Vendetta: Lucky's Revenge (9 page)

“
LET’S STOP FOR A DRINK,” ALEX SUGGESTED, HIS
nerves already on edge.

“Won’t that make us late for your mother?” Tin Lee countered.

“She’ll wait,” Alex said. His throat was so parched he had to have something. Before leaving his apartment he’d popped a Valium and smoked half a joint, not enough to get him through the evening.

Tin Lee nodded. “Whatever you say.” She liked Alex and hoped he liked her. Meeting his mother was an encouraging sign.

Alex considered her to be most agreeable. They’d been out on several occasions and she’d never nagged him about anything. He liked that in a woman. A calm acceptance that the man is always right. None of that feminist shit.

In bed she’d ministered to him, unconcerned about her own fulfillment. There was nothing worse than a woman who expected equal everything, especially in the bedroom.

He gave his four-door Mercedes to a parking attendant at the Beverly Regent, and entered the bar, Tin Lee close behind him. He’d left the Porsche at home tonight so they could accommodate his mother.

They sat against the wall on the plush leather banquette seating. Tin Lee ordered cranberry juice, explaining that she didn’t care for alcohol. Alex ordered a double Scotch on the rocks and lit a cigarette. He had all the vices and knew it. He smoked too much, drank too much, popped pills, and smoked grass. The good news was, he’d given up blow and crack. Even Alex knew the danger line. His shrink had explained that if he kept doing the hard stuff, he couldn’t expect to see fifty. Point taken.

Tin Lee coughed delicately. He continued smoking.

“Alex,” Tin Lee said, placing her hand on his thigh. “Is something bothering you?”

Nothing that my mother dropping dead won’t cure
.

“Bothering me? What would be bothering me?” he asked, a feeling of irritation crawling over his skin.

“I don’t know. That’s why I ask.” A wistful pause. “Is it something about me?”

Aw, shit, he was in no mood for a talk about “their relationship,” such as it was. And he knew it was coming. Women always took everything personally.

“Nothing’s wrong with you,” he assured her, hoping he sounded sincere enough to stop her carrying on.

“Then why,” Tin Lee asked plaintively, not quite smart enough to leave a good thing alone, “haven’t we made love since the first time?”

No different than any of the others. Talk, talk, talk. Sex, sex, sex. Was that all women ever thought about?

“Don’t I please you, Alex?” she asked, twirling a thin gold bracelet on her tiny left wrist.

He picked up his glass and gulped a couple of mouthfuls of Scotch as he contemplated his reply. Had to be careful, he needed her around this evening.

“No, honey, it’s not you,” he said at last. “It’s me. I’m always tense when I’m preparing to shoot a new movie. I’ve a lot on my mind.”

“Sex is good for taking things off your mind,” Tin Lee said boldly. “Perhaps, later tonight, I can relax you with a massage. A very…personal massage.”

She wanted to be in his movie, that was for sure. And why not? Everybody wanted something.

A dark-haired woman entered the bar. He noticed her passing, and for one unsure moment he thought it was Lucky Santangelo. Something about the way she moved across the room reminded him.

No. Lucky was much more beautiful—in a wild and intriguing way.

“One more drink and we’re on our way,” Alex said, gesturing for the waiter.

“What’s
he
doing here?”

Cooper’s furious whisper was enough to satisfy Leslie. “Why
shouldn’t
he be here?” she said guilelessly.

“You know he wants to fuck you,” Cooper said, steamed.

“So do a lot of men,” Leslie responded calmly. “That doesn’t mean I have any desire to return the compliment.”

He frowned. “Are you sure?”

“Positive,” she said, waving a greeting at a well-known country singer and his plain wife as they entered her house. “Excuse me, Cooper,” she said, secretly thrilled she’d gotten to him. “I must go greet my guests.”

He watched her walk away in her tantalizing gown with half her body on show, and he couldn’t help but feel a small frisson of jealousy—even though he knew she was doing it purposely, trying to piss him off because he was with his wife.

Meanwhile, Venus was settled at the bar downing shooters while charming Felix Zimmer, an aging producer known for his quirky habit of telling every woman
he met that his specialty was eating pussy. Felix was oversized and no Mel Gibson—but his conversational gambit sure helped him score with a lot of women, that and the fact that he was a very successful producer.

