Vendetta: Lucky's Revenge

  48

  ALEX PICKED A YELLOW ROSE FROM HIS GARDEN and took it with him on his way to meet Lucky. When he emerged from his car outside her house, he held it gingerly by the prickly stem, not used to making romantic gestures.

  Lucky answered the door herself, looking stunning in a black Yves Saint Laurent evening suit, plunging-neckline white blouse, and diamond hoop earrings, her dark hair framing her beautiful face with wild jet curls. Alex noticed a security guard hovering in the background. Idly, he wondered why she needed security.

  “Come in,” she said. “My place is a dump compared to yours.”

  “No, it’s not,” he said, looking around. “It’s very comfortable.”

  “Yours is the Architectural Digest version of mine,” she said ruefully. “But then, I’ve got kids, and you don’t, because you never married, right?”

  “You can remember what we discussed the other night?”

  She nodded. “Of course.”

  “You were blasted, you know that.”

  “Hey—I can hold my liquor. I might have been bombed, but I know exactly what happened.” She laughed softly, “Remember…what was her name? Ah, yes—Driving Miss Daisy, that’s it.”

  “How could I ever forget?”

  “Will you put her in Gangsters?”

  “Maybe,” he said, handing her the yellow rose. “By the way—you look beautiful tonight.”

  “Thank you,” she said, placing the rose on a table. “I didn’t know you were a horticulturist.”

  “Thank my gardener. I just go out and pick ’em.”

  “Do we have time for a drink?”

  “Only if you have one, too.”

  “I don’t plan on a repeat performance.”

  “One drink, Lucky. We’re both grown-ups.”

  Their eyes met for an intimate moment. Lucky looked away first, a sign of weakness. “What’ll it be?” she said pleasantly, refusing to allow herself to be sucked in. Alex was an extremely charismatic man, but as she kept telling herself, it was far too soon for her to consider a relationship.

  “Vodka martini.”

  The phone rang.

  “You get your phone, I’ll make the drinks,” he said, heading for the bar.

  She reached for the phone. It was Jennifer.

  “My friend Ricco, the guy I said was working in Rome, is in L.A., staying at the Chateau Marmont,” Jennifer said, sounding out of breath. “I think you should hear what he has to say. We can meet him in half an hour.”

  “How about later?” Lucky suggested.

  “No. He’s on a midnight plane back to Italy and he has dinner plans, so it’s got to be now.”

  Lucky glanced over at Alex, busily mixing martinis. “Okay, now,” she said, making a fast decision.

  “Meet me in the hotel lobby as soon as possible.”

  “I’ll be there,” Lucky said, replacing the receiver.

  Alex walked toward her, carrying her drink. “I’m good at this,” he said, uncharacteristically happy. “Used to be a bartender.”

  “How would you feel if I met you at the Stollis?” she said. “Something important just came up. I have to stop somewhere first.”

  “You’re kidding, right?” he said.

  “Sorry, no.”

  “Then I’ll come with you.”

  She was silent for a moment, trying to decide if she wanted him along. “It’ll make us late for the Stollis,” she said at last.

  “Big deal,” he responded.

  “Okay, let’s split. I’ll fill you in while we drive.”

  He gulped his drink.

  Why was it every time he saw Lucky it turned out to be an adventure?

  The American Airlines plane took off from Kennedy Airport on time.

  “Are you sure we’re doing the right thing?” Brigette asked.

  “Yes,” Nona said firmly. “Neither of us is equipped to deal with Michel. He’s a sick psycho. Lucky will know how to handle him.”

  “I feel so bad about screwing up,” Brigette said worriedly. “Every time I screw up, Lucky has to come and rescue me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, last time with the kidnapping and everything…” She trailed off. “Lucky took the blame when I shot Santino Bonnatti. She spent time in jail for something she didn’t do.”

  “Yeah, but you stood up at her trial and told the truth. Shit happens, Brigette. You have to learn how to cope.”

  “So why am I running to Lucky?”

  “’Cause you’re strung out. Every night it’s you and Isaac out on the town, getting stoned and drunk. Is that what you want your life to be?”

  “Not really.”

  “So it’s time to stop running. Besides, I want you straight so you can help me plan my wedding.”

  “I asked Isaac to get me a gun.”

  “You didn’t!”

