Lady Boss (1990)

  "When am I gonna see you again?" she asked, stal ing.

  "Soon." He winked. "I'l cal you."

  She wasn't thril ed with his reply, but she sashayed into the entrance of her apartment building as if she didn't have a care jn the world.

  Women, Emilio thought to himself, the worse you treat 'em, the more they like it.

  Once rid of Rita, he drove directly to Venus Maria's house.

  He knew it was too early for her to be up, and as it was a weekend, the housekeeper had the day off --which was exactly what he was counting on. Her housekeeper was too protective by far, always spying on him. With just himself and Venus Maria in the house, he'd have a better chance of getting what he needed from her safe.

  He didn't bother ringing the doorbel . There was a window in the back that al owed him easy access. Why disturb her if she was alseep? Al the better to surprise little sis.

  Venus Maria was asleep, al right, curled up in front of the television, an empty ice-cream carton on the floor beside her, a jacket thrown casual y across her body.

  This was too good to be true.

  Stealthily Emilio made his way through the living room, up the stairs to her bedroom, straight to her hidden safe. He knew where she'd jotted down the combination in some kind of code. Quickly he found her private phone book, located the coded combination, hurried to the safe, opened it, slid out the picture of Venus Maria with Martin Swanson, and placed it safely in his pocket.

  Al this took only a few minutes. It was far easier than he'd expected. Now he could skip, and she wouldn't even know he'd been there.

  Unknown to Emilio, when he'd opened the window he'd triggered a silent alarm connected directly to the police. As he started to make his way downstairs he was shocked to hear the screaming siren of a police car. It sounded like it was right outside the house. Venus Maria awoke with a start. "Oh, God!" she exclaimed, realizing she'd fal en asleep in front of the television. The police were already urgently pressing her front-door buzzer.

  Groggily she rushed to the door.

  Two uniformed cops stood at attention. One of them had a hand hovering near his gun. "Your alarm went off, miss," he said. "You al right?" And then realization hit. He nudged his partner. "Excuse me, aren't you--?"

  She nodded. "Yes, I am, and I'm not looking my best. What do you mean, my alarm went off?" "There's an intruder in your home."

  Oh, God! The crazed fan she'd always dreaded was somewhere in her house. She shivered. "I'm here by myself."

  "Don't worry. We'l check everything out. Do you mind if we come in?"

  "Mind? I'd be delighted."

  Emilio lurked at the top of the stairs, listening. How was he going to get out of this one?

  His mind raced with possibilities. He could always say the back door was open and he'd gone up to her bedroom to see if she was awake. Venus Maria wouldn't be pleased, but what could she do? He was her brother.

  Before he could make any move at al , the two cops were crouched at the bottom of the stairs, guns drawn. "Hit- the floor, sucker," one of them yel ed. "Don't even think about going for a weapon."

  Dennis Wal a groped for the ringing phone. "Yeah," he muttered into the receiver. "Wassa matter?"

  "Dennis?"

  "Who's this?"

  " 'Ere, Dennis, it's yer New York connection, Bert. You got a short memory or wot?"

  With a weary sigh Dennis recognized the rough cockney accent of Bert Slocombe, one of his col eagues in New York. Just for a lark, they'd put a man on Swanson watch.

  Dennis yawned and scratched his bal s. "Find anything out, mate?"

  "Only that they go out a lot," replied Bert sourly. "Bleedin"el , they're never at 'ome."

  "Yeah? Where'd they go?"

  "Try just about every party in town. An' every club. It's bloody wel not easy fol owing 'em."

  "Do they seem like a happy, loving couple?"

  " 'Ere, you ever seen a husband and wife out in public who don't seem lovey-dovey? They're al over each other. It's bleedin' sickenin'."

  "Hmmm." Dennis groped for a cigarette, lit up, and inhaled deeply. "I don't suppose he'l be so cheerful come Monday."

  "Yer think the bugger'lI sue us?"

  "Talk sense, mate. Nobody's that stupid. Four or five years with lawyers swarmin' al over you, an' then final y sloggin' it out in court. No. He won't sue."_

  "Yeah, but Martin Swanson's a tough one."

