Buddy had a major crush, which Lennie found amusing to observe, because visually Buddy was Mr Stud, a true ladies’ man with a happening wardrobe and an Eddie Murphy swagger.
‘She’s married, you know,’ Lennie remarked, strolling over to Buddy while they were setting the lights for the second to last shot.
‘Hey, man, I know that,’ Buddy said, hardly able to take his eyes off Mary Lou, who was sitting in her chair chatting with one of the grips. ‘And I also know if she wasn’t—’
‘Hey, hey,’ Lennie interrupted. ‘She’s married to my brother-in-law.’
‘Fortunate guy,’ Buddy said.
‘He sure is,’ Lennie answered. ‘Good fortune runs in the family. My wife . . . well, what can I tell you about my wife?’
‘I’ve seen her,’ Buddy said. ‘You don’t have to say a word. But, let me ask you, isn’t it kinda difficult being married to a woman like Lucky?’
‘Why difficult?’
‘’Cause she’s running a studio, man, making all kinds of big decisions. The woman’s a real power player in Hollywood, and, uh . . .’
Lennie shook his head and laughed. ‘You think my wife running a studio threatens my ego?’
‘Naw, didn’t mean that.’
‘Oh, c’mon, that’s exactly what you meant.’
‘No, man,’ Buddy insisted. ‘All I’m thinkin’ is that I couldn’t do it.’
‘Do what?’
‘Be with a woman who got all the attention.’
‘I had the attention,’ Lennie said. ‘When I was acting in movies the attention never stopped. Hot and cold running women. Phone numbers stuffed in my pocket. Naked pictures in the mail. Believe me, I much prefer it this way.’
‘That’s cool,’ Buddy said.
‘Right,’ Lennie agreed. ‘Now, keep your eyes off Mrs Berkeley an’ let’s get it going here.’
* * *
Gino Santangelo was dressed and ready to go. It didn’t take much preparation to get ready when you were eighty-seven years old. Christ! He looked in the mirror and saw this old, grey-haired man, and he thought, When the fuck did this happen?
In his mind he still felt about forty. Forty and ready for action. Only the action wasn’t so easy to come by when you were his age. There were aches and pains to contend with. A stiffness in his joints. Getting up to go to the john a thousand times a night. Growing old was a bitch, but it sure as hell beat out the alternative.
He went to the bar in his Wilshire apartment and poured himself a hefty slug of Jack Daniel’s. Two inches of Jack Daniel’s a day keeps the doctor away – that was his motto, and he was sticking to it.
He thought about Lucky, his crazy daughter – she was strong, smart, and knew all the right moves. In fact, she was him in a dress. What a girl!
He was so goddamn proud of her, which is why he’d flown from his home in Palm Springs to attend this special evening honouring her. His wife, Paige, had been planning on coming with him, only Paige had gotten the flu at the last minute and stayed in Palm Springs. Paige was a good woman. They’d been married several years and got along fine, even though she was over thirty years younger than he was. He liked her spirit, not to mention her sexy pocket-Venus body, which still turned him on. Not that he was as into sex as he once was. But at least he could still get it up on occasion – much to his doctor’s amazement. ‘You’re eighty-seven, Gino,’ his doctor had told him last week. ‘When is it going to stop?’
‘Never, Doc.’ He’d laughed. ‘That’s the secret.’
Gino had never really gotten over his first wife and one true love, Maria. Her murder had shattered his life, and changed him for ever. Even now, all these years later, he still lived surrounded by high security. He often begged Lucky to do the same, but she ignored him. She didn’t realize the Santangelos had enemies out there going back many years. Between them, he and Lucky had dealt with the Bonnatti family in a vendetta that had lasted several decades. Now, with the demise of Donatella Bonnatti, the last of the clan – that particular feud was over. But there were others who’d always harboured a grudge.
Gino worried about Lucky. Sure, she was independent and feisty, but she was still a woman, and no woman could ever be as strong as a man.
Not that he’d dare tell her that. Lucky would bust his chops if he ever voiced such a thought.
He grinned, downing the Jack Daniel’s in one fell swoop. His daughter, Miss Balls of Fire, the original feminist. And tonight she was being honoured. Tonight she was the most important person in Hollywood. His daughter. It was some thrill.
