Lady Boss (1990)

  . Adam, and I'l give you a quote."

  On the other end of the line, Adam Bobo Grant came to the swift conclusion that Deena Swanson had no idea what he was talking about. The woman had not seen Truth and Fact.

  Nobody had dared show it to her.

  He made a quick decision. "Are you free for lunch, Deena?"

  Lunch with Adam Bobo Grant was considerably better than lunch with another woman. "Why, yes, as a matter of fact I am," Deena said, mental y canceling her other date.

  "We'l have an early lunch," he decided. "I'l meet you there.

  Does half an hour suit you?"

  "Wonderful," she replied. "Shal I keep my table at Le Cirque?"

  "Unless you prefer Mortimer's?"

  She considered where she wanted to be seen with Bobo, and decided Le Cirque was where she'd be most visible.

  "On a Monday? I don't think so." "Then Le Cirque it is."

  Deena was happy. She'd hear al the latest gossip--

  everything he couldn't write about because it was too outrageous and scandalous. The real dirt.

  She buzzed her secretary. "Cancel my other lunch," she said cool y. "I shal be lunching with Adam Bobo Grant today."

  As soon as Adam Bobo Grant put the phone down, he checked with one of his minions. "Did you manage to locate Martin Swanson?" he asked brusquely.

  "He's in Los Angeles. Right now he's in a meeting at Orpheus Studios: The rumor is there's a takeover going on."

  "And Venus Maria?" asked Bobo.

  "I spoke to her publicist. She's in rehearsal for thèSoft Seduction' video."

  Adam Bobo Grant nodded knowingly. "Place cal s to both of them. Leave my name and home phone number. Tel them I'd like them to cal me back as soon as possible. And warn Mack in the news room to make space for me on the front page. If I judge people correctly, we're going to have a new exclusive on the Swanson-Venus Maria affair."

  Chapter 67

  While Lucky Santangelo was conducting a gathering of department heads at Panther Studios, Mickey Stol i was meeting with Carlos Bonnatti in a high-rise Century City penthouse.

  Mickey would have been only too delighted to see what the dumb broad had to say. What did Lucky Santangelo know about running a studio and making movies? Absolutely nothing.

  The morning announcement had taken him by surprise.

  He'd imagined Abe Panther was coming in to tel everybody he was returning to work. No way. The crafty old fart had sold the goddamn studio!

  Abigaile's face! It was almost worth it to observe her stunned expression.

  When they left the meeting, Mickey had given her a brusque

  "Gotta go to another meeting."

  "We have things to discuss," Ben objected, pushing his long nose in where it wasn't wanted. "Impossible," Mickey replied with a certain amount of satisfaction.

  "Your resignation was premature," Ben said. "But satisfying," Mickey replied.

  Abigaile glared at him. It wasn't bad enough he'd been arrested with a hooker; now he was walking away from the most important moment of their lives. "We must consult our lawyers immediately," she said grimly, turning to her brother-in-law for support. "Isn't that right, Ben?"

  Ben and Primrose both agreed.

  Mickey shrugged. "Sorry," he said, not sorry at al . Abigaile continued to glare at him.

  Ben took her arm. "I'm sure Mickey wil catch up with us later," he said soothingly.

  Abigaile's voice took on a high, feverish pitch. "Later is not good enough," she cried. "Mickey, why are you doing this to me?"

  Abigaile Stol i, queen of the "me" generation. Mickey didn't care. He'd spent his life worrying what Abby would think.

  Now it was over.

  When he was rid of them he stopped by his office. No Olive. No Luce. Where was his stupid temporary secretary?

  He was in the mood to fire her before he did anything else.

  His office was strangely quiet. He picked up the phone, deciding to cal Warner so he could tel her exactly what he thought of her. Then he changed his mind and banged it down.

  He'd had it with Warner. As far as he was concerned she'd never hear from him again.

  He'd already placed a cal to his lawyer, who'd assured him they would find some way to get around the necessity for him to appear in court.

  Carlos Bonnatti had reached him at home and requested his presence. Mickey didn't usual y jump, but he knew enough about the ways of the world to realize that if Carlos Bonnatti cal ed, he'd better be there. Eddie Kane had real y fucked up. Now it was up to Mickey to straighten things out.