  "Don't worry about him being so tough. Today I'm getting my hands on a photograph of him with Venus Maria. A very tel ing photograph. When our story runs we'l have plenty to back it up."

  "O. K. Am I off duty now?"

  "Stick with 'em another twenty-four hours."

  "It's a useless waste of my time," Bert complained.

  "Waste it. You're gettin' paid," Dennis said. He took another drag of his cigarette, stubbed it out in an overflowing ashtray, turned over, and went back to sleep.

  At seven o'clock on Saturday morning Martin Swanson played racquetbal for two hours. He got off on the chal enge of beating the hel out of his opponent, and since most of his opponents worked for him, he managed to win every time.

  Afterward he took a shower, toweled himself dry, dressed, and jogged up the stairs to the top floor of the Swanson Building, where his penthouse office gave him an overal view of the city.

  It was too early to cal Venus Maria in California. He wondered what her reaction had been to his gift. Wel , it wasn't a gift, real y. He'd lost a bet. And what a beautiful way to lose!

  Gertrude, his personal assistant, greeted him with a triumphant smile. She'd been with him eleven years and knew more about his business than anyone. "Good morning, Mr. Swanson, and how are we today?"

  He nodded.

  "I'm sure you'l be delighted with these," she said, handing him a sheaf of FAXes. "Yes, Mr. Swanson, it looks as if we'l be taking over a studio. Shal I alert your pilot and have him ready the plane?"

  He read the first FAX quickly. And the second one. And the third.

  A smile played around his lips. "Do that," he said. "I'l leave first thing tomorrow."

  Mickey was awakened by a troop of Mexican gardeners using their il egal leaf blowers right outside his bedroom window. The smel of gas pervaded his nostrils. Furiously he turned over to prod Abigaile, but she was already up and gone from the room.

  "Goddamn it," he muttered under his breath. How many times had he told her that under no circumstances were the gardeners to come anywhere near his house on a Saturday. He groped for his watch. Was it ten o'clock already?

  Rol ing from his comfortable bed, he stalked into his bathroom, glared at himself in the mirror, fil ed his sink with ice-cold water, and plunged his face into the icy bowl. It woke him in a hurry.

  When his head cleared he cal ed Warner. "What the fuck kind of game are you playing?" he demanded in a low voice, just in case Abigaile was listening.

  "It's over, Mickey," hissed Warner, not pleased to hear from him.

  "What do you mean, it's over?"

  "I've had enough."

  "Enough of what?"

  "Your bad moods, your wife, and the way you use me for sex. Besides, I'm in love with somebody else now."

  He nearly choked. "You're what?"

  "Yes, I'm in love with somebody else." She confirmed the ego-busting news.

  "And who might that be?" he asked tightly. "Johnny Romano," she replied, and promptly hung up on him.

  And Leslie Kane awoke in L. A. and shivered when she realized where she was and what she'd done. She'd run out on' Eddie, straight back to her old life. On reflection, it probably wasn't the smartest move in the world.

  Tearful y she thought about her husband. Eddie wasn't so bad. He had his problems. Didn't everyone? And she'd deserted him just when he'd needed her most. What kind of wife did that make her?

  Madame Loretta's house was very stil . Saturday mornings and sex for sale did not mix. Most men were busy with their families.

  She lay in bed and tried to decid
e what to do. One thing was sure, and that was she had to teach Eddie some kind of lesson. He had to be made aware that he could not treat her like dirt.

  Twenty-four hours should do it. Twenty-four hours and then she'd go home.

  In New York, Deena opened her eyes at ten o'clock, removed her black satin sleep mask, and summoned her maid, who served her tea in bed and brought her the morning papers. She skipped straight to the gossip columns, anxious to know who was doing what to whom and if there were any parties she might have missed.

  Satisfied that there weren't, she immediately turned to the fashion pages. Not for Deena world events and crime news. She wasn't interested. Her houseman buzzed the news. She wasn't interested. Her houseman buzzed the bedroom to tel her there was a cal for her. *

  "Who is it?" she asked.

  "Mr. Paul Webster," he replied.

  Hmm . . . what was Effie's son cal ing her for?

  She picked up the phone. "Paul?" she questioned. "Little Paul?"

