Lady Boss (1990)

  Martin was very. excited about the Swanson. It was a sleek and powerful car. A car that represented everything he wanted the public to know about him.

  Martin planned to present the Swanson at a big media publicity launch in Detroit.

  Deena felt sure her errant husband wasn't going to jeopardize the anticipated publicity on the Swanson for a tawdry little slut like Venus Maria.

  She tried to imagine what hold the girl had over him. It was sexual, of course.

  But why? Martin wasn't particularly interested in sex.

  Deena shook her head. She couldn't figure it out. She could only stand by, wait, and see what happened. And if the worst happened, she had her solution.

  Brigette was excited about the party, although she didn't let on to Nona, who appeared to take it al very casual y. To Brigette it was a return to the real world. She'd been shut up in boarding school for so long, and when she was al owed out, it was always with Charlotte, who never took her anywhere. Now here she was, part of an exciting life again, back in the big city. "I can't make up my mind whether we should go or not," Nona vacil ated. "How about taking in a movie instead and skipping the party?"

  "1 vote for the party." Brigette was ful of enthusiasm and dying to go. "It'l be a blast."

  "My idea of a blast is not attending my parents' crazy parties."

  Final y Brigette got her to agree that it might be a laugh.

  The next question was, Who would they go as? "I'l be Janet Jackson," Nona decided.

  "That's not exactly easy to put together," Brigette pointed out.

  Nona thought about it. "Why not? I'l do an incredible black makeup. And I'l wear a Janet Jackson wig, tight jeans, and a motorcycle jacket. I can borrow Paul's. He's coming to the party, you know."

  "What's his favorite fantasy?" Brigette inquired, trying not to sound too interested.

  "Probably Picasso mixed with Donald Trump's money,"

  Nona replied dryly.

  Eventual y they decided it would be fun if they both dressed up as Venus Maria.

  Nona giggled. "We'l blow everybody's mind!" "She's not going to be here, is she?" Brigette asked anxiously, thinking it wouldn't be too cool if she was. "You never know who's going to turn up at my parents' parties," Nona answered.

  They went on a wild shopping spree in the Vil age, running into places Effie would never dream of visiting. They arrived home with a selection of outlandish clothes, everything from long army-surplus overcoats to fril ed miniskirts, leather bustiers, and midriff-exposing tops.

  "Venus Maria always puts together such a fantastic look,"

  Nona said, poring over an interview with Venus in one of the latest magazines. "I think she's great. It's obvious she doesn't give a damn about anybody."

  Brigette laughed. "Just like you, huh?"

  "What's so bad about that? My opinion is that women do what men think they should do. I'm not going to be like that when I'm old."

  "What's old?"

  "It says here Venus Maria is twenty-five. I guess she's sort of old."

  Brigette laughed again. "Don't let your mother hear you say that!"

  "Effie is forever young," Nona said with a wicked grin.

  "She'l be young when she's eighty. I bet she'l stil have that crazy streak of green hair, and wear outlandish clothes.

  Mom's quite a character."

  "You're fortunate to have her," Brigette said wistful y.

  "I know," Nona agreed. "Oh, and by the way, have you spoken to your stepfather? When are we going to Malibu?

  Effie needs to know. It's not that she's dying to get rid of us, but she's got this little side trip planned to Bangkok, and she doesn't want us tagging along." "I've left a message with Lennie's agent to cal me here," Brigette said. "I heard he walked off the movie, and nobody seems to know where he is. He'l come through. Lennie won't let me down. He promised me Malibu, and Lennie always keeps his promises."

  "Great!" exclaimed Nona. "I don't know about you, but I can't wait."

  Emilio Sierra and Dennis Wal a formed an uneasy al iance.

  It was a relationship based on greed rather than trust. They had a couple of meetings bickering about money back and forth. Emilio flatly refused to say who Venus Maria's married lover was until a price was settled. Dennis, on the other hand, insisted there could be no price until Emilio revealed his information.

  After their initial meeting in Cafe Roma, they got together in a seedy coffee shop on Pico and tried to hammer it out.

  Final y they met at the office of Truth and Fact in Hol ywood.

