"I'm in trouble," Leslie whispered.
"Just tel me where you are and I'l come get you," he promised.
"I'm in jail, Eddie. I've been arrested. You need to bail me out."
He was shocked. "What?"
"It's a . Mistake. I'l explain everything when I see you."
"What've you been arrested for?"
"It doesn't matter. Just come and get me." "I'm on my way."
Chapter 61
Abigaile and Primrose greeted each other with a stiff embrace. Primrose was tal er than her sister, with fine golden hair and china-blue eyes. Her husband, Ben Harrison, was a heavily built man, youthful-looking for his fifty years in spite of crinkled gray hair and a stern expression. He treated Primrose with a certain amount of deference.
"Where's Mickey?" was his first question.
"He'l be home soon," Abigaile replied agitatedly. "He's out on a business meeting."
"We have to talk," Ben said curtly. "I have no clue what this is about. I only know we're not happy being summoned here at the last moment. Has anybody contacted Abe?"
"I saw him last week," Abigaile said. "He never mentioned anything. I've tried to cal him. Inga insists he can't be disturbed."
"Can't be disturbed?" Ben repeated, frowning darkly. "What kind of excuse is that?"
"We'l find out on Monday morning," Abigaile replied stiffly, wondering where Mickey was.
They were in the middle of dinner by the time Mickey final y showed up. Abigaile heard him sneaking into the house, trying to slide past the dining room and vanish upstairs.
"Excuse me a minute," she said with a sweet smile to Ben and Primrose. She rushed into the hal . "Mickey! Where the hel have you been?"
He looked disheveled. "I was in a car accident," he lied.
"A car accident? Is the car al right?"
Is the car al right? A typical Abigaile question. "Yeah," he said sourly. "The car is fine. I'm dead, but the car is fine."
"Primrose and Ben are here," she announced, ignoring his sarcasm. "Hurry up and join us. I am not entertaining them on my own."
"Gimme a break," he protested. "I nearly got myself kil ed."
"Mickey." The warning in her voice spoke volumes.
What did she care? "O. K., O. K., five minutes." He hurried upstairs. Jesus! This was his worst nightmare come true.
Arrested while a Chinese hooker was giving him a blow job. Was nothing sacred anymore? Thank God Madame Loretta had gathered her wits about her and contacted her lawyer. The man had arrived in record time and bailed everyone out.
Now Mickey had a date to appear in court.
If Abigaile ever found out he was visiting a whorehouse. . .
The ride back to the beach seemed longer than usual.
Eddie was silent for a while, driving with one hand on the steering wheel, drumming his fingers on the dashboard with the other.
Final y he spoke. "What were you doing in a whorehouse, Leslie?"
"I met Madame Loretta when I first came to Los Angeles,"
Leslie explained, tel ing him the story she'd decided to use.
"She seemed like a nice woman. In fact, she helped me out. I used to go up to her house for tea."
"Tea?" Eddie yel ed excitedly. "What did you think she was running? An English tea parlor?" He paused to make a point. "She runs a whorehouse, Leslie. You were sleeping there last night. What's goin' on here? How did she help you out?"
Leslie stared straight ahead. "I can explain."
The Maserati roared down the highway. "The facts speak for themselves, huh?" Eddie said edgily. "How many times do I have to tel you? I was sleeping over. By myself. I had nowhere else to go." Eddie slapped the side of his head.
"Jesus!" he said sarcastical y, "I can't figure out why I'm suspicious, can you?"
"Wil I have to appear in court?" she asked anxiously.
"Naw," he replied. "I'l havta fix it."
"Can you?"
"If I say I can do it, I can do it."
Her voice was almost a whisper. "Thank you, Eddie."
The car swerved along the highway. Eddie's driving was erratic, to say the least.
He pressed on. "How come you never told me about Madame Loretta before?"
"You never asked," she replied quietly.
He glanced in his rearview mirror. "Oh, I'm supposed to ask, am I? Hey, Leslie, babe, you friendly with a whoremonger? Is that what I'm supposed to ask? That kind of shit?"
