Vendetta: Lucky's Revenge (47 page)

1988
One Year Later

THE EXTRAVAGANT PREMIERE OF ALEX WOODS’S
Gangsters
was a major Hollywood event. Everybody who was anybody was invited, and if they weren’t, they left town, or pretended to.

The venue was Mann’s Chinese Theatre on Hollywood Boulevard. A red carpet stretched down to the curb, a luxurious welcoming mat for all the famous guests to parade down. Klieg lights—strategically placed—lit up the sky for miles around.

The excited crowds surrounded the theater, police barricades holding them back from mobbing the stars as they arrived.

A long line of limousines snaked around for at least ten blocks. TV camera crews were alert, ready and lined up, as were the paparazzi. Manic publicists grabbed the stars as they got out of their limos, leading them down the line of media people.

It was a major event.

Abe Panther settled comfortably in the back of his limo and winked at Inga Irving. “This is the first time I’ve left the house in years,” he said, puffing on a fat cigar.

“You’ll do anything for Lucky,” Inga remarked indulgently. “She calls, you run.”

“Lucky’s like the granddaughter I never had,” Abe mused. “She’s a ballsy broad, the kind we used to have in Hollywood in the good old days. I like that in a woman.”

Inga nodded; she’d finally grown to accept Abe’s fondness for Lucky.

Inga had dressed for the occasion. Lucky had paid her generously for her shares, and she’d invested in a few good pieces of jewelry which she’d told Abe were fake. The man was in his nineties, and he still hung on to his money like a hooker on a bad night.

Abe leaned forward, wheezing. “Got something for you,” he said gruffly, groping in the pocket of his 1945 tuxedo, which still fit him perfectly. “Since we’ve been married a year or two, I started thinking there’s no gettin’ rid of you.” More wheezing as he handed her a leather ring box.

She opened it and gasped. Sparkling up at her was a magnificent eight-carat diamond ring.

“No, Abe,” she said, her normally stoic face breaking into a wide smile. “There’s certainly no getting rid of me.”

Abe cackled. “That’s exactly what I thought.”

Abigaile and Mickey Stolli, along with Tabitha and her date, Risk Mace—a long-haired, heavily tattooed rocker—were sitting in the limo behind Abe’s.

Tabitha had changed from an out-of-control punk to a Hollywood princess. She’d dropped out of her exclusive Swiss boarding school, informing her father she wished to become an actress. Mickey had gotten her an agent, who in turn had arranged for her to audition for a small part on a TV sitcom. To everyone’s surprise, she’d gotten the
role, the audience had taken to her, and within six months Tabitha was a major TV star.

Mickey was proud. Who would have thought his daughter would become a role model for teenage girls all over America?

He puffed on his cigar and thought,
Hmm…I didn’t do a bad job raising my kid. At least she’s making her own money
.

Abigaile sat back and thought,
Why is Tabitha wasting her time with this strange-looking rock ’n’ roller? Why doesn’t she find herself a decent studio executive—someone who has a chance to rise to the top and make lots of money
.

Abigaile was ignorant of the fact that Risk was a millionaire several times over. Had she known, she might have regarded him in a different light.

Tabitha was bored. She couldn’t imagine why she’d agreed to come to this premiere with her parents. It was such a lame thing to do. Risk must think she was a total dweeb. Her father had insisted—he wanted the cachet of arriving at the premiere with his famous daughter on his arm. Mickey had to attend the premiere on account of the fact that Johnny Romano was due to star in his first independent movie. Yes, Mickey Stolli—ex-studio head—was venturing into independent production—land of the failed studio executive.

Tabitha hoped there might be a role for her, she really wanted to break into movies.

Leslie Kane stepped out of a long white stretch limo in front of the theater, and the crowds went wild. Then her date got out behind her, and when everyone saw who it was, the screams and excitement reached fever pitch.

The paparazzi and TV crews launched into frenzied
action as three publicists moved in to escort the two stars down the line.

Charlie Dollar and Leslie Kane—the good girl and the rogue—what a dynamite combination!

They both had the routine down pat. Charlie with his trademark dark glasses and maniacal grin; Leslie making sure the photographers only caught her good angles—not that she had any bad ones; early on she’d learned not to let them shoot low, or up her skirt when she got out of a car.

