Vendetta: Lucky's Revenge

  Like she would know. Dominique knew nothing. Nada. Shit. She was a mean, bigoted, hateful woman. And yet she was his mother, so therefore he had to love her, didn’t he?

  He slumped across the backseat of the car, moodily silent until they dropped Dominique off at her condo on Doheny.

  “It was such a pleasure meeting you, Mrs. Woods,” Tin Lee said, still rallying. This girl had impeccable manners.

  Dominique nodded imperiously. “You, too, dear.” A pause. “However, take a word of advice from an older and wiser woman. Alex is not for you, he’s too old. Be a clever girl and find a boy your own age.”

  Gee, thanks, Mom. Fuck you, too.

  Dominique swept into her building without looking back.

  “She’s uh…very nice,” Tin Lee said, groping for words.

  Alex laughed uproariously. “Very nice, my ass. She’s a raving bitch, and you know it.”

  “Alex, please don’t talk about your mother like that. It’s bad karma.”

  “I don’t give a shit about karma,” he said, drunkenly fondling her small breasts from behind. “Drive me home, baby, I’m gonna show you how a bald, ugly has-been gets it on. I’m gonna light up your fuckin’ world!”

  Jeff Stoner circled the room, summing up the action.

  Cooper watched him, understanding every move. He’d been like that once—ambitious, hungry for the big time. Jeff had the look that Cooper knew so well, and he didn’t like it because he was well aware that if he didn’t act to prevent it, tonight Jeff Stoner was definitely going to score with Leslie. She looked too delectable to be left alone after everyone had gone home.

  Cooper knew exactly how Jeff would operate. He’d stay for a nightcap, bombard her with compliments, get her talking about herself, and then POW—he’d zero in for his big chance. After all, apart from being gorgeous, Leslie was the star of the film, she had the director’s ear; therefore—with a small amount of effort—she could convince the director to enlarge Jeff’s minor role.

  “Something wrong?” Venus interrupted his thought process with a beringed hand on his arm. She’d finished talking to Felix, whose sexual boasting had finally bored her.

  “Nothing,” Cooper replied vaguely.

  Bastard, Venus thought. Lousy, lying, cheating bastard.

  “Where’s the john?” she asked.

  Trick question. He knew enough not to fall into that trap. “How would I know?” he said casually. “I’ve never been here before.”

  Big lie. He’d spent several steamy afternoons at Leslie’s house when filming had quit early.

  “Come find it with me,” she said, pulling him into the hall. Together they discovered a powder room near the front door. “Come in with me, baby,” she said persuasively.

  He followed her into the mirrored room.

  She turned around, locking the door behind them.

  Cooper peered in the mirror. Yes, he did look tired. When he finished the movie, it was definitely health-spa time.

  Venus didn’t hesitate; throwing her arms around his neck, she pressed his back up against the marble sink and began provocatively tonguing his lips.

  He made a mild attempt to push her away.

  “I’m veree horny,” she whispered, persevering. “Humor me, baby. Got a little something I’ve been imagining doing to you all night.”

  Instant reaction as her hand snaked down, unzipped his pants and rapidly began freeing him from the confines of his Calvin Kleins.

  “Nice…” she murmured with a throaty laugh, firmly caressing his positive response. “Veree nice.”

  Venus could elicit a hard-on from a stone statue!

  All of a sudden he forgot about Leslie and Jeff as she slid to her knees. His wife was a very accomplished woman. Very—

  “God!” he groaned, arching his back as her tongue began flicking lightly back and forth across the tip of his penis.

  “Shhh…” She silenced him by reaching up and placing a finger on his lips. “We wouldn’t want anyone to hear.”

  Then, after a few moments of teasing, her full mouth enclosed his hardness and nothing else mattered as he gave himself up to the sensation of riding the wave as she sucked him dry of all desire, leaving him spent and extraordinarily satisfied.

  The entire event took less than three minutes. Fast sex, like fast food, could sometimes do more than all the gourmet meals in the world.

  “Jesus!” he exclaimed, totally content. “That was really something!”

