Lady Boss

by Jackie Collins

  At last he allowed her to stop. ‘You’ll thank me when you’re in the middle of your tour,’ he said.

  ‘Thanks,’ she replied breathlessly.

  As soon as he left she threw herself into the shower, washing her hair, watching the water trickle down her body. Her firm, hard body. The famous Venus Maria body that turned so many people on.

  Martin had flown off to New York the night before. She knew she had him hooked. All she had to do now was reel him in.

  Ron appeared at her house for lunch. Her business manager had taken care of separating their financial interests, and Ron had taken it quite well. Now he could buy his boyfriend Rodeo Drive if he so desired, and it wouldn’t bother her one bit.

  ‘Where’s the Ken Doll?’ she asked mockingly. ‘I was under the distinct impression he never let you out of his sight.’

  ‘Now, now. Don’t get bitchy,’ Ron retorted, heading straight for the kitchen. ‘Has Mister Major Mogul returned to New York?’

  ‘Yes, he has,’ she said, dancing along behind him, humming her latest recording.

  ‘Did we have fun while he was here?’ Ron asked, opening up the fridge and removing a bowl of tuna salad.

  ‘We had a great time,’ Venus Maria replied, reaching for the lettuce and tomatoes, while Ron grabbed a fresh loaf of bread. Companionably they began to put together large sandwiches filled with tuna mix, lettuce, tomato, and avocado.

  ‘This is a riot,’ Ron said, slicing tomatoes like an expert. ‘We don’t get to do this enough. I adore behaving like a normal person!’

  Venus Maria agreed. ‘I sent the maid to the market. I wanted to thank you for helping me out the other night.’

  ‘My pleasure,’ Ron replied. ‘I enjoyed every delicious minute. Oh, and I have the most scandalous gossip.’

  ‘What?’ she asked, stuffing a wedge of lettuce into her mouth.

  ‘Your boss.’

  ‘I don’t have a boss.’

  ‘Does the name Mickey Stolli mean anything to you?’

  She laughed. ‘I don’t regard Mickey as my boss.’

  ‘Well, anyway, my dear, Mr. Stolli himself turned up at the house of a certain very close friend of mine. All bushy-tailed and eager for action.’

  ‘Who would that be?’

  ‘Who do you think?’

  Venus Maria almost choked. ‘Not Loretta?’ she gasped.

  ‘The very same. And guess what his preference is?’

  ‘I can’t wait to hear!’

  ‘Ladies of a darker hue.’

  ‘Oh, come on, you’re kidding me.’

  ‘Would I kid the greatest kidder of all time?’

  Venus Maria grinned. She loved gossip as long as it wasn’t about her. ‘How do you know this?’ she asked.

  ‘Madame Loretta tells me everything,’ Ron said proudly. ‘I am her confidant and friend.’

  ‘Obviously she doesn’t know about your big mouth,’ Venus Maria teased.

  ‘Mmm… look who’s talking about a big mouth.’

  ‘Abigaile would skin Mickey if she ever found out.’

  ‘Can you imagine what Abigaile must be like between the sheets?’ Ron mused. ‘A laugh a minute no doubt. The poor man probably has to get his R and R elsewhere. Not to mention a blow-job.’ He strolled over to the fridge and took out a can of 7-Up. ‘By the way, have you heard from Emilio since you chucked him out?’

  ‘Why?’ Venus Maria frowned. ‘Should I have?’

  ‘He wasn’t exactly thrilled about your forcing him to leave. I have a feeling we might be reading your secrets somewhere.’

  Venus didn’t care to be reminded of her brother. He was a big boy. He could look after himself. She refused to feel responsible for him. ‘Don’t start that again,’ she groaned. ‘Emilio wouldn’t do that to me. I’m paying his rent, for God’s sake.’

  ‘Hmm… If they offered him enough money Emilio would probably do anything.’

  Venus Maria placed her hands on her hips. ‘What could he possibly tell them that the great unwashed doesn’t already know?’

  ‘About Major Mogul.’

  ‘He doesn’t know about Martin.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Positive.’ She grinned confidently. ‘Anyway, I’m not exactly shivering waiting to find out what Emilio has to say about me. He’s a deadhead. A loser.’

  ‘Emilio is your brother, dear. Speak kindly.’

  ‘He’s still a loser, and you know it.’

