Lady Boss (31 page)

‘What kind of movies?'

‘You know the sort of thing,' Martin replied off-handedly. ‘Tits and ass.'

‘That's nice,' Deena said, thinking to herself –
Your girlfriend would fit nicely into those kinds of films.
‘Who else did you see while you were out there?'

‘The usual.'

Deena imagined The Bitch must be putting on the pressure by now. Martin didn't give a hint of trouble.

‘The Websters are giving a party in your honour next week,' she said.

‘Why?' he asked, shrugging off his jacket.

‘Because it's your birthday,' she said. ‘Had you forgotten?'

As a matter of a fact he had forgotten. There was so much on his mind that the last thing he wanted to think about was getting a year older. He got off the bed and walked over to the mirror, peering at himself. ‘I guess I don't look too bad for nearly forty-six,' he said, waiting for the compliment.

‘You're a handsome man, Martin,' Deena replied, coming up behind him. He'd always thrived on flattery.

He turned around and kissed her lightly on the cheek. ‘I've a few calls to make,' he said. ‘I'll be in my study.'

He left their bedroom and went downstairs. It was quite clear Deena had no idea that anything was amiss. She obviously did not suspect this latest infidelity. He wondered how he was going to broach the subject of divorce if it ever came to that. Venus Maria had told him that if he wanted to be with her, he was going to have to think about being with her permanently. Otherwise it was goodbye.

Martin hadn't made up his mind yet. But it was a thought.

* * *

‘One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four.'

Venus Maria's personal trainer was a son of a bitch. He worked her like a dog.

‘One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four.'

Sweat was pouring off her, yet he didn't quit. He made her do the excruciating exercises. Arms, legs, buttocks, stomach – everything had to be toned.

‘I've had enough!' she gasped.

‘You've had enough when
I
say you've had enough,' replied her trainer. He was young and vigorous, with sleek muscles and an enthusiastic attitude. Had she not been involved with Martin she might have considered a fling.

At last he allowed her to stop. ‘You'll thank me when you're in the middle of your tour,' he said.

‘Thanks,' she replied breathlessly.

As soon as he left she threw herself into the shower, washing her hair, watching the water trickle down her body. Her firm, hard body. The famous Venus Maria body that turned so many people on.

Martin had flown off to New York the night before. She knew she had him hooked. All she had to do now was reel him in.

Ron appeared at her house for lunch. Her business manager had taken care of separating their financial interests, and Ron had taken it quite well. Now he could buy his boyfriend Rodeo Drive if he so desired, and it wouldn't bother her one bit.

‘Where's the Ken Doll?' she asked mockingly. ‘I was under the distinct impression he never let you out of his sight.'

‘Now, now. Don't get bitchy,' Ron retorted, heading straight for the kitchen. ‘Has Mister Major Mogul returned to New York?'

‘Yes, he has,' she said, dancing along behind him, humming her latest recording.

‘Did we have fun while he was here?' Ron asked, opening up the fridge and removing a bowl of tuna salad.

‘We had a great time,' Venus Maria replied, reaching for the lettuce and tomatoes, while Ron grabbed a fresh loaf of bread. Companionably they began to put together large sandwiches filled with tuna mix, lettuce, tomato, and avocado.

‘This is a riot,' Ron said, slicing tomatoes like an expert. ‘We don't get to do this enough. I adore behaving like a normal person!'

Venus Maria agreed. ‘I sent the maid to the market. I wanted to thank you for helping me out the other night.'

‘My pleasure,' Ron replied. ‘I enjoyed every delicious minute. Oh, and I have
the
most scandalous gossip.'

‘What?' she asked, stuffing a wedge of lettuce into her mouth.

‘Your boss.'

‘I don't have a boss.'

‘Does the name Mickey Stolli mean anything to you?'

She laughed. ‘I don't regard Mickey as my boss.'

‘Well, anyway, my dear, Mr. Stolli himself turned up at the house of a certain very close friend of mine. All bushy-tailed and eager for action.'

‘Who would that be?'

‘Who do you
think?
'

Venus Maria almost choked. ‘Not Loretta?' she gasped.

‘The very same. And guess what his preference is?'

