“Don’t worry, Sara, if we need anything, we’ll contact you.”
Boogie got into the car, and the limo sped off.
Santo blamed George. His mother would never have punished him in such a vicious fashion if George hadn’t encouraged her. He was sixteen, for crissakes. If he couldn’t make out with a girl in his own room, what could he do?
George suggested a list of punishments and Donna agreed. Santo had never seen her so angry. Her face was white and pinched; she could barely look at him.
1. No Ferrari.
2. No allowance for six weeks.
3. No going out after school.
4. No credit cards.
Shit! He’d been caught having sex, not murdering the freaking president.
Donna didn’t say a word while George confronted him with his punishments.
“C’mon, Mom,” he whined, turning to her. “It wasn’t so bad.”
“Drugs are very bad,” George said ominously, like it was a federal offense—which, of course, it probably was. “Your mother and I will not tolerate them in our house.”
“Her house,” Santo muttered sourly.
“No,” Donna said, appalled by her son’s behavior. “It’s George’s house, too. And he’s taking care of this problem until you learn to behave.”
He couldn’t believe that she was siding with George. It was unthinkable. What a freaking cow!
He wondered what kind of punishment Tabitha had gotten after her father had come to fetch her. “I never want to see her with my son again,” he’d heard Donna say as Mickey whisked Tabitha off.
After George had finished yelling at him, and Donna had refused to intervene, he went to his room and sat glumly in front of his computer, staring blankly at the screen.
No Ferrari.
No allowance for six weeks.
No going out after school.
No credit cards.
What a sack of shit.
He was confused. He hadn’t meant to do it with Tabitha, when all along he’d been saving himself for Venus. Now freaky Tabitha had gone and spoiled everything.
What if the things she’d said about Venus were true? That Venus was nothing but a slut and a whore.
It suddenly occurred to him that all this wasn’t Tabitha’s fault at all. Venus was to blame. If he hadn’t seen her at the Stollis’ party, and if Tabitha hadn’t told him all those things about her, he wouldn’t have gotten so stoned that he’d ended up not knowing what he was doing.
Yes. Venus was responsible for him not getting a Ferrari. It was her fault. She’d ruined his life, and he was going to make sure she paid for it.
“This is for you,” Cooper said, standing over Venus.
She rolled over in bed, stretching lazily. “What?” she mumbled, half asleep.
“Orange juice, raisin toast, coffee, the trades, and this…”
She struggled to sit up. Cooper held a silver tray with all of the things he’d mentioned on it. He was also stark naked, and carefully balanced on the edge of the tray was his erect penis.
She began to laugh hysterically. “What are you doing?” she exclaimed, sitting up.
“Nothing,” he deadpanned.
“What am I doing?” she groaned, realizing she’d spent the night with the husband she was about to divorce.
“Falling in love with your husband again?” he suggested, charming her with his handsome smile.
“Oh, no…once was enough, thank you, Cooper. You’re a lot of fun, but I’ve finally realized—you are not husband material.”
“How many other guys make you breakfast?” he asked plaintively. “Where else can you get this kind of service?”
“Mmm…” she said, still smiling. “Orange juice, raisin toast, coffee, a hard-on…maybe I should reconsider.”
“Look, you,” he said, removing his dick from the tray and sitting on the side of the bed, “I know what I did was unforgivable. If you’d done the same to me, I probably would’ve walked. Truth is, I learned my lesson, and now I want us to get back together.”
“Hmm…” she murmured languorously.
“Last night I was with one of the most desired women in America. And you know what? I left her, and came running over to be with you.”
“Ha!” she exclaimed, sitting up further.
“What does ‘ha’ mean?”
“According to Mr. Romano—who knows about such things—Veronica is a sex change.”
“Jesus, Venus! That’s ridiculous. And not true.”
She giggled. “Guess you made the right decision, Coop.”
He frowned. Could that explain his lack of interest? His survival instinct must have kicked in, saving him from…what?
“We belong together, Venus,” he said persuasively, refusing to allow her to get him off track. “You know that.”
“Cooper,” she replied, her face serious. “This new movie I’m about to start is very important to me, and—”
“Wasn’t last night special?” he interrupted, fixing her with his ice-blue eyes. “Wasn’t it the greatest? We really are something together, everyone says so.”
She smiled at the memory of his incredible lovemaking. “I must admit, Coop, you certainly do have a technique like nobody else…”
“And let me assure you, from now on I’m saving it all for you.”
She wanted to believe him. However, this was Cooper Turner speaking—a man with a lifelong reputation for screwing around. She’d taken a chance with him once…was she foolish enough to do it again?
He was right in there with a fresh pitch. “All I’m asking for is another shot. C’mon, honey, you know it’s right.”
She felt herself weakening. “Well…maybe we could see each other—kind of get reacquainted.”
“I thought we got reacquainted last night.”
She giggled again. “Oh, yeah, and I’d like more of that tonight, tomorrow, and…if things work out…well…eventually, we could talk about moving back in together.”
“Deal,” he said, smiling broadly.
“Now you’ll have to excuse me,” she said, jumping out of bed. “I must speak to my agent.”