  ‘Is Mister New York hooked?’ Ron enquired, raising an eyebrow.

  She smiled. ‘Martin’s a very special man, and we have a very special relationship.’

  ‘Ah, yes,’ Ron agreed. ‘And thank God the newspapers don’t know about it, or even Emilio. Because if they did, you’d really be in deep shit.’

  ‘I was very careful when Emilio was around,’ she assured him. ‘He knows nothing.’

  Ron nodded sagely. ‘Keep it that way.’

  * * *

  Emilio Sierra and one of the editors of Truth and Fact met at Café Roma on Canon Drive. Emilio had dressed for the part. He wore an off-white jacket, white chinos, a cream shirt, and several heavy fake gold chains around his thick neck. His hair was slicked back. Unfortunately he was thirty pounds overweight, which rather spoiled the effect.

  Dennis Walla, the Australian reporter sent to meet him, slumped at a corner table slurping beer. He was a big man, also overweight, in his early forties, with bloodshot eyes, bags under them, and a ruddy complexion.

  Emilio stood at the door to the restaurant and surveyed the room.

  Dennis spotted him, thought it might be the so-called brother, and waved a copy of Truth and Fact in the air.

  Emilio swaggered over to his table.

  ‘Hello, mate,’ Dennis said in a strong Australian accent.

  Emilio sat down. ‘Truth and Fact?’ he asked.

  ‘The very same,’ Dennis replied, thinking to himself that this guy must be a real dolt if he had to ask. ‘And you’re Emilio Sierra?’

  Emilio’s brown eyes darted around the restaurant. He spotted two women he fancied. They were expensively dressed and obviously out on a shopping spree. Dennis caught him watching. ‘Nice class of tarts in here,’ he said. ‘Wouldn’t mind zipping up the back skirt of that one, eh?’

  Emilio licked his lips. ‘I got a hot story to sell,’ he announced.

  ‘Well, mate, that’s exactly why we’re here,’ Dennis said cheerfully, downing another healthy slug of beer. He peered across the table at Emilio. ‘You don’t look like your sister, do you?’

  ‘There’s a certain family resemblance,’ Emilio replied proudly, almost preening, but managing to control himself.

  ‘Are the two of you friendly?’ Dennis probed.

  ‘Of course we are,’ Emilio snapped. He hadn’t planned on enduring a third degree. ‘Why wouldn’t we be?’

  ‘Don’t get shirty with me, mate. You’re here to sell her dirty little secrets, aren’t you?’

  ‘I’m here to make money,’ Emilio corrected, as if that made everything all right.

  ‘Aren’t we all,’ replied Dennis sagely.

  One of the expensive-looking women got up and walked outside.

  Emilio whistled softly as she passed his table. ‘These Beverly Hills women,’ he mumbled under his breath.

  ‘I know what y’mean, mate,’ agreed Dennis. ‘They’ll get you hotter than a hamburger on a barbecue.’

  Two bikers swaggered into the restaurant. Emilio thought he recognized one of them as a famous actor. He decided he should get himself some biker gear, it would look good on him. He should also lose a few pounds. But who had the time? And who could make the effort? Venus Maria had her own personal trainer – it was all right for her, she could afford those kinds of luxuries. Besides, she had an investment in her body. She made money from it.

  In a way, he decided, she wasn’t so different from a hooker. They were both hawking sex.

  There was nothing wrong with him selling her s
ecrets, he thought self-righteously. Why shouldn’t he? He was her brother, after all, and she treated him like a leper. Putting him out of her house. Sticking him in some crummy apartment while she lived in luxury. Giving him a station wagon to drive. A station wagon! He should be sitting proud in a Ferrari or the latest Porsche at least. As her brother he had a certain standard to adhere to. People expected things.

  ‘Well,’ Dennis said, leaning back and belching not so discreetly. ‘What have you got to tell me about your sister that we don’t already know?’

  Emilio glanced around. He wasn’t sure he liked this man with the exceptionally loud mouth. Couldn’t he be a little more discreet and talk in a quieter tone?

  Emilio leaned close. ‘I don’t think this is the place.’

  ‘Listen, we’re not taking it any further than this until you tell me what you got for me,’ Dennis said loudly. ‘How do I even know you’re her brother? Do you have any proof?’

  Emilio had been expecting questions. He fished out his driving licence and handed it over.