  Emilio said he wanted fifty thousand dol ars. Truth and Fact agreed to pay if the name he gave them was worth it. Now they were meeting to finalize the deal. " 'Morning, mate,"

  greeted Dennis, sitting behind a littered desk, smoking a cheap, foul-smel ing cigar. "Today's the day, huh?" A mangy cat strol ed by. Emilio nodded uneasily. He wasn't sure if he should be here. Appearing at the offices of Truth and Fact was real y blowing his cover. When he'd walked through the main room he'd noticed people at desks, behind typewriters, glancing in his direction. He felt like a traitor. And yet, why shouldn't he do what he had to if it made him money?

  Dennis introduced him to one of his col eagues, a short, squat Englishman with a rat face, scraggly eyebrows, and a droopy little mustache.

  "Who's he?" Emilio asked suspiciously.

  "We gotta have a witness," Dennis explained. "Can't hand over a check without a witness. You gotta give us the facts, Emilio. Times, places, names. The lot."

  Emilio nodded. "I know al that," he said somewhat il -

  temperedly. God, you would think it would be easier than this. Why couldn't he just tel them who she was sleeping with, take his money, and go?

  "Sit down," said Dennis. "Want a beer?"

  Emilio shook his head. For the last week he'd been working on his gut. This meant cutting out beer. A real drag.

  When he had his fifty thousand dol ars he wanted to be in better shape. He'd buy a decent car, new clothes, and move to a luxurious apartment. Emilio Sierra was going places.

  "Let's get this show on the road," Dennis said, switching on a tape recorder.

  "Why are you doing that?" Emilio asked, alarmed.

  "I keep tel ing you," Dennis replied patiently, "we need the proof. Don't plan on getting sued, do we?" Emilio thought about that one. "How can you be sued if it al happened?"

  he asked.

  "You'd be surprised who tries it on. Sinatra, Romano, Reynolds, the biggies. They're stupid, 'cause they never win. It ends up costing them big money. But we don't want to be dragged through the courts for years, do we?"

  "No," agreed Emilio, wondering if Venus Maria would sue.

  "O. K., shoot," said Dennis, releasing the pause button.

  Emilio felt hot. A thin sliver of sweat trickled down his neck.

  He had an ache in his gut. He didn't feel wel . "It's like this,"

  he said, sitting down. "Uh .. . where's my check?"

  Dennis opened his desk drawer and took out a check for five thousand dol ars. He waved it under Emilio's nose.

  "You get this now, the rest when the story's ready for press."

  Emilio tried to grab it.

  Dennis snatched it out of reach. "Not so fast. I'm only showing it to you. Before you get it we need the name. If it's worth something to us, an' you've got proof, it's yours, an'

  plenty more to come."

  Shit, Emilio thought, better get this over and done with.

  "The boyfriend's name is Martin Swanson." He blurted It quickly, savoring the shock and amazement on both men's faces.

  Dennis let out a long, low whistle. "Martin Swanson! The New York biggie?"

  "Martin Swanson?" repeated the Englishman. "This is juicy stuff."

  "Shit!" exclaimed Dennis happily. "If you can back this one up, you've given us a good one, mate." "Oh, I can back it up," Emilio boasted. "I even have a picture of them together." His trump card. "A picture?" Dennis said, getting more ex
cited. "You never mentioned you had photos."

  Emilio thought quickly. "Yeah,. wel , if you want the picture, it's extra."

  "Oh," said Dennis. "The picture is extra?" "If you want it,"

  Emilio said.

  "We want it," Dennis said.

  Martin Swanson stood in his dressing room and examined his face in a magnifying mirror. He reached for the tweezers and plucked a few offending hairs from beneath his eyebrows. Then he stood back and admired himself in a ful -length mirror. He was dressed as a Confederate soldier. Deena had thought it an original costume. He had to admit the outfit suited him.

  Birthdays usual y sank him into a deep depression, but today he felt particularly good. It seemed he had lots of friends. Presents had been arriving at the house al day, along with flowers, bal oons, and birthday-greeting telegrams.

  Deena had presented him with a solid-gold picture frame.

  In it she had placed their wedding picture. There they were, Deena and Martin Swanson, standing outside the church, the happy couple.

