Sometimes it paid to be extravagant.
The next morning he sent her down to the news-stand instructing her to buy a copy of Truth and Fact.
When she brought it back to the room and he read it he was outraged. Where was his story? There wasn’t even a picture of him. What kind of deal was this?
In a fury he telephoned Dennis Walla in Los Angeles. ‘Where’s my story?’ he screamed over the phone. ‘It was supposed to be in this week.’
‘Next week,’ Dennis said. ‘Read the blurb.’
‘You told me this week, and you’ve used the picture I gave you,’ said a disgruntled Emilio. ‘Listen, man, I’ve only gotten paid for one week. This is a swindle.’
‘Hang on a moment, mate,’ said Dennis, thinking, Here we go again. Why were the relatives of the stars so bloody greedy? ‘You’re making plenty of moola outta this. Your story runs when we decide to run it. You can’t tell us what to do.’
Emilio slammed down the phone in a rage. Now it would be awkward returning to L.A. Venus Maria had advance warning his story was going to appear. She’d be furious and would certainly be tracking him.
‘What’s the matter, sweetie?’ asked Rita, pirouetting in front of the mirror, admiring her short but perfect legs.
‘Nothing.’ He wasn’t about to confide in her. ‘Come here.’
They made the bed vibrate for ten minutes before going outside to sample the Hawaiian sunshine.
Emilio was disappointed to discover there wasn’t much Hawaiian sunshine to sample. It was a cloudy day with strong gusty winds.
He chose two prime positions by the pool and they settled down – Rita in a bikini that attracted the attention of every man within fifty yards.
Emilio was pleased. Maybe she wasn’t so stupid after all. He enjoyed being with a woman who scored so much attention.
At lunchtime Rita suggested that perhaps they should go inside. ‘It may be cloudy,’ she said wisely, ‘but there’s still a real strong sun coming through. You’d better be careful.’
‘Me?’ he boasted. ‘I never burn, I tan.’
‘I don’t,’ she said, pulling up her bikini top, which was just about to slip and reveal a perky nipple. ‘Do you mind if I go in?’
He didn’t mind. He was too busy enjoying the parade of beautiful women in various small bikinis and great tans.
Come five o’clock Emilio was burnt to a crisp.
‘Jesus! Why didn’t you warn me?’ he complained when he finally got back to the suite.
‘Honey, I did,’ Rita pointed out, busily slathering scented cream all over her naked body.
‘I don’t understand,’ he whined, feeling sorry for himself. ‘It was cloudy – how could I burn?’
‘It doesn’t matter in Hawaii,’ she explained. ‘The sun burns right through the clouds. I tried to tell you.’
‘Were you here before?’ he asked suspiciously.
‘Once or twice,’ she said, deciding not to mention her last trip with two stuntmen and a bewigged director with a penchant for discipline.
Emilio was in serious pain. Rita rushed down to the pharmacy and came back with soothing lotions. They didn’t help. He suffered all through the night. And not silently.
The next morning when he regarded his lobster complexion in the mirror he decided they were going back to L.A.
‘I’m not spending all this money to lie around in bed,’ he complained. ‘We’re gettin’ outta here.’
Rita shrugged. ‘Whatever you want.’
She’d already decided Emilio was only good for a short ride. While he had the bucks, she was there. Who knew how long it would last?
Chapter 73
‘There’s a Harry Browning to see you,’ Otis said. ‘No appointment. He looks kind of agitated.’
Lucky nodded. ‘It’s OK, show him in.’
Harry took a few steps into the room and stopped. He waited until the secretary had shut the door behind her and then he stared at Lucky accusingly. ‘You’re Luce, aren’t you?’
Finally! Somebody had busted her disguise. ‘You’re the only person who’s recognized me,’ she said. ‘Pretty sharp of you.’
‘I thought you were working for Abe Panther.’
‘In a way, I was. We both thought it was a good idea for me to come in undercover. An interesting exercise. I found out plenty.’
‘You weren’t honest with me,’ Harry said stiffly, obviously uncomfortable with this confrontation.
She wasn’t about to explain things further. ‘I’d be happy for you to stay at the studio, Harry. We’re changing things around here. And I’d also like you to report to me personally.’
