Lady Boss (64 page)

He'd invited three hundred guests. Everyone from Cooper Turner and the other Panther stars to Mickey Stolli and his merry band of executives. Of course he'd invited them before he knew of the upheaval about to take place at Panther.

Now he'd also invited Lucky Santangelo, who said she'd be delighted to attend.

The cake had been ordered, a huge three-tiered affair with Venus Maria's image on the top tier, and fake records hanging from the sides with the names of her hits.

The icing on the cake was to be Martin Swanson. If he produced Martin for her, it would make her evening.

Ron was throwing the party in the tented back garden of his home. He'd arranged to have exotic flowers, soul food, three different live groups, and a discotheque. All of Venus Maria's favourite things. Mixed up in the guest list would be her dancers, personal staff, friends, and people she didn't know that well but might like to know better.

Unfortunately, he'd made the mistake of inviting Emilio. He'd issued the invitation long before her brother's scummy revelations.

Surely the dumb brother wouldn't have the nerve to turn up?

No. Ron didn't even consider it a possibility.

To make sure everybody had a good time he'd also invited twenty beautiful girls, and twenty good-looking boys to keep the husbands and wives of Hollywood happy.

The boys had been rounded up by Ken. He'd invited young actors, friends, and the best-looking male models in town.

‘Try and make sure half of them are straight,' Ron had instructed.

‘You want I should personally test them?' Ken had replied.

Bitch!
Ron had shaken his head in exasperation. ‘Never mind.'

The girls he'd taken care of himself. He'd contacted Madame Loretta, who without a doubt had the most beautiful supply of girls in town. ‘For once they won't have to put out,' he'd told the dear madam. ‘Just dance, have a good time and look utterly gorgeous.'

There was nothing like beautiful people to make a party go with a bang. And Venus Maria would adore the underlying humour of having the hookers mixing with the wives.

Ron had elected Cooper Turner as his co-conspirator as far as getting Venus Maria to the party was concerned.

‘At least if she thinks she's going out with you she'll look fabulous,' Ron had explained. ‘I wouldn't care to put up with the wrath of Madame if she walked in here not looking her best. As it is, I've bought her a divine new Gaultier outfit as a birthday present. She can change when she arrives.'

The party was on Monday. Only two days to go. It was difficult keeping the secret – but he'd kept it this long, what difference did another two days make?

* * *

Warner Franklin marched up to the front door of Johnny Romano's Hancock Park mansion and rang the bell.

One of his entourage answered. He didn't recognize Warner as the six-foot black woman Johnny had been frolicking around with recently. All he saw was a very tall uniformed cop.

‘Mr. Romano,' she said, all business.

‘He's not available,' replied the gofer.

Warner could be very stern when the occasion called for it. ‘Do I have to come back with a warrant?'

The gofer shifted uncomfortably. ‘What's it about?'

‘That's for Mr. Romano to know. If you value your job you'd better bring him down here.'

The gofer hurried off, muttering under his breath. Five minutes later he returned with Johnny. Handsome Johnny. Sloe-eyed Johnny. Sexy, macho, and son of a bitch Johnny.

To Warner's annoyance, he didn't recognize her.

‘Yeah?' he said. He was clad in a terry-cloth robe, with several gold chains jostling for position around his neck. His long hair curled over his collar. Two bodyguards hovered in the background.

She remembered what he was like in bed and she wanted him.

Removing her large black sunglasses she stared at him. ‘I've been trying to reach you,' she said. ‘You're impossible to get hold of.'

Recognition dawned. ‘Holy shit!' he exclaimed. ‘It's you! Get an eyeful of the uniform!'

Warner knew there was something about a uniform that turned some men on. That's why she kept hers. Obviously Johnny was one of them.

‘Why haven't you returned my calls?' she demanded.

‘Honey, who knew you called?' He waved his arms vaguely in the air. ‘Hey, Chuck – did Warner call me?'

‘Dunno, Johnny, I'll take a peek at your messages.'

Johnny couldn't help grinning. He admired her balls, coming to his front door like it was her right. ‘I'd ask you in, but I'm… entertaining,' he said.

She wanted to let him know she wasn't just another pass-in-the-night groupie. ‘When
can
I see you?' she pressed. ‘I'm through trying to reach you on the phone.'

