The motel had been his idea. They’d sneaked off without telling anyone—highly unprofessional. Leslie knew the hair and makeup people would kill her when she returned to the set, because it would take at least an hour to put her back together before she could step in front of the camera looking picture-perfect again.
“Sweetie pie, wake up,” she purred, satisfaction coloring her breathy voice. “C’mon, we have to get going.”
Cooper opened one eye, lazily reaching for her breasts. Gorgeous, like the rest of her. He pushed them together, gently caressing both nipples with his fingertips.
She sighed with pleasure, her nipples hardening to his touch.
He rolled over on his back, positioning her on top of him, her long legs spread wide across his thighs. Very slowly he inserted two fingers, savoring her anticipation. “Lower yourself on me, baby,” he commanded, loving the fact that he could get her so hot and creamy. “Do it slowly.”
“But, Cooper…” she protested, knowing it was useless to say no. She would do exactly as he asked and he knew it.
“C’mon, baby,” he urged. “What’re you waiting for?”
She caught her breath as she felt him slip inside her. Flexing her muscles tight, she held him a willing captive.
“That’s it, baby, that’s it,” he moaned, grasping her ass and squeezing. “You’re sensational!”
7
“WHAT’S YOUR MOTHER LIKE?” TIN LEE ASKED.
Insane, Alex wanted to reply. Selfish. Mean. Self-obsessed. A tyrant. A nag. She drove my father to drink and an early death. And even now—with all my success and fame—she’s constantly putting me down.
“You’ll like her,” Alex said shortly. “She’s a fine woman.”
“I’m sure,” Tin Lee said. “After all, she raised you, Alex, and you are a wonderful man.”
Oh, Jesus. One good fuck and they think they know it all.
“I’m excited to meet her,” Tin Lee continued, clutching her tiny hands together. “It is quite an honor that you wish me to accompany you and your mother on her birthday.”
Baby, baby, if you only knew. I can’t be alone with dear old Mom. I can’t stand her company. When we’re alone together, we rip the flesh from each other’s throats. We’re a fucking horror show.
They were standing in the front hall of Alex’s Wilshire condo. He never took his girlfriends to his main residence—the modern house at the beach. That was private property not to be invaded by transient girlfriends.
Tin Lee was six weeks old in Alex Woods’s life. From Thailand, she was petite and pretty, an actress in her early twenties. She’d come in for an audition and he’d invited her out. He’d only made love to her once and had no real desire to do so again. She didn’t make him feel young, she made him feel old and decrepit. But tonight he desperately needed her as a buffer between him and his mother.
“I hope she likes me,” Tin Lee said anxiously.
“She’ll love you,” Alex assured her.
Right. And if you believe that, you’re dumber than I thought.
“Thank you,” Tin Lee said gratefully.
Oh, Jesus, Dominique would pick this poor girl to shreds. “Another gook, dear?” she’d ask when Tin Lee visited the ladies’ room. “Another Asian bar hooker? Why can’t you settle down with a decent American girl? You’re not getting any younger, Alex. You’re forty-seven, and look your age. Soon you’ll be losing your hair, and then who’ll have you?”
Sure, he knew exactly what his mother would say before the words left her brightly smeared crimson lips. She was going to be seventy-one years old and time had not mellowed her.
But what could he do? She was his mother and he was supposed to love her.
Morton Sharkey was a tall, slim, hawk-nosed man in his late fifties. He was also a brilliant lawyer and well-respected business advisor. He was the man who’d helped Lucky buy Panther, and even though he was a pessimist, his instincts were usually impeccable.
They had their fights. Ever since she’d bought Panther, he’d been carrying on about it being a losing proposition.
“Don’t sweat it, Morton,” she’d told him on numerous occasions. “I’ve built hotels in Vegas, run Dimitri’s shipping empire—I sure as hell know how to make a movie studio work.”