‘Why?’ he asked suspiciously.
‘Because you want what I want. We’re both into making Panther great again. No more exploitation flicks. No more executives playing casting couch with every actress who walks through the door. Are you with me?’
He nodded slowly.
Shortly after Lucky’s meeting with Harry, Susie Rush arrived. Susie was used to dealing with male executives. She appeared wearing frills and flounces and a pink ribbon in her hair. Privately Lucky thought she looked like a kewpie doll.
Susie pursed her lips in a girlish way and said, ‘Well, this is quite a shock to the system.’
‘What can I offer you?’ Lucky said, playing it nice and friendly. ‘A drink? Coffee? Tea?’
‘An explanation would be nice. After all, when I signed with this studio Mickey Stolli was in charge. A change is something I hadn’t considered.’
‘The first thing you should know,’ Lucky said easily, ‘is that although you have a development deal at the studio, you’re free to do anything you want. I’m not holding anybody at Panther against their will.’
‘Oh,’ Susie said. She hadn’t expected that.
‘However, I also know,’ Lucky continued, ‘that you’re one of this studio’s great assets – and as I’ve told everyone else, my goal is to bring Panther back to the forefront again. And I love your kind of movies. You make films the whole family can see. You’re really a wonderful actress.’
Susie looked at her suspiciously. She wasn’t used to receiving compliments from other women. She also wasn’t used to seeing women who looked like Lucky Santangelo in positions of power.
‘Here’s what I’d like you to do,’ Lucky said, all business. ‘Tell me the kind of movie you want to do. I know you’re developing a couple of projects at the moment, and if you’re happy with those then we’ll certainly consider them.’
‘Actually,’ Susie said, ‘I feel like a change of pace. My career is in a rut. I have the desire to play a different kind of role.’
‘What kind of role is that?’ Lucky asked.
‘I want to play the lead in Bombshell,’ Susie said. ‘As a matter of fact Mickey promised me I could.’
This was a surprise. ‘Bombshell is a Venus Maria project,’ Lucky pointed out.
‘Oh yes, Mickey mentioned Venus might be interested. But when I told him I liked the script, he immediately said I could test. I should remind you that normally I wouldn’t dream of testing for anything. But I know I can capture this role. She’s me.’
‘I’ll tell you what,’ Lucky suggested, ‘Venus Maria is definitely set for Bombshell. But if you have another script, we’ll see what we can work out.’
Susie’s lips tightened into a thin line. ‘I want to do Bombshell,’ she said. ‘I’ve been offered another film at Orpheus.’
Lucky smiled pleasantly. She wasn’t about to be blackmailed by any stars and their egos. ‘Susie, if the role is what you want, then I suggest you take it. As I said before, I’m not holding anybody back.’
Susie departed, not quite sure where she was at.
So far so good. Lucky’s last meeting of the day was with Cooper Turner. He was over in the editing rooms, and instead of asking him to come to her she decided to run over there.
Lucky was not impressed by movie stars. She’d observed them all her life. When Gino opened h
is Vegas hotels they’d come down for special gambling junkets, openings, and all the big parties. And when she was married to Senator Richmond’s son, Craven, big celebrities had often made the trek to Washington.
Movie stars equalled fragile egos – she was well aware of that. Now dealing with them on a one-to-one basis was interesting and a definite challenge.
Cooper Turner was better-looking than on the screen, with his boyishly handsome face, rumpled hair, and penetrating ice-blue eyes. He had a devastating smile which he put into immediate action. ‘So you’re my new boss, huh?’
‘Yes,’ she said, going for a handshake.
He took her hand and gave it an extra squeeze. Behind his horn-rimmed glasses he favoured her with a penetrating look. ‘You’re a surprise,’ he said. ‘I was expecting a dragon lady.’
‘Looks don’t matter,’ she replied.
‘Sure they do,’ he said casually, removing his glasses. ‘Beautiful women always get more attention. Not that I’m saying you’re not smart, but looks help. And honey – you’ve got ’em.’
She threw it right back at him. ‘And honey, so have you.’