He thought quickly. There wasn't much going on in his life. Upstairs he had blonde twins rolling around on his bed. They would do for tonight, but after that…

‘Tell you what, babe – I'm goin' to a big party Monday night. I'll take you with me. How's that?'

‘Yes,' said Warner.

‘You got it,' said Johnny, remembering her incredible tits.

Warner was satisfied.

He stretched out his hand and fingered the front of her uniform. ‘Whaddya say – maybe next time we stay in you'll bring the uniform, huh?'

She nodded. ‘Maybe.'

Johnny was satisfied.

‘Gimme your address. I'll have a limo pick you up. Eight o'clock Monday night. Put on something sexy.'

‘Yes,' Warner said.

‘Yes,' Johnny agreed.

In his Century City penthouse Carlo Bonnatti began to brood. Lucky Santangelo… treating him like shit… making him wait for money that was rightfully his. Fuck her, and fuck her father, Gino. The Santangelos had always thought they were better than everybody else. If it wasn't for that goddamn family…

He remembered growing up and Enzio complaining about Gino.
That lousy son of a bitch. Thinks he's smarter than everybody else. Doesn't want to get into drugs and hooking. Thinks just 'cause he takes money for loan-sharking and skims the casinos clean, he's a good guy. Fuck him. I'm gonna show him a thing or two.

When Enzio was murdered by the Santangelo bitch, Carlo had backed off. He didn't care to get involved in the family grudges. He wanted to run his businesses his own way. And when Santino vowed revenge, Carlo said to himself –
Fuck Santino, he's a moron
. And Carlo had distanced himself from his brother. Eventually Santino had gotten himself killed too – but Santino was always a dumb schmuck, more interested in pussy than anything else.

Carlo had his priorities straight. Money came first. Money came before everything. And now the Santangelo bitch was going head-to-head with him.

It was time he laid down the rules.

Twenty-four hours, bitch. And if you don't pay…

Although the Beverly Hills Hotel was one of the most luxurious hotels in the world, it was not quite the same as living in one's own mansion. Mickey Stolli soon discovered that.

He'd installed himself in a bungalow. But what was the use of having a kitchen, when there was nobody to cook your meals?

Room service and he soon became very close indeed.

On Saturday, Tabitha insisted on visiting him.

‘I wanna go out by the pool, Daddy. There's a lot of cute boys by the pool,' she whined.

‘There's no cute boys at the Beverly Hills Hotel,' Mickey said flatly. ‘Just old producers.'

‘Like you, Daddy?'

‘I'm not a producer.'

Tabitha wore baggy shorts and a floppy shirt. Once they got out by the pool she removed both items of clothing, revealing a much too small bikini for such a young girl. He hadn't realized his daughter was developing so fast. If it wasn't for the glint of steel around her teeth you would never know she was only thirteen.

‘Put your shirt on,' he scolded.

‘I wanna sunbathe, Daddy.'

‘I
said
cover yourself.'

Tabitha made a face and reached for her shirt. ‘When are you coming home?'

‘Who says I'm coming home?'

‘Mommy says you are.'

‘She did, did she?'

‘Yes, Mommy says you'll never stick it on your own.'

‘Does she want me back?'

‘I dunno.'

He waved to a few acquaintances as he and Tabitha walked to the restaurant by the pool and settled at an outdoor table.

Tabitha decided to order everything on the menu. Mickey made her settle on a club sandwich and chocolate malt, while he ordered Eggs Benedict.

‘Can I have my Sweet Sixteen at Orpheus?' Tabitha asked, eyes lustfully following a Mexican busboy.

‘Who knows?' Mickey said irritably. ‘Jesus, what are you asking me now for? Your sixteenth birthday isn't for another three years.'

‘I'm planning ahead,' his daughter announced. ‘Mommy says we always should. She taught me to do that.'

Tabitha stared at the busboy.

He stared back.

This was Beverly Hills: there was no chance of them ever getting together.

‘Did you know that when Grandfather dies he's leaving me a whole lot of money?' Tabitha asked.

Mickey perked up. ‘Really?'