‘I can't wait to hear!'

‘Ladies of a darker hue.'

‘Oh, come
on
, you're kidding me.'

‘Would
I
kid the greatest kidder of all time?'

Venus Maria grinned. She loved gossip as long as it wasn't about her. ‘How do you know this?' she asked.

‘Madame Loretta tells me everything,' Ron said proudly. ‘I am her confidant and friend.'

‘Obviously she doesn't know about your big mouth,' Venus Maria teased.

‘Mmm… look who's talking about a big mouth.'

‘Abigaile would skin Mickey if she ever found out.'

‘Can you
imagine
what Abigaile must be like between the sheets?' Ron mused. ‘A laugh a minute no doubt. The poor man probably has to get his R and R elsewhere. Not to mention a blow-job.' He strolled over to the fridge and took out a can of 7-Up. ‘By the way, have you heard from Emilio since you chucked him out?'

‘Why?' Venus Maria frowned. ‘Should I have?'

‘He wasn't exactly thrilled about your forcing him to leave. I have a feeling we might be reading your secrets somewhere.'

Venus didn't care to be reminded of her brother. He was a big boy. He could look after himself. She refused to feel responsible for him. ‘Don't start that again,' she groaned. ‘Emilio wouldn't do that to me. I'm paying his rent, for God's sake.'

‘Hmm… If they offered him enough money Emilio would probably do anything.'

Venus Maria placed her hands on her hips. ‘What could he possibly tell them that the great unwashed doesn't already know?'

‘About Major Mogul.'

‘He doesn't
know
about Martin.'

‘Are you sure?'

‘Positive.' She grinned confidently. ‘Anyway, I'm not exactly shivering waiting to find out what Emilio has to say about me. He's a deadhead. A loser.'

‘Emilio is your brother, dear. Speak kindly.'

‘He's still a loser,
and
you know it.'

‘Is Mister New York hooked?' Ron enquired, raising an eyebrow.

She smiled. ‘Martin's a
very
special man, and we have a
very
special relationship.'

‘Ah, yes,' Ron agreed. ‘And thank God the newspapers don't know about it, or even Emilio. Because if they did, you'd really be in deep shit.'

‘I was very careful when Emilio was around,' she assured him. ‘He knows nothing.'

Ron nodded sagely. ‘Keep it that way.'

* * *

Emilio Sierra and one of the editors of
Truth and Fact
met at Café Roma on Canon Drive. Emilio had dressed for the part. He wore an off-white jacket, white chinos, a cream shirt, and several heavy fake gold chains around his thick neck. His hair was slicked back. Unfortunately he was thirty pounds overweight, which rather spoiled the effect.

Dennis Walla, the Australian reporter sent to meet him, slumped at a corner table slurping beer. He was a big man, also overweight, in his early forties, with bloodshot eyes, bags under them, and a ruddy complexion.

Emilio stood at the door to the restaurant and surveyed the room.

Dennis spotted him, thought it might be the so-called brother, and waved a copy of
Truth and Fact
in the air.

Emilio swaggered over to his table.

‘Hello, mate,' Dennis said in a strong Australian accent.

Emilio sat down. ‘
Truth and Fact?
' he asked.

‘The very same,' Dennis replied, thinking to himself that this guy must be a real dolt if he had to ask. ‘And you're Emilio Sierra?'

Emilio's brown eyes darted around the restaurant. He spotted two women he fancied. They were expensively dressed and obviously out on a shopping spree. Dennis caught him watching. ‘Nice class of tarts in here,' he said. ‘Wouldn't mind zipping up the back skirt of that one, eh?'

Emilio licked his lips. ‘I got a hot story to sell,' he announced.

‘Well, mate, that's exactly why we're here,' Dennis said cheerfully, downing another healthy slug of beer. He peered across the table at Emilio. ‘You don't look like your sister, do you?'

‘There's a certain family resemblance,' Emilio replied proudly, almost preening, but managing to control himself.

‘Are the two of you friendly?' Dennis probed.

‘Of course we are,' Emilio snapped. He hadn't planned on enduring a third degree. ‘Why wouldn't we be?'

