Lady Boss (54 page)

He contacted Brigette, and she met him at Serendipity for lunch.

‘You're looking great, kiddo,' he said, kissing her on both cheeks. ‘School agrees with you.'

‘School does not agree with me,' she objected. ‘I hate it. I can't wait to get out.'

‘You
are
out,' he said, ruffling her hair.

‘Only for the summer,' she groaned. ‘I gotta go back again, huh?'

‘If you want to grow up to be smart.'

‘And then college?'

‘Yup.'

‘Why, Lennie? It's not as though I need to get a job or anything. I'm going to be inheriting all that money.'

‘Hey – you want to turn out like your mother?' he asked sternly. ‘Getting married and spending money? What kind of life is that? You ought to think about your future.'

‘I know,' she agreed reluctantly.

They sat at a corner table. Brigette ordered a foot-long hot dog and a double chocolate malted milk.

‘No appetite, huh?' he said with a grin.

‘It's terrific to see you, Lennie. I'm really excited about Malibu.'

‘Yeah, well…' He stared at the menu. ‘I got something to tell you.'

She gazed at him expectantly.

He hated to disappoint her. ‘Uh… things aren't working out exactly as we planned.'

‘What's the matter?' she asked, looking concerned.

‘Lucky and I… well, we've been having some problems, and… uh, we haven't exactly worked them out. I'm not sure if we'll spend the summer together.'

‘Oh, no,' Brigette cried. ‘You and Lucky are so great with each other. Please don't have any problems.
Please.'

‘If life were only that simple.' He took her hand. ‘Listen, I promised you the summer. You'll bring your girlfriend and we'll go to the South of France or Spain or Greece – somewhere. We'll put it together.'

‘But I was looking forward to being with you and Lucky,' Brigette said in a sad little voice. ‘And Bobby. I
really
miss Bobby. I haven't seen him in ages.'

Lennie ignored a blonde at the next table who'd decided to fixate on him, and groped in his pocket for a cigarette. ‘Yeah, well, life's a bitch, huh?'

‘Can I call Lucky?' Brigette asked, staring at the checkered tablecloth, wondering why everything always had to go wrong.

‘If she's got time for you,' Lennie replied. ‘She's busy buying a studio.'

‘A movie studio?'

‘Yeah. You'll read about it in the papers. She's bought Panther Studios.' He dragged on his cigarette. ‘My wife the mogul. Not content with running the biggest shipping empire in the world, she now wants to own Hollywood.'

‘Is that why you're mad?' Brigette ventured.

‘Hey – it's a long story. If that's what she wants to do… But I wish she'd told me about it. Where do you think she was for the last six weeks while she was supposed to be in Japan?'

‘Where?'

‘In Hollywood, playing secretary. She went in undercover.'

Brigette's eyes widened. ‘Really? Sounds exciting to me.'

‘Yeah, if you don't have any other responsibilities. But Lucky is my wife. I'd like to see her once in a while. I'd like to have her support.' He stubbed out his cigarette after two puffs. ‘Ah, hell. Why am I bothering
you
with this?'

‘Because I'm a good listener?'

He laughed. ‘Yeah, you sure are. Let's change the subject – what's going on with you?'

‘Nothing,' she said vaguely. ‘Actually I was going to ask if we could come to L.A. like tomorrow or the day after. Nona's mother is throwing a fit. There's this stupid magazine with a picture of Nona's brother Paul in it with Deena Swanson. She's the wife of that billionaire?'

‘Oh, yeah.'

‘Anyway, Paul was photographed with her, and Deena is Effie's best friend – that's Paul's mother. So, as Nona puts it, we've
got
to get out of here. But since you're obviously not going to L.A., I suppose we can't either.'

She looked so deflated that Lennie decided he had to cheer her up. ‘Tell you what,' he said. ‘We'll eat lunch, we'll talk, and then we'll stop by a travel agent and plan a trip. How's that? You, me, and what's this girl's name?'

‘Nona.'

‘OK. You got it, kiddo.'

‘What about Lucky and Bobby?'

Lennie shook his head. ‘Another time, another life.'