  “Oh, yes, I did.”

  “And what were you planning on doing if he’d gotten you one?”

  “I dunno. Blow Michel away.”

  “I don’t think so. You’re in enough trouble as it is.”

  “I suppose I am.”

  “It’s not too late to straighten things out,” Nona said comfortingly. “When we’re rid of Michel, we’ll find a reputable agent. Your career is only just beginning.”

  “I know you’re right—Lucky’s my only chance.”

  After dinner and a movie they both fell asleep until the steward announced it was time to prepare for landing.

  “Great flight,” Nona said, buckling her seat belt and nudging Brigette awake. “I booked us into the Hilton. I didn’t think it was wise for us to descend on Lucky unannounced.”

  “I want you to be there when I tell her,” Brigette said anxiously.

  “’Course I will.”

  Brigette put her hand over Nona’s. “Thanks for being such a good friend.”

  “Hey,” Nona replied lightly. “All I’m doing is protecting my ten percent!”

  Leslie and Jeff were the first to arrive at the Stollis’. Jeff in his one and only suit—an Armani, purchased for him by Leslie. And Leslie in a white silk dress.

  Abigaile greeted them at the door. The women exchanged air kisses and compliments. Jeff beamed happily—how did he get so lucky? Mixing in this company was a major plus. Thank God he had an understanding wife who was letting him do his thing for the benefit of their future.

  “Mickey will be down in a minute,” Abigaile said, leading them through the spacious front hallway to the bar.

  A handsome barman sprang to attention.

  “White wine,” Leslie requested, nervously smoothing down the skirt of her dress.

  “Tequila on the rocks,” Jeff said, feeling insecure.

  Leslie threw him a warning look; he did not hold his liquor well and they both knew it.

  “Just one, cutie,” Jeff said, catching her look.

  She hated it when he called her “cutie.”

  Abigaile wished somebody else would arrive fast, or that Mickey would get his ass downstairs. She didn’t relish being in sole charge of the guests. It was okay when there were lots of them and they could mingle. Now she had to entertain these two until somebody else arrived, when all she really wanted to do was be free to supervise. Not to mention checking on Tabitha, who’d refused to come out of her room to show off what she was wearing. Little Madame.

  Abigaile heard the doorbell in the background. A few moments later, Johnny Romano strolled in accompanied by Venus Maria.

  Abigaile frowned. How dare Johnny not announce who his guest was when she was as famous as Venus? The man had no manners, but then, what could you expect from an actor? Especially a Latin actor who happened to have gotten rich in a string of disgustingly raunchy movies. Abigaile conveniently forgot that Mickey had been responsible for most of them.

  “Abbey, baby,” Johnny purred, favoring her with the famous Latin-lover leer and a quick pinch on the butt. “Who’s my favorite Hollywood wife?” He bent to kiss her.
br />   “Johnny, dear,” Abigaile responded, wrinkling her nose as she breathed in a strong whiff of his strangely exotic aftershave. “You look wonderful. And, Venus, it’s been ages! So good to see you again.”

  “Thanks, Abbey,” Venus said calmly, although inside she was seething because she’d spotted Leslie, and Johnny hadn’t mentioned she was going to be there.

  Abigaile led them over to the bar. “Do you know Leslie and…” She blanked on Jeff’s name again.

  Leslie, wide-eyed with shock, managed to stammer out, “J…Jeff.” She had not seen Venus since the dreaded night at her house. This was a disaster. Now she’d have no chance with Cooper.

  “Hi, Leslie,” Venus said coolly.

  For a moment, Leslie considered ignoring the tramp. Instead, she mumbled an uptight, “Hello.”

  Jeff seemed to have forgotten where his loyalty should lie. “Venus!” he exclaimed with a big I’m your greatest fan grin. “We met at Leslie’s, remember? Some night that was!”

  Both women shared the same thought: What an asshole!

  Johnny, who as far as he knew hadn’t encountered Leslie before, shook her hand, holding it a few seconds too long. “Been readin’ a lotta good things about you,” he said. “Welcome to the stratosphere.”

  Leslie managed a strained smile. “Thank you.”

  She guessed he didn’t recall their one night of unadulterated lust in a bungalow at the Beverly Hills Hotel—her and two other girls. He’d paid ten thousand dollars for the three of them and behaved like a greedy pig.