She hung on to Charlie’s arm and smiled.

He waved to the crowds, who screamed their appreciation.

Leslie Kane and Charlie Dollar—a new front-page sensation.

Ron Machio was excited for his best friend; he’d seen a rough cut of
Gangsters
, and knew how sensational Venus was in it—certainly the performance of her career.

Anthony—in his new tuxedo—pressed down the black-tinted side window.

“Don’t do that,” Ron said fussily. “The fans can see in.”

“I
want
everybody to notice me in a limo,” Anthony said proudly. “Can you imagine—if we’re on TV in London, they’ll know
I’m
a star, too.”

“You’re not a star,” Ron said. “You’re still Venus’s assistant.”

“I’m living with
you
,” Anthony said tartly. “That
makes
me a star.”

A slow smile spread across Ron’s face. “You say the nicest things.”

Sitting across from them, Emilio scowled. Why did he have to get stuck in a car with the gay brigade?

He supposed it was better than not getting invited at all. Still…didn’t he deserve his own limo?

Since he’d caught that crazed intruder on Venus’s prop
erty, she’d been almost nice to him. And in return he’d quit selling stories and worked for her as a part-time assistant. Thank God he’d caught Santo that first time—if he hadn’t, Venus wouldn’t have called Johnny Romano and borrowed his dogs, and without the dogs on her property that night, she might not be here today….

So really, it was all thanks to him. Not that anybody appreciated it.

Occasionally, when Venus and Cooper took him to dinner at Hamburger Hamlet, they acted like they were doing him a big favor. This pissed him off—wasn’t he good enough to accompany them to any of the fancy restaurants they frequented?

When Venus had invited him to her premiere, he’d said, “How’ll I get there?”

“You’ll go with Anthony and Ron,” she’d replied. “They’ll make sure you behave.”

“But, little sis,” he’d objected, “I thought I could take a date and get my
own
limo!”

“No, Emilio,” she’d said firmly. “I don’t trust you. You’ll go with them.”

And that had been that.

Brigette peered out of the window. “Get an eyeful of the crowds,” she exclaimed. “Wow! Amazing!”

“Stay cool,” Nona said. “Remember—you’re a star, too.”

Zandino beamed and nodded agreeably. They’d gotten married six months ago. Now Nona was five months pregnant and they were both incredibly happy.

Brigette couldn’t keep still. “I’m really glad Lucky and Lennie invited us,” she said. “This is
sooo
cool.”

“Maybe you’ll meet the hunk of your dreams,” Nona said. “There’s a lot of cute guys in Hollywood.”

“The hunk of my dreams does not exist,” Brigette said
wistfully. “
Especially
in Hollywood. In fact, I’m beginning to think he doesn’t exist at all.”

“You’re a star, Brigette—a supermodel—you never know who’ll come chasing after you—hot for your gorgeous young bod. Sean Penn. Emilio Estevez. Who would you like?”

Brigette grinned. “Dunno. But if I see him, I’ll be sure to let you know!”

Their limo drew to a stop outside the theater. “Out!” Nona said. “Be a star!”

“You’re so bossy.”

“You’d be uncontrollable if I weren’t.”

“Ha! Betcha no one will know who I am.”

“Ten bucks. You’re on.”

Brigette stepped out of the car, breathed deeply, and faced the crowds.

“BRIGETTE! BRIGETTE! BRIGETTE!”

They were chanting her name. She was stunned! And a little bit thrilled.

A handsome young publicist grabbed her arm, preparing to escort her along the media walk.

“You owe me ten bucks,” Nona whispered somewhere behind her.

She smiled, and faced the press.

Johnny Romano and his bride of one year, Daniella, sauntered down the red carpet with Daniella’s nine-year-old daughter clutching Johnny’s hand. They made a lovely looking family: Johnny so dark and sexy, Daniella so blond and beautiful, and the little girl a mirror image of her mother.

The press considered their story to be incredibly romantic. Daniella, a French journalist, had come to L.A. to interview Johnny for a magazine. One interview and they were in love; he’d sent for her daughter, mar
ried her in Las Vegas, and now they were the perfect Hollywood couple.

Daniella was content.

Johnny had never been so happy.

It really was a love match.

“You look gorgeous,” Cooper said.

