Vendetta: Lucky's Revenge

  She laughed; being with Alex made her feel good. “Drop me home. I’ve a ton of paperwork to go over.”

  “Can we have a platonic dinner tonight?”

  “Nope.”

  “How about lunch then? I’ll buy you a hot dog.”

  “I don’t eat hot dogs.”

  “You’re an American, aren’t you?”

  “Have you any idea what they put in them?”

  “Don’t tell me,” he groaned. “Can I interest you in a pasta salad?”

  “A pasta salad—are you crazy?” she exclaimed. “I have Italian blood. Let’s go get a big dish of spaghetti bolognese. Then we’ll both go home and work—good plan?”

  “You in your house, me in mine?”

  “What’s wrong with that?”

  “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Go ahead.”

  He stared at her. “When will you be ready for a relationship?”

  She took her time before replying. “That’s not a question I can answer right now,” she said at last. “But when I am—you’ll be the first to know.”

  “I beg your pardon?” George said into the phone, his plain face reddening.

  “Who is it?” Donna asked impatiently.

  “We’ll be right there,” George said, slamming down the receiver, which was unlike him. “Well,” he said, shaking his head as if he didn’t believe what he’d just heard. “That letter you were telling me about on Santo’s computer was not meant for you.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Apparently he’s been writing porno letters to the singer, Venus Maria. He’s been caught on her grounds trying to deliver his latest effort.”

  “No!” Donna said, shocked.

  “Oh, yes,” George replied. “We’d better get over there before they call the police.”

  “I’ve got a surprise,” Nona said. “We’re taking a cab to Times Square.”

  “My billboard is up!” Brigette said excitedly.

  “Yup.”

  “Does Isaac know?”

  “He’s probably been gaping at it ever since it appeared!”

  “Should I call him?” she asked eagerly.

  “Don’t start that again,” Nona warned. “Isaac is not for you.”

  “Okay, okay, he’s history.”

  They went downstairs, hailed a cab, and fifteen minutes later they were there.

  Nona paid the cabdriver while Brigette leaped out, shrieking with delight. “Oh, my God!” she said. “It’s fantastic!”

  “You look incredible!” Nona said, joining her on the sidewalk. “Boy, is Michel Guy gonna be sorry he blew your career!”

  They stared up at the giant billboard of Brigette and Isaac clad in nothing but tight blue jeans and big, wide smiles.

  A camera crew from Entertainment Tonight passed by and began filming the huge billboard.

  Nona nudged Brigette. “If they only knew you’re standing right here…Hmm…I think I should tell them.”

  “No way,” Brigette said, panicking. “I look awful.”

  “You don’t, you look fantastic. Let’s start the publicity machine rolling. Girl, prepare yourself—’cause you’re going to be the biggest.” Nona sauntered over to the camera crew. “Excuse me,” she said. “Are you shooting the jeans billboard?”

  The cameraman turned to her. “Yeah, it’s a hot campaign—there’s sure to be a lot of talk about this one.”

  “What do you think of the model?”

  “She’s a beauty.”

  “I’m Nona, her manager. And she’s standing right over there. Her name’s Brigette Brown. Remember it—she’s going to be the next big supermodel.”

  The cameraman couldn’t believe his luck. “Can we talk to her?”

  “Absolutely,” Nona said. “Come this way.”

  They stopped for lunch at a little Italian restaurant situated on the beach. Lucky ordered the spaghetti she craved, and Alex went for a steak. They shared a bottle of red wine.

  “I’m really happy everything worked out for you,” Alex said, pouring her more wine. “No more trouble from Donna Landsman.”

  “Funny,” Lucky said reflectively. “I never think of her as Donna Landsman. She’ll always be a Bonnatti to me.”

  “Get over it, Lucky.”

  She looked at him intently. “No, Alex, you don’t understand. She’ll never go away, not unless I do something about it.”

  “You did something about it—you got your studio back.”