The intercom buzzed and the doorman informed him there was a limo waiting downstairs.
‘I’ll be right there,’ Gino said.
And he wished his precious Maria were alive to see this memorable day.
* * *
Meanwhile, in his house on Sunset Plaza Drive, Steven found his tie, put it on, stared at himself in the mirror, decided he didn’t look too bad for a guy in his fifties, and, with a smile on his face, thought about Mary Lou and their conversation.
Steven was extremely modest, having no idea that he gave handsome a whole new meaning. He was six feet three inches tall with a killer body. His skin was the colour of rich milk chocolate, his black curly hair only slightly touched with grey, and his eyes were an unfathomable deep green. Mary Lou spent hours telling him he was the most handsome man she’d ever seen. This from an actress who mixed with perfect specimens every day. ‘You’re just prejudiced,’ he told her.
‘You bet your ass I am,’ she answered, with the sweetest smile in the world.
Steven figured he was a pretty lucky guy. He had a wife he adored, who adored him back; the cutest little daughter in the world, and a whole new family. Lucky was the greatest: she treated him as if they’d grown up together. ‘When my brother, Dario, was murdered,’ she’d told him, ‘I never imagined anyone could replace him. Then you came along, and I’m so grateful to have you in my life, Steven.’
Gino had finally accepted him too. ‘Gotta tell you,’ he’d growled one day, ‘never thought I’d have myself a black kid.’
‘Yeah, well,’ Steven had responded, ‘never thought I’d have myself a white Italian father.’
‘Guess we both got unlucky,’ Gino had joked, and then he’d hugged Steven.
Sometimes the three of them went out for dinner. To Steven, those nights were the best of times, special evenings that he treasured.
He never thought about his past – the dark days when he was married to ZeeZee, a crazy, exotic dancer; or being raised by Carrie, his mother, who once worked in a whorehouse; and then there were the interminable years of never knowing who his real father was.
He had good friends too. Jerry Myerson had always come through for him, even when he was at his most miserable and a real pain in the ass.
Now he was content, he had everything he’d ever wanted and it was a satisfying feeling.
His eight-year-old daughter came into the room. She was the image of Mary Lou, with her sweet smile, light brown skin, and cascades of curly hair.
‘Anyone ever told you you look exactly like your mom?’ Steven said.
‘Daddy, you look sooo handsome,’ Carioca Jade said, peering up at him.
‘Why, thank you.’
‘You’re welcome, Daddy.’
His daughter was growing up so fast. Surely it was about time they considered having another child? He’d been meaning to talk to Mary Lou about it. He wanted a son. A boy he could go to ball games with and teach many things – not that he didn’t adore his daughter, she made every day worthwhile, but a son . . . Well, it was his dream.
‘Where’s Mommy?’ Carioca Jade demanded, tilting her head on one side.
‘On location, sweetheart,’ he answered. ‘She asked me to tell you to be a good girl and be sure and do your homework.’
Jennifer, their English au pair, appeared. ‘Everything all right, Mr Berkeley?’ she asked crisply, shades of Mary Poppins.
‘Eve
rything’s fine, Jen,’ he said. ‘You’ve got the number of my cellphone if you need me. I guess we’ll be home around midnight.’
‘Don’t worry about a thing, Mr Berkeley. Come along, Carrie, let’s get into that homework.’
‘Daddy, can’t I watch TV and do my homework later?’ Carioca pleaded, all big eyes and quivering lower lip.
‘No way.’
‘Why?’
‘’Cause education is everything. And don’t you ever forget it.’
‘Okay, Daddy,’ Carioca said reluctantly. ‘I get it.’
‘I’ll see you in the morning, sweetheart,’ he said, giving her a hug and a kiss. Then he walked out the door just as the limo drew up in front of the house. The driver jumped out and opened the car door.
‘Hey,’ Steven said, ducking inside.
‘Hey,’ Lucky answered. And they grinned at each other.
‘Evening, Steven,’ Gino said.
‘Hey – Gino, Bobby. Everyone’s lookin’ mighty good,’ Steven said. ‘This must be a special occasion.’