He laughed. ‘Touché, Ms. Santangelo.’
‘I’m looking forward to viewing a rough cut of Strut. When can I?’ she asked, getting down to the purpose of her visit.
‘How about next week sometime?’
‘Sounds good. Was this your directorial debut?’
His eyes without the glasses were lethal weapons. ‘You mean you haven’t been following my career?’
She returned his stare, matching his gaze with her black Santangelo eyes. ‘Let’s put it this way, your career has not been the centre of my universe.’
He laughed again. ‘No, as a matter of fact I’ve directed one dog before, but this one’s going to be better. Venus Maria gives a very special performance.’
‘So I’ve heard.’
‘Ah, the rumour is around the studio. That’s good.’
‘It appears your movie is the only decent one we’ve got going for us. Have you seen Motherfaker?’
‘My time is valuable. I don’t believe in self-punishment.’
Now it was her turn to laugh. ‘I know what you mean. Can we have lunch together next week? There’s a lot I feel we need to discuss. The marketing of Strut is crucial.’
‘Why don’t I take you to dinner?’ he suggested.
She put the meeting back on track. ‘Have you met my husband, Lennie Golden?’
‘You’re married to Lennie?’ he said, surprised.
‘You didn’t know?’
‘Hey – I’ve followed your career about as closely as you’ve followed mine.’
‘My turn to say touché, huh?’
He dazzled her with a movie-star smile. ‘I guess so. Lunch, then. I’d like that.’
The only star she had left was Charlie Dollar, and he was out of the country, due back in a couple of weeks. Charlie had nothing in pre-production. She put out the word – ‘Find a property suitable for Charlie Dollar. Something sensational.’
Her final meeting of the day was with the Sleazy Singles, Arnie Blackwood and Frankie Lombardo.
Arnie, the lean and lanky one with the greasy hair pulled back in a ponytail and mirrored shades covering watery eyes, was the first to speak. ‘Congrats, sweetie. This is gonna be a piece of pie,’ he said.
Frankie, with the freaked-out brown hair and unruly beard, joined in. ‘Yeah, cutie, we’re all gonna work together like we bin in bed all our lives.’
‘Fortunately,’ said Lucky with a pleasant smile, ‘we haven’t.’
They both guffawed.
‘She’s got a sense of humour,’ Arnie said.
‘What’s a good-looking broad like you doing in a job like this anyway?’ Frankie asked, collapsing his bulky frame into a chair.
‘Probably the same as a handsome man like yourself,’ Lucky replied sarcastically. ‘And may I remind you it’s not a job – I own Panther.’
Frankie didn’t like that.
Arnie walked over to the conference table, put his hands on it, and leaned across. ‘Are you here to stay?’ he demanded. ‘Or is this a temporary measure? What’s the deal, Lucky? Have you bought the studio to sell out the land and then get out, or what?’
‘I’m here to stay,’ she replied with a cold smile. ‘How about you?’
‘Oh, we’re here to stay all right,’ Arnie replied, taking off his mirrored shades, polishing them on a corner of his shirt, and putting them back on again.
Frankie brushed his hands through his unruly long hair and pulled on his scruffy beard. Both of them appeared to be stoned.
‘I’m cancelling your two current projects,’ Lucky said. ‘I may as well get straight to it – I don’t like ’em. They’re not the kind of films Panther is going to continue to make.’
‘You’re doing what, baby?’ Arnie asked in disbelief.
‘Aren’t I making myself clear?’ she replied, cool and in control. ‘If you need an interpreter I’ll be happy to supply one.’
‘Where have I seen you before?’ Frankie got to his feet.
‘Let’s just say I’ve been around the studio for some time. I know everything that’s going on.’
‘Everything, huh?’ Arnie sneered.
‘That’s right,’ she replied, trying to stay calm, although these two assholes could really send her out of control.
‘OK, sweetie, we’re gonna give you a break. We won’t take you seriously. We got two movies shooting now, an’ three in pre-production. Our movies keep Panther in the black. You know what I mean? Our movies score all the profit around here, while your so-called superstars make all the flops.’
