Vendetta: Lucky's Revenge (33 page)

She wondered who Cooper was bringing tonight. She’d read in the gossip columns he’d been seen out with several women. One, the divorced wife of a sports star; another, a TV talk-show hostess; and the third, a German supermodel.

She hoped it was the first one—less competition.

Jeff emerged from the shower and began vigorously toweling his balls.

“Your hair’s wet,” she said.

“It’ll take me two minutes if I borrow your hair dryer.”

“You know where it is.”

She walked out of the bathroom. He was dumb. Plain dumb.

What was it with men?

Obviously, brains and a hard-on did not mix.

Cooper’s date, Veronica, was a famous runway and catalogue model specializing in sexy but respectable lingerie. He’d met her on a plane, taken her out a few times, and found her to be attractive and quite intelligent for a model. She didn’t cling. He liked that in a woman. The one thing he
didn’t
like was her deep, guttural voice—she sounded like a man.

“Hi, Cooper,” she said when he buzzed her apartment. “I’ll be right down.”

Veronica traveled a lot, from New York to Paris to London, she was always on the move. She had apartments in L.A. and New York.

“Sure you don’t want me to come up?” he asked through the speaker, automatically thinking that maybe a blow job wouldn’t be a bad idea. Up until now, he’d been behaving like a gentleman. Tonight he planned on closing the deal.

“Okay,” she said, not exactly enthusiastic.

He took the elevator to the fourteenth floor.

“Come in,” she said, greeting him at the door, chicly clad in a cream-colored sleeveless dress, her long arms faintly tanned and muscled. She was almost six feet tall, with shoulder-length streaked hair, cat eyes, an intriguing overbite, and a slightly too long nose. It all worked.

Cooper walked into her apartment, hard-on firmly in place.

“Cooper,” she said, noticing immediately. “You’re incorrigible! I’ve never met anyone like you.”

“Can I help it if I’m pleased to see you?” he said, taking her hand and placing it on his erection.

“Save it,” she said, chuckling hoarsely. “For later.”

If he’d done that with Venus Maria, she would have whipped it out and given him what he wanted. Veronica was a little too cool for his liking. She was a star in her own field, maybe too much of a star. Although like every other successful model, she harbored the dream of becoming a famous actress. That was her weakness.

He changed tactics, snaking his hand down her neckline, taking her by surprise. She was not wearing a bra. “Beautiful tits,” he said.

“I know,” she said, smiling confidently. “Shall we go?”

Tea with Dominique was an enlightening experience. Tin Lee sat stiffly on the heavy damask-covered
couch perusing Dominique’s photograph albums—observing Alex as a child. In the beginning of the book there were pictures of him with his dad, playing on the beach, riding horses, swimming. Then came the birthday photos in which Alex was surrounded by both parents—all three of them carefree and laughing. Morbidly, Dominique had devoted three pages to Alex’s father’s funeral. The photographs of Alex were heartbreaking—his little face a solemn mask of grief as he stood next to the casket. After that, the smiling stopped, and Alex was serious in all the photos. There he was sitting with his grandparents, staring out a window, standing awkwardly in the yard. At the back of the album there were several pictures of Alex in his military academy uniform. A forlorn figure in the austere gray uniform, his face sad and lonely.

“Alex needed the discipline,” Dominique said, a touch defensively. “
I
couldn’t look after him, I had my own life to lead. I was a young woman when my husband died. I had certain…needs. I’m sure nobody expected me to give up everything.”

“I understand,” Tin Lee said quietly, not understanding at all.

“Alex doesn’t,” Dominique said bitterly. “He blames me for everything.”

“What does he blame you for?” Tin Lee asked curiously.

“The death of his father,” Dominique said, her scarlet mouth turning down. “Alex thinks I nagged Gordon to death. He doesn’t know the real story. Gordon was a hopeless drunk and a worthless womanizer. I had every reason to nag.”

“Have the two of you ever discussed it?” Tin Lee asked, sipping tea from a fragile china cup.

Dominique shook her head. “No, Alex refuses to talk
about anything personal. He only sees me because his guilt tells him it’s his duty to do so.”

“If I may say something,” Tin Lee interjected. “Perhaps the two of you fail to get along as well as you should because you’re always criticizing him.”

“I criticize him to get his attention,” Dominique said sharply. “If
I
didn’t criticize him, who would?”

“I think it makes Alex unhappy,” Tin Lee ventured tentatively, hoping she wasn’t going too far.

“Don’t become an expert on him, dear,” Dominique said caustically. “What takes place between me and my son is no business of yours.”

Duly chastised, Tin Lee stood up. “I have to go,” she said. “Alex hates being kept waiting.”

“Come with me before you leave,” Dominique commanded, leading her into her bedroom.

