Vendetta: Lucky's Revenge

  “You’re a good actress,” Alex said. “It’s clear to me that nobody bothered bringing it out in you before.”

  “Thanks,” she said, thrilled at such extravagant praise.

  “Did you hear that Lucky got the studio back?” he said.

  “Fantastic!” Venus exclaimed. “When?”

  “Today. Lili heard about it before it happened!”

  “Wow—that’s great! And guess who’s walking through the door?”

  He turned to stare. It was Lucky herself.

  “Hey—” Alex said, thinking how beautiful she was. “We were just talking about you.”

  Lucky smiled. “All good or all bad?”

  “Always good,” he said, returning her smile.

  “Well, I figured as your new boss, I should pay you a visit.”

  “Hey—Lucky,” Venus said with a big grin. “You pull it off every time. Anybody else would, like, creep away…you just kind of got it together and turned it around. How did you do it?”

  “I have my ways,” Lucky said mysteriously.

  “Okay, I’m outta here,” Venus said. “Got a husband waiting at home.”

  Lucky raised an eyebrow. “A husband?”

  Venus continued to grin. “It’s second-chance time. See ya!” And she was gone.

  “Alex,” Lucky said, “now that I’m back in control, I think I should mention that your projected budget is totally out of control. Can we talk?”

  He laughed. “There’s nobody I’d sooner talk to than you. Only you’re a little difficult to get hold of.”

  “Hmm…trust me, I’ll be watching your budget big-time. In fact, you can bet on it.”

  “I hope you’ll visit the set sometimes, too.”

  “I’m here today.”

  “Maybe a weekend in Vegas?”

  “Who knows…when do you leave?”

  “Three days shooting in Malibu, then Vegas the end of next week.”

  “Don’t be surprised if I turn up.”

  “Lucky,” he said, giving her a long, meaningful look. “It would be the best surprise you could possibly give me.”

  “Well,” she said, slightly flustered. “This was a quick visit. I have to go.”

  He took her arm and walked her to the door. “You like my new attitude?”

  “What attitude is that?” she asked.

  He smiled, high because the reading had gone so well. “I’m into my concentrated movie-making mode. That means I’ll leave you alone for six months.”

  “Is that a threat or a promise?”

  “Take it any way you like.”

  They smiled at each other, and she got in her car and drove off, thinking about all the events of the past few weeks.

  Donna Landsman.

  No more delays.

  It was time.

  62

  “IT’S BEEN THREE DAYS—I THOUGHT YOU’D deserted me,” Lennie said, so relieved to see Claudia he could barely stand it.

  “I’m sorry, my papa—he returned,” Claudia apologized.

  “Yeah, I know,” he said bitterly. “Mr. Cheerful’s back. He dumps food in here like he’s feeding a dog. I gotta tell you, I hate your father, Claudia. You should get away from him, he’s full of bad karma.”

  “What is…karma?”

  “I hope you never have to find out.”

  “Tonight my papa will drink too much vino. When he sleeps, I steal the key, and bring it to you. You have the map?”

  He patted his pocket. “It’s safe.”

  She handed him a small flashlight. “Here—we will need this.”

  “Thanks,” he said.

  “If they discover you’re gone, they will come after you. But they will not know until tomorrow, when Furio brings food.”

  “How’ll you get here late at night?”

  “I shall be careful, too.”

  “Shouldn’t your boyfriend come with you?”

  “No!” she said sharply. “If he knew, he would not allow me to help you.” She hesitated, obviously distressed. “If he found out about us…”

  “There’s nothing to find out, Claudia,” he reassured her. “You were here for me, that’s all. I’ll never tell anybody what happened between us.”

  She nodded, satisfied he would not betray her. “As soon as I get the key, I will be here. You must be ready to leave at once.”

  He didn’t know how he was going to get through the next few hours until she returned. Somehow, he knew he’d find the strength.

