Vendetta: Lucky's Revenge (39 page)

LUCKY TOOK BOOGIE WITH HER TO MEET SARA
and deliver the money. They met at the Hard Rock Cafe, a milieu in which Sara had seemed comfortable the last time. Sara ran in, sat down, and immediately ordered a double cheeseburger.

“Is this the only time you eat?” Lucky inquired.

“I got me a healthy appetite,” Sara replied, grabbing her burger as soon as it arrived, taking huge bites, stuffing her mouth until she couldn’t jam anything else in. “Okay, how we gonna do this?” she asked as soon as she’d finished. “I gotta get the money before I hand over the tape.”

“You’ll come with me to my car, where I have a VCR,” Lucky said. “We’ll play the tape, and if it contains what you say it does, you’ll get your money. It’s as easy as that.”

“Oh, yeah—like, really easy,” Sara sneered, eyeing Lucky with deep suspicion. “How’d I know you won’t kidnap me? Sell me into white slavery, that kinda shit?”

“You have to trust me,” Lucky replied calmly, wondering if the girl was on drugs—she was certainly manic enough.

“Me—I don’t trust no one,” Sara said, proud of her spiky attitude. “Everyone’s out for their own thing.”

“If you want your money, you’ll
have
to,” Lucky said coolly.

“Who’s he?” Sara said, rudely gesturing toward Boogie.

“My associate.”

Sara squinted her eyes. “How do I know
he
ain’t gonna do something to me?”

Lucky was starting to lose patience. “Either you want the money or you don’t,” she said curtly.

“Okay, okay,” Sara answered quickly, not wanting to blow such a windfall. “Where’s your car?”

“Outside.”

“I may as well tell you,” Sara said, her expression turning crafty. “My friend knows where I am, an’ if I’m not home in an hour, she’ll call the cops.”

“Very sensible,” Lucky said dryly. “I’m glad you’ve figured out how to protect yourself.”

They walked outside to the waiting limousine.

“Cool,” Sara said, liking the fact it was a limo. “Y’know,” she continued chattily as she climbed in, “I had this customer…uh, I mean, like,
friend
. He’d arrive at the massage parlor in his big, freakin’ limo, an’ then he’d wanna get a very
personal
massage in the backseat while his driver took us around town. This big old car had black windows so nobody could peek in. Sometimes he opened that glass thing so’s his driver could get himself an eyeful. I din’t go for that, but the old lech paid good.”

Why had Morton picked this sad little girl to get himself in trouble with? They were a total mismatch. “Does Morton know you had all these adventures before you met him?”

Sara giggled hysterically. “Morty thinks I was workin’ the massage parlor thing like a
good
girl.”

Lucky leaned over and inserted the tape in the VCR. The picture was scrambled for a moment before becoming clear.

She stared at the screen. There was Morton in Sara’s bedroom, sitting on the side of her bed, fully dressed, in a three-piece suit. Enter Sara in a schoolgirl outfit.

S
ARA:
“Hi, Daddykins.”

M
ORTON:
“Were you a good girl at school today?”

S
ARA:
“
Very
good, Daddy.”

M
ORTON:
“Are you sure?”

S
ARA:
“Yes, Daddy.”

M
ORTON:
“Come sit on my knee and tell me all about it.”

S
ARA:
“I did do
something
bad….”

M
ORTON:
“Am I going to have to spank you?”

S
ARA:
“I don’t know, Daddy. Were you a good boy at the office today?”

M
ORTON:
“No, I did something bad, too.”

S
ARA:
“Then I think
I’ll
spank you.”

And so it went on. Lucky watched, in a trancelike state. She knew some people could only get off by indulging in their fantasies, but as far as she was concerned, it was kind of a sick obsession. What was wrong with normal sex? Who needed fantasies and props?

As soon as Morton began to divest himself of his clothes, she clicked off the machine and said, “Okay, I’ve seen enough.” Opening the window, she spoke to Boogie, who waited outside. “Give her the money and let’s go.”

Sara climbed out of the car and stood awkwardly on the sidewalk. Boogie handed her a paper shopping bag. “Here,” he said. “You want to count it?”

Sara grabbed the bag and peered inside, barely concealing her excitement. “Is this all I havta do?”