“Hey, babe,” she called, beckoning Cooper over. “Do you know Felix?”

“Know him,” Cooper said with a thin smile, “I taught him everything he boasts about!”

Venus laughed. Cooper thought she looked exceptionally pretty tonight in gold lounging pajamas with her hair piled casually atop her head. He decided he really should consider spending more time at home.

Leslie had put together an eclectic group: Felix and Muriel, his “rumored to be a lesbian” wife; the country singer and
his
wife; Cooper and Venus; a hot director with his extremely young model girlfriend; a sulky-faced woman who designed clothes for an Emmy-nominated TV show; and Jeff Stoner.

Cooper suspected Leslie had arranged the party solely for his benefit. For some perverse reason, she wanted Venus in her house.

For a moment, he felt guilty. How would
he
feel if Venus did the same thing to him?

She wouldn’t. Venus might appear sexually over the top and outrageous in her videos and movies, but in real life she was the perfect, faithful, supportive wife. He could trust her, and he did.

“My son,” Dominique Woods announced, fluttering diamond-beringed fingers. “Used to be the most handsome man in the world—just like his father. Now look at him, he’s dissipated, old—time has not been kind to my Alex.”

“Excuse me?” Tin Lee said politely, shocked by the older woman’s harsh words.

“It’s true, dear,” Dominique continued matter-of-factly. “He had enough talent to have been a famous actor like his father. The tragedy is that he threw it all away.”

“I never wanted to be an actor,” Alex said grimly. “Always wanted to direct.”

“It’s a damn shame,” Dominique said, her voice rising. “As an actor you could have amounted to something—received
real
recognition.”

Jesus Christ. Six Oscar nominations were not enough for her. This woman wanted blood.

“Anyway, it’s too late now,” Dominique continued, a cruel twist to her mouth. “You lost your looks years ago; soon you’ll be losing your hair.”

Every time, the same thing. What was her fucking problem? Anyone could see that his hair was thick, dark, and wavy—no way was he anywhere near losing it.

His mother was insane—she seemed to take a perverse pleasure in putting him down. His shrink had advised him that fighting with her was pointless. All he could do was ignore her dumb comments.

“Alex has lovely hair,” Tin Lee said, rallying to his support.

“For now,” Dominique said ominously. “However”—a meaningful pause—“baldness runs in the family. His grandfather was as bald as an ape’s ass.”

“When he was eighty-five,” Alex muttered, ordering another drink.

“You can’t avoid the march of time,” his mother said. “
I
fight it every day.” Now she turned coy. “And I’m winning,” she added, focusing her attention on Tin Lee. “Can’t you see I’m winning, dear?”

Tin Lee nodded, too startled to say anything else. Alex took a long, hard look at his mother. She was thin and very chic. Fashionably dressed, she wore a short-cropped black wig over thinning hair. Her problem was
too much heavy makeup for a woman her age. Her skin was as white as alabaster. Her lips as red as blood. And her eyes were surrounded with black charcoal—giving her an overly dramatic Norma Desmond look. From a distance she could pass for a woman in her late fifties, but close up, the game was over. To his knowledge she’d had her face lifted at least twice. Even at seventy-one, appearance meant everything to Dominique.

Alex had often tried to figure out what she was so bitter about and why she took it out on him. Was it because his father had died, leaving her with a child to raise by herself? Was it because she’d never married again? According to her, no man had been prepared to take on the responsibility of a woman with a son. Over the years she’d constantly reminded him. “Who would have me when I had a boy your age to raise? It’s
your
fault I’m alone now. Remember that, Alex.”

How could he ever forget when she was constantly reminding him.

Fortunately, she’d always had a certain amount of money. Not that she’d ever put any in his direction. Not that he’d ever wanted any.

Tin Lee rose to her feet. “I’m going to the ladies’ room,” she said.

His mother had the grace to wait until Tin Lee was out of earshot before she launched into her usual stream of criticism. “Don’t you know any American girls, Alex? Surely some of the actresses in your films would be suitable for you to take out? Why are you always with these Asian women? They arrive here searching for the good life however, I’m sure you’re aware that in their own country most of them were no better than cheap street prostitutes.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said, trying not to get too pissed off at her stupidity.