  Venus rose from her knees, plucked a Kleenex from a box on the vanity, and daintily dabbed her lips. “Figured you seemed a touch tense, Coop. Thought I’d relax you.”

  “You’re unbelievable!” he said and laughed.

  “I try to please,” she said, gazing at her reflection in the mirror.

  “Well, you do,” he replied, stretching his arms high above his head.

  “You’d miss me if we weren’t married, wouldn’t you, Coop?” she teased, staring at him through the glass.

  He turned her around, cuddling her close. “I miss you every minute we’re not together,” he said seductively, the full Cooper Turner charm machine on alert.

  Lying,

  cheating

  sonofabitch.

  Gently, she pushed him away. “We’d better get back. I’m sure Felix has plenty more to tell me about his talented tongue.”

  “Talking of talented tongues…” Cooper said. “When we get home tonight…”

  “Yes?”

  “You’ll see,” he said confidently.

  “I will?”

  “Oh, yes, you will. I owe you one.” He zipped up, took one last glance in the mirror, and unlocked the door. “Let’s leave early tonight, honey, I can’t wait to be alone with you.”

  “Whatever you like,” Venus replied, obliging to the end. “Whatever turns you on.”

  10

  “HOW COME YOU HAVEN’T BEEN IN TO SEE ME?”

  “Just your bad luck, I guess,” Brigette replied with exactly the right amount of sass.

  Michel Guy’s heavy-lidded eyes swept over her, lingering on her breasts, provocatively on show in her sexy Hervé Leger dress. “Come to my office tomorrow,” he said. “Bring your book.”

  “I would,” Brigette replied agreeably, “only I’m kind of on an assignment.”

  “Doing what?”

  “A foreign catalogue.”

  “Which one?”

  “Uh…it’s a favor for a friend,” she said vaguely.

  “Who’s the photographer?”

  “Uh…the photographer…”

  Michel started to chuckle. “You’re a very pretty girl,” he said. “Very pretty. However, ma chérie, there are a lot of pretty girls in New York trying to be models. A word of advice—don’t fake it—be truthful.”

  “I’m always truthful,” she said, “when it works.”

  He scratched his chin. “Have you done the rounds?”

  “I’ve only been in New York a short time.”

  “So you haven’t seen any other agents?”

  To hell with truthful. “Not yet,” she lied.

  “Here’s my card,” he said. “Be at my office, ten A.M. tomorrow. There might be something you’re right for.”

  Brigette couldn’t wait to find Nona and thank her for the introduction. “This is, like, soo great,” she enthused, her eyes gleaming excitedly. “I’ve been trying to get an appointment with Michel Guy for ages.”

  “Michel’s got a reputation as an ass grabber,” Nona warned. “He’s living with that English model—Robertson—you know, the one who’s so skinny you could slide her through a crack in a French window. Everyone knows he’s taken. It doesn’t stop him—he still hits on all the girls.”

  Brigette was determined. “If he’s with Robertson, he’s hardly likely to come on to me, she’s incredible.”

  “When has that stopped any man?” Nona said, tossing back her bright red hair. “So, tell me…what do you think of Zandino?”

  “Major cu
te. Only I thought you wanted somebody who was already…y’know, established.”

  “Nobody old,” Nona said, wrinkling her nose. “They have to be under thirty. I can’t deal with anybody, like, you know, older than that. Can you?”

  Brigette hadn’t really thought about it. So far, all her relationships had been with younger men.

  She took another look across the room at Michel Guy. He had crinkly grayish-blond hair, a weathered tan, and faded blue eyes.

  “How old do you think Michel is?” she asked.

  “Forty-something. Pretty ancient.”

  “Forty-something isn’t ancient.”

  “Keep it business,” Nona said sternly, wagging a warning finger.

  “I’m not about to sleep with him.” Brigette laughed. “Although he is attractive.”

  “There’s my boss,” Nona said, on to the next subject. “Charm her. Maybe she’ll put you on the cover of MONDO.”

  “You think?”

  “Just kidding, but you may as well meet her.”

  They headed across the room for another opportunity.

  “Get on top,” Alex demanded.