“That’s it,” Lucky said. “Put the money in a safety-deposit box and go home. Not a word to Morton.”

“Won’t he find out?” Sara asked.

“Maybe,” Lucky said. “It didn’t bother you last time—or him. He’s still paying your rent.”

“I’m usin’ the money to get outta town with my girlfriend,” Sara confided. “I’ve had it with L.A. You should’ve
seen
some of the weirdos who came into the massage parlor. Games, games, games—that’s all they were into. An’ most of ’em wished I was ten!”

“Spare me the details,” Lucky said.

“Well,” Sara said, clutching the shopping bag to her side. “We’re gonna try our luck in Vegas. Me and my friend. If there’s anything else I can do…you got a phone?”

“Don’t worry, Sara, if we need anything, we’ll contact you.”

Boogie got into the car, and the limo sped off.

Santo blamed George. His mother would never have punished him in such a vicious fashion if George hadn’t encouraged her. He was sixteen, for crissakes. If he couldn’t make out with a girl in his own room, what
could
he do?

George suggested a list of punishments and Donna agreed. Santo had never seen her so angry. Her face was white and pinched; she could barely look at him.

• 1. No Ferrari.
  
• 2. No allowance for six weeks.
  
• 3. No going out after school.
  
• 4. No credit cards.
  

Shit! He’d been caught having sex, not murdering the freaking president.

Donna didn’t say a word while George confronted him with his punishments.

“C’mon, Mom,” he whined, turning to her. “It wasn’t so bad.”

“Drugs are very bad,” George said ominously, like it was a federal offense—which, of course, it probably was. “Your mother and I will not tolerate them in our house.”

“Her house,” Santo muttered sourly.

“No,” Donna said, appalled by her son’s behavior. “It’s George’s house, too. And he’s taking care of this problem until you learn to behave.”

He couldn’t believe that she was siding with George. It was unthinkable. What a freaking cow!

He wondered what kind of punishment Tabitha had gotten after her father had come to fetch her. “I never want to see her with my son again,” he’d heard Donna say as Mickey whisked Tabitha off.

After George had finished yelling at him, and Donna had refused to intervene, he went to his room and sat glumly in front of his computer, staring blankly at the screen.

What a sack of shit.

He was confused. He hadn’t meant to do it with Tabitha, when all along he’d been saving himself for Venus. Now freaky Tabitha had gone and spoiled everything.

What if the things she’d said about Venus were true? That Venus was nothing but a slut and a whore.

It suddenly occurred to him that all this wasn’t Tabitha’s fault at all.
Venus
was to blame. If he hadn’t seen her at the Stollis’ party, and if Tabitha hadn’t told him all those things about her, he wouldn’t have gotten so stoned that he’d ended up not knowing what he was doing.

Yes.
Venus
was responsible for him not getting a Ferrari. It was
her
fault. She’d ruined his life, and he was going to make sure she paid for it.

“This is for you,” Cooper said, standing over Venus.

She rolled over in bed, stretching lazily. “What?” she mumbled, half asleep.

“Orange juice, raisin toast, coffee, the trades, and this…”

She struggled to sit up. Cooper held a silver tray with all of the things he’d mentioned on it. He was also stark naked, and carefully balanced on the edge of the tray was his erect penis.

She began to laugh hysterically. “What are you
doing
?” she exclaimed, sitting up.

“Nothing,” he deadpanned.

“What am
I
doing?” she groaned, realizing she’d spent the night with the husband she was about to divorce.

“Falling in love with your husband again?” he suggested, charming her with his handsome smile.

“Oh, no…once was enough, thank you, Cooper. You’re a lot of fun, but I’ve finally realized—you are
not
husband material.”

“How many other guys make you breakfast?” he asked plaintively. “Where else can you get this kind of service?”

“Mmm…” she said, still smiling. “Orange juice, raisin toast, coffee, a hard-on…maybe I should reconsider.”

“Look, you,” he said, removing his dick from the tray and sitting on the side of the bed, “I know what I did was unforgivable. If you’d done the same to me, I probably would’ve walked. Truth is, I learned my lesson, and now I want us to get back together.”

“Hmm…” she murmured languorously.