There were photographers outside the gleaming Swanson Building when Deena left. Usually they were only around when she and Martin attended an event. But she smiled anyway and climbed into her chauffeur-driven car.

At Le Cirque she got her usual ebullient greeting from the proprietor, Sirio Maccioni, and was led to a table where Adam Bobo Grant sat waiting.

‘Darling!'

‘Darling!'

They had the Hollywood kiss down pat. New York version.

‘You look delightful, as usual,' Bobo said. ‘Lime green is your colour.'

Deena smiled. ‘Thank you, darling. Martin thinks so too.'

‘Does he?' said Bobo, waving to people at every table. ‘And how is the big man?'

‘Fine,' Deena said. ‘In fact, very soon we're going to have an exciting story for you.'

Bobo raised an eyebrow. ‘You are? And what might that be, my sweet?'

‘Martin would kill me if he knew I was going to tell you, and you have to
promise
not to print anything until I give you the OK.'

‘If you can't trust me, who can you trust?' Bobo said in his best sincere voice.

‘Martin is taking over Orpheus Studios in Hollywood,' Deena announced. ‘What do you think of that?'

All the better to star Venus Maria in movies
, Bobo thought to himself. Was
this
the reason for the romance? ‘How very interesting,' he said, eyes darting around the room, checking everyone out.

‘Isn't it just?' Deena smiled; she had lovely teeth. ‘We'll have to spend more time in L.A., of course. But I think it will be fun. Don't you?'

Bobo nodded. Trust Deena – queen of the understatement. ‘Great fun, my dear,' he agreed.

The wine waiter came by the table and they ordered drinks. Deena decided on a martini. Bobo ordered straight vodka.

‘It makes such a refreshing change to lunch with somebody who actually drinks hard liquor,' Deena said with a tinkling laugh. ‘When I lunch with the ladies nobody touches anything except Perrier or Evian. It's incredibly boring. I rather enjoy a martini before lunch.'

Bobo nodded and leaned towards her, speaking confidentially. ‘Now, Deena,' he said, lowering his voice, ‘tell me the situation.'

‘What situation, Bobo?'

Surely she wasn't trying to hide it from him? ‘Why, you and Martin, of course.'

She looked at him blankly.

‘You have seen
Truth and Fact
, haven't you?' He moved closer, daring her to lie.

Deena continued to look blank. ‘
Truth and Fact?
What's that?'

Bobo was rapidly losing patience. ‘It's one of those magazines. The kind they sell in supermarkets.'

‘Oh, you mean like the
Star
or the
Globe
. I simply adore the
Globe.
Headless woman gives birth to triplets – marvellous stuff. My maid brings it in.'

‘Then I'm surprised your maid hasn't presented you with
Truth and Fact
.'

She gazed at him, perfectly innocent. ‘Is there something in it I should know about?'

‘Yes, Deena, there certainly is.' He took her manicured delicate hand in his pudgy little fist. On his pinky there was an enormous sapphire ring surrounded by diamonds.

She stared at the glittering ring and sensed she was about to hear something she wouldn't like. ‘What, Bobo?' she asked, her tone even and well modulated, her slight accent thickening.

‘There's a story about your husband and Venus Maria,' Bobo said, getting right to it.

Her stomach tightened, but she managed to remain in complete control. ‘There is?' she asked carefully. ‘Everybody's always trying to link Martin with some little popsy or other. Surely not another one?'

‘There's a photograph of them together,' Bobo said. ‘And the story goes into quite a few details.'

‘What kind of details?' Deena asked, withdrawing her hand.

‘Oh, that they've been seeing each other for several months. And that Martin is supposed to be crazy about her, and that she loves him.' He paused, then zeroed in. ‘I wouldn't bring this up, Deena, but I hardly wish to see you eaten alive by the press. The magazine only came out today, and I'm trying to protect you.' He paused again, waiting for her reaction. She remained cool, so he continued. ‘I'm ready to hear your side of the story. And to report it any way you like.'

‘There's no story to hear,' Deena said through clenched teeth. ‘I'll have to look at this magazine, Bobo. When I've seen it, perhaps I'll be able to comment.'