Tin Lee followed obediently. Dominique went over to her bureau and opened an old velvet jewel box standing on top. She picked out an exquisite diamond cross hanging from a thin platinum chain. “You see this?” she said. “It belonged to Alex’s grandmother. I want you to have it. Wear it tonight.”

“Oh, I can’t accept it,” Tin Lee said, startled. “It’s too expensive.”

“No, dear, go ahead,” Dominique said, handing it to her. “It’s comforting to know Alex has someone who cares for him, a girl who’s not after his money.”

Tin Lee stood in front of the mirror, placing the diamond cross around her delicate neck. “Beautiful!” she gasped.

“Enjoy it,” Dominique said. “And enjoy tonight. Alex taking you to an industry party is a good sign.”

“I hope we can all have dinner later this week,” Tin Lee said.

“Yes,” Dominique said. “I’d like that. I don’t have many friends. I get lonely by myself.”

“I’ll make sure Alex arranges it.”

Tin Lee hurried downstairs and waited for the valet to bring her car.

Anxiously she glanced at her watch. She was running late. She hoped Alex wouldn’t be too annoyed.

ALEX PICKED A YELLOW ROSE FROM HIS GARDEN
and took it with him on his way to meet Lucky. When he emerged from his car outside her house, he held it gingerly by the prickly stem, not used to making romantic gestures.

Lucky answered the door herself, looking stunning in a black Yves Saint Laurent evening suit, plunging-neckline white blouse, and diamond hoop earrings, her dark hair framing her beautiful face with wild jet curls. Alex noticed a security guard hovering in the background. Idly, he wondered why she needed security.

“Come in,” she said. “My place is a dump compared to yours.”

“No, it’s not,” he said, looking around. “It’s very comfortable.”

“Yours is the
Architectural Digest
version of mine,” she said ruefully. “But then, I’ve got kids, and you don’t, because you never married, right?”

“You can remember what we discussed the other night?”

She nodded. “Of course.”

“You were blasted, you know that.”

“Hey—I can hold my liquor. I might have been
bombed, but I know exactly what happened.” She laughed softly, “Remember…what was her name? Ah, yes—Driving Miss Daisy, that’s it.”

“How could I ever forget?”

“Will you put her in
Gangsters
?”

“Maybe,” he said, handing her the yellow rose. “By the way—you look beautiful tonight.”

“Thank you,” she said, placing the rose on a table. “I didn’t know you were a horticulturist.”

“Thank my gardener. I just go out and pick ’em.”

“Do we have time for a drink?”

“Only if you have one, too.”

“I don’t plan on a repeat performance.”

“One drink, Lucky. We’re both grown-ups.”

Their eyes met for an intimate moment. Lucky looked away first, a sign of weakness. “What’ll it be?” she said pleasantly, refusing to allow herself to be sucked in. Alex was an extremely charismatic man, but as she kept telling herself, it was far too soon for her to consider a relationship.

“Vodka martini.”

The phone rang.

“You get your phone, I’ll make the drinks,” he said, heading for the bar.

She reached for the phone. It was Jennifer.

“My friend Ricco, the guy I said was working in Rome, is in L.A., staying at the Chateau Marmont,” Jennifer said, sounding out of breath. “I think you should hear what he has to say. We can meet him in half an hour.”

“How about later?” Lucky suggested.

“No. He’s on a midnight plane back to Italy and he has dinner plans, so it’s got to be now.”

Lucky glanced over at Alex, busily mixing martinis. “Okay, now,” she said, making a fast decision.

“Meet me in the hotel lobby as soon as possible.”

“I’ll be there,” Lucky said, replacing the receiver.

Alex walked toward her, carrying her drink. “I’m good at this,” he said, uncharacteristically happy. “Used to be a bartender.”

“How would you feel if I met you at the Stollis?” she said. “Something important just came up. I have to stop somewhere first.”

“You’re kidding, right?” he said.

“Sorry, no.”

“Then I’ll come with you.”

She was silent for a moment, trying to decide if she wanted him along. “It’ll make us late for the Stollis,” she said at last.

“Big deal,” he responded.

“Okay, let’s split. I’ll fill you in while we drive.”

He gulped his drink.

Why was it every time he saw Lucky it turned out to be an adventure?

The American Airlines plane took off from Kennedy Airport on time.

“Are you sure we’re doing the right thing?” Brigette asked.

“Yes,” Nona said firmly. “Neither of us is equipped to deal with Michel. He’s a sick psycho. Lucky will know how to handle him.”

“I feel so bad about screwing up,” Brigette said worriedly. “Every time I screw up, Lucky has to come and rescue me.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, last time with the kidnapping and everything…” She trailed off. “Lucky took the blame when I shot Santino Bonnatti. She spent time in jail for something she didn’t do.”