Her eyes fil ed with tears. It wasn't like she'd done anything wrong. She was just sleeping over. It was his fault in the first place. This wasn't fair. "Eddie, please. Don't be mad at me.
I'm very tired."
"You're tired," he said, outraged by her selfishness. "What the fuck do you think 1 am? I've got this hood Bonnatti crawling al over me. It's a responsibW ity I don't need."
She sighed. "How did you find yourself in this position? If you and Mickey are partners, why doesn't the studio pay?"
"It's not exactly Mickey who owes the money," he grumbled.
"The fact is we had an arrangement, and, uh, I guess I sliced a little too much off the end. I didn't think anybody would notice. Trouble is, they did."
She was relieved to have steered the conversation away from Madame Loretta. "We're talking about a mil ion dol ars, Eddie."
"I know, I know. I had some debts to pay. Gotta face it, cocaine ain't cheap." -"What you should do," she said firmly, "is forget about the debt and check yourself into a detox center. I'l support you, Eddie. I'l be by your side."
"You don't seem to understand," he said urgently. "Carlos Bonnatti is threatening to break more than my bal s if I don't pay."
"That's ridiculous," Leslie gasped. "Things like that only happen in gangster movies."
"Honey," he said dryly. "Welcome to the real world."
Mickey joined his sister and brother-in-law for dinner. His mind was in fast forward. He had so much to take care of and yet he had to sit there and suffer through polite bul shit.
The main topic of conversation concerned Abe Panther.
What could the meeting on Monday morning possibly be about?
Mickey shrugged. "I got no idea. We're making money, the studio's doing wel . The old man should stay home an' stay happy. We don't need his interference."
Ben Harrison didn't seem to agree. "You know, Mickey," he said thoughtful y, "maybe Abe doesn't like the films the studio is producing. I have to tel you, I saw Motherfaker and it's a disaster. It's a movie.
I wouldn't want my mother to see, or, come to think of it, my sisters either."
"Yeah, wel , everybody else in the country's going to love it,"
Mickey said defensively. "This is the kind of movie they're clamoring for today."
"I don't know." Ben shook his head dubiously. "It'l do a big weekend gross and then fal down. There'l be no word of mouth. In fact the word of mouth wil be to stay away."
"Johnny Romano's a big star," Mickey pointed out. "The public is crazy about him."
"He loves himself," Ben replied evenly. "That much is obvious. Who had control over him? Didn't anybody try to pul in the reins?" He lowered his voice. "You know how many times he says 'motherfucker'? Not to mention the other actors."
Primrose heard him anyway. "Ben!" she admonished.
"Kindly don't use language like that."
Mickey raised an eyebrow. Primrose lived in England for a few years and suddenly she became the Queen Mother!
Jeffries, the butler, entered the room. "There is a phone cal for you, Mr. Stol i," he said, looking down his long, thin nose.
"Who is it?" Mickey replied rudely. "I'm eating dinner."
"He said it was most important. A Mr. Bonnatti."
"Bonnatti?"
"That is correct, sir."
This was not turning out to be a good day.
Chapter 62
Sitting in the Swanson private jet, Venus Maria felt a mil ion miles away from the scrawny little kid who'd lingered on Fifth Avenue and watc
hed from afar as Martin Swanson married Deena Akveld. It was unbelievable, real y. Here she was with Cooper Turner, famous movie star, on one side, and Martin Swanson, bil ionaire, on the other. And she had them both under her spel .
Venus Maria smiled. It was kind of a kick. In a way, she wished Ron were there to witness it. He'd love every minute.
Cooper wandered off to visit the pilot, and Martin leaned over to speak to her. "Why did you ask Cooper?" he said in a low voice. "What do we need him for?"
"Cooper's your best friend," she replied guilelessly. "I thought you'd be pleased."
"I'm not pleased," he said irritably. "A romantic day for two in San Francisco hardly works when it's for three."
She laughed softly. Was Martin jealous? "Don't be sil y.
Cooper's hardly a drag. He'l find plenty to do." "He'l go off and leave us alone, wil he?" Martin asked sarcastical y.