‘Yes,’ Lucky said calmly. ‘But I’m here to tell you the system just changed. I don’t care for the kind of movies you make. I don’t appreciate seeing girls having their clothes ripped off and heads bashed in. Rape and mutilation don’t do it for me. Am I making myself clear?’
‘Wake up and join the real world,’ said Arnie, with an insulting leer. ‘It’s what’s goin’ on out there.’
‘Ah, but there lies the difference,’ Lucky said. ‘I’m not everybody else.’
Frankie scratched his beard. ‘Are you telling us to get out?’
‘Wow!’ Lucky said. ‘You’re beginning to understand me. This is fun.’
‘You fucking bitch,’ Arnie said, finally getting the message. ‘You can’t treat us like shit. We’re two of the biggest producers in Hollywood. An’ what’s more, we have a deal with Panther.’
‘You know something, Mr. Blackwood, Mr. Lombardo? I don’t give a rat’s ass.’
And so ended Lucky’s first day on the job. How to make friends and influence people it wasn’t, but it was satisfying. And her next project was to put together a team of people who could work together and create the kind of movies she wished to make.
Lucky Santangelo was on a roll.
Chapter 74
Swanson fever hit like a hurricane – fast, furious, and all-encompassing. It seemed every newspaper and television programme in America wanted in on this story. Adam Bobo Grant led the pack. He took everything Deena said and built it into front-page news.
I’LL NEVER DIVORCE HIM! screamed the headlines. I LOVE MY HUSBAND!
Dennis Walla may have started it, but Adam Bobo Grant was launching it in a big way. An important way. The front page of the New York Runner was no Truth and Fact. People believed the stories they read in the New York Runner.
Bert Slocombe faxed the story to Dennis Walla in Los Angeles.
Sitting in his Hollywood office, Dennis read it with mounting disbelief. He recognized some of his own quotes. Adam Bobo Grant, the faggot hack, was stealing from him! And there was absolutely nothing he could do. It never occurred to Dennis to get angry. What did occur to him was that he might be able to make money out of this.
He picked up the phone and placed a call to Adam Bobo Grant at his newspaper.
An officious assistant informed him th
at Mr. Grant was unavailable.
‘Tell him it’s important,’ Dennis insisted.
‘I’m sorry,’ the assistant said, full of his own importance. ‘If you have an item for Mr. Grant, I can take it.’
‘Listen,’ Dennis said with heavy authority, his Australian accent thickening, ‘I’m not saying this twice. Just go tell him I’m the one who wrote the story in Truth and Fact about the Swanson divorce. And comin’ up I have an exclusive story by Venus Maria’s brother. We’re runnin’ it next week. Now I thought he might be interested in some of this information. If he isn’t, that’s fine by me. Go run it by him, mate.’
The assistant left him hanging on the line for a good five minutes before Adam Bobo Grant, gossip columnist supreme, came on the line.
‘Mr. Walla,’ Adam Bobo Grant said.
‘Saw your story,’ Dennis replied. ‘A nice crib.’
Adam Bobo Grant was offended. ‘I beg your pardon?’
‘I said a nice crib. You stole half the stuff from Truth and Fact. My stuff – I wrote it.’
‘Did you phone to complain?’ Bobo asked with a deeply put-upon sigh.
‘Nah, I’m takin’ a shot we can do business.’
‘Business?’ Bobo perked up.
‘Yeah, well, you’ve got items I find interesting, an’ you’ll find my next story very juicy indeed. It’s this exclusive piece running next week, an’ I thought – since you’re making such a meal out of the Swansons – that you might want to take a peek at my upcomin’ story before it runs.’
‘For a price, of course?’ Bobo said crisply.
‘Yeah, mate. Whattaya think I am – a charity?’
Bobo thought fast. As successful as his daily column was, it was always nice to make the front pages. ‘How much?’ he asked tartly.
‘A bargain price,’ Dennis replied.
Sure, Adam Bobo Grant thought. But he went for it anyway.
* * *
‘Photographers are camped outside my house,’ Venus Maria complained to Martin on the phone.
‘Don’t think they’re not trailing me everywhere, too,’ he said.
Was it her imagination, or did he sound quite pleased?