  “Donna’s Sicilian, there’s no way she’ll quit.”

  “What else can she possibly do?”

  “Anything she feels like,” Lucky said grimly.

  “You can’t live the rest of your life surrounded by guards.”

  “I don’t intend to.”

  “What do you intend to do?”

  She gazed out at the sea for a moment, watching a blond boy surf the waves. “The Santangelos solve things their own way,” she said at last. “We’ve always had to.”

  “Forget about taking the law into your own hands,” Alex said. “You got away with it once—twice would be pushing it. And I’m telling you now, I am not visiting you in a jail cell. No way.”

  “Trust me, I know what I’m doing.”

  “No, you trust me,” he said forcefully. “When I was in Vietnam, I had experiences that haunt me to this day. Don’t even think about doing anything you’ll regret.”

  She took a sip of red wine. “Hey, Alex—you’re a writer,” she said lightly. “You should be loving this.”

  “Lucky,” he said seriously, “make me a promise that whatever you decide, you’ll discuss it with me first.”

  “I have a policy,” she said. “I refuse to make promises I’m not sure I can keep.”

  He looked at her for a long moment, wondering how far she was prepared to go.

  No, she wouldn’t do anything drastic. She was no longer the wild girl who’d shot Enzio Bonnatti. She was a woman with responsibilities who wouldn’t be foolish enough to do anything that might put her family in jeopardy.

  “Just remember,” he said. “You have three young children. Do anything dumb, and you could go to jail for the rest of your life. I don’t think you’d want to do that to your kids—not after they’ve lost Lennie.”

  She sighed. “Time to take me home, Alex, I’ve a lot of thinking to do.”

  He drove her home and dropped her off. “Are you jogging in the morning?” he asked as they stood at the door.

  “Maybe,” she said vaguely.

  “Coffee. Same time. Same place.” He kissed her lightly on the cheek, willing her to invite him in.

  She didn’t. She walked into her house without looking back.

  Miss Cool. Only this time she’d come to him, at least that was progress.

  Lucky clicked on her answering machine. There were a couple of hang-ups, a message from Venus, and another one from Boogie.

  She did not feel like returning calls.

  She went upstairs to the bedroom, and threw open the terrace doors so she could smell and hear the sea.

  This room reminded her of Lennie so much.

  Lennie…Her love…Her life…

  And while Donna Landsman lived, she would never be able to erase the pain.

  67

  DONNA AND GEORGE GOT IN THE ROLLS AND hurriedly drove to Venus’s house.

  “Thank God she called us instead of the police,” Donna said, imagining the consequences if it had been otherwise.

  George agreed. “You’re going to have to do something about Santo,” he said. “He needs to be sent away to a different environment—somewhere he’ll get discipline.”

  “I know,” Donna admitted reluctantly.

  The guard met them at the gate. Venus was pacing around outside with Cooper, not looking pleased.

  “Where is he?” Donna asked.

  “In the guardhouse,” Cooper replied.

  Donna peered through the glass window of the small guardhouse. Santo was huddled
in a corner, his head down on his knees.

  Venus was quite civilized about the incident. “I’m only glad it’s not some freako,” she said. “Do me a big favor—make sure there’re no more letters.”

  “Don’t worry,” George said. “You have my word Santo will never bother you again.”

  “Get him out of here, and we’ll forget it,” Cooper said, anxious to be rid of the problem as quickly as possible.

  Santo could hear them talking about him as if he didn’t exist. It filled him with rage.

  Then Venus sent for her assistant, who appeared with copies of all his letters neatly filed in a manila folder. Shit! His mother was going to see his freaking letters!

  “Take a look at these,” Cooper said, handing the folder to George. “My suggestion is you get the boy to a shrink fast. He needs help.”

  “We appreciate you not calling the police,” George said.

  “1 couldn’t take the publicity,” Venus replied, rolling her eyes.

  The guard shepherded Santo into the Rolls. He slouched down in the back of the car.