“The movie business is different,” Morton had warned, a stern note in his voice. “It’s the most creatively dishonest business there is.”
If he knew so much about the movie business, then surely he realized it took time to turn things around. Besides, when she’d sold off 60 percent at his insistence, she’d practically recouped her original investment. So what was he so worried about? Everything was under control.
Morton listened as she filled him in on her meeting with the Japanese bankers. “If this merchandising deal goes through,” she said, “it’ll raise plenty. And that’s exactly what we need to keep the banks happy. That, and our two hit movies.”
“Good,” Morton said.
“I thought you were going to be at the meeting,” Lucky added, noticing that Morton seemed to be somewhat preoccupied.
“I got held up.”
“Shouldn’t wear a Rolex,” she joked.
He didn’t get it.
“I’m visiting Lennie this weekend. When I’m back we’ll discuss everything. If the Japanese deal is a go, and our two movies keep performing, I think we’re finally in excellent shape, don’t you?”
He cleared his throat. “Yes, Lucky.”
There was something wrong with Morton today. She hoped he wasn’t going through some bizarre midlife crisis. He acted as if he couldn’t wait to get out of her office.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” he countered in a defensive way.
“I’m only asking.”
Morton jumped to his feet. “Got a feeling I’m coming down with the flu.”
“Bed rest and liquids,” Lucky said sympathetically. “Oh, yeah, and Nate ’n Al’s chicken soup.”
“Have a nice weekend, Lucky.”
“I plan to!”
Morton Sharkey left Panther in his pale beige XJS Jaguar convertible—his personal salute to middle age. He drove two blocks before pulling over to the side of the street and speaking furtively into his car phone. “Donna?” he questioned hoarsely when a woman answered.
“Yes.”
“We’re nearly there. You’ll have what you want shortly.”
“Make sure it happens as soon as possible.”
Click. She hung up without another word.
He’d met some ice queens in his time, but this one took the prize. She acted like she was ruler of the whole goddamn planet. He hated her attitude. Most of all he hated that she had something on him.
How could he have been so foolish?
How could he, Morton Sharkey, have gotten himself caught in the oldest trap of all?
Morton Sharkey, married, with two grown children, a well-respected member of the business community, a family man with excellent values and a place on the board of several prestigious charity committees. All his life he’d worked hard and given back, helping others less fortunate than himself. His wife, Candice, was still a very attractive woman. More than that, she was a caring, faithful wife, and in twenty-six years of marriage he’d only strayed twice.
Until Sara.
Seventeen-year-old Sara with the long red hair and skinny white thighs and bitten nails and smart mouth and expressive lips and tiny breasts and tangerine pubic hair and…
Oh, God—he could go on and on about Sara. She was the bittersweet dessert of his life, and even now, in spite of what had taken place, he still lusted for her.
Sara was younger than his daughter.
Sara was a free spirit.
Sara was a would-be actress.
Sara had accepted twelve thousand dollars to set him up.
And still he loved her.
Or obsessed about her.
It didn’t matter which, beca
use there was no way he was prepared to give her up.
What was that expression he’d heard so many times?
Ah, yes…There’s no fool like an old fool.
How very true.
And yet…when he was with Sara, enveloped by her soft young flesh and wraparound legs, enjoying their fantasies together, nothing else mattered. Not even blackmail.
He hadn’t wanted to betray Lucky. He’d been given no choice.
Donna Landsman had promised to destroy him if he didn’t.
Lucky’s house in Malibu was set back from the ocean, with a clear view of the coastline. It was a comfortable Mediterranean-style house, filled with simple rattan furniture and plenty of books, paintings, and objects she and Lennie had collected together. They’d both decided this was the perfect spot to raise children.
She arrived home just in time to catch little Maria toddling around the living room, looking adorable in a cute orange jumpsuit. Sweeping her daughter up in her arms, she swung her high in the air. Maria giggled uncontrollably—exactly like her mother, she craved action.