  As usual.

  Driving over to Century City he arrived at a smart conclusion: Maybe the mil ion dol ars was Panther's problem after al . Maybe it was Lucky Santangelo's inheritance. . . .

  He tried to reach Eddie on the car phone.

  A subdued Leslie told him he wasn't there.

  For a moment Mickey was tempted to say, "Didn't I see you at Madame Loretta's?" Then he thought better of it and hung up.

  Carlos Bonnatti greeted him with a menacing smile and a limp handshake. He had a low, grating voice. A dangerous voice. "Mr. Stol i," he said slowly, "nice of you to come. It's about time we talked. I don't seem to be getting anywhere with your associate, Mr. Kane, and it's good that you and I are meeting like this." Mickey decided the setting was exactly right. Flashy apartment, a couple of goons hanging around in the front hal . Where was the obligatory blonde?

  "You're right, Mr. Bonnatti," he said smoothly. "How can I help you?"

  "I got a little problem," Carlos said, rubbing his fingers together. "You may have heard 'bout it. You run a big studio, maybe you don't hear everything."

  "What's your problem?" asked Mickey, knowing perfectly wel what it was.

  The oil in Carlos's hair glistened. His smile was snakelike.

  "Wel , we entered into a business deal, no contracts, but a handshake is a handshake," he said in his low, dangerous voice. "I mostly dealt with your col eague Eddie Kane. We put our product in with your product. It was sent over to Europe an' the money came through. This al went fluently for a time." He paused.

  Mickey stared at him. Carlos was wearing a dark blue suit, a black silk shirt, and a white tie. The hood look. You could spot New Yorkers a mile away. They always overdressed when in California.

  "So," Carlos continued, "the money flowed good for a while, and then the amounts comin' to us got smal er and smal er, and I knew somethin' wasn't right." He threw his arms up in a gesture of surrender. "But what am I gonna do? Panther's a big outfit--so I trusted you."

  "I'm getting the message," Mickey said. "You didn't receive al the money you were expecting." "Let's just say there's a shortfal of a mil ion bucks," Carlos said, nodding to himself.

  "Yeah, an' who owes the money? That's the question. The big question."

  "You want to know whose pocket it ended up in," Mickey said.

  "I refuse to point a finger." Carlos smoothed the cuffs of his silk shirt. "But Eddie Kane is the name that comes to mind."

  "And he's not paying. Right?"

  "No way a bum like Eddie's gonna give back a mil ion bucks." A short pause. "So . . . Mickey, you can understand my dilemma."

  Mickey understood it only too wel . "You'd like Panther Studios to reimburse you." He made it a statement, not a question.

  "That's correct. An' if you see a way to do that, then you'l save Mr. Kane a lot of grief. Maybe you'l take it out of his salary for the next twenty, thirty years."

  "Sounds workable," Mickey agreed amicably. Carlos was obviously surprised at Mickey's immediate cooperation.

  "How we gonna handle this? A handshake don't do it for me this time. I'd like a note drawn up sayin' Panther owes my company a mil ion bucks. We can put it down for services."

  Mickey nodded. "Good idea. Cal in your lawyers. I have the authority to sign on behalf of Panther. One stipulation--it has to be predated. And I have to sign the papers today."

  "Done," said Carlos. "My lawyer'l take c
are of it. No questions asked."

  They shook hands--Carlos Bonnatti and Mickey Stol i.

  "Be back around two. I'l have everythin' ready," Carlos said. He paused and gave Mickey a long, penetrating look.

  "You're a very obliging man, Mr. Stol i. A very smart man.

  Anytime you need a favor . . ." Mickey nodded modestly.

  "Thank you."

  When Mickey left, Carlos walked around his apartment, considering the action. He pressed his fingers to his temples. Sometimes he wished his father was around.

  Enzio Bonnatti had always had a way of knowing exactly what was going on. He could immediately assess any situation and explain the whys and wherefores. Santino, his brother, had been a schmuck. Al Santino cared about was pussy. He'd been in the right business: porno movies and drugs.

  Carlos knew he was smarter than Santino. Shit, anybody was smarter than Santino. But he wouldn't have minded having Enzio around to talk to.