“I love it when you get serious,” he said, grabbing her arm and pulling her back on the bed.
She smiled…what the hell…one more chance wouldn’t kill her.
Lucky stepped out from behind a marble pillar, accosting Morton Sharkey in the lobby of his Century City office building. “Hi, Morton,” she said, removing her Porsche shades and fixing him with her black eyes.
He stepped back, startled.
“Surprised to see me?”
“Uh…Lucky.” He was almost stammering. “This, uh…is a surprise. What are you doing here?”
“I came to see you.”
“You did?” he said, agitated.
She moved closer. “Ever since you pulled your little stunt at Panther, I’ve been unable to reach you even though I’ve left messages every day, told your secretary it was urgent, and repeatedly faxed you. Didn’t your mother teach you it’s very rude not to respond?”
“I’m sorry, Lucky, I’ve been extremely busy.”
“You sold me out, Morton,” she said flatly. “And I don’t like that.”
He adopted a defensive attitude. “I did what was best.”
“For whom?” she said coldly. “You were my business advisor. You helped me gain control of Panther, then you went behind my back and screwed me.” A pause. “I don’t get it, Morton. Unless, of course, somebody was forcing you to behave in such an unethical way.”
He began edging toward the elevator, trying to distance himself from her. “Uh, Lucky—you still have forty percent of Panther. I’m sure with Mickey running it again, it’ll go into profit….”
She moved in front of him, blocking his way. “Just like before, huh? You—better than anyone—know he ran the studio into the ground.”
“These things happen,” he muttered, too ashamed to look at her. “Business is business.”
/> “Mistake number one, Morton, you sided with Donna Landsman.”
“Mrs. Landsman is a respected businesswoman.”
“No. For your information, Mrs. Landsman is the widow of Santino Bonnatti.”
Alarm spread across his face. “What are you talking about?”
“Remember the Bonnattis? I’m sure I must have told you the story many times.”
He stared at her silently, thinking, So that’s why Donna Landsman had been so anxious to gain control of Panther.
“Fortunately for you, I’m in a good mood,” Lucky continued pleasantly. “Therefore, I’m giving you a chance to redeem yourself. My lawyer will immediately arrange for you to sell me your five percent of Panther, plus your half of the Panther shares you have in Conquest Investments. That’ll give me back a controlling interest. Then I want you to set up the same scenario—just like you did for Donna. I’ll be sitting in my office when you bring her in and I tell her she’s out. Oh, yes, and make sure Mickey Stolli is with her. I want to personally fire his fat ass.”
Morton’s voice faltered. “I…I can’t do that.”
“Oh, yes, Morton, you certainly can.” A long pause. “By the way, how’s your wife? And children?” Another long pause. “I guess Donna hasn’t shown them the tape yet.”
The color drained from his face. “What tape?”
“Morton, you’re a good businessman; however, you have to realize that when you’re dealing with somebody like Donna—or, in fact, someone like me—you’re out of your league. Not only does Donna still have your balls in a vise, but now I also have a copy of the tape.”
“Oh, God!” he groaned. “Please don’t do this to me.”
“Cooperate, Morton,” she said coolly. “And I’ll see that every copy of the tape—including the original—is destroyed. And if you don’t, well…I’ll personally make sure your wife views it, because you’ve been a very bad boy and you deserve to be punished.”
His shoulders slumped and he looked ready to collapse. “Jesus! What have I done?” he muttered.
Lucky sighed and shook her head. “Don’t you get it? Nice guys aren’t supposed to screw around on their wives—especially with a teenage hooker. It’s not proper. Marriage is a contract. And in my world, a contract means something.”
She turned and walked away, leaving an ashen-faced Morton standing alone.
Leslie spent the night with Johnny Romano, not bothering to return to her own house until early in the morning. She entered her bedroom and was annoyed to see that Jeff was exactly where she’d left him, fully clothed and snoring. The idiot wasn’t even aware she’d been out all night.
She went into her bathroom, took a shower, dressed, and applied fresh makeup. Then she hurried into Jeff’s closet and packed all his clothes into a suitcase that she dragged to the front door.
That done, she sat down and wrote him a short note.
Dear Jeff:
This isn’t working for me. I will be out until three. When I get home, I would like you to be gone. Please leave my keys on the kitchen table.
Leslie
She left the note on top of the suitcase and drove to the Four Seasons, where she checked in for the day.
If there was one thing Leslie hated, it was confrontations.
Alex hit his office like a dynamo—energized and full of vigor. He’d woken up early and decided he’d better forget about Lucky for now and get back to concentrating on his movie. Once he’d made that decision, he’d started feeling good.
“What’s goin’ on?” he asked as he burst in, slapping France on the ass as he passed.
“Alex!” France said. It wasn’t an objection—more another way of saying Thanks!
Lili was delighted to see him in such good form. “Do we have our old Alex back?” she asked, following him into his office.
“What do you mean?” he responded.
“You’ve hardly been yourself lately,” Lili said crisply.
“Don’t talk crap,” Alex said.
“I’m merely being truthful.”
