Son of a bitch! ‘You’re looking at her,’ Lucky replied without taking a beat.
‘She has one sister, childless, and no other living relatives,’ Harry said, adjusting his spectacles. ‘I make it my business to find out about people.’
What was his problem? ‘I guess Sheila kept secrets,’ she said lightly.
Harry shook his head as if he still didn’t believe her, but he didn’t question further. In fact he lapsed into silence.
Myrtle brought two glasses of ice water, placed them on the table, and pointed out Johnny Romano as the flamboyant star made his way into the private dining room, flanked by his ever-attentive entourage.
‘Isn’t he a big hunk of real man? And sooo sexy,’ Myrtle gushed, nudging Lucky. ‘I can tell you this, honey – I wouldn’t mind crawling into his tent one long dark night. How about you?’
‘Where’s my fish?’ Harry demanded testily.
‘Still swimming.’ Cackling heartily, Myrtle hurried off.
An hour later, Lucky sat in front of Herman’s desk again. ‘Why doesn’t Mickey want to send you over the budgets?’ she asked.
Herman tapped a heavy glass paperweight. ‘I have no idea,’ he admitted.
She reached for a cigarette and lit up. ‘You’ll just have to keep on pressuring them.’
Herman didn’t like her tone, but he said nothing.
‘Oh, and by the way, who’s this projectionist guy, Harry something or other?’
Herman thought for a moment and then said, ‘Do you mean Harry Browning?’
‘I guess so.’ She exhaled a thin stream of smoke. ‘Skinny man in his fifties – maybe heading full tilt for sixty. Finicky little guy.’
Herman coughed, letting her know the smoke bothered him. ‘Yes, that’s Harry Browning. He’s one of the oldest employees on the lot. Why do you ask?’
‘Because when I told him who I was, he couldn’t wait to tell me that Sheila doesn’t have a. niece.’
Herman clucked nervously. ‘Harry thinks he knows everything. Ignore him, he’s a little strange.’
‘Shit, Herman – if Harry knows everything, maybe he can give me some info on Mickey Stolli. What do you think?’
‘I’m not sure exactly what you’re looking for,’ Herman said frostily, offended not only by her smoking, but also by her unladylike language.
‘All the things you missed,’ she replied pointedly.
In six weeks she was going to have to put this old guy out to gaze at the stars. His days as a studio executive were definitely numbered.
‘OK, Herman, I’ll tell you what to do. Call Harry whatsit. If he asks you, assure him I’m Sheila’s niece – make up a “long-lost” story or something. And while you’re at it, arrange for a screening of all the dailies on Macho Man. I want to see what it’s like.’
‘But—’
She stubbed out her cigarette. Smoking was a bad habit she had to give up. ‘Don’t even fight it, Herman. You’re supposed to have clout, so use it for once. Let us not forget you are Abe Panther’s representative, and it’s about time you started kicking ass, because if you don’t, I’m going to be awfully tempted.’
Herman twitched.
‘Right now I’m out of here,’ she continued. ‘I am hot. I am tired. And tomorrow I’ll start again. I’ll see you in the morning.’
Sheila’s car broke down on Hollywood Boulevard. Lucky got out, gave it a vicious kick – hurting her foot in the process – and strode into the porno theatre the car had chosen to die in front of.
‘Can I use your phone?’ she asked the gum-chewing blonde behind the ticket counter.
‘Out on the street,’ lisped Blondie. ‘Two blocks down.’
‘You don’t have a phone here?’
‘S’private.’
Lucky pulled off the hideous glasses that were driving her crazy and stared at the woman with her deadly black eyes. ‘Will ten bucks make it public?’
The woman didn’t hesitate. ‘Gimme the money.’
Lucky waved a ten in the air. The woman grabbed, stuffed it down her mottled cleavage, and produced a filthy white phone hidden on the floor.
A customer buying a ticket for Hot Tight Lust, the current movie on show, nudged closer to Lucky as she punched out a number. ‘Wanna come in with me?’ he offered suggestively. ‘I’ll spring fer ya ticket, cutie.’
She smiled, a cold smile. ‘Take your ticket and mine. Roll them tightly, then shove them up your dumb ass. OK, cutie?’