  “No, thank you,” Johnny replied, putting in some heavy-duty eye contact. If he didn’t score with Venus, this red-headed lovely could be a definite contender.

  At which point Mickey put in an appearance—showered and shaved, bald head glistening, Turnbull & Asser shirt, Doug Hayward English suit, and red Brioni tie. “Welcome, everyone,” he said, beaming at his guests, doing a classic double take when he spotted Venus. “Good evening, my dear,” he said, turning on as much suave charm as he could muster. “We weren’t expecting you.”

  “I know how you like surprises, Mickey,” she said, automatically flirting. “So here I am.”

  “Yeah,” Johnny added. “Me an’ Venus, we’re an item.”

  “An item?” Abigaile chimed in, thinking Venus’s dress was ridiculously low cut.

  Johnny squeezed Venus’s arm. “Hey—Mickey—we figured since we’re makin’ Gangsters together, we’d give you some extra PR. The tabloids are gonna cream over this.”

  Mickey quickly glanced at Leslie. She was talking to Jeff and didn’t seem to have heard. Thank God.

  Abigaile, however, had heard. She took Mickey’s arm and said, “Excuse us a moment,” whereupon she led him over to the other side of the room and said a sharp, “What’s Johnny talking about? Hasn’t anybody told Venus she’s out of Gangsters?”

  Mickey nodded. “Yeah, yeah, honey, it’s all taken care of. Don’t worry your little head about it.”

  “My little head?” she said haughtily. “Who do you think you’re talking to—one of your brain-dead starlets?”

  “There’s been a change of plan,” Mickey said, scowling. He couldn’t stand it when Abigaile got uppity.

  “What do you mean—a change of plan?” Abigaile snapped.

  “I found a better movie for Leslie. Figured I’d send the script to her first, get her excited. She’ll be starring with Gere.”

  “Richard?”

  “No, Maxie,” he said, raising his eyebrows. “What do you think? Of course, Richard.”

  Big change of attitude from Abigaile, who imagined Richard Gere attending one of her future dinners. “Oh, that’s nice. She’ll be thrilled.”

  “I told ya, didn’t I? Alex is too tough for Leslie. He’ll give her nothin’ but grief. I’m doin’ the kid a favor. We won’t announce it tonight.”

  “Why not?”

  “’Cause I don’t want Venus finding out. She’s probably pissed at me. So is Alex. They’re all pissed at me. I run a studio, nobody likes me.”

  “That’s ridiculous, Mickey—everybody loves you.”

  He had her back on track. “Thanks, honey. Now let’s relax and have a nice evening. Keep your mouth closed, that way we won’t get into trouble.”

  “No, Mickey,” Abigaile said grandly. “You keep your mouth closed. Yours is the big one.”

  She hurried back to their guests. Venus and Johnny had wandered outside by the pool. Leslie and Jeff were having a heated conversation at the bar. And Cooper Turner and his date were making an entrance.

  “Abigaile, sweetheart,” Cooper said, kissing her on both cheeks. “This is Veronica.”

  “Hello, dear,” Abigaile said, craning her neck to greet the tall model.

  Leslie, who had been secretly haranguing Jeff for being so nice to Venus, glanced up and saw Cooper approaching. Her attitude immediately changed. “Cooper,” she said with a welcoming smile, “how lovely to see you.”

  “Hi, Leslie,” he said. “Meet Veronica.”

  Leslie nodded, continuing to smile while thinking to herself, Oh, God, he’s with that trashy model who poses in those sexist lingerie catalogues that get dropped in your mailbox whether you want them or not. She’s not so hot in real life. Too tall and horsey, with enormous teeth!

  “Veronica,” Cooper said easily, “say hello to Leslie Kane and her boyfriend, Jeff.”

  “Hi’ya, Cooper,” said Jeff, extending his hand, completely unconcerned that Leslie and Cooper had once been lovers.

  Venus and Johnny strolled in from outside. Perfect timing, as the guests of honor—Donna and George Landsman—entered the room, a sulking Santo trailing behind them.

  Abigaile went into hostess overdrive. “Donna,” she gushed. “I’m thrilled to meet you. Mickey has told me so much about you. Welcome to Hollywood! We’re delighted Mickey is back at Panther.”