‘All the money he got for the studio he's divided between me, Aunt Primrose's kids, and Inga. When Grandfather dies, we get everything.
Everything
, Daddy. I'm gonna be like
really
rich.'

‘Good. You can keep me in your old age.'

‘You can keep yourself. You're rich.'

Not as rich as he'd like to be. ‘What about your mother?' he asked curiously.

‘I dunno. She gets interest or something until I'm twenty-one, and then
I
get everything. I'm gonna buy a Porsche, a Corvette, and a red Thunderbird. Whaddya think, Dad?'

Just like her mother, spending it before she had it.

Tabitha grabbed a bread roll and stuffed it into her mouth. ‘What's Orpheus like? Is it as nice as Panther? What movie stars work there? Tom Cruise? How about Matt Dillon? Can I meet Rob Lowe?'

‘I haven't even signed the contract yet,' he said irritably. ‘Gotta wait till Zeppo gets out. He's making noises.'

‘What noises?'

Was it his imagination or did the busboy wink at her? ‘Threatening to sue, contract disputes. As soon as it's all sorted out I'll be there.'

Tabitha fidgeted in her seat. ‘Can I come visit? What movies will you make?'

‘Leave me alone,' Mickey said gloomily. ‘I'm not in the mood.'

‘You've gotta be nice to me,' Tabitha said, chewing on a hangnail. ‘I'm a deprived child now my parents are separated.' She slurped her milkshake. ‘Can we go to a movie? Can we go to Westwood? Can we go to Tower Records?'

‘Can
you
shut up?'

Was this what it would be like every Saturday?

Mickey had a feeling he was going to learn to dread weekends.

* * *

Warner phoned Abigaile. ‘I did as you suggested,' she said excitedly.

‘I told you it would work,' replied Abigaile.

Warner giggled. ‘He was
really
surprised to see me.'

‘I'm sure he was.'

‘He's invited me to a party on Monday.'

‘How nice.'

‘You know, Abby,' Warner said warmly, ‘I really misjudged you. The things Mickey told me. He made me think you were the bitch of Beverly Hills! God knows, when I was a traffic cop I met enough of them. If only I'd known the truth about you – I would
never
have had an affair with your husband.'

‘I understand, dear,' said Abigaile soothingly. ‘After all, Mickey can be very persuasive. Perhaps we'll lunch one day. The Bistro Gardens, wouldn't that be nice?'

‘The Bistro Gardens? I've never been there,' said Warner. ‘What a treat!'

‘Good,' said Abigaile. ‘Call me anytime.'

She put down the phone and nodded to herself. Better to be friends with the enemy. It was an advantage. And Abigaile always enjoyed having an advantage.

* * *

‘We're going to a party,' Madame Loretta informed a select group of her special girls.

‘For entertaining purposes?' asked Texas, a delicate blonde twenty-two-year-old.

‘No, you don't have to entertain,' replied Madame Loretta. ‘This is strictly a pleasure trip.' She turned to Leslie. ‘The perfect opportunity for you, my dear.'

‘What kind of opportunity?' Leslie asked listlessly. Since Eddie had left her, she'd had no desire to do anything.

‘The perfect opportunity to find you a husband,' said Madame Loretta. ‘The place will be overflowing with rich successful men, and, Leslie, dear, much as I'd like you to resume working for me, I'd sooner see you settled. You're what I call the marrying kind.'

Leslie nodded and wondered how Eddie was managing without her. He'd been so mean to her and yet she couldn't help thinking about him.

‘Monday night,' Madame Loretta told the assembled girls. ‘Make sure we all look our very best. We're going to the hottest party in town!'

Being surrounded by her family – Gino and Bobby, Steven and Mary-Lou with Carioca Jade – made Lucky feel good, although it wasn't the same as Lennie being there. Having everyone around only made her miss him more.

She wondered where he was, what he was doing, if he was happy.

Things at the studio seemed to be falling into place.
Bombshell
had already been rewritten and the new script was excellent. Venus Maria had read it and loved it. Montana Grey visited the studio and met with both of them. She was an interesting woman, tall, smart, and most of all extremely talented. Lucky had hired her to direct the film.

She'd read two other scripts she liked and put them into development. And she'd also come across a black comedy which would take Susie Rush away from the sweet-little-thing roles she was so tired of playing.