  Was it only ten years ago? It seemed like a lifetime. When he married Deena he had been ready to settle down. Who knew he'd ever find a woman like Venus Maria?

  Venus had cal ed him at his office earlier. "Happy birthday, Martin," she'd said, long distance. "I'm disappointed you couldn't get out here to celebrate with me."

  "It's been difficult," he replied. "Business."

  "You shouldn't let business run your life," she'd chided. "Al work and no play makes Martin a very dul boy indeed."

  He'd laughed. ."I'm never dul when I'm around you, am I?"

  "Baby, I make sure of that."

  They'd talked a few minutes more. She hadn't said, "When am I going to see you?" She didn't have to. He knew it was on her mind. It was on his mind, too. Their relationship had reached the point where she required more than promises.

  It wasn't easy. Sure, he could divorce Deena. It would probably cost him a bundle, even though he'd made her sign a prenuptial, and they'd suffer through a wave of bad publicity. But after that he'd be free to do whatever he wanted.

  O. K., so right now they were the Swansons. They owned New York. But Martin Swanson on his own could stil own New York.

  It was a difficult decision and one he wasn't quite ready to make. He'd ended the phone conversation with Venus Maria by promising to fly to L. A. the fol owing week. The thought excited him. She real y knew how to turn him on.

  Her little tricks and surprises were something else. For a moment he al owed his thoughts to linger on the two hookers and the silk scarves. Quite an event. Venus Maria knew how to keep a man interested.

  One final glance and he strol ed out of his dressing room satisfied with his appearance.

  Deena was downstairs, her ful -length sable coat covering her outfit for the evening.

  "Let's have a look at you," Martin said easily. She swung around, dropping her coat.

  "Wow!" Martin was impressed. He'd married a beautiful woman.

  Deena had on some outfit. Her long legs were encased in sleek black stockings. And the rest of her getup was a carbon copy of the famous Marlene Dietrich costume in The Blue Angel. Deena, when she wanted to, could turn herself into a real stunner.

  "You're very handsome tonight, Martin," she said, reaching out to smooth the back of his hair.

  "And you, wel , what can I tel you? You've real y done it, haven't you?" He laughed. "Effie wil be a jealous wreck."

  Deena smiled triumphantly. "Why is that?" "Because, my dear--" he held out his arm--"tonight, everyone is going to be looking at you. Including me."

  Deena felt her triumph grow. She raised an eyebrow.

  "Real y?" she said.

  "Real y," he said.

  Chapter 39

  There was not much spare time in Venus Maria's life From the moment she got up in the morning until the moment she went to bed at night, she was always busy doing something. If it wasn't her workouts, it was rehearsals for her videos. If it wasn't rehearsals, she was in the studio, recording. Or she was sitting with the two songwriters she liked to work with, making suggestions as far as lyrics were concerned. Several times a week she worked with Ron. He stil choreographed al her routines, and they were stil best friends--in spite of the Ken Dol .

  Then there was her acting. She tried to read every script sent to her. And if she didn't have time, she depended on a reader she employed.

  Frankly, she was annoyed that Martin hadn't flown back for his birthday as he'd promised. She confided in Ron while they sweated their way through a new dance routine in his rehearsal room.

  "What do you want from the man?" Ron asked, straight to the point as usual.

  "To be with me al the time," she said.

  "That's a ridiculous suggestion," Ron blasted truthful y.

  "Martin Swanson is based in New York. You're here. What kind of life would the two of you have together? He'd be out screwing around and so would you. I know you, Venus."

  "Maybe you don't know me as wel as you think you do,"

  she replied indignantly.

  "Come off it," Ron said. "I know you better than anybody. I knew you when--before al the big-deal star stuff. I knew you when Venus Maria was just a twitch in your fanny."

  "And don't you forget, Ron," she retaliated. "1 knew you before you were the gay prince of Hol ywood."

  "The what?"

  "You heard," she replied tartly.

  "Oh, thank you so much, madame. I always wanted to be-a gay prince."

  "And may I be the first to tel you you're doing a marvelous job? You and the Ken Dol are the talk of boys' town."

  Ron was irritated. "Don't cal him the Ken Dol . I've told you a mil ion times."