  “It’s enough, Alex, I’ve had enough,” Tin Lee cried, her compact, naked body slick with sweat.

  Alex had been pumping away inside her for twenty minutes and to her dismay he remained ramrod hard. He’d popped two amyl nitrate capsules and was still drunk.

  Tin Lee was not enjoying herself. This man was big and rough and not a gentleman in bed. She wanted out.

  Alex grabbed her around the waist, hauling her on top of him. She felt herself impaled, like a thing, an object. He wasn’t treating her nicely. No foreplay. No touching. Nothing except a relentless pounding.

  And yet…the truth was…she did want a role in his upcoming movie. And he was Alex Woods—a very important and famous director. And maybe…if he’d let her…she could teach him things in bed—like how to pleasure a woman—because right now, what she was going through was uncomfortable and humiliating. Wasn’t he ever going to come?

  Alex shut his eyes and attempted to concentrate. The problem was that when his eyes were closed, the world took off, leaving him dizzy and confused. God, he hated drinking. Hated the effect. Hated getting up the next morning and suffering from his excesses.

  His mother drove him to it every time. His fucking mother and her fucking put-downs. Why couldn’t she leave him alone?

  Tin Lee moaned on top of him. Or was it more an anguished cry of exhaustion?

  He didn’t know. He didn’t care. Dominique was right. Tin Lee should go out and find a nice boy her own age. What the fuck was she doing with him?

  Abruptly he rolled away from her. Still hard, he finished himself off.

  This did not make Tin Lee happy. She jumped off the bed and ran into the bathroom. When she emerged a few minutes later, she was fully dressed.

  “I’m going home, Alex,” she said in a small, flat voice.

  He nodded, too tired and disgusted to say anything.

  She left his apartment and he heard silence—an eerie, earth-shattering silence that was enough to drive a man crazy.

  Burying his head under a pillow, he fell into a troubled sleep.

  Leslie Kane was nervous. Something had happened and she didn’t know what. Cooper had definitely cooled toward her and she couldn’t figure out why. He sat on her right at the round dining table, Jeff on her left. She’d imagined this would drive Cooper crazy with jealousy. It didn’t. He seemed disinterested—almost cool as he chatted amiably to Felix’s dyke wife. Leslie knew Muriel Zimmer was a dyke because in her past life as a highly paid call girl, she’d been summoned to the Zimmers’ mansion one night with two other girls; the three of them had been given diaphanous robes and elaborate Venetian masks and then been led into an all-black bedroom with a huge circular waterbed, where Mrs. Zimmer had awaited them wearing nothing but thigh-high rubber wading boots and a big, toothy leer.

  Leslie remembered the evening well. Mrs. Zimmer obviously didn’t. Thank God she was into masks!

  Leslie could not stop herself from saying something to Cooper, although she knew it was hardly an appropriate time. “Have I done anything to upset you?” she whispered, groping for his thigh under the cover of the long damask tablecloth.

  “Huh?” He looked at her vaguely, like they were nothing more than casual acquaintances.

  “Cooper…” she murmured, thinking of how he’d been earlier in the day—his head buried between her legs, his expert touch burning into her skin.

  “Not now, Leslie,” he muttered, removing her hand as he turned once again to Muriel Zimmer.

  Leslie felt a horrible lump in her throat. She…was…losing…him.

  How had it happened so quickly? When he’d walked into her house two hours ago, he’d been all over her.

  Jeff Stoner leaned toward her, speaking in a low, intimate voice. He resembled a young Harrison Ford. She didn’t care, he did not captivate her interest one iota.

  “Leslie,” he said earnestly. “Inviting me here tonight was so damn sweet. In the Hollywood scheme of things, I’m nothing, a nobody. Only you don’t care, ’cause you see me as a guy you like, a friend. No bullshit. You’re somethin’ else.”

  Oh, God, Jeff thought she was so sweet, yet all she’d been doing was using him. Now her clever scheme to make Cooper jealous was backfiring.