  Mickey Stol i had complied too wil ingly, without so much as a struggle.

  Something was going on here and Carlos wasn't sure what.

  But as long as the papers were drawn up and he got his money, what did he care?

  Chapter 68

  Sitting in a private office at Orpheus Studios, Martin Swanson read about himself like a voyeur. His eyes scanned the page of the cheap magazine. He couldn't believe some of the things he was reading.

  BILLIONAIRE MARTIN SWANSON!

  RAVISHING SUPERSTAR VENUS MARIA!

  BEAUTIFUL SOCIETY WIFE DEENA!

  And there were al those quotes from supposed best friends and close acquaintances.

  Martin had control ed his press for so long that the sheer effrontery of this real y shocked him. The ramifications were many. What was Deena going to say? She would be furious when she saw the photograph of him with Venus.

  How was he going to explain it? It wasn't taken at a function or in a restaurant. It was obviously an intimate photo on somebody's couch.

  At least they weren't naked. They hadn't been caught in bed. But you only had to look at the photograph to know they were sleeping with each other.

  Thinking about the photographs reminded him of the one of Deena with Effie's kid. What the hel was Deena doing in Central Park with Paul Webster?

  Not that Martin considered such a cal ow youth a threat, but it made Deena look foolish--as if she was desperate or something.

  He continued to read the story:

  Sexy superstar, Venus Maria, could teach bil ionaire tycoon Martin Swanson. a thing or two about getting to the top.

  Oh yeah? What did they know? Who owned this cheap magazine anyway? He placed a cal to his secretary in New. York to have her find out.

  "Have you heard from Mrs. Swanson?" he asked. "I do believe she's in her office," Gertrude replied. "Has anybody shown this to her?"

  Gertrude sounded embarrassed. "I real y have no idea, Mr.

  Swanson."

  "If she tries to reach me, tel her I'm in nonstop meetings and that you can't get to me."

  "Certainly, sir."

  Now that his affair with Venus was out in the open he was going to have to be very careful. Was it worth it? Did he wish to continue seeing her?

  She'd been more than aggravating this weekend. Dragging Cooper along to San Francisco and then complaining about his sexual prowess when they got back. Goddamn it!

  One moment she was plying him with hookers, and the next she expected him to put on a record-breaking performance when he was tired and had a lot on his mind. At least when you were married, a wife understood these things.

  On the other hand, Venus Maria was special. She was universal y desired. Cooper was after her--that was obvious. And he had her: Martin Swanson--Bil ionaire Lover. Bil ionaire Stud!

  He couldn't help smiling. It was kind of funny, in a way.

  It wouldn't be so funny when he had to explain the photograph to Deena.

  A buzzer sounded in the office. "Mr. Swanson," one of the secretaries said, "Mr. White would like to know when you are returning to the meeting."

  "I'l be right there," he said, folding the magazine in half.

  Enough worrying about some low-down supermarket tabloid. He'd put his lawyers on to them. He'd kil 'em. He'd break their bal s as only Martin Swanson could.

  He walked back into the meeting. He was taking over Orpheus Studios. A far more important task.

  Side by side on Cooper Turner's desk lay the front page of the L. A. Times with the story about Mickey Stol i circled, and alongside it a copy of Truth and Fact.

  Cooper read about Mickey first. He was amused. It had to have been the funniest scene going. Mickey Stol i arrested with a hooker. Cooper was acquainted with Madame Loretta. Not in a professional sense--but an actress he'd been dating at one time had been playing the role of a prostitute on screen and had wanted to research the part.

  Ford Werne had arranged an introduction, and Cooper and his lady friend had spent many a pleasant afternoon having tea with the Madame, listening to her outlandish stories.

  Cooper wondered how Venus Maria was going to feel when she saw Truth and Fact. It would certainly bring her affair with Martin out into the open.

  Maybe that was what she wanted. Martin would be forced into making a decision.

  Cooper couldn't help raising a cynical eyebrow when he read about Deena with a younger man. Martin wouldn't like that. It would be a blow to his enormous ego.

  But al this wasn't his problem. He cal ed the florist and sent Venus Maria two dozen red roses. It was the least he could do.