  "Do you get your kicks trying to make me feel smal ?" he asked.

  Nice voice. Very low. Very sexy. In spite of herself, Deena felt a tingle. "I don't think your mother would enjoy it if she knew you were flirting with me," she said.

  He came right back at her. "What makes you think I'm flirting?"

  "Either that or you're cal ing to ask after my health. Which is it, Paul?"

  "You're a turn-on, Deena."

  She couldn't help being amused. "Paul, I'm Old enough to be your . . . your . . ."

  "Older sister?" he offered helpful y.

  "Something like that."

  "Can I take you to lunch?"

  Why not? she thought to herself. Effie would have a thousand fits. But Effie didn't have to find out, did she?

  "Where did you have in mind?"

  "The park," he said easily.

  She thought he meant Tavern on the Green. "What time?"

  "I'l pick you up at noon." He paused, waiting for her response.

  "I'm not sure. I--"

  "Twelve o'clock," he interrupted forceful y. "See you."

  She smiled. There'd been nobody since the soul singer.

  Just because Martin said she wasn't supposed to . . .

  Why should she listen to Martin when he did exactly as he pleased?

  But Paul Webster . . . a boy . . . Effie's son. Deena Swanson, she scolded herself, you ought to be ashamed.

  And Eddie Kane didn't sleep at al . He went to a party at the beach house shared by Arnie Blackwood and Frankie Lombardo. He got wel and truly bombed. He snorted as much cocaine as he could manage because he knew Arnie and Frankie kept a generous supply for their friends, and it would cost him nothing. At one point he'd asked Arnie for a loan. Arnie had laughed in his face.

  There were plenty of girls around, but Eddie didn't feel like getting laid. He knew how badly he'd treated Leslie. He'd hurt her, and he didn't know how she'd react. What was he going to do about it?

  First of al , he had no idea where she'd gone. And second, he wasn't sure how long it would take her to return.

  Talk about screwing up a perfect relationship. The story of his life.

  Saturday morning he came to, only to find himself slumped on the living-room floor of Arnie and Frankie's house in Trancas, along with half a dozen other bums who'd spent the night.

  Fortunately he'd managed to score enough coke at the party to give himself a jump start. After visiting the bathroom and doing just that, he felt considerably better. He made his way outside to his car.

  Home sweet home.

  He could only hope Leslie was waiting.

  Chapter 53

  "Don't shoot! I'm her brother," Emilio shrieked, his voice fil ed with panic.

  "Hit the ground now, or you ain't gonna be nobody's brother,"! one of the cops yel ed.

  Venus Maria hovered behind them.

  "Get back, miss," said the other cop.

  She'd recognized Emilio's voice. Damn! What the hel was Emilio doing sneaking around her house without permission? She hid in the kitchen trying to decide what to do.

  Warily one of the cops climbed the stairs, while the other one stayed behind and covered him.

  Cop number one reached Emilio, twisted his arms behind him and roughly handcuffed his wrists. "You're making a big mistake," Emilio managed. "I'm tel in' you, man, I'm Venus Maria's brother. I'm no trespasser."

  "We'l see about that," said the first cop. "On your feet."

  "You bet we'l see about it," Emilio shouted, gaining confidence. "I'l sue you."

  "You'l sue us, huh?" said the cop in a bored voice. He'd heard it many times before. It was the Beverly Hil s battle cry.

  Once downstairs, they frog-marched him outside to the police car.

  "Get her to identify me," Emilio screamed, suddenly panicked. "I'm tel ing you, I'm her brother." One of the cops walked back to the house and found her in the kitchen.

  "Can I have your autograph?" he asked. "For my little girl.

  It'd real y make her day." "Sure," Venus Maria said, signing the piece of paper he thrust at her.

  "Uh, I don't know if we've got a deranged fan or what, but this guy claims he's your brother. You have a brother?"

  She nodded glumly. "Four of 'em. Al bums." "How about takin' a look before we haul him in an' book him."

  For a moment she was tempted to say no, but then she thought about the headlines and reluctantly agreed.

  Outside, Emilio slouched against the side of the police car looking guilty.