  63

  DONNA ARRIVED HOME FROM THE STUDIO seething. She screamed at the maid, who promptly quit. She marched into the kitchen and screamed at the cook, who wanted to quit but needed the job.

  George was still at the office. She phoned him and spewed venom. “Do you realize our lawyers are incompetent fools?” she yelled. “Somehow or other, Lucky Santangelo has gained back control of Panther. I want to know how this happened, George. I demand to know.”

  “It was never a good business proposition,” George said, not sounding upset at all. “And you have to admit, Donna, you know nothing about the film business. This could be a good thing.”

  “Good!” she screamed, infuriated by his stupidity. “Good! Whatta kinda moron are you? Stupido!”

  “Excuse me?” George said.

  “Our lawyers are stupid,” she said, embarrassed, realizing she’d inadvertently slipped back into her former accent.

  “I’ll look into it,” George said.

  “You do that.”

  She suddenly thought about the pictures she had of Brigette Stanislopoulos—the true murderer of Santino. It had taken time and money to track her down, but she’d done so, just after the girl had signed with a modeling agency. A small investigation of Michel Guy had revealed his predilections. A large sum of money had assured his cooperation.

  What a stroke of genius! Now that she had the pictures, she’d sell them to every porno magazine in the world. How would Lucky Santangelo like that? Her former stepdaughter exposed for all the world to ogle.

  A small, cold smile. You can’t control everything, Lucky. You’re not invincible.

  She was on the way to her safe to get the photographs when Santo arrived home from school.

  “Why are you home early?” she demanded, catching him in the front hall.

  “Why are you?” he retorted, seemingly unrepentant about the incident with Tabitha.

  Lately they hadn’t been speaking much. She yearned for her little boy back, the innocent boy she’d fussed over and raised. Now he was this big, hulking lout with a smart mouth who did unspeakable things with dirty little girls. He’d betrayed her and she didn’t like it one bit.

  “Where are you going?” she said as he tried to dodge past her.

  “Upstairs,” he said sullenly. “Locked up in my room.” He threw her a filthy look. “That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

  “It’s your own fault, Santo,” she said, her voice rising. “What you did was disgraceful.”

  “No,” he said, scowling. “What I did was normal.”

  It infuriated Donna that he was still trying to justify his actions. “If your father knew you’d turned into a sex-crazed drug addict—he’d kill you rather than have you as his son,” she said darkly.

  “I’m no drug addict,” he sneered. “Get with it, Mom. Everybody smokes pot.”

  She had the last word. “My son doesn’t. Not anymore.”

  He ran up the stairs, slamming his way into his room, convinced his mother was the most hateful woman on earth.

  Donna waited until he was gone, then went into the library, closed the door, and moved quickly to her private safe, concealed behind a tasteful Picasso.

  She entered the combination, flinging open the small safe that contained important documents and a modest amount of jewelry—her good jewelry was locked safely in the bank.

  She rummaged around, searching for the videotape of Morton Sharkey, and the pictures of Brigette.

  This was ridiculous,
she’d put them there herself, now she couldn’t find them. Surely she wasn’t losing her mind?

  Methodically, she removed everything from the safe.

  No tape. No pictures.

  Was it possible that George had gotten hold of the combination?

  No. George wouldn’t dare invade her private safe.

  She had to stay calm, and deal with this in a rational way. They were misplaced, and she would find them.

  Santo went straight to his computer. He’d gotten out of school early because there was no one to stop him. What did he care about math or history? He didn’t need to know any of that shit because one of these days he was inheriting the Bonnatti fortune. His father had left him money in trust, and when Donna dropped, he’d get her money, too. So screw school. Right now he was more interested in settling the score with that tramp, Venus Maria.

  He sat down at his computer and began composing a new letter. A letter of hate.

  The bitch had it coming.

  64

  LENNIE WAITED IMPATIENTLY, THE HOURS CRAWLING by at an interminably slow pace.