“She wouldn’t go to bed until she saw you,” explained Cee Cee, Maria’s pretty black nanny.
“Wouldn’t go to bed, huh?” Lucky teased, tickling her daughter until Maria screamed with even more excitement. When she quieted down, Lucky kissed her on the forehead and said, “Mommy’s going away for a few days, so you’ve got to be a very good girl and let Cee Cee look after you nicely.”
“Mommy go,” Maria said, wriggling out of Lucky’s arms and proceeding to race unsteadily around the room. “Mommy, GO GO GO GO!”
“Mommy go, but I’ll be back soon,” Lucky assured her.
“Good Mommy,” Maria crooned, running over and stroking Lucky’s face with her soft baby hands. “Nice Mommy. Mommy good girl.”
The joy of having such wonderful children was overpowering. After tucking Maria safely into bed, she crept in to check on baby Gino, asleep in his cot with his tiny thumb stuffed firmly in his mouth.
Watching her son sleep, she realized that moments like this made everything worthwhile.
She went into her bedroom, checked her weekend bag, then grabbed a quick snack in the kitchen before calling her father and telling him about Alex Woods. “He’s written a fantastic script,” she said enthusiastically. “Very realistic. Can’t wait for you to read it.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Gino said gruffly. “I’ll look at it, meet the guy, maybe give him an education, huh?”
“How about we come down to Palm Springs at the end of next week?” Lucky suggested, nibbling on a chocolate cookie.
“You’re comin’ with him?”
“Well, yeah. I’m not leaving Alex alone with you, you’ll frighten the crap out of him, then he won’t make his movie at my studio.”
Gino chuckled. “Are you sayin’ he’s a chickenshit?”
“I don’t know him that well.”
“Tell ya what, kid, I’ll fill you in if he’s got balls.”
“Gee, thanks!”
As soon as she put the phone down, it rang again.
“Sweetheart!” said Lennie, calling long-distance.
Four years of marriage and her heart still jumped when she heard his voice. “Lennie!” she said, smiling broadly. “I’ve been trying to reach you all day.”
He chuckled. “Here I am, babe. Bored and horny.”
She laughed softly. “Don’t try and sweet-talk me with your romantic come-ons.”
“Why not? You’re so easy.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“How’s everything going?”
“Usual problems, nothing I can’t deal with.” He paused. “I need you, Lucky. Right here next to me.”
“I’m leaving for the airport any moment,” she assured him.
“I miss you so much, sweetheart. It’s not the same when you aren’t around.”
“I miss you too, Lennie,” she said softly. “So do the kids. Maria runs back and forth all day chanting ‘Daddy! Daddy!’ It’s her new mantra.”
“How’s her walking?”
“Impressive.”
“Takes after her mommy, huh?” He paused for another moment. “Sweetheart, you’re sure you want to do this? Fly all those hours just to spend two days with me?”
“Ha!” she exclaimed. “Try stopping me.”
“No escape, huh?” he joked.
“My husband—the comedian.”
“Yeah, and don’t you love it.”
“I love you,” she murmured.
“Love you, too. Kiss the kids, tell ’em Daddy’s thinking about them.”
“How about my kiss?”
“You’ll get yours in person.”
She gave a low laugh, anticipating their time together. “Ohh…baby, baby, that’ll make the trip worthwhile.”
“I’ll be at the airport to meet you. Fly safely.”
“If you say so, I will.” She hung up with a big smile on her face.
Her limousine was on time, driven by Boogie, her longtime bodyguard, private investigator, and driver. An ex-Vietnam vet, Boogie was protective and smart; Lucky trusted him implicitly.
They rode in companionable silence to the airport—Boogie never spoke unless it was absolutely necessary.