“No way,” Venus replied, pulling a disgusted face. “I’m fat.”

“Not fat, pregnant. There’s a big difference.”

“I should be looking all sleek and sexy,” she worried. “My fans expect it. I should be wearing something outrageous.”

“Your performance in the movie is outrageous. Everyone who’s seen it says you’re a dead cert for a nomination, including me.”

She stared at him anxiously. “Do you
really
think so, Coop? You’re not just saying that to make me happy?”

He smiled knowingly. “I have other ways of making you happy.”

“Yeah, witness this,” she said, ruefully patting her swollen belly.

He put his hand over hers. “I love you so much,” he said. “Never thought it would happen to me.”

“And to think we nearly blew it,” she said, and sighed.

“Well, we didn’t.”

“I know. One night with Veronica and you came running back to me! I should thank him/her—whatever.”

“Ha, ha! Very amusing.”

“Did I tell you that you look fantastically handsome tonight?”

“Thank you,” he said, smiling at his adorable pregnant wife. She always knew how to make him feel like a king.

Alex was tired, but it was a good tired. He’d finished cutting the movie six weeks earlier, and since that time they’d had several test runs, which had surpassed everyone’s expectations—word of mouth was phenomenal.

He knew that
Gangsters
was the movie he’d win an Oscar for. And two of his actors—Venus and Johnny—would definitely get nominated. He felt fulfilled and satisfied.

He was also thrilled for Lucky. She’d had faith in the movie
and
him—now it was payoff time for Panther.

He thought about Lucky for a moment—he’d always have a special feeling for her, but since Lennie’s return, he’d drawn back because she’d made it quite clear she loved Lennie and would always put him first.

The nice thing was that the three of them had become good friends. Lennie was a great guy; Alex not only liked him, he respected him, too.

Dominique sat opposite her son in the limo with her date—a tango-dancing stockbroker she’d met at a club on Wilshire. He was a pleasant man, older and quite dapper.

Lately Dominique was a changed woman—no more criticisms. He wondered how long it would last.

Tonight he was escorting Lili and France. They’d both worked hard on the movie, and deserved a treat.

He reflected that now
Gangsters
was finished and launched, it was time to get his personal life back on track. Who knew what was out there?

He planned on taking a vacation—traveling to Italy and finding out.

Maybe there was a wildly beautiful, unpredictable, dark-haired woman waiting for him somewhere….

Maybe…

“Well, sweetheart,” Lucky said excitedly. “This is it—the premiere of
Gangsters
. I’m kinda buzzed.”

“You should be,” Lennie replied. “You put in plenty of time to make sure everything went smoothly.”

“Thanks,” she said, thinking about what an amazing year it had been, and how fortunate she was to have Lennie back.

“You look so goddamn beautiful tonight,” he said, squeezing her hand. “Sometimes, I wake up in the morning and I can’t believe I’m safely home in bed next to you.”

“I can’t believe it either,” she said, marveling at how things had turned out. “It seems incredible.”

“How did we both get through it?” he questioned, shaking his head.

“Somehow, we did; we’re together and we’re here.”

“Every moment I was away, you were in my thoughts. You kept me alive.”

“And you were in mine,” she said softly. “Even though you didn’t phone, you didn’t write.”

“My wife the comedian,” he said wryly.

“That used to be
your
job,” she pointed out.

“Oh, no,” he said. “I’ve had the acting/performing bit—no more in front of the camera for me.”

She knew it was going to be a hard job persuading him to resume his career. Since his return he’d become reclusive, preferring to stay at home with the children rather than go out in public. It didn’t bother her, but she knew—for his own sake—she had to do something to get him involved in the real world again. Right now he was happy doing nothing. Eventually he’d realize it wasn’t enough.

“So, your friend Alex must be happy about tonight,” Lennie remarked. “Y’know, when you first introduced us, I wasn’t sure about him.”

“Really?” she said, her tone noncommittal.

“Yeah, but he’s a nice guy. I like him.”

“I’m glad, because Alex was a very good friend to me while you were gone.”

He threw her a look, his green eyes probing hers. “Is that all he was?”

She didn’t hesitate. “Yes, that’s all.”

“He’s got a major crush on you.”

“No way.”

“Oh, yes.”