"No," she replied firmly. "The three of us are going to have a fantastic time together." She kissed him on the cheek, flicking her tongue into his ear just to give him a little taste of things to come. "I'm going to freshen up," she added, excusing herself.
As she wandered off down the plane she winked at Cooper on his way back. Now was the time for him to have a serious talk with Martin and find out his intentions.
The Swanson jet was luxurious to say the least. It was set up like an expensive apartment, with a living room, a functional stainless-steel space age kitchen, a glamorous bedroom, and two marble bathrooms.
She shut herself in the bedroom, closed the door and threw herself on the circular bed. Hey, this is great, she thought.
Maybe he'l lend it to me for the tour.
Not exactly subtle. They stil had to keep their relationship quiet.
In San Francisco they were met by a limousine and taken straight to the penthouse suite of the Fairmont. Martin had a short business meeting to attend, so Venus Maria and Cooper admired the panoramic view and ordered a bottle of champagne.
"So?" she demanded anxiously. "Did you talk to him? What did he have to say?"
Cooper considered his reply. In his opinion Martin didn't have the bal s to leave Deena. He was enjoying his affair with Venus, and indeed, who wouldn't? But he wasn't prepared to screw up his marriage. Deena represented stability. She was his wife, and they'd achieved a certain social standing Martin was not ready to give up.
But Cooper's opinion was not what Venus wanted to hear.
"Hey," he said, "you know Martin--Mr. Closed Mouth."
She was disappointed. "Do you mean to tel me you couldn't get anything out of him?"
"He thinks you're fantastic."
"Yes?"
"Oh, yes."
"Is that al ?"
"Just that I agree with him."
She laughed, not taking him seriously at al . "You would!"
Later the three of them dined out, creating quite a sensation.
"You see," Venus Maria whispered to Martin, "it's good that Cooper's with us. Now everybody wil think he and I are an item. Can you imagine if we were spotted in San Francisco alone together?"
He agreed. "It was a wise decision."
She hammered the point home. "There's only one way we can be seen out in public, and that's if you split with your wife."
It was not the first time she'd said something like that to him.
He didn't reply.
After dinner they drove down to the bay and drank strong cappuccinos in a smal , crowded cafe. Women appeared from nowhere, strutting their stuff in the hope of getting noticed. Cooper Turner and Martin Swanson in the same place at the same time--what an irresistible chal enge! Men eyed Venus Maria up and down, and so did the women--
while Martin and Cooper gave her their ful attention.
"Don't you feel like getting laid?" Venus teased, flirting with Cooper, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. "Getting laid today is a perilous business," he replied, perfectly serious.
"I need to know their sexual history for the past seven years.
It takes time and energy. Not like the old days. I'm too.
Tired."
Martin shot him a look. "I never thought I'd hear you say that."
Venus Maria shook her platinum curls. "Oh, he's always saying that. Take no notice."
Cooper smiled. "I'm saving myself."
"Who for?" she asked curiously.
"I'l let you know when she comes along." He held her gaze.
She looked away.
Later they boarded Martin's plane and flew back to L. A.
"Do you want to stay at my house?" she asked Martin.
"I'm desperate to stay at your house," he replied. "I didn't fly in early for my health."
"Just the two of us this time," she promised.
"No more games?" Was it her imagination, or did he sound just the tiniest bit disappointed?
"Yes, Martin. Just the two of us."
They said goodbye to Cooper in the limo.
"I'l cal you tomorrow," she said. Cooper was rapidly turning into her best friend.
"Tomorrow," he said.
"Good night." She kissed him lightly on the cheek. And then she was alone with Martin.
Dennis Wal a stared at the current edition of Truth and Fact.
Even now it was being delivered al over the country. The front page was the strongest layout he'd seen in a long time. It made the latest headlines in the Enquirer and the Star look sick.
First of al there were the headings in blazing red letters: MARTIN SWANSON--BILLIONAIRE LOVER!
VENUS MARIA AND COOPER TURNER!
THE HEIRESS AND THE WIFE!
Surrounding these headings were five photographs. In the center was the large picture of Venus Maria with Martin Swanson. On the left, a smal shot of Venus entering Spago with Cooper Turner. Beneath that, another photo of Venus and Cooper, taken on the set. And the two smal er photographs on the right were of Deena Swanson and Paul Webster in Central Park and of Paul strol ing along the street with Brigette Stanislopoulos.