“Yeah, but you stood up at her trial and told the
truth. Shit happens, Brigette. You have to learn how to cope.”

“So why am I running to Lucky?”

“’Cause you’re strung out. Every night it’s you and Isaac out on the town, getting stoned and drunk. Is that what you want your life to be?”

“Not really.”

“So it’s time to stop running. Besides, I want you straight so you can help me plan my wedding.”

“I asked Isaac to get me a gun.”

“You
didn’t
!”

“Oh, yes, I did.”

“And what were you planning on doing if he’d gotten you one?”

“I dunno. Blow Michel away.”

“I don’t think so. You’re in enough trouble as it is.”

“I suppose I am.”

“It’s not too late to straighten things out,” Nona said comfortingly. “When we’re rid of Michel, we’ll find a reputable agent. Your career is only just beginning.”

“I know you’re right—Lucky’s my only chance.”

After dinner and a movie they both fell asleep until the steward announced it was time to prepare for landing.

“Great flight,” Nona said, buckling her seat belt and nudging Brigette awake. “I booked us into the Hilton. I didn’t think it was wise for us to descend on Lucky unannounced.”

“I want you to be there when I tell her,” Brigette said anxiously.

“’Course I will.”

Brigette put her hand over Nona’s. “Thanks for being such a good friend.”

“Hey,” Nona replied lightly. “All I’m doing is protecting my ten percent!”

Leslie and Jeff were the first to arrive at the Stollis’. Jeff in his one and only suit—an Armani, purchased for him by Leslie. And Leslie in a white silk dress.

Abigaile greeted them at the door. The women exchanged air kisses and compliments. Jeff beamed happily—how did he get so lucky? Mixing in this company was a major plus. Thank God he had an understanding wife who was letting him do his thing for the benefit of their future.

“Mickey will be down in a minute,” Abigaile said, leading them through the spacious front hallway to the bar.

A handsome barman sprang to attention.

“White wine,” Leslie requested, nervously smoothing down the skirt of her dress.

“Tequila on the rocks,” Jeff said, feeling insecure.

Leslie threw him a warning look; he did not hold his liquor well and they both knew it.

“Just one, cutie,” Jeff said, catching her look.

She hated it when he called her “cutie.”

Abigaile wished somebody else would arrive fast, or that Mickey would get his ass downstairs. She didn’t relish being in sole charge of the guests. It was okay when there were lots of them and they could mingle. Now she had to entertain these two until somebody else arrived, when all she really wanted to do was be free to supervise. Not to mention checking on Tabitha, who’d refused to come out of her room to show off what she was wearing. Little Madame.

Abigaile heard the doorbell in the background. A few moments later, Johnny Romano strolled in accompanied by Venus Maria.

Abigaile frowned. How
dare
Johnny not announce who his guest was when she was as famous as Venus? The man had no manners, but then, what could you expect from an actor? Especially a Latin actor who
happened to have gotten rich in a string of disgustingly raunchy movies. Abigaile conveniently forgot that Mickey had been responsible for most of them.

“Abbey, baby,” Johnny purred, favoring her with the famous Latin-lover leer and a quick pinch on the butt. “Who’s my favorite Hollywood wife?” He bent to kiss her.

“Johnny, dear,” Abigaile responded, wrinkling her nose as she breathed in a strong whiff of his strangely exotic aftershave. “You look
wonderful
. And, Venus, it’s been ages!
So
good to see you again.”

“Thanks, Abbey,” Venus said calmly, although inside she was seething because she’d spotted Leslie, and Johnny hadn’t mentioned
she
was going to be there.

Abigaile led them over to the bar. “Do you know Leslie and…” She blanked on Jeff’s name again.

Leslie, wide-eyed with shock, managed to stammer out, “J…Jeff.” She had not seen Venus since the dreaded night at her house. This was a disaster. Now she’d have no chance with Cooper.

“Hi, Leslie,” Venus said coolly.

For a moment, Leslie considered ignoring the tramp. Instead, she mumbled an uptight, “Hello.”

Jeff seemed to have forgotten where his loyalty should lie. “Venus!” he exclaimed with a big
I’m your greatest fan
grin. “We met at Leslie’s, remember? Some night
that
was!”

Both women shared the same thought:
What an asshole!

Johnny, who as far as he knew hadn’t encountered Leslie before, shook her hand, holding it a few seconds too long. “Been readin’ a lotta good things about you,” he said. “Welcome to the stratosphere.”

Leslie managed a strained smile. “Thank you.”

She guessed he didn’t recall their one night of unadulterated lust in a bungalow at the Beverly Hills Hotel—
her and two other girls. He’d paid ten thousand dollars for the three of them and behaved like a greedy pig.