  An alert Mickey jumped into action. “Donna,” he said, unwittingly ignoring George, “welcome to my house.”

  Donna had already spotted Cooper Turner, Johnny Romano, and Venus Maria, and was completely intimidated. She could deal with anything businesswise, but mixing with these famous people was a new experience. She grabbed Santo, lurking behind her, and pushed him to the forefront. “This is my son, Santo,” she said.

  “Hello, Santo, dear,” Abigaile said, wondering why they’d allowed the boy to get so fat.

  Santo spotted Venus across the room and his heart began pounding uncontrollably.

  Venus. His Venus. In the flesh, only a few yards away from him. A dull red flush spread over his face.

  “Gotta use the bathroom,” he mumbled.

  “Now?” Donna hissed, not pleased.

  “Yeah, now.”

  Graciously, Abigaile said, “It’s to the left of the hallway, dear.”

  Santo rushed from the room. Had Venus noticed him? Oh, jeez! He hadn’t planned on them meeting like this.

  He darted into the john, slamming the door behind him. Fortunately he’d brought a joint with him. Groping in his pocket, he lit up and inhaled deeply, frantically trying to compose himself.

  Tabitha, on her way downstairs, saw the fat boy enter the guest bathroom. She chuckled to herself. This was a good one, she’d burst in and embarrass him. Ha! That would teach her mother to force her to attend one of her moronic dinner parties.

  She reached the door of the guest bathroom and flung it open. Santo, who’d forgotten to lock it, nearly jumped ten feet in the air. He was caught with a joint half an inch from his lips.

  Tabitha took in the scene. Quick as a flash, she closed the door. “You must be that Donna person’s son,” she said.

  “Yeah,” he mumbled. “Santo.”

  “I’m Tabitha—the Stollis’ daughter. I notice you’ve got a nice, fat roach. Give me a drag and I won’t tell anybody.”

  Aaron Kolinsky, the desk porter on duty at Alex’s apartment building, had a bad stomachache. Some of the tenants were enough to make any man ill with their s
tupid demands: “Walk my dog” “Get my car waxed” “Run to the market for me.”

  What did they think he was? A one-man service? The other guy working the shift was a young punk who knew nothing. He didn’t know shit. Aaron found that he had to take care of everything.

  At seven o’clock, he quit for the night. He’d had enough. Seven o’clock in the morning until seven o’clock at night was enough for anybody to have to put up with these rich people and their constant demands.

  He left long before Tin Lee put in an appearance. It didn’t matter anyway, he’d completely forgotten Alex’s instructions.

  Tin Lee walked up to the desk, announced she was going to Alex’s apartment, took the elevator upstairs, and rang his bell.

  No answer.

  After five minutes, she came downstairs again. She was running over half an hour late, Alex was probably furious and had gone on ahead.

  “Did Mr. Woods leave a message for me?” she asked.

  “No, ma’am,” said the new desk clerk, more interested in reading his hidden copy of Playboy.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Nope. Nothing here.”

  “Do you have a phone book?”

  He handed over a big, fat, L.A. phone book. Fortunately, Mickey Stolli was listed. She copied down the Beverly Hills address and collected her car from the valet, thinking she’d arrive at the dinner in time to be seated. Alex would be delighted she was so resourceful.

  Somehow she felt their relationship was about to step up to another level. And not a moment too soon. Tin Lee felt it was time she asserted herself.

  49

  SITTING IN ALEX’S PORSCHE ON THE WAY TO THE Chateau Marmont, Lucky started talking and found she couldn’t stop. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this,” she said. “It’s family history.”

  “So what you’re saying is that the Bonnattis always held a grudge against the Santangelos, and Donna is carrying on the tradition?” Alex said.

  She nodded. “It goes way back to Gino, and Enzio Bonnatti, in the twenties. They were business partners in the beginning, bootlegging, speakeasies—they made a lot of money. Then Enzio got an urge to move into hookers and drugs, and Gino wasn’t into that, so they split their partnership. Gino went to Vegas, where he built hotels. Enzio took a different road.” She paused for a moment, lighting a cigarette. “Enzio was my godfather. I was over at his house all the time. In a way, I was closer to Enzio than I was to Gino. Until one day I discovered that Enzio was responsible for my mother’s murder and my brother’s. It was a shattering revelation.”