  Donna turned around, glaring balefully at her son. She was repulsed. For the first time she saw him as he really was—a mirror image of Santino.

  Face it, she told herself, Santo is exactly like Santino. A vile, sex-crazed pig.

  “You sicken me,” she said savagely. “You’re a disgusting lowlife pervert—just like your father. You even look like him.”

  “My father was a great man,” Santo managed, hating her. “George isn’t good enough to wipe his ass.”

  “You shut your filthy little mouth,” Donna said, coldly furious. “I’ll deal with you when we get home.”

  Venus removed a carton of orange juice from the fridge. “Some sick wacko!” she exclaimed, shaking her platinum curls. “Did you read the letters?”

  “Glanced at them,” Cooper replied. “Pour me some, too, hon.”

  “Good thing I caught him,” Emilio said, reminding them of his presence.

  “Yeah…really,” Venus said, handing Cooper a glass of juice.

  “It wasn’t easy,” Emilio boasted. “I coulda walked away.”

  “We appreciate your quick action, Emilio,” Cooper said.

  “He coulda had a gun.”

  “We know.”

  Emilio basked in his moment of glory. “So, y’see, little sis, I’m always lookin’ out for you.”

  “Don’t worry,” she said briskly. “You’ll get a check. This time you deserve it.” She reached for the phone. “I’m calling Johnny Romano, he has the best security in town.”

  “Good idea,” Emilio said, strutting around the kitchen, wondering how generous she’d be.

  “Isn’t that like shutting the gate after the rabid dog has gotten out?” Cooper remarked sagely.

  Venus sighed. “It’ll make me feel better.”

  She spoke to Johnny, telling him what had taken place.

  “Daniella and I are takin’ a trip to Vegas,” Johnny said. “I’ll send a couple of my guys over. They’ll put together a new security team for you. In fact, I’ll have ’em bring the dogs.”

  “Thanks, Johnny, I appreciate it.”

  “You know,” Cooper said thoughtfully, “in my whole career, I never had to have security.”

  “That’s ’cause you were fast on your feet.”

  “I guess we live in different times now.”

  “It only takes one maniac,” Emilio said helpfully, thrilled to be part of the family again.

  “He’s right,” Venus agreed, shivering. “Santo happened to be Donna Landsman’s son, but it could’ve been some crazed out-of-town freako—”

  “With a gun,” Emilio added quickly.

  “Don’t worry, Venus,” Cooper said. “I’m here to protect you.”

  She put her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. “Wow, Coop, I never knew you were so macho!”

  Johnny put down the phone. “That was Venus,” he said.

  “Who?” Daniella questioned, licking her pouty lips.

  Johnny looked at her quizzically. “You gotta have heard of Venus Maria.”

  “No.”

  “She’s a big star. She’s in Gangsters with me. You met her yesterday.”

  “Oh, yes.”

  “Hey—we’d better get movin’. I got a little surprise waitin’ for you in Vegas. You’ll love it.”

  “What surprise, Johnny?”

  He grinned. “You’ll see.”

  Lucky sat in her study, attempting to work. She was happy to see. that in the short time Mickey had been at Panther, he’d not done too much damage. She noted he’d canceled several of her movies in development, and made deals with a group of producers she didn’t approve of. Nothing that couldn’t be fixed. Monday morning she’d reinstate her team, and go over everything more thoroughly. One thing she knew for sure—it was great having her studio back.

  What are you going to do about Donna? an inner voice screamed in her head. What are you going to do?

  Could she risk taking no action?

  Impossible. Donna was too dangerous an enemy. She was as evil as her late husband, Santino. There had to be a resolution of some kind.

  She murdered Lennie, the voice continued. Set him up, then had him killed. She put a hit on Gino, and tried to ruin Brigette. And if that weren’t enough, she took your studio. Morton Sharkey and Sara Durban are dead because of Donna. Is your plan to sit around and let her get away with everything, or are you going to resolve the situation?