‘Let’s go,’ Lucky said impatiently. ‘This is going to be a big night, and now that I’m committed, I do not intend to miss one single moment.’
Chapter Eight
‘It’s babe alert big time!’ Lina said.
‘What?’Brigette said.
‘Look at ’im,’ Lina said admiringly, staring at Fredo’s cousin as they headed to their table on their way back from the ladies’ room where they’d gone to touch up their makeup and discuss the situation. ‘He’s definitely the shit!’
Brigette took another look. True. Carlo Vittorio Vitti was handsome in an arrogant way: he was tall, with dark blond hair, piercing ice-blue eyes, designer stubble and a slender body. He was wearing a grey pinstriped suit and casual black silk T-shirt. She figured him to be in his early thirties.
In spite of her afternoon session with Flick, Lina was in lust at first sight. ‘And ’e’s got a title,’ she said, fully impressed. ‘Fredo told me ’e’s a count. My mum would ’ave a fit if she knew I was out with a real live count!’
Brigette wasn’t really listening. She was too busy regretting eschewing pizza and Ab Fab for a night on the town. This was not her idea of a good time. Fredo was all over her like a particularly annoying rash, and his arrogant cousin had barely said a word. What did she need this for?
Lina was definitely after the cousin. Brigette couldn’t care less: she merely wanted to go home.
‘I’m gonna fuck ’im tonight!’ Lina announced, licking her full, glossy lips in a predatory way. ‘Oh, yeah!’
‘He’s engaged,’ Brigette pointed out, idly wondering to whom.
‘Ha!’ Lina snorted. ‘Engaged means nothing.’
Brigette nodded as if she agreed, although actually she didn’t.
‘Just lookin’ at ’im makes me dead horny,’ Lina continued. ‘Know what I mean?’
Brigette nodded again, as if she knew exactly what Lina meant when, actually, she didn’t get it at all. It had been several years since she’d slept with a man. Sometimes she thought her libido had died and drifted off to heaven. Now she felt no desire at all. Nada. None. It was quite obvious she was a freak of nature.
Sometimes she wondered how her friendship with Lina survived. Because of their great camaraderie, she tried not to let the fact that Lina was man hungry get in the way of their friendship. The truth was that she understood exactly where Lina was coming from. Both of them had grown up with no father around, so Lina was always chasing the strong masculine image, whereas Brigette did the opposite and shied away from men altogether. They were so different, yet they had fun together and plenty of laughs, especially when they travelled around the world on their various assignments. Location shoots were the best. Brigette was especially looking forward to flying to the Bahamas where they were doing a major shoot for Sports World International magazine. Last year she’d been on the cover. This year she knew that Lina was after the coveted spot and she was rooting for her to get it.
Back at the table Fredo had ordered a bottle of Cristal. He was so delighted they’d agreed to have dinner with him that he hadn’t stopped beaming all night. ‘Well, my beauties,’ he said enthusiastically, ‘what club shall we visit next?’
‘You choose,’ Lina said, flashing a seductive smile at Carlo, who, much to her annoyance, failed to respond. Lina was used to men falling all over her and she did not appreciate indifference.
‘I want to go home,’ Brigette announced, causing both Lina and Fredo to glare at her.
‘It’s much too early,’ Lina snapped, shaking her head in an exasperated fashion. ‘It’s time for dancin’.’ She turned to Fredo. ‘I should never ’ave warned ’er about you.’
‘What you mean?’ Fredo said, bushy eyebrows shooting up. ‘You warn her about me?’
‘Yeah,’ Lina said, with a wicked grin. ‘I told ’er you’re a real fuck-an’-run merchant. That’s why you’ve never got anywhere with ’er.’
‘Thanks,’ Fredo said huffily. ‘Now I must show her my true personality.’
‘She’s seen your true personality all right,’ Lina said slyly. ‘An’, believe me, that’s all she wants to see.’
While Lina and Fredo were bantering back and forth, Brigette took the polite route and leaned towards Carlo. ‘Fredo told me you live in London,’ she said. ‘That must be interesting.’
He fixed her with his piercing blue eyes. ‘You are very beautiful,’ he said in a low voice – so low that neither of the other two heard.
‘Excuse me?’ Brigette said, taken aback.
‘I think you understand me,’ he said.