He reached for the manila envelope he had with him and handed it to her. ‘It's in here, Deena. Go to the powder room, read it, come back, and talk to me.'

She took the magazine and, head held high, walked towards the ladies' room.

When she read the story, the colour drained from her face.

When she stared at the picture of Martin with Venus Maria, she knew she had to act.

Venus Maria had signed her own death warrant.

Deena Swanson was about to make sure of that.

After getting together with all the department heads, Lucky decided she should meet with the various stars who had deals at the studio. She'd set up her office in the conference room as a temporary measure, giving Mickey Stolli a couple of days to get out. He'd robbed her of the pleasure of firing him. Too bad.

Morton Sharkey had found an experienced assistant and promptly stolen him from another studio on her behalf. Otis Lindcrest was an efficient black man in his late twenties. He certainly seemed to know his way around, and worked hard setting appointments and making Lucky feel as comfortable and secure as possible.

There was so much to do that she couldn't quite decide where to start. The most important thing of all was overseeing the projects the studio had in post- and pre-production, and then deciding the direction Panther should take in the future.

Out of the executives she'd met with she wasn't sure whom she could trust. It would take a while to get to know them as individuals and assess their loyalty.

Her immediate plan was to sit down with them one by one over the next few weeks. In the meantime, she'd sent for Lennie's contract and told Morton she wanted it rescinded.

‘Send him a letter,' she'd instructed, ‘saying he's out of his deal with Panther. We're releasing him – unless he wants to stay.'

‘Why are you doing this?' Morton had asked.

‘I don't want him thinking he has any obligation to Panther just because I own it. If he decides to come and work here, that'll be great. But if he doesn't, he's free to go elsewhere.'

‘Lucky, he's an asset,' Morton pointed out. ‘A big one.'

‘He's also my husband,' she replied firmly. ‘And I can't have him feeling he's tied here.'

Flowers began to pour in from various people she didn't know. They were accompanied by warm and welcoming notes. They were from agents, producers, and managers. The stars didn't bother. Being a star meant never having to send flowers – merely receive them.

Otis gave her a rundown of all the players. For a young man he certainly knew plenty.

‘How long have you been in this business?' she asked curiously.

‘Started as a set PR. Moved on to the mailroom at CAA. Almost got into producing. And I've been personal assisting for five years.'

She noted that he'd like to produce. Somewhere down the line she'd take care of it. Right now Otis was invaluable.

She didn't leave the studio until nine o'clock. Boogie handed her a copy of
Truth and Fact
in the car. ‘I thought you'd want to see this,' he said as he drove her home.

She glanced at the magazine, skipping over the stuff about Martin Swanson and Venus Maria. Who cared? She never believed anything she read in these papers anyway. But when she saw the picture of Brigette, she was immediately concerned. After Brigette's bad experience with Tim Wealth, Lucky knew she was far too young and vulnerable to get involved with another renegade. And that's exactly what Paul Webster looked like, with his long hair and intense eyes.

‘Remind me to phone Brigette first thing in the morning,' she said. ‘And call London and alert Mike Baverstock at British Airways to watch out for Bobby and his nanny. They're flying in on Friday. Oh, and tell Otis to clear Friday afternoon for me, I'll meet them at the airport.'

By the time they got back to the beach it was past ten.

‘Any messages for me, Miko?' she asked hopefully.

Miko bowed. ‘No, Madame, no messages.'

Apparently Lennie didn't feel like calling.

She was too tired to eat, too tired to do anything except fall into bed and drop off into a deep sleep.

She awoke refreshed and invigorated, showered, dressed, sat down for breakfast. The trades were full of news:

LUCKY SANTANGELO TAKES OVER PANTHER

MARTIN SWANSON MOVES IN ON ORPHEUS

She couldn't wait to get to the studio. There was a lot of hard work ahead, but one thing she knew for sure: running a studio was becoming an addiction.

* * *

Johnny Romano was her first appointment. He swaggered into the conference room, entourage hovering close behind.

As soon as he walked in the room he did a double-take. This woman was beautiful.

‘Can we talk by ourselves, Mr. Romano?' she asked.