  He wondered if Claudia was ever coming back. The thought of freedom was so intoxicating he could barely keep still, but he knew he had to reserve his strength for the escape—if it ever happened.

  The man he now knew was Claudia’s father arrived with his food, practically threw it at him, and vanished.

  He stuffed a chunk of bread in his pocket for the journey. Then he sat on the edge of his makeshift bed, studying the crudely drawn map Claudia had given him. She’d promised she would lead him out of the maze of caves. After that, he was on his own, they each had to go in different directions.

  Freedom. What a beautiful word. He said it aloud a few times simply to reassure himself.

  He thought about his children. If it were up to him, he’d never leave them again. He’d take his movie career and shove it up the studio’s ass, because from now on he was staying with his family. Nothing would separate him from Lucky.

  After a long while he reached the conclusion that something must have gone wrong, Claudia wasn’t coming back.

  His head began to ache until he thought it would split open. He lay down on his so-called bed, overwhelmed with disappointment.

  Eventually he must have drifted off to sleep, because when Claudia finally arrived she had to shake him awake. “Lennie,” she said tensely. “Get up, hurry.”

  He opened his eyes, dazed for a moment. Was this another dream? No, Claudia was actually standing over him.

  “We must leave immediately,” she said, handing him the key. “If my papa wakes…”

  She didn’t have to say more. He sat up, and with fumbling hands inserted the key into the rusty lock enclosing his swollen ankle.

  The lock was so stiff and corroded it refused to open. “Jesus!” he said, panicked. “This isn’t the right key.”

  “It is,” she insisted, bending down to help.

  They both struggled with it, until somehow he managed to force the key in and wrench the lock apart.

  At last he was free! He picked up the chain, and flung it violently across the cave.

  Claudia slipped the key into her pocket. “Come, we must go,” she said. “It is already late.”

  For a moment he was overcome with trepidation. He’d been a prisoner for so long he didn’t know if he could handle freedom.

  Claudia grabbed his hand. “Follow me,” she said. “When we leave the caves, we must climb the side of the cliff.”

  “What cliff?” he said, alarmed.

  “It is not dangerous,” she assured him. “I do it all the time in the light. Now it is dark, it might be more difficult.”

  “Are you telling me that when we get out of here we’ve got to climb a cliff?”

  “Yes, Lennie,” she said steadily. “If I can do it, so can you. Come.” She took the flashlight from him and began moving swiftly through the pitch-black labyrinth of cavernous caves.

  He stuck close behind her, with only the slim flashlight to guide them, trying to ignore the slime and the scurrying rats as they made their way through.

  As they progressed, the sound of the sea started getting louder. Jesus! How close was the ocean?

  “The tide is in,” Claudia said matter-of-factly. “We have to walk through water—don’t be nervous.”

  As they emerged from the maze of caves, moonlight lit their way. The sea was lapping at the entrance and the night wind was howling.

  Lennie shuddered as the realization hit him that he’d been hidden deep beneath the ground. He could have fucking drowned and nobody would ever have known.

  Now they were knee-deep in the swirling sea and he was freezing cold.

  “Hold on to me,” Claudia shouted over the wind.

  “I am,” he yelled back.

  She shone the flashlight toward some rocks.

  “Over there,” she said. “Hurry, the tide…it’s still coming in.”

  This was more frightening than his incarceration.

  They fought their way through the breaking waves to the rocks—by the time they reached them, they were soaked through and numb with cold.

  Claudia was as agile as a gazelle. She leaped onto the rocks, then leaned behind her and grabbed Lennie’s hand, helping him up.

  As he started to clamber over the sharp-edged clusters, a jagged piece ripped his foot. “Shit!” he exclaimed, his foot dripping blood.

  “Come on!” Claudia encouraged.

  Finally they reached the bottom of a rugged cliff.

  Lennie looked up and his stomach turned. Climbing it was a daunting prospect.

  “Follow me,” Claudia urged.