Dennis was more than delighted. He'd never expected this to turn out to be such an important story. At first it was merely going to be Emilio's revelations about Venus Maria.
Now they'd held that part of the story for the fol oviing week; this week they'd concentrated on the various romantic entanglements of the main players. Excel ent coverage!
Bert Slocombe had real y come up trumps when he'd discovered Deena stepping out. But he'd doubled Dennis's pleasure when he'd managed to catch a photo of Deena's toyboy with Brigette Stanislopoulos, the teenage shipping heiress. What a coup!
There was more copy above the photographs:
BILLIONAIRE'S MISTRESS IS VENUS MARIA!
BROKEN WIFE DEENA SEES YOUNGER MAN!
DOES SWANSON KNOW SHE'S CHEATING?
Dennis Wal a threw the magazine down on his coffee table.
He was wel pleased. As far as he was concerned every editor in town was going to be after him. Dennis Wal a was about to become the hottest tabloid journalist in the world.
Without the silken bindings and the two exotic hookers to excite him, sex with Martin seemed a little pedestrian. He was too fast in every way.
Much to Venus Maria's chagrin, foreplay seemed to have gone by the board, and al he could give her was a cursory going over. Sex by numbers. Touch the breasts for twenty-five seconds, move the hands down, spread the legs and go for it.
Venus Maria was disappointed. This wasn't the way she liked to make love at al . He had no stamina either. It was al over in minutes.
"What's the matter with you tonight?" she asked edgily, feeling total y unsatisfied.
Obviously he wasn't aware anything was amiss. "Aren't you happy?"
She frowned. "No, I'm not particularly happy. It was so quick."
Martin seemed unconcerned. "What did you expect?" he said, yawning. "It seems like I've been on planes for the last twenty-four hours. I'm not Superman."
You can say that again, she thought bitterly. Venus Maria hated
bad sex. It made her feel dirty and used. Sex was supposed to be long and leisurely and satisfying.
Bad sex reminded her of the sort of behavior her brothers used to dish out to the neighborhood girls who'd come to the old house in Brooklyn whining and crying about their treatment.
It was quite obvious her brothers considered women were put on this earth to clean, cook, fuck, and shut up.
Charming monsters.
Observing them had given Venus Maria a great deal of determination to make it as a strong woman, capable of anything. And she'd done it. She'd real y done it!
Now that she was a modern-day sex symbol, it had to drive her brothers crazy.
She jumped out of bed and marched into her bathroom, slamming the door behind her. Damn Martin. Did he expect silken ties and two hookers every time they did it?
She imagined Cooper Turner didn't need any props. He was probably a master between the sheets. Wel , he'd had enough experience over the years, hadn't he? Mr.
Casanova. The Don Juan of Hol ywood.
She wouldn't care to go to bed with him. God, no! The comparisons! He'd had some of the most beautiful women in the world.
Ah . . . the Cooper Turner Hal of Fame. Venus Maria never planned to be part of that long parade. Martin was asleep when she returned to the bedroom. He lay on his side, snoring loudly.
Maybe she wasn't being fair. He'd had a long journey ney and was probably exhausted.
She snuggled into bed beside him and closed her eyes. It took forty-five minutes before she was able to fal asleep.
Chapter 63
Lucky flew back to Los Angeles with only Boogie for company. Lennie hadn't cal ed, and she had too much pride to cal him. If this was the way he wanted things to end--so be it.
Face facts, she told herself. She'd bought the studio for Lennie, and he didn't give a damn. He felt it was a blow to his ego or some such masculine crap. Why the hel couldn't he just relax and enjoy it?
When she arrived back at her apartment in New York, she'd phoned Gino and told him of Lennie's reaction.
"I tried to warn you, kid," he'd sighed. "I had an idea this was the way he'd feel."
"Why do you say that?"
" 'Cause it's a man's thing. You can buy him a sweater or a tie, but a studio . . . Jeez! What can I tel you?"
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