‘Don't get shirty with me, mate. You're here to sell her dirty little secrets, aren't you?'

‘I'm here to make money,' Emilio corrected, as if that made everything all right.

‘Aren't we all,' replied Dennis sagely.

One of the expensive-looking women got up and walked outside.

Emilio whistled softly as she passed his table. ‘These Beverly Hills women,' he mumbled under his breath.

‘I know what y'mean, mate,' agreed Dennis. ‘They'll get you hotter than a hamburger on a barbecue.'

Two bikers swaggered into the restaurant. Emilio thought he recognized one of them as a famous actor. He decided he should get himself some biker gear, it would look good on him. He should also lose a few pounds. But who had the time? And who could make the effort? Venus Maria had her own personal trainer – it was all right for her, she could afford those kinds of luxuries. Besides, she had an investment in her body. She made money from it.

In a way, he decided, she wasn't so different from a hooker. They were both hawking sex.

There was nothing wrong with him selling her secrets, he thought self-righteously. Why shouldn't he? He was her brother, after all, and she treated him like a leper. Putting him out of her house. Sticking him in some crummy apartment while she lived in luxury. Giving him a station wagon to drive. A station wagon! He should be sitting proud in a Ferrari or the latest Porsche at least. As her brother he had a certain standard to adhere to. People expected things.

‘Well,' Dennis said, leaning back and belching not so discreetly. ‘What have you got to tell me about your sister that we don't already know?'

Emilio glanced around. He wasn't sure he liked this man with the exceptionally loud mouth. Couldn't he be a little more discreet and talk in a quieter tone?

Emilio leaned close. ‘I don't think this is the place.'

‘Listen, we're not taking it any further than this until you tell me what you got for me,' Dennis said loudly. ‘How do I even know you're her brother? Do you have any proof?'

Emilio had been expecting questions. He fished out his driving licence and handed it over.

Dennis checked it out. ‘OK, OK, so your name is Sierra. Big pickings. What does that prove?'

Emilio dived into his pocket again and came up with a picture of him and Venus Maria taken in Brooklyn. The early days. He thrust it at Dennis. ‘See?'

Dennis glanced at the photo and then at Emilio. ‘OK, OK, I believe you.'

‘If I tell you what I know,' Emilio said craftily, ‘how much will you pay me?'

Dennis sighed wearily. It always got down to money. He was used to dealing with relatives of the stars. They all thought they'd been given a bad deal. This one was no different, and he'd get his bucks as long as he had something worthwhile to sell.

‘It depends on what you got,' Dennis said.

‘She's sleeping with a married man,' Emilio blurted out. ‘How much is
that
worth?'

‘Who?' Dennis asked.

‘Big time,' Emilio said, lowering his voice. ‘Real big time. When I tell you it'll blow you away. You'll sell more copies of your magazine than you've ever sold before.'

‘Sounds good t'me,' Dennis said, picking his teeth with the corner of a book of matches.

Emilio was getting into it. ‘More than good,' he promised.

Dennis was intrigued. ‘So who is it?'

Emilio backed off. ‘I'm not givin' out his name, not until we fix a price an' I get a cheque.'

‘We'll have to work this one out,' Dennis said. ‘No name, no loot.'

Emilio scowled.

‘Come up with a name that means something, an' if it's worth anything to us we'll give you a fair amount of moola. But you have to substantiate whatever you tell us. Do you understand what that means?'

Emilio glared at him. ‘What do you think I am, an idiot?'

Yes
, Dennis wanted to reply, but he kept quiet. This had the smell of a good story. And there was nothing
Truth and Fact
liked better than a headline-busting sex-filled superstar and married man good story.

Scandal. That was the name of the game. And nobody capitalized on scandal better than
Truth and Fact
.

Lucky called Abe and told him that Harry Browning had been to see her and had his suspicions.

Abe was silent for a moment before saying, ‘Sure, I remember Harry. The man's a drunk. You be careful of him.'

‘Thanks a lot. What shall I do? We don't want news of our deal leaking, do we?'

‘You're not throwin' him out of a job when you take over, are you?' Abe asked.

‘There's a lot of people I'll fire,' she replied. ‘So far he's not one of them.'