  It soon became obvious that everybody in the rehearsal room had seen the stupid magazine. Venus Maria could tel by the covert little glances coming her way and a certain amount of nervous giggling here and there. Vigorously she launched herSelf into Ron's latest torture routine.

  The Ken Dol wandered in around noon, washed and scrubbed, tal and bland-faced, wearing a muscle-boy T-shirt and tight blue jeans outlining his outstanding crotch.

  Obviously the main attraction. She'd been thinking of saying to Ron, "What do you see in him?" But after observing the jeans, she knew exactly what the crowd-pul er was.

  "Why don't we al have lunch?" Ron suggested, deciding it was about time his best friend and live-in lover got friendly.

  You can at least try and be nice to Ken. After al , / put up with Martin."

  Ha! Ron didn't even know Martin. Only to say hel o to. Just to please Ron, she agreed.

  "I booked us a table at the Ivy." Ron was obviously delighted.

  Venus Maria frowned. "Isn't that a little visible? Especial y today?"

  "We'l get a table in the back room. In and out before anyone realizes you're there."

  At twelve-thirty they set off for the restaurant in the Ken Dol 's gleaming Mercedes. Venus Maria hid beneath huge black shades and sat in the back.

  "I probably smel like a camel," she remarked. "You too, Ron."

  "Count me out," said the very pristine Ken. Anytime, Venus Maria thought.

  Lunch turned out to be a drag. Ron turned from his usual acerbic self into a lovesick jerk. Ken was pompous. Ken knew everything. Ken tried to tel her everything. When they got out of the restaurant, she was regretting the whole deal.

  By the time they arrived back at the rehearsal studios there was a rapidly escalating group of photographers waiting outside. They began snapping the moment the car drew up.

  "Where do they al come from?" Venus Maria sighed, making a wild dash from the car.

  "You're front page news today, darling. They're after the real scoop," Ron explained, chugging after her, quite happy to pose.

  Ken adored every minute of the attention. "Don't worry, I'l protect you," he said, smiling for the cameras.

  Macho Ken Dol .

  Stupid Ken Dol .

  "What's your comment on the story, Venus?"

  "Got anything to say about Martin Swanson?"

  "Is it true?"

  "Do you love him?"

  "I
s Martin leaving his wife?"

  She ignored al the reporters' questions, and, hidden behind her dark glasses, made it into the rehearsal studio.

  Chapter 69

  Lennie brooded his way through the weekend. He spoke to Jess and she told him he was an asshole. "You always take Lucky's side," he complained. "I'm your friend. What the hel is going on?" "Lighten up, Lennie. You married an unusual woman--stop fighting her."

  Stop fighting indeed! What did Jess know? She hadn't had her bal s cut off for al the world to see. Oh, dear. Poor Lennie, he's unhappy. Let's buy him a studio.

  Wel , screw that crap.

  And yet . . . he missed her already. And throwing himself back into the script didn't seem to do it for him this time.

  He contacted Brigette, and she met him at Serendipity for lunch.

  "You're looking great, kiddo," he said, kissing her on both cheeks. "School agrees with you."

  "School does not agree with me," she objected. "I hate it. I can't wait to get out."

  "You are out," he said, ruffling her hair.

  "Only for the summer," she groaned. "I gotta go back again, huh?"

  "If you want to grow up to be smart."

  "And then col ege?"

  "Yup!"

  "Why, Lennie? It's not as though I need to get a job or anything. I'm going to be inheriting al that money."

  "Hey--you want to turn out like your mother?" he scolded sternly. "Getting married and spending money? What kind of life is that? You ought to think about your future."

  "I know," she reluctantly agreed.

  They sat at a corner table. Brigette ordered a foot-long hot dog and a double-chocolate malted milk. "No appetite, huh?" he said with a grin.

  "It's terrific to see you, Lennie. I'm real y excited about Malibu."

  "Yeah, wel . . ." He stared at the menu. "I got something to tel you."

  She gazed at him expectantly.

  He hated to disappoint her. "Uh . . . things aren't working out exactly as we planned."

  "What's the matter?" she asked, looking concerned.

  "Lucky and I . . . wel , we've been having some problems, and . . . uh, we haven't exactly worked them out. I'm not sure if we'l spend the summer together."