  She brushed a hand through her platinum hair. "That's what he is."

  "Listen, honey, don't talk about my lover and I won't talk about yours, O. K.?"

  They glared at each other and continued the rehearsal.

  Ron was a hard taskmaster. When he choreographed a routine it had to be perfect. And he made sure Venus Maria practiced every move before he put her with the other dancers. She was his star pupil. Secretly she knew Ron considered he was total y responsible for her success. It didn't bother her. If he wished to take credit, let him do so.

  She knew she would have gotten to the top with or without Ron. He'd been a great help, especial y in the early days.

  Now she didn't need him.

  She didn't need anybody.

  Except Martin.

  Effie greeted al her guests personal y. Not for her an army of servants, although there were plenty around. Effie considered the personal touch important to make any party successful.

  When Deena and Martin arrived, Effie was at the door to welcome them.

  Deena slid her sable coat off her shoulders.

  "My God!" Yul said, hovering behind Effie. "I never realized you had such incredible legs."

  Deena smiled her cool smile. Tonight she was going to make every man in the room hot, and she knew it. "You look divine, darling," enthused Effie. "And Martin, the handsome-soldier look suits you. You should do it more often. I simply adore a uniform."

  * "I feel like a fool," Martin said, perfectly at ease. Yul, who was dressed as a caveman, said, "You feel like a fool? Try this outfit for ten minutes."

  Martin laughed and got lost in a sea of greetings. Everyone wanted to wish him a happy birthday. He was Mr. Popular.

  Gathered in a corner, Brigette, Nona, and Paul watched the activities.

  "Martin Swanson is such a corny old smoothie," Nona proclaimed. "Just watch him work a room. What an operator!"

  "Wow," Paul said. "Get a load of his old lady's legs."

  "She's too ancient for you, and she's married," Nona said snappishly.

  "But she's rich," Paul remarked.

  "Wil you get off it? She's not as rich as Brigette." "Oh, wel , we al know it's impossible for anyone to be as rich as Brigette. And while we're on the subject, since she's so rich, how come you two didn't
come up with decent outfits?

  You look like a couple of tarts."

  Nona narrowed her eyes. "We're supposed to be Venus Maria, can't you tel ?"

  "NoPe," replied Paul. "You stil look like two little tramps."

  "Honestly!" Nona said crossly. "You're so ful of b. s. "

  "Takes one to know one."

  "Do you two fight al the time?" Brigette asked curiously.

  "This isn't fighting," said Paul.

  "Oh, no!" agreed Nona. "You should see us when we real y go at it!"

  Paul had decided not to play dress-up, refusing to change his al -black outfit. Nobody seemed to notice except Brigette, who couldn't keep her eyes off him, much as she tried.

  She remembered the first time she'd spotted her first boyfriend, Tim Wealth. It seemed such a long time ago, and yet it couldn't be more than two years. Tim had been tal and gangly, with a thin face, a nice smile, and longish hair.

  The first time she'd seen him at the opening of Lucky's hotel, it had been love at first sight. Later that same night he'd invited her to his hotel suite, made her snort coke, and instructed her to undress. He'd had no idea who she was or that she was only fourteen. And then he'd made love to her.

  Fast and furious.

  Memories of Tim were making her uncomfortably warm.

  She took off her short brocade jacket. Underneath she wore a skimpy white bra and a minuscule skirt.

  Paul second-glanced her. "Not bad," he said. "It's a shame you're stil a baby."

  I was even more of a baby when I met Tim Wealth, she thought. It didn't bother him.

  Paul's eyes fol owed Deena's seductive legs across the room. "She sure looks good tonight," he sighed lustful y.

  "She's old enough to be your mother," Nona said disapprovingly.

  "Not quite."

  "Almost," Nona countered.

  He got up. "I'm leaving you two nymphets to fend for yourselves. I'l be back in a minute."

  "I don't believe it!" Nona exclaimed. "He's planning to hit on Deena Swanson. Can you imagine? He's going to hit on Mommy's best friend!"

  Brigette forced a laugh. She was jealous. But she was determined not to let anybody see it, because fal ing in love meant heartbreak, and Brigette knew heartbreak only too wel .