“I certainly do,” Dominique replied, tapping a talon-
like finger on the table. “I’m the disgrace of my ladies’ bridge club because of you.”

“
Me?
”

“Yes, Alex, you. They read about you in those tabloid papers. They tell me appalling things.”

“What things?”

“Why can’t you settle down with a decent American girl?”

How many times had they had this conversation?

How many times had he blown up and screamed at her?

He’d learned, after years of therapy, that it simply wasn’t worth it anymore. What she said was completely meaningless, and he refused to take any notice of her cruel barbs.

By the end of dinner, he was drunk. When they left the restaurant, Tin Lee automatically slid behind the wheel of the Mercedes.

“I can drive,” he objected, teetering on the sidewalk.

“No, you can’t,” she said, firm but nice. “Get in the back, Alex.”

“Smart little cookie, this one,” his mother murmured, climbing in the front passenger seat.

Like
she
would know. Dominique knew nothing. Nada. Shit. She was a mean, bigoted, hateful woman. And yet she was his mother, so therefore he had to love her, didn’t he?

He slumped across the backseat of the car, moodily silent until they dropped Dominique off at her condo on Doheny.

“It was such a pleasure meeting you, Mrs. Woods,” Tin Lee said, still rallying. This girl had impeccable manners.

Dominique nodded imperiously. “You, too, dear.” A pause. “However, take a word of advice from an older and wiser woman. Alex is not for you, he’s too old. Be a clever girl and find a boy your own age.”

Gee, thanks, Mom. Fuck you, too
.

Dominique swept into her building without looking back.

“She’s uh…very nice,” Tin Lee said, groping for words.

Alex laughed uproariously. “Very nice, my ass. She’s a raving bitch, and you know it.”

“Alex, please don’t talk about your mother like that. It’s bad karma.”

“I don’t give a shit about karma,” he said, drunkenly fondling her small breasts from behind. “Drive me home, baby, I’m gonna show you how a bald, ugly has-been gets it on. I’m gonna light up your fuckin’ world!”

Jeff Stoner circled the room, summing up the action.

Cooper watched him, understanding every move. He’d been like that once—ambitious, hungry for the big time. Jeff had the look that Cooper knew so well, and he didn’t like it because he was well aware that if he didn’t act to prevent it, tonight Jeff Stoner was definitely going to score with Leslie. She looked too delectable to be left alone after everyone had gone home.

Cooper knew exactly how Jeff would operate. He’d stay for a nightcap, bombard her with compliments, get her talking about herself, and then POW—he’d zero in for his big chance. After all, apart from being gorgeous, Leslie was the star of the film, she had the director’s ear; therefore—with a small amount of effort—she could convince the director to enlarge Jeff’s minor role.

“Something wrong?” Venus interrupted his thought process with a beringed hand on his arm. She’d finished talking to Felix, whose sexual boasting had finally bored her.

“Nothing,” Cooper replied vaguely.

Bastard
, Venus thought.
Lousy, lying, cheating bastard
.

“Where’s the john?” she asked.

Trick question. He knew enough not to fall into
that
trap. “How would I know?” he said casually. “I’ve never been here before.”

Big lie. He’d spent several steamy afternoons at Leslie’s house when filming had quit early.

“Come find it with me,” she said, pulling him into the hall. Together they discovered a powder room near the front door. “Come in with me, baby,” she said persuasively.

He followed her into the mirrored room.

She turned around, locking the door behind them.

Cooper peered in the mirror. Yes, he
did
look tired. When he finished the movie, it was definitely health-spa time.

Venus didn’t hesitate; throwing her arms around his neck, she pressed his back up against the marble sink and began provocatively tonguing his lips.

He made a mild attempt to push her away.

“I’m
veree
horny,” she whispered, persevering. “Humor me, baby. Got a little something I’ve been imagining doing to you all night.”

Instant reaction as her hand snaked down, unzipped his pants and rapidly began freeing him from the confines of his Calvin Kleins.

“Nice…” she murmured with a throaty laugh, firmly caressing his positive response. “
Veree
nice.”