“No, thank
you
,” Johnny replied, putting in some heavy-duty eye contact. If he didn’t score with Venus, this red-headed lovely could be a definite contender.

At which point Mickey put in an appearance—showered and shaved, bald head glistening, Turnbull & Asser shirt, Doug Hayward English suit, and red Brioni tie. “Welcome, everyone,” he said, beaming at his guests, doing a classic double take when he spotted Venus. “Good evening, my dear,” he said, turning on as much suave charm as he could muster. “We weren’t expecting you.”

“I know how you like surprises, Mickey,” she said, automatically flirting. “So here I am.”

“Yeah,” Johnny added. “Me an’ Venus, we’re an item.”

“An item?” Abigaile chimed in, thinking Venus’s dress was ridiculously low cut.

Johnny squeezed Venus’s arm. “Hey—Mickey—we figured since we’re makin’
Gangsters
together, we’d give you some extra PR. The tabloids are gonna cream over
this
.”

Mickey quickly glanced at Leslie. She was talking to Jeff and didn’t seem to have heard. Thank God.

Abigaile, however,
had
heard. She took Mickey’s arm and said, “Excuse us a moment,” whereupon she led him over to the other side of the room and said a sharp, “What’s Johnny talking about? Hasn’t anybody
told
Venus she’s out of
Gangsters
?”

Mickey nodded. “Yeah, yeah, honey, it’s all taken care of. Don’t worry your little head about it.”

“My
little head
?” she said haughtily. “Who do you think you’re talking to—one of your brain-dead starlets?”

“There’s been a change of plan,” Mickey said, scowling. He couldn’t stand it when Abigaile got uppity.

“What do you mean—a change of plan?” Abigaile snapped.

“I found a better movie for Leslie. Figured I’d send the script to her first, get her excited. She’ll be starring with Gere.”

“Richard?”

“No,
Maxie
,” he said, raising his eyebrows. “What do you think? Of course, Richard.”

Big change of attitude from Abigaile, who imagined Richard Gere attending one of her future dinners. “Oh, that’s nice. She’ll be thrilled.”

“I told ya, didn’t I? Alex is too tough for Leslie. He’ll give her nothin’ but grief. I’m doin’ the kid a favor. We won’t announce it tonight.”

“Why not?”

“’Cause I don’t want Venus finding out. She’s probably pissed at me. So is Alex. They’re all pissed at me. I run a studio, nobody likes me.”

“That’s ridiculous, Mickey—everybody loves you.”

He had
her
back on track. “Thanks, honey. Now let’s relax and have a nice evening. Keep your mouth closed, that way we won’t get into trouble.”

“No, Mickey,” Abigaile said grandly. “
You
keep
your
mouth closed.
Yours
is the big one.”

She hurried back to their guests. Venus and Johnny had wandered outside by the pool. Leslie and Jeff were having a heated conversation at the bar. And Cooper Turner and his date were making an entrance.

“Abigaile, sweetheart,” Cooper said, kissing her on both cheeks. “This is Veronica.”

“Hello, dear,” Abigaile said, craning her neck to greet the tall model.

Leslie, who had been secretly haranguing Jeff for being so nice to Venus, glanced up and saw Cooper approaching. Her attitude immediately changed. “Cooper,” she said with a welcoming smile, “how lovely to see you.”

“Hi, Leslie,” he said. “Meet Veronica.”

Leslie nodded, continuing to smile while thinking to herself,
Oh, God, he’s with that trashy model who poses in those sexist lingerie catalogues that get dropped in your mailbox whether you want them or not. She’s not so hot in real life. Too tall and horsey, with enormous teeth!

“Veronica,” Cooper said easily, “say hello to Leslie Kane and her boyfriend, Jeff.”

“Hi’ya, Cooper,” said Jeff, extending his hand, completely unconcerned that Leslie and Cooper had once been lovers.

Venus and Johnny strolled in from outside. Perfect timing, as the guests of honor—Donna and George Landsman—entered the room, a sulking Santo trailing behind them.

Abigaile went into hostess overdrive. “Donna,” she gushed. “I’m
thrilled
to meet you. Mickey has told me so much about you. Welcome to Hollywood! We’re
delighted
Mickey is back at Panther.”

An alert Mickey jumped into action. “Donna,” he said, unwittingly ignoring George, “welcome to my house.”

Donna had already spotted Cooper Turner, Johnny Romano, and Venus Maria, and was completely intimidated. She could deal with anything businesswise, but mixing with these famous people was a new experience. She grabbed Santo, lurking behind her, and pushed him to the forefront. “This is my son, Santo,” she said.

“Hello, Santo, dear,” Abigaile said, wondering why they’d allowed the boy to get so fat.

Santo spotted Venus across the room and his heart began pounding uncontrollably.