He snatched his ticket and ran.
Lucky spoke into the receiver, a plaintive cry for help. ‘Boogie? Come get me. School’s out and I’ve had it.’
Chapter 13
‘Where is Lucky?’ Steven asked impatiently. ‘I’ve been trying to reach her for days and nobody seems able to give me an intelligent answer.’
‘Japan,’ Gino lied with a straight face. ‘You know how she likes to make the big deals herself. And I understand this is some killer.’
The two men sat companionably next to each other in a steak house with sawdust on the floor and autographed photographs of boxers on the walls.
The more time Gino spent with Steven the more he enjoyed his company. Steven was a no-bullshit guy, like himself. They didn’t share the same set of morals, but that was OK too.
When Gino had first learned of Steven’s existence it had been a tremendous shock. Not only did he get the news you have a son, but your son is black really sent him reeling.
Lucky couldn’t have been more thrilled. ‘I always wanted another brother,’ she’d said. ‘And now I’ve got a black brother. Hey – thank you, Gino. You really come up with wild surprises. You’re the best!’
He’d searched his memory for the one time he’d slept with Steven’s mother, Carrie, and had finally remembered. A few hours of pleasure, and forty-five years later a son.
The revelation had come two years earlier, and he was over the shock now. Steven had arranged a reunion with him and Carrie before she died. She’d turned out to be an elegant woman in her sixties who bore no resemblance to the young teenage girl he’d once made love to. They’d gotten along just fine.
Gino had reconciled himself to the fact that while Steven could never replace Dario – the son he’d lost to the Bonnatti family’s murdering hands – he was certainly a true comfort to have around. Not to mention Mary-Lou, his pretty and talented wife, who made the best pasta this side of Little Italy.
‘Why do you need to reach Lucky?’ Gino asked.
‘Nothing important. I like to talk to her every so often. Usually she calls me back.’
‘I may be speaking to her in the next few days. Shall I give her a message from you?’
Steven shook his head. ‘It can wait. When is she expected back?’
‘A week. Maybe longer, maybe sooner.’ Gino attacked his steak. ‘So, tell me, how’s the pregnancy going? Is Mary-Lou bad-tempered? Good-tempered? What?’
Steven grinned. ‘It ain’t easy,’ he said.
Gino nodded knowingly. ‘When my Maria was pregnant with Lucky she drove me insane! All the time it was somethin’ – I could hardly keep up. And that’s when I was young and strong!’
‘C’mon, you’ll always be young and strong,’ Steven said affectionately. ‘And by the way, isn’t it about time you handed over the family secret of your sex life? From what I hear, you’re unbelievable!’
‘Words of advice,’ Gino said sagely. ‘A hard-on keeps you young, an’ I don’t ever intend to get old!’
Mary-Lou was in bed when Steven arrived home. She was propped up against several lace pillows watching a Taxi rerun while devouring a box of Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups.
‘What are you doing?’ he demanded.
‘Watching gorgeous Tony Danza and having a great time,’ she replied, happily munching chocolate. ‘How was Gino? Did you give him my love?’
‘I sure did. He was sorry you couldn’t make it. I told him if you left the house you’d frighten women and horses! He understood.’<
br />
She pulled a pillow from behind her and threw it at him. ‘I don’t look that bad.’
‘You look sensational, babe.’
‘Babe?’ she echoed, smiling. ‘Has Gino been teaching you a new vocabulary?’
He loosened his tie as he approached the bed. ‘Gino’s been teaching me that the secret of staying young is maintaining a constant hard-on. How about that?’
‘Steven! You’re beginning to sound like Jerry!’
‘Wanna feel what I got for you?’
Mary-Lou began to giggle. ‘I love it when you talk dirty! It’s so un-you.’
‘Hey, who’s talking dirty? I’m just trying to get you horny.’
‘Try some butter pecan ice-cream and mucho chocolate. That’s my big turn-on. Sorry, sweetheart. I promise I’ll make it up to you the day I leave the hospital.’
‘Yeah, yeah.’ He strolled into the bathroom, dropping his clothes on the way. ‘You know, I almost told Gino about the Deena Swanson deal,’ he called out.
