

  ‘Fast worker.’

  ‘No point in sitting around. I know the kind of movie you’re after. Bombshell should be a statement about women and the way they’re used. Am I right?’

  ‘Absolutely.’ Venus Maria looked perplexed. ‘I still can’t figure out where we met.’

  ‘Mickey Stolli’s secretary.’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘Remember Mickey Stolli’s secretary? The one with the pebbled glasses, bad hairstyle, and terrible clothes. You were really sweet to her.’

  Venus looked perplexed. ‘Yes, so?’

  ‘It was me.’

  Venus Maria jumped out of her chair. ‘You?’ she said in amazement. ‘Oh, come on. You’ve got to be kidding. You!’

  Lucky burst out laughing. ‘Yes, me. I was in disguise.’

  ‘No!’

  ‘Yes!’

  ‘Wow!’

  ‘Well, I didn’t want to buy the place and not know what was happening, so I worked at the studio for six weeks to find out a thing or two.’

  ‘And did you?’

  Lucky drew on her cigarette and smiled. ‘You could say that.’

  ‘I bet!’

  ‘I’m telling you because I feel I can trust you. But I don’t want the suits knowing. Perhaps I’ll tell ’em. Perhaps I won’t. Let ’em wonder how I know so much.’

  ‘Holy shit!’ Venus exclaimed. ‘This is the greatest. I fucking love it!’

  ‘Anyway,’ Lucky continued, ‘the plan is this. We’ll get the Bombshell script exactly right, and then we’re going to make a terrific movie. I’ve been thinking about directors. How about a female?’

  ‘I love women directors,’ Venus said. ‘Only every time I mention it around here they look at me like I’m a zombie!’

  ‘It seems to me a woman director is the only way to go. I have several in mind. Have you heard of Montana Grey?’

  ‘I sure have. She wrote and directed that amazing little movie Street People. I think she’s great, very talented.’

  ‘Good. She’s coming in to see me tomorrow. As far as I’m concerned she’d be perfect. Are you happy with that?’

  ‘Happy? I’m ecstatic!’

  ‘If she likes the idea I’ll set up a meeting for all three of us.’

  ‘Anytime.’

  ‘And I want to see a screening of Strut. I understand there’s a rough cut. I’m meeting with Cooper Turner, so I’ll discuss that with him.’

  Venus Maria nodded. ‘You’ll like Cooper, he’s a good guy. Don’t believe all the stuff you’ve read about him. Oh –’ she added jauntily – ‘and don’t believe all the stuff you’ve read about me either.’

  Lucky laughed. ‘I’ve had a few headlines of my own. Believe me, I understand.’

  ‘So… how are the boys taking your arrival?’

  Lucky took a drag of her cigarette. ‘I guess they’re not used to having a woman walk in and take over.’

  ‘No way.’

  Lucky blew a smoke ring or two. ‘I always did love a challenge.’

  Chapter 72

  Emilio Sierra had booked a double room at a fancy hotel in Hawaii overlooking the sea. What he and Rita actually got when they arrived was a room overlooking the vast outdoor parking lot. A far from spectacular sight.

  ‘This is not good enough,’ Emilio yelled angrily.

  ‘It’s OK, honey,’ Rita soothed. ‘At least we can see the ocean in the distance.’

  Dumb broad. Why did he always manage to pick the dumb ones?

  ‘It’s not OK at all,’ Emilio fumed. ‘I’m kickin’ up a stink.’

  He swaggered down to the reception desk and demanded to see the manager.

  Ten minutes later the manager appeared, a tall, thin man with a congenial manner and constipated smile. ‘Yes, sir, how may I help you?’ he asked.

  ‘I requested a room with an ocean view,’ Emilio said, trying to drag his eyes away from a busty redhead in shorts and a clinging T-shirt as she sashayed on by.

  ‘You’re not happy with your room?’ asked the manager, sounding hurt, as if Emilio’s complaint was a personal affront.

  The redhead swayed out of sight, allowing Emilio to concentrate. ‘No way, man. It stinks.’

  ‘I’m sure it doesn’t stink, Mr…?’

  ‘Sierra,’ Emilio obliged. ‘S-I-E-R-R-A,’ he spelled it out. ‘You’ve no doubt heard of my sister, Venus Maria.’

  The manager wasn’t sure if he believed him or not, but he looked impressed anyway. ‘Venus Maria?’ he said, with just the right note of reverence in his voice. ‘The singer?’

  ‘And movie star,’ Emilio boasted. ‘I’m from Los Angeles. Well, Hollywood really. I’m an actor too.’

  The manager nodded. They’d had bigger celebrities than Venus Maria’s brother staying at the hotel. Try the President of the United States.

  ‘Well,’ the manager said, ‘right now, Mr. Sierra, we don?
??t seem to have anything else. But I can promise you that as soon as something becomes available, you will be the first to know.’

  ‘Not satisfactory,’ growled Emilio, deciding he loved having money. It gave him a certain amount of power for the first time in his life.

  ‘It’s the best I can do,’ said the manager, wishing this uncouth-looking person would elect to stay elsewhere.

  ‘Get me somethin’ else or I’m campin’ out in the lobby,’ Emilio threatened, continuing to complain until they moved him into a bungalow on the beach. It cost more, but for once Emilio figured he’d go for the big bucks. Now that he had them he might as well live it up. Not that Rita appreciated it. She was hot. She was also stupid.

  No sooner were they settled in the bungalow than Rita thought she spotted a sand-mouse running across the floor.

  ‘Oh my God!’ she screamed hysterically, jumping on top of the bed. ‘Emilio! Emilio! There’s a mouse!’

  ‘So what?’ he said, completely unconcerned. ‘It ain’t gonna eat you.’

  ‘I’m frightened,’ she squealed, refusing to get off the bed.

  Emilio remembered New York back in the good old days when Venus Maria was just a kid and he could boss her around. She’d been frightened of mice too. He and his brothers had caught three one day and stuffed them in her bed under the sheets. When she’d discovered their grisly surprise she’d screamed for an hour. But he had to admit she’d gotten her revenge. Two nights later she’d cooked a thick and juicy stew with what appeared to be chunks of chicken in it. Only it turned out it wasn’t chicken. She’d cooked the goddamn mice and served them up for dinner!

  Rita was not to be placated, so Emilio had to march back to the manager and complain again.

  Finally, probably to get rid of him and his bitching, they were ushered into the suite of his dreams. Two rooms consisting of a luxurious bedroom complete with vibrating bed, and a well-appointed living room leading out to a large terrace overlooking a blanket of white sand and a gorgeous blue ocean. This was more like it – even if it was probably going to cost an arm and two legs.

  ‘Satisfied?’ he said to Rita.

  She nodded.

  Later he stood on the terrace while she unzipped his jeans and showed him exactly how satisfied she really was.