“Okay,” he said briskly, moving on to more important things. “This is the deal. Leslie’s out. Venus is in. Talk to her agent, confirm with Mickey, and arrange for her to come in at four. I want to check out Johnny’s clothes today. Then put together a full read-through with the entire cast on Thursday. Got it?”
“Yes,” Lili said, smiling happily. “Are we sending flowers to anyone?”
“Absolutely not,” Alex said firmly. “It’s back to business, Lili. We’re making a movie here. Let’s get it together.”
After seeing Morton, Lucky met with Inga. She’d called her early in the morning and suggested they should talk.
“What about?” Inga had asked suspiciously.
“Something I’m sure you don’t want Abe to hear.”
That was enough to spur Inga into action. She’d agreed to meet Lucky for lunch in the dining room at the Beverly Wilshire Hotel.
When Lucky walked in, Inga was already sitting at a table. “Hi,” Lucky said, settling into a chair, her back to the window so she could view the room.
Inga nodded, her broad, unlined Swedish face impassive as usual.
“I could have come to the house,” Lucky said, “only I didn’t think you’d want Abe to hear our conversation.”
“Is it about Abe?” Inga asked, her strong jawline thrust forward.
“No,” Lucky replied, wondering if Inga would object to her smoking at the table. “Well, I say no, but in a way it does have to do with him.”
“How?” Inga asked.
Yes. Inga would definitely be put out if she smoked. “Shall we order?” she said, waving to the captain. He hurried over with menus.
“I usually don’t eat lunch,” Inga said. “Perhaps an apple and a piece of cheese.”
“How frugal of you,” said Lucky, consulting the menu and ordering a steak and french fries. “I need my strength,” she said with a small smile. “So many people have been stabbing me in the back lately, I’m positively weak. This afternoon I might lift weights—have you ever done that? It’s great therapy. Makes me feel sensational.”
“No,” Inga said. “For exercise I swim ten lengths in the pool every day.”
“Very good for you,” Lucky said, imagining Abe sitting poolside, watching.
Inga ordered a salad, waiting impatiently to see what Lucky had to say.
“How well do you know Morton Sharkey?” Lucky asked at last, leaning her elbows on the table.
Inga shrugged. “Not very well at all,” she said warily.
“Tell me how you met him. Through Abe?”
“Yes.”
Lucky nodded. “I remember when I was looking to buy Panther. Abe recommended Morton. He’d used him for a couple of deals and trusted him. I must say, I trusted him, too. Silly me. I even trusted him when he persuaded me to privately sell off a large block of shares. He suggested I diversify, sell sixty percent of Panther and use the money for other investments. I agreed. Of course, I should have kept fifty-one percent, but…I went with Morton’s advice. He said he had investors in place who were controllable, nothing could ever go wrong….”
Inga was starting to look uncomfortable. “What’s your point?”
“You know what my point is, Inga,” Lucky said, her voice hardening. “You’re not a stupid woman…. Or should I call you Mrs. Smorg?”
“Abe is ninety,” Inga said brusquely. “I’ve lived with him for the last forty years. By obtaining a piece of Panther Studios, I protected my future.”
“Fine with me,” Lucky said calmly. “But why did you side with Donna Landsman?”
“Morton advised me to do so.”
“Oh, you mean your partner, Morton Sharkey, the person you own Conquest Investments with?”
“Abe has never done anything for me,” Inga said bitterly. “I have no money, nothing in my name. I know when he dies his great-grandchildren inherit everything.”
“You’re married to him, Inga,”
Lucky said evenly. “California law states you get half of his estate.”
Inga stared into space. “Abe made several irrevocable trusts before we were married. I signed a prenuptial and a quit claim on his estate. In his will he has left me a hundred thousand dollars. That’s it.” She gave a heavy sigh. “I am not a young woman anymore. I have a certain lifestyle to maintain.”
“By protecting yourself, you screwed me,” Lucky said tersely. “By siding with Morton, you gave me no chance.”
“I had to do what he said, he takes care of my investments.”
Lucky laid out her terms. “This is the deal, Inga—if you don’t want Abe to know about your outside activities, sell me your shares immediately. You hold six percent personally and half of Conquest is another five. That’ll give me back eleven percent.” She paused for breath. “My lawyer has drawn up the papers. You’ll get top dollar—be smart—buy yourself IBM with the money.”
Inga realized she had no choice. “Very well,” she said stiffly. “I will do as you say.”
“I’ve a bitch of a headache,” Mickey grumbled.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Leslie replied sympathetically.
They sat together in the commissary at Panther Studios.
“Not exactly a hangover,” Mickey said, hunching his shoulders. “Although I was drinking.”
“Your party was very nice,” Leslie said, not meaning it, but what the hell—may as well make Mickey feel good.
“It might have been nice for you,” he said vehemently. “But I had a situation where my daughter ended up fucking that Santo kid in his house—and I had to go get her.”
“No!” Leslie said, suitably shocked.
“What is it with kids today, Leslie?” he asked mournfully. “They treat sex and drugs like it’s no big deal. When I was sixteen, buying condoms was a big deal.”