‘I hope you didn’t,’ Mary-Lou replied disapprovingly.
‘No. I kept it to myself.’
‘Good thing. You’re a lawyer, Steven. You’re supposed to be able to keep your clients’ secrets. Remember?’
‘Yes, ma’am.’
Sometimes Mary-Lou felt twenty years older than Steven instead of it being the other way around. She knew the Deena Swanson situation was worrying him, but why couldn’t he relax about it like Jerry? It was no big deal. It was just some rich woman showing off and paying for the privilege.
Steven had to learn to lighten up. When they had the baby she would teach him. Oh, how she would teach him!
* * *
Paige Wheeler had not turned Gino down. She had not said yes to his proposal either.
‘Your kids are grown, the time has come,’ he’d told her. ‘This once-in-a-while shit don’t work for me no more.’
Paige had studied the huge diamond ring he’d presented her with. She’d tried it on and admired the way it sparkled on her finger. Then she’d said, ‘I can’t live in New York.’
‘No problem. We’ll live wherever you want. Tahiti, Tokyo – you name it.’
She’d returned the ring to its box and reluctantly handed it back to him. ‘Give me some time and I’ll give you an answer.’
‘Do I pay for the ring?’ he’d joked.
‘Make a deposit,’ she’d joked back.
Now two weeks had passed and no word. Gino tried to pretend he didn’t care, but he did. Getting old did nothing to diminish the strength of his feelings. He might be seventy-something, but he certainly wasn’t dead yet. True, he had a few aches and pains, more than a few, but complaining had never been his style.
He’d had some life. Yeah! A real adventure. And God damn it, he had no regrets. Gino Santangelo had managed to live every minute of it. Now all he wanted to do was settle down with Paige and live quietly ever after.
Lucky had called him the night before. She was his daughter all right. Ready to try anything. He recognized so much of himself in her.
‘What have I let myself in for?’ she’d wailed over the phone. ‘I’m finding out nothing. I need ACTION!’
They’d talked awhile. She’d told him about Olive, Mickey Stolli’s English secretary, Harry, the projectionist, and No-balls Stone – her nickname for Herman.
‘Get friendly with the projectionist,’ Gino had advised. ‘He’ll know a lot more than you think.’
‘How come?’
‘’Cause he’s always around, y’know? He’s in that small dark room where nobody sees him. And I can bet you he sees everything.’
‘You may be right,’ Lucky had replied slowly.
‘Sure I’m right, kid. When I was datin’ that movie star – Marabelle Blue – she made it her business to get friendly with the little guys. That way she always had a bead on what the big guys were gonna do next. Capisce?’
‘Capisce.’
He wondered how Lucky was making out her second day on the job. Maybe he’d fly out to California and see for himself. Or maybe the real reason he wanted to visit L.A. was to force an answer out of Paige.
Whatever… A trip to the Coast wasn’t such a bad idea. He had his routine, but routines could become boring. Sometimes it was healthy to shake things up. There was nothing wrong with surprising Paige on her own territory.
Reaching for the phone he called his travel agent. Gino never had been good at sitting still and waiting.
* * *
‘Didja score?’
‘Did I what?’
Joey leaned closer. ‘Didja score with Cristi? Miss Legs-up-to-her-eyeballs.’
‘C’mon, Joey.’
‘I’m serious, man.’
‘Get real. I went home to my wife.’
‘Lucky ain’t here.’
‘She flew in for the weekend.’
‘Yeah?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Ya missed out.’
‘On what?’
‘Cristi’s a trip.’
Lennie gave a weary sigh. ‘Let’s get this straight. I am not in the ball park for any trips. I’m married and I like it. Can that fact penetrate what I laughingly refer to as your brain?’
Joey shrugged. ‘What the cow don’t know, the bull don’t tell her.’
Lennie shook his head in amazement. ‘You have no idea what being with one woman is all about, do you?’
Joey mock-shuddered. ‘Don’t ever let me in on it, it’s too frightening!’