  Dennis checked it out. ‘OK, OK, so your name is Sierra. Big pickings. What does that prove?’

  Emilio dived into his pocket again and came up with a picture of him and Venus Maria taken in Brooklyn. The early days. He thrust it at Dennis. ‘See?’

  Dennis glanced at the photo and then at Emilio. ‘OK, OK, I believe you.’

  ‘If I tell you what I know,’ Emilio said craftily, ‘how much will you pay me?’

  Dennis sighed wearily. It always got down to money. He was used to dealing with relatives of the stars. They all thought they’d been given a bad deal. This one was no different, and he’d get his bucks as long as he had something worthwhile to sell.

  ‘It depends on what you got,’ Dennis said.

  ‘She’s sleeping with a married man,’ Emilio blurted out. ‘How much is that worth?’

  ‘Who?’ Dennis asked.

  ‘Big time,’ Emilio said, lowering his voice. ‘Real big time. When I tell you it’ll blow you away. You’ll sell more copies of your magazine than you’ve ever sold before.’

  ‘Sounds good t’me,’ Dennis said, picking his teeth with the corner of a book of matches.

  Emilio was getting into it. ‘More than good,’ he promised.

  Dennis was intrigued. ‘So who is it?’

  Emilio backed off. ‘I’m not givin’ out his name, not until we fix a price an’ I get a cheque.’

  ‘We’ll have to work this one out,’ Dennis said. ‘No name, no loot.’

  Emilio scowled.

  ‘Come up with a name that means something, an’ if it’s worth anything to us we’ll give you a fair amount of moola. But you have to substantiate whatever you tell us. Do you understand what that means?’

  Emilio glared at him. ‘What do you think I am, an idiot?’

  Yes, Dennis wanted to reply, but he kept quiet. This had the smell of a good story. And there was nothing Truth and Fact liked better than a headline-busting sex-filled superstar and married man good story.

  Scandal. That was the name of the game. And nobody capitalized on scandal better than Truth and Fact.

  Chapter 36

  Lucky called Abe and told him that Harry Browning had been to see her and had his suspicions.

  Abe was silent for a moment before saying, ‘Sure, I remember Harry. The man’s a drunk. You be careful of him.’

  ‘Thanks a lot. What shall I do? We don’t want news of our deal leaking, do we?’

  ‘You’re not throwin’ him out of a job when you take over, are you?’ Abe asked.

  ‘There’s a lot of people I’ll fire,’ she replied. ‘So far he’s not one of them.’

  ‘Good,’ Abe said. ‘Leave it to me, girlie. I’ll handle it.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘I’ve got t’go now. My granddaughter’s payin’ me a duty visit.’

  Lucky knew what the visit was all about. Listening in on Mickey’s conversations she’d discovered the reason he’d met with Martin Swanson. The New York tycoon was interested in buying or gaining control of a movie studio, and from Mickey’s conversation with Ford Werne, whom he’d later confided in, it seemed one of the studios Martin was interested in was Panther.

  ‘I’m gonna get Abigaile to sit down with her grandfather. See if the old man shows any interest in selling out,’ Mickey had said to Ford. ‘When she speaks to him, she won’t tell him what they’re willing to pay. She’ll suggest he makes an agreement with me, then I’ll sell the studio. That way I can get myself a cushy management deal and I’ll be here forever. And so will you, Ford. You and I work well together.’

  ‘What if he doesn’t want to sell?’ Ford had asked.

  ‘Then I got a new plan. There’s another studio my connection is considering. If he buys, I’m there.’

  ‘What about Panther? You’d walk away?’

  ‘Hey,’ Mickey had said. ‘A deal is a deal is a deal. I treat the old man as good as he treats me, an’ he’s not treating me so good.’

  ‘You’d really go?’

  ‘Do rabbits fuck? But only if the deal is right, Ford. It all comes down to the deal.’

  The more Lucky listened to Mickey, the more she realized that here was a man with no conscience. His life consisted of business, his mistress, and brief trips home, although in the last couple of days he seemed to have added Madame Loretta to that list.

  Boogie had found out Madame Loretta was the biggest madam in town, running a high-class brothel high in the Hollywood Hills, supplying only beautiful young girls to the rich executives who could afford the exorbitant prices. Obviously Warner was not doing her job. Mickey was restless.