  Venus Maria, who’d been holding court at the table with the country singer and the clothes designer, suddenly stood up, tapping the side of her champagne glass with a fork. “Can I say something here?” she said, silencing the table. “I think somebody’s gotta say something, ’cause this is such a special night.” She smiled at Leslie—a warm, loving smile. “Leslie, dear, you’ve put on such a very impressive show. Company interesting, food delicious—I mean, what more can any of us want? In fact, I feel so comfortable here tonight that I’m about to share a big secret with all of you.”

  Cooper wondered what his unpredictable wife was going to share now.

  “Everyone, raise your champagne glasses,” Venus continued. “First we’re toasting our lovely hostess, Leslie Kane. Oh, and I know this might surprise some of you, or maybe not—but this toast is also for Cooper—my fantastic husband. You see, the truth is…” A long, provocative pause, “Leslie and Cooper are having an affair.”

  Jaws dropped around the table, and a heavy silence descended.

  “And although I’m a very understanding wife,” Venus continued brightly, “and extremely open-minded, there comes a point in every relationship when one has to say enough is enough. So…dear Cooper,” she tilted her glass at him, “I’m taking this opportunity to tell you and Leslie,” she lifted her glass toward Leslie, who sat in stunned silence, “that you can continue your affair as long as you care to. Because, my dear Cooper, I’m divorcing you.”

  Muriel Zimmer said, “Ohmigod!”

  The rest of them were silent.

  Venus carried on. “Even as we sit here, Coop, your clothes are being moved out of our house and into the Beverly Hills Hotel, where I’m sure you’ll be very happy. That’s, of course, if you don’t move in with Leslie. I have no idea how accommodating she is. Maybe she’s getting it on with young Jeff here, who knows? Anyway, Coop, I don’t want you to be surprised when you try to get into our house and find your key doesn’t work.”

  Cooper stood up, his face flushed with anger. “Is this some kind of joke?” he asked tightly.

  “That’s exactly what I thought in the beginning,” Venus said pleasantly. “You screwing Leslie had to be a joke—’cause little Leslie here, sweet, innocent Leslie, the darling of America, used to be a hooker.”

  Leslie’s stomach dropped.

  Another “Ohmigod!” from Muriel.

  “Really, Coop,” Venus admonished. “You must be the only guy in town who doesn’t know Leslie was one of Madame Loretta’s girls.”

  A nerve twitched in Cooper’s left cheek as he listened to his wife. No point in trying to stop her,
she was on a roll.

  Venus turned to Leslie again. “Not that I hold it against you, dear, everybody has to do whatever they can to survive; I certainly did. But, you know what? You’ve also got to learn who you can fuck and who you can’t. And if you jump into bed with my husband, you’d better be sure I approve, ’cause if I don’t, I can be very mean, and you wouldn’t want that, would you?”

  Leslie sat absolutely still as her world crashed around her. She loathed Venus with a hatred she’d only felt for one other human being, and that was her stepfather—the man who’d molested her night after night with sickening regularity.

  “Anyway,” Venus continued cheerfully, “allow me to finish my toast. This evening was great, but right now I gotta go. I have a hot date waiting at my house, and I hate to keep ’em waiting when they’re really hot. Oh, yes, and Felix,” she added, winking boldly at the lecherous producer, “thought you’d like to know…Cooper gives great head.” She returned her attention to her errant husband. “So…Coop, guess I’ll see you around, babe.”

  And with that she blew him a kiss and made a very effective exit. So effective that nobody noticed the tears in her eyes.

  11

  NONA’S BOSS, AURORA MONDO CARPENTER, WAS a tiny, brittle woman with watery eyes and cut-glass cheekbones. She was of an indeterminate age, but Nona confided to Brigette that she had to be in her seventies.

  Brigette was amazed. “Wow!” she said. “She doesn’t look like any grandmother I’ve ever seen.”

  Aurora’s personal stamp was all over MONDO. She’d created the magazine and been at the helm for over twenty-five years. She was married to one of New York’s top architects, and often wrote coy little articles about him in her magazine, claiming they had the best sex life in New York. Aurora was quite a character.

  Nona was not in awe of her, she’d known her since she was a small child, and Aurora was a close friend of her mother’s, so she felt quite comfortable taking Brigette over to meet her.