  Shit! It was him. "I'm sorry, guys," she said. "This is my brother. I have no idea what he's doing in my house; he doesn't live here."

  The cops exchanged glances. "Should we let him go?"

  She had no choice. Locking Emilio up for being a pain in the ass was just not on.

  Reluctantly she nodded. "I guess so." A night in jail would've done Emilio a world of good. Paid him back for al the bul ying he'd inflicted on her when she was growing up.

  They removed the handcuffs. Emilio rubbed his wrists, glaring at both cops. "There'l be a court case about this,"

  he said, puffing himself up. "Count on it, man."

  "Shut up and get inside," Venus Maria interrupted. "Why are you breaking into my house anyway?" "Breaking in?"

  replied Emilio, aghast. "You think I would break in? Your own brother? I came to bring the money you said I could leave in your safe. I was looking for you in the bedroom when the cops arrived."

  "How did you get in?" she asked suspiciously. "Through the back window. It's always open." "You set off the silent alarm. There's a beam across it.

  He tried to look contrite. "Sorry, little sis, didn't mean to cause no trouble."

  Venus Maria glanced helplessly at the officers and ran a hand through her platinum hair. "I'm sorry you've been bothered, guys. Seems like it was a mistake."

  "No bother," they both agreed. "Any time. Love your records. Love your videos."

  She smiled. "Thanks. Hey, why don't you leave me your names? I'l see you get tickets for my next concert."

  The cops looked pleased.

  Emilio slunk back into the house. Al he had to do now was get out. He didn't want Venus opening her safe and finding her precious photo missing. He had the photograph safely stashed inside his jacket. Best to make a speedy getaway.

  Venus Maria fol owed him in. "When you come to my house," she said clearly, "you wil ring the front doorbel .

  Can you do that?"

  He nodded sulkily.

  "Give me the money you want me to put away. And Emilio; next time, telephone before you come here." He hit his forehead. "I'm stupid!" he exclaimed. "I rushed over here so fast I forgot the money. Left it in my apartment. Y'know, maybe I should put it in a bank anyway."

  "Yes, maybe you should," she agreed, wondering what he was up to.

  He prepared for a fast exit. "I'l see you, little sis." Of al her brothers, Emilio was the most devious. She didn't trust him.

  She never had, and he was far too anxiou
s to get out of there. He ran like a rat.

  Maybe the police had unnerved him.

  Or maybe not.

  Venus Maria's gut instinct told her Emilio was up to something.

  The trouble was, she couldn't figure out what that something was.

  Chapter 54

  "What do you want to do today?"

  "I don't know. What do you want to do today?" "I dunno, Marty. What do you wanna do today?" Lennie laughed.

  "Hey, you're too young to have seen that movie."

  "So are you," she retorted affectionately, happy to be in her husband's company.

  "I'm not as young as I used to be."

  "Who is?"

  They bantered back and forth, delighted to be together. It was a hot New York day. They'd had breakfast, made love again, and now it was time for decisions.

  "What I'd real y like to do," Lucky decided, "is visit Mary Lou and the baby. How does that grab you?"

  "It would grab me great if I even knew she'd given birth.

  What am I--the poor relation?"

  "No. You're the rich movie star relation who--if you hadn't vanished out of everyone's life--would have certainly been told."

  "Enlighten me--is it a boy or girl?"

  "A girl," she said excitedly. "I haven't spoken to Steven yet.

  He must be out of his mind!"

  "Let's cal 'em."

  "Yes, and then I've got a great idea. We'l raid Zabar's, pick up a whole load of food, and go over to see the baby."

  "Is that al you have on your mind, food?" he chided. "What is it with you lately?"

  "I'm building up my strength."

  "For what?"

  "A surprise."

  He groaned. "Not another one."

  "This one you're going to like."

  "Does it involve travel?"

  "Not without you by my side."

  "Does it involve sex?"

  She looked at him quizzical y: "Hmm . . . do you find power sexy?"

  "It depends who's got it."

  "You'l see," she answered mysteriously.

  He shook his head. "You're a tough act to handle, kid."

  She laughed. "And you're beginning to sound just like Gino."

  "Poor old Gino. It must have been some struggle bringing you up."