  Olive returned to Los Angeles and managed to hobble into the studio on crutches.

  Mickey, ever sympathetic, emerged from his office, glared at her, and said accusingly, ‘How could you do this to me?’

  ‘I’m so sorry, Mr. Stolli,’ Olive apologized, as if she could have helped it. She would have kissed his feet if she’d felt it would do any good.

  Mickey merely glared at her and stomped back into his office.

  ‘What happened with your fiancé? Did everything work out?’ Lucky felt obliged to ask.

  Sadly Olive shook her head. ‘It was not to be,’ she said, crestfallen. ‘I shouldn’t have gone.’

  ‘Bad break,’ Lucky said, trying to look suitably sympathetic.

  ‘These things happen.’ Olive glanced around the office, checking to make sure everything was in place. ‘How are you managing?’

  ‘Fine,’ Lucky said carefully.

  ‘Hmmm…’ Olive didn’t seem pleased. She’d rather hoped things would fall to pieces without her conscientious touch. ‘Mr. Stolli isn’t an easy man.’

  ‘I’m glad to say you taught me well. I seem to be making him happy.’

  Olive looked even more displeased. ‘I should be back in about six weeks,’ she said waspishly. ‘When my cast is off.’

  ‘Excellent.’ Lucky tried to make her feel good. ‘Everyone misses you.’

  Olive brightened. ‘What about your Mr. Stone? Aren’t you supposed to be working for him again?’

  ‘I discussed it with Mr. Stolli. He thought it best if I stayed here. Mr. Stone doesn’t mind. He’s extending his vacation.’

  After more small-talk, Olive finally left the office. Later, Lucky observed her having lunch in the commissary with Harry Browning. She hoped Abe had already talked to Harry and warned him not to open his mouth.

  With only one more week to go, Lucky felt she was coming to the end of a long prison sentence. It seemed amazing to her that some people actually led their lives like this. Day in, day out, being bossed around by a crude, irascible boss. Taking shit from all the people who visited his office. Putting up with rude sexist comments from the men. And this was while she’d made herself look as unattractive as possible. God knows what the other girls had to put up with, the secretaries in their miniskirts and low-cut blouses and long blond hair.

  Hmm… Ma
ybe they loved it. Maybe they’d been brainwashed into thinking getting hit on by randy married men was a compliment.

  Eddie Kane hadn’t been in for over a week. Lucky decided to pay a visit to Brenda and Talon Nails, his two faithful secretaries who stood guard downstairs, and find out what was going on.

  Now that she was officially known as Mickey Stolli’s personal assistant, most of the other secretaries in the building knew who she was.

  Brenda, as usual, was perusing magazines, while Talon Nails sat in the corner making personal phone calls.

  ‘Is Mr. Kane around?’ Lucky asked. ‘We haven’t seen him in a while. Mr. Stolli was asking.’

  ‘He’s sick,’ Brenda volunteered.

  ‘Flu,’ Talon Nails added, covering the mouthpiece of the phone with her hand.

  Lucky wondered if he’d had the crap beaten out of him by Carlo Bonnatti’s boys, or if this was merely an interim period while he struggled to get his act together and come up with a million bucks.

  ‘Perhaps you can let our office know when he returns,’ Lucky said, all business.

  Brenda put down her magazine. She had a snippy expression on her face. ‘May I ask you something?’

  Talon Nails hung up the phone and shot Brenda a warning look.

  ‘What?’ asked Lucky.

  ‘We were wondering,’ said Brenda belligerently.

  ‘She was wondering,’ interjected Talon Nails.

  ‘Bull!’ Brenda said sharply. ‘You were wondering just as much as I was.’

  ‘Can we get to the point?’ Lucky asked politely.

  ‘How come you snuck in out of nowhere an’ grabbed the key job around here?’ Brenda stared at her accusingly.

  What the hell, Lucky thought, would it hurt if she jumped out of character – just this once? The temptation was too much. ‘I slept with the boss,’ she answered, straight-faced – and made her exit.

  Brenda and Talon Nails were speechless.

  * * *

  As usual Abigaile insisted Tabitha accompany her when she went to visit her grandfather. Naturally Tabitha complained, but Abigaile was having none of it. ‘You’ll come with me and like it,’ she insisted firmly.

  ‘I’ll come with you, but I won’t like it,’ Tabitha retorted with a sulky glare.