  Lucky stood up and began walking up and down the room. Her head was spinning, she didn’t know what to do. She knew if she were so inclined she could put a hit out on Donna; Boogie would arrange it in a minute. But that wasn’t the Santangelo way. The Santangelo way was retribution.

  And yet, something was holding her back. Alex was right, she couldn’t afford to do anything that might have dire consequences.

  She had a desperate craving for a joint. She went to her stash in the drawer and lit up. Then she wandered restlessly around the house—unsettled and edgy.

  She missed her children, but there was no way she could bring them home while Donna was still at large.

  When are you going to do something about her?

  I can’t. I’m not the same person. Alex is right—I have responsibilities.

  Oh, get a fucking life! You’re a Santangelo, you can do it.

  I’m not sure anymore….

  Oh, yes, you are. You know exactly what you have to do.

  They sat on the terrace at the Ivy. “This is a nice surprise,” Dominique said, patting her short black wig. “The two of us—dining together. Where’s Tin Lee tonight?”

  “Stop pushing Tin Lee on me,” Alex said irritably. “She’s one of the reasons I wanted to see you by myself.”

  “Why?”

  “I felt it was time we talked.”

  “About what, Alex?”

  “About the way you treat me.”

  “I treat you very nicely.”

  “No, you don’t. I’m forty-seven, as you constantly remind me, and I have no intention of listening to your nonstop criticisms anymore. If you keep it up, I’ll stop seeing you.”

  She looked at him with displeasure. “Alex! I’m your mother. How can you be so cruel?”

  “When my father died, you turned away from me—sent me off to a military academy. You knew I was unhappy, yet you let me rot there until I was old enough to get out. It was torture.”

  “You needed the discipline, Alex.”

  “No!” he said, almost shouting. “What I needed was a loving mother who cared.”

  “I cared.”

  “Bullshit,” he said harshly. “You were out with a different man every night.”

  “No, Alex, I—”

  “I went to Vietnam,” he interrupted. “You never wrote. And when I lived in New York all those years—did you ever try to find me?”

  “It wasn’t easy—”

  “No,” he continued, relieved to b
e saying what had been on his mind for so long. “The only time you’ve been halfway civil to me is since I became successful.”

  “Nonsense.”

  “If I’d turned out to be a bum, you wouldn’t bother seeing me at all.”

  “That’s untrue,” Dominique objected.

  “I’m not taking your shit anymore,” he said angrily. “It’s time you realized that it’s my life. No more guilt trips.”

  He waited for her to start screaming and yelling.

  She didn’t. She merely looked at him and said, “This is the first time you’ve reminded me of your father. Gordon was a sonofabitch, but he was a strong man and in spite of all his faults—I suppose I loved him.”

  “So, Mom,” he said carefully, sensing an opening. “Do we have an understanding?”

  Dominique nodded. “I’ll try my best.”

  Venus and Cooper entered Spago like the stars they were. A sudden silence fell over the room as everyone checked them out.

  Venus squeezed her husband’s hand. It felt so good being back with Cooper, they belonged together. “Gotta feeling we’re making an impression,” she whispered.

  “You always make an impression,” he replied, amused by the attention they were receiving.

  “This’ll give the tabloids something to think about,” she said, laughing. “Did you catch the latest headline?”

  “Wasn’t I supposed to be screwing an alien?” he said sardonically. “And you were busy having sex with three NBA players—simultaneously. Hmm…difficult…” He grinned. “However, knowing how talented you are…”

  She giggled. “It’s amazing what they can make up and get away with.”

  “That’s ’cause nobody has the time to sue.”

  “Honey”—she squeezed his hand again—“I love you so much.”

  “You, too, baby.”

  They sat at a corner table for two and ordered the duck pizza, a specialty of the house.

  Wolfgang Puck came running over to greet them. “You two back together?” he said, beaming.

  “Where else would we be?” Venus replied, smiling sweetly.