She glanced quickly at Lina. Her friend would not be happy if she thought Carlo was coming on to someone else. ‘Well, uh . . . thanks,’ she said, slightly flustered. ‘It’s my job to look good in front of the camera.’
‘I’m not talking about your photographs,’ Carlo said smoothly.
For a moment she felt uncomfortable under the scrutiny of his probing eyes. ‘Well,’ she said, lifting her champagne glass and making a big show of including the others, ‘I’d like to propose a toast. Here’s to Carlo and his fiancée. What a pity she’s not here.’
Lina shot her a deadly look for mentioning that her new object of lust was engaged.
‘What fiancée?’ Carlo asked, as if he had no idea what she was talking about.
‘Fredo told us you were engaged,’ Lina said, shooting Fredo a look that said, Well, is he or isn’t he?
‘Me? I think not,’ Carlo said, with a fleeting smile. ‘It is over.’
‘You didn’t mention it was over to me,’ Fredo said accusingly.
‘You did not ask,’ Carlo replied, freezing him out.
Lina immediately moved in, snuggling close to Carlo. ‘Not engaged, huh?’ she said happily. ‘Nor am I. That makes us a cosy couple, don’t it?’
Carlo smiled politely, but his eyes remained on Brigette.
Chapter Nine
‘Where the hell are they?’ Lucky muttered, pulling on the sleeve of Steven’s jacket so she could take a peek at his watch.
‘It’s only eight,’ Steven said, calm as usual. ‘They’ll be here in time for your speech.’
‘Yeah, honey,’ Gino joined in. ‘You gotta learn t’ relax. Lookit me.’
‘I guess it’s easy when you’re eighty-seven,’ she murmured drily.
‘My kid,’ Gino said, with a wide smile. ‘Always with the smart answers.’
‘Wonder where I inherited that from,’ she drawled.
They’d just sat down after a long cocktail hour. Bobby was hovering at the next table, desperately trying to make conversation with the perky young star of a TV sitcom as he strutted proudly in his first tux. He was certainly good-looking, with his mother’s striking colouring and his deceased father’s charisma. Dimitri had been a major charmer.
Lucky nudged Gino. ‘Was that you at fifteen?’ she asked, watching her son as he attempted to put a move on the eighteen-year-old s
itcom star.
Gino checked out his grandson and roared with laughter. ‘When I was his age,’ he said, ‘I was screwin’ my way around the block.’
And so was I, Lucky wanted to say, but she didn’t; Gino wasn’t too fond of remembering his daughter in her wild days. He’d married her off at sixteen to curb her out-of-control behaviour. Big deal. She’d soon gotten out of that fiasco, and the moment Gino took off for Europe on an extended tax exile, she’d moved back to Vegas and taken over the family business with a vengeance.
‘Is that how you got your nickname, Gino the Ram?’ she asked innocently, pretending she didn’t know he hated that tag from so long ago.
‘I always knew how t’ treat a woman,’ Gino said indignantly. ‘Treat a lady like a whore an’ a whore like a lady. Works every time.’
‘Now don’t you be teaching my son sexist crap like that,’ Lucky scolded sternly.
‘Bullshit!’ Gino spat. ‘The sooner he learns, the better off he’ll be. For his sixteenth birthday I’m takin’ him to Vegas an’ buyin’ him the best-lookin’ hooker in town.’
‘No, you’re not.’
‘Yes, I am.’
‘The last thing I need is my son getting your antiquated take on women.’
Gino roared with laughter. ‘I never had no complaints, kiddo.’
‘Shove it up your ass, Gino.’
They did not have the traditional father–daughter relationship.
Steven returned to the table. ‘What are you two up to?’ he asked.
‘I’m listening to Gino blow wind,’ Lucky said, feigning an exaggerated yawn.
‘That’s nice,’ Steven said, shaking his head. ‘When you two get together it’s exactly like being back in high school.’
‘I can’t help it if he’s stuck in a time warp,’ Lucky said, laughing.
‘Time warp, my ass,’ Gino interjected. ‘I’m tellin’ you the way it is with men and women. It’s about time you understood.’
‘Hold that thought,’ Steven said. ‘Here comes Alex and his date.’