They were on the private Panther plane en route to Acapulco. Attractive flight attendants served drinks while Marisa Birch sucked up the attention of her producer boyfriend, Ned Magnus. Grudge Freeport and Shorty Rawlings also formed an admiring audience. The three men all had a hot nut for her.
‘You want to talk frightening – how about shacking up with that?’ Lennie nodded down the aisle towards the amazonian Marisa. ‘She could crush Schwarzenegger with those knockers!’
‘Maybe I should go for it,’ Joey mused.
‘Maybe you wouldn’t have a chance. She’s screwing for a part, and the part she’s screwing for is definitely not yours, Romeo.’
‘If she saw it, she’d want it,’ Joey boasted. ‘They all do. Joey Senior gets ’em every time!’
Lennie sighed. ‘You got anything else to talk about?’
‘Not really,’ Joey said, with a casual shrug.
There were press waiting at Acapulco airport, and more at the hotel. Lennie hated it. He couldn’t get off on the attention anymore, although in the early days it had been a kick. He didn’t enjoy smiling for photographers and making nice for the assorted journalists. In his next contract he was going to insist on a no-publicity clause.
What did it all mean anyway, this celebrity crap? Sometimes he thought about taking all this stardom shit and shoving it. So he was having a terrible time on Macho Man – so fucking what? It was only a movie.
Marisa Birch revelled in the attention. She gave herself to the photographers. She gave them her eyes and her teeth and her hair. She gave them her forty-inch silicone breasts barely covered by a thin silk top, nipples erect, thrusting their way into the public’s consciousness.
On the side Ned Magnus gazed lustfully on. Mister Producer. Mister Married Man. Mister Asshole.
Lennie had met his wife, Anna, a tight-lipped WASP with an anorexic body and a penchant for good causes.
Thankfully Lennie thought about Lucky. He couldn’t imagine being with anyone else. She was the best, everything he’d ever wanted. And soon she would be pregnant with his baby and they’d be a real family.
He made a decision. After this film he was going to take a year off. Relax and do nothing except be with Lucky. And if Panther Studios sued him, let them. He deserved the time with his wife. Since their marriage they’d both done nothing but work. It was getting to be too much.
As soon as Lucky arrived in Acapulco he planned to tell her. He could convince her. He knew she’d understand.
<
br /> One year. No responsibilities. No work. No nothing.
Yeah!
Chapter 14
Deena Swanson and her husband, Martin, were one of the most sought-after couples in New York. They had what everyone else seemed to lust after – money, position, power, good looks, and invitations to every major event and party in town.
Deena, with her ice-cold appearance, trademark pale red bobbed hair, frosty blue eyes, and famous-for-being-famous demeanour, aroused envy in other women, and a certain kind of desire in men. She was so cool she was hot. The Grace Kelly syndrome. Rip off the Chanel suit, the lace teddy, the silk panties, and crack the zero-temperature façade.
Everyone thought Martin must be a fortunate man, for surely, between the satin sheets, Deena was an untamed tigress, enough to make any man crazy with her passion? And Martin must be something too. The manly profile, ready smile, toned body, and charismatic charm.
Were the truth to be made public, sad to say, a different story lay beneath the glossy exterior of the very visible Swansons. Deena loved her handsome husband, and was prepared to do anything he wanted. But Martin only enjoyed sleeping with star achievers, and famous as his wife might be, she was only famous because of him, and as far as he was concerned that didn’t count. Besides, everyone knew Deena was merely a figurehead. She didn’t design the jeans she lent her name to, or create the perfume that bore her signature.
When Martin married her he’d thought she showed terrific potential. Deena had arrived in New York from her native Holland a few years previously, and soon became a partner in a small interior design firm which seemed to be going places. She was beautiful, smart, and appeared to be everything Martin was looking for in the woman who was going to be his wife. His own career was taking off, lifting him above his wildest expectations, and it was time to connect with the perfect partner.
On their honeymoon in a secluded villa in Barbados, Deena had told him that as soon as they got back to New York she was leaving her job.
Martin had objected strongly. ‘You can’t do that, you’re a full partner. They need you there.’
‘Well, actually,’ she’d confessed, ‘I’m more an employee. They used my image as one of the partners because it seemed to be good for business. You don’t mind if I leave, do you?’
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