“Last night I was with one of the most desired women in America. And you know what? I left her, and came running over to be with you.”

“Ha!” she exclaimed, sitting up further.

“What does ‘ha’ mean?”

“According to Mr. Romano—who knows about such things—Veronica is a sex change.”

“Jesus, Venus! That’s ridiculous. And not true.”

She giggled. “Guess you made the right decision, Coop.”

He frowned. Could that explain his lack of interest? His survival instinct must have kicked in, saving him from…what?

“We belong together, Venus,” he said persuasively, refusing to allow her to get him off track. “You know that.”

“Cooper,” she replied, her face serious. “This new movie I’m about to start is very important to me, and—”

“Wasn’t last night special?” he interrupted, fixing her with his ice-blue eyes. “Wasn’t it the greatest? We really are something together, everyone says so.”

She smiled at the memory of his incredible lovemaking. “I must admit, Coop, you certainly do have a technique like nobody else…”

“And let me assure you, from now on I’m saving it all for you.”

She wanted to believe him. However, this was Cooper Turner speaking—a man with a lifelong reputation for screwing around. She’d taken a chance with him once…was she foolish enough to do it again?

He was right in there with a fresh pitch. “All I’m asking for is another shot. C’mon, honey, you
know
it’s right.”

She felt herself weakening. “Well…maybe we
could
see each other—kind of get reacquainted.”

“I thought we got reacquainted last night.”

She giggled again. “Oh, yeah, and I’d like more of that tonight, tomorrow, and…if things work out…well…eventually, we could talk about moving back in together.”

“Deal,” he said, smiling broadly.

“Now you’ll have to excuse me,” she said, jumping out of bed. “I must speak to my agent.”

“I love it when you get serious,” he said, grabbing her arm and pulling her back on the bed.

She smiled…what the hell…one more chance wouldn’t kill her.

Lucky stepped out from behind a marble pillar, accosting Morton Sharkey in the lobby of his Century City office building. “Hi, Morton,” she said, removing her Porsche shades and fixing him with her black eyes.

He stepped back, startled.

“Surprised to see me?”

“Uh…Lucky.” He was almost stammering. “This, uh
…is
a surprise. What are you doing here?”

“I came to see you.”

“You did?” he said, agitated.

She moved closer. “Ever since you pulled your little stunt at Panther, I’ve been unable to reach you even though I’ve left messages every day, told your secretary it was urgent, and repeatedly faxed you. Didn’t your mother teach you it’s very rude not to respond?”

“I’m sorry, Lucky, I’ve been extremely busy.”

“You sold me out, Morton,” she said flatly. “And I don’t like that.”

He adopted a defensive attitude. “I did what was best.”

“For whom?” she said coldly. “You were my business advisor. You helped me gain control of Panther, then you went behind my back and screwed me.” A pause. “I don’t get it, Morton. Unless, of course, somebody was
forcing
you to behave in such an unethical way.”

He began edging toward the elevator, trying to distance himself from her. “Uh, Lucky—you still have forty percent of Panther. I’m sure with Mickey running it again, it’ll go into profit….”

She moved in front of him, blocking his way. “Just like before, huh? You—better than anyone—know he ran the studio into the ground.”

“These things happen,” he muttered, too ashamed to look at her. “Business is business.”

“Mistake number one, Morton, you sided with Donna Landsman.”

“Mrs. Landsman is a respected businesswoman.”

“No. For your information, Mrs. Landsman is the widow of Santino Bonnatti.”

Alarm spread across his face. “What are you talking about?”

“Remember the Bonnattis? I’m sure I must have told you the story many times.”

He stared at her silently, thinking,
So
that’s
why Donna Landsman had been so anxious to gain control of Panther
.

“Fortunately for you, I’m in a good mood,” Lucky continued pleasantly. “Therefore, I’m giving you a chance to redeem yourself. My lawyer will immediately arrange for you to sell me your five percent of Panther, plus your half of the Panther shares you have in Conquest Investments. That’ll give me back a controlling interest. Then I want you to set up the same scenario—just like you did for Donna. I’ll be sitting in my office when you bring her in
and
I
tell her
she’s
out. Oh, yes, and make sure Mickey Stolli is with her. I want to personally fire his fat ass.”