  He did as she said, and they began slowly clawing their way up the side of the cliff, clinging to vines and trees until after a few feet they reached a rocky, man-made path.

  Lennie almost slipped and fell a couple of times. The nightmare was getting worse. If it weren’t for Claudia’s strength and bravery, he’d have had no chance.

  When they got to the top, they both collapsed onto the ground.

  After a few minutes Lennie got up and took the flashlight from her, shining it on the sea below.

  Realization hit hard. He’d been buried somewhere within the bowels of the earth. Hidden in a place nobody could ever find. It was a miracle he’d survived, and it was only thanks to Claudia.

  “You must hurry, Lennie,” she said anxiously. “Be safe. Take the path to the right and keep moving fast.”

  “How am I ever going to thank you, Claudia?”

  “You don’t have to,” she said. “Go home to your wife and children. Be happy, Lennie.”

  And before he could say anything, she kissed him softly on the lips, then slipped off in the other direction, vanishing into the darkness.

  Once more, he was all alone.

  65

  SATURDAY MORNING WAS ONE OF THOSE BEAUTIFUL days, the kind of day that makes everybody aware of why they live in L.A.—in spite of earthquakes, riots, floods, and fires. This day was what L.A. was all about—crystal-clear blue skies, balmy sunshine, a city surrounded by palm trees, grassy hills, lush greenery, and magnificent mountains.

  Lucky couldn’t sleep. She got up early and wandered out onto her bedroom terrace, gazing out at the ocean. After a few minutes, she decided to jog along the seashore. She put on shorts and a T-shirt, ran downstairs, and set off along the shoreline.

  Half an hour later she found herself below Alex’s house. She stood still, jogging in place, wondering what he was doing.

  A steep stone stairway led up the bluff to where his house stood. She considered visiting him. It was early, maybe he was still asleep, or perhaps Tin Lee had stayed the night.

  What the hell, the gate to the bottom of the stairs was unlocked, surely it was a sign he wouldn’t mind visitors?

  She headed up the stone steps, taking them two at a time until she ran out of breath.

  She stopped for a moment. What are you doing? she thought. Why are you e
ncouraging him? You pushed him away and he went, now what are you trying to do? Get him back?

  No way. I simply like his company and conversation. It doesn’t have to be sexual. What’s wrong with having a platonic male friend?

  Platonic. Bullshit. You like him.

  Wrong.

  Yeah, sure.

  At the top of the steps was another gate; she threw the catch and stepped onto his property.

  Alex was sitting out on his terrace surrounded by a laptop computer, his script, newspapers, a pot of coffee, orange juice, toast, and cereal.

  “Hey—” She waved, heading toward him. “Surprise visitor.”

  He glanced up, startled. “Lucky,” he said, breaking into a big smile. “What a nice surprise.”

  “Jogged down the beach and happened to find myself outside your house,” she said casually. “Is that coffee for one, or can I get a cup, too?”

  “Sit down. I’ll call my housekeeper.” He pressed a buzzer and a moody-looking Japanese woman appeared. “One more cup, Yuki.”

  Lucky flopped into a chair beside him, stretching out her long, tanned legs.

  “Didn’t know you were so athletic,” he remarked, delighted she was visiting. As soon as he’d drawn back, she’d come to him.

  She laughed. “I’m not. I needed to release a whole bunch of pent-up tension.”

  “I can think of better ways to do that,” he said, putting down his script.

  Yuki returned with another cup and filled it with coffee. Lucky took a sip. “I can’t wait to get back to the studio on Monday,” she said, removing her sunglasses and placing them on the table.

  “And I can’t wait to start Gangsters,” Alex said. “I have more fun making my movies than at any other time.”

  “That’s because it’s your escape.”

  “You’re right,” he said wryly. “Sometimes I wonder what I’m escaping from. I have no relationship with my mother, no wife, no children, in fact, no connections at all.”

  “Making movies is your life,” Lucky pointed out. “The actors and the crew are your family.”