The limo dropped her next to the Panther Lear jet. She didn’t feel like talking, but the pilot insisted on giving her a full weather report. And the steward, a mop-top gay guy, regaled her with some outrageous gossip he’d recently heard about Leslie Kane and Cooper Turner. Like she hadn’t had an earful at lunch with Venus. Why were people so fascinated with boring, mindless gossip?
As the plane took off, she leaned back, closing her eyes.
A weekend with Lennie…she couldn’t wait.
8
“HI, GORGEOUS,” COOPER TURNER SAID, ENTERING Venus Maria’s all-white, luxurious bathroom.
She was sitting at the vanity, brushing her hair. He sauntered up behind her, slid his hands onto her breasts, tweaked her nipples, and kissed the back of her platinum-blond head.
She didn’t move a muscle. This was her show, and she’d run it her way. “How’d work go today?” she asked casually.
“Pretty good,” Cooper replied, walking over and peering at himself in another mirror. “Do I look tired?” he asked, turning back for her approval.
“Hmm…a little bit,” she replied, knowing this would drive him crazy. Cooper thrived on compliments.
“You really think so?” he said, frowning.
“It can’t be helped, baby,” she said, falsely sympathetic. “You’re working hard. I mean, my God—you’re at the studio morning, noon, and night. I bet you hardly have time for lunch. What did you eat today?”
Pussy, he was tempted to reply. But he controlled himself. It wouldn’t do for Venus to find out he was in bed with Leslie Kane. His wife had a fierce temper, and Leslie was merely a temporary distraction.
“Uh…just a salad,” he said vaguely. “What about you?”
“Lunch with Lucky.”
“How’s she doing?”
“Great. Panther’s financing the next Alex Woods movie.”
“Jesus!” Cooper exclaimed. “Alex answering to Lucky. They’ll kill each other.”
Venus continued brushing her hair. “Do you know him?”
“We’ve spent a few out-of-control nights together. Alex is a wild man.”
“Mmm…” Venus said, smiling slyly, going for the dig. “With one of the biggest dicks in Hollywood.”
She had Cooper’s attention. “How do you know?” he asked quizzically.
“’Cause I know everything.”
Cooper was fully confident of her answer. “Bigger than mine?”
“You’re so conceited.”
He grinned. “No, just realistic, honey, just realistic.”
Yeah, Venus thought, let’s see how realistic you’ll feel after we have our little confrontation at Leslie’s dinner tonight. Let’s see how you’ll handle that.
She’d taken her time dressing for the party, discarding several outfits before settling on a drop-dead Hervé Leger black wrap dress and very high Manolo Blahnik pumps. She knew she looked hot with no bra and her honey-blond hair casually caressing her shoulders.
It was her intention that tonight somebody was going to discover her, because she was determined that any moment would be the start of her modeling career.
Nona’s parents greeted her at the door, startled at her transformation. They remembered Brigette as a cute, cuddly blond. Now this statuesque beauty marched into their party full of sass and attitude. She paused at the entrance to the living room.
“My dear, you look wonderful,” Nona’s eccentric mother said admiringly.
“So do you, Effie,” Brigette replied, her bright blue eyes scanning the party, searching for the right people to impress.
“Nona tells me you’re modeling now,” said Nona’s father, Yul, a tall, imposing man.
“Uh…yes.”
“That must be very exciting.”
“It is,” she lied.
“Well,” Yul said, leading her through the enormous room crammed with an eclectic group of guests. “I’m sure you’ll see dozens of people you know.”
“Thanks, I’m sure I will,” she said, looking around. The truth was, she didn’t know anyone. She couldn’t even see Nona. Great. She’d made this fabulous entrance and now she was standing there like the town idiot.
For a moment she panicked, then she thought about how Lucky would handle a situation like this—Lucky, who was always in control. Think Lucky! Think Lucky! Head tilted high, she headed for the bar.
“Brigette?”
The first person she bumped into would have to be Paul, Nona’s brother and her ex-crush. She hadn’t seen him for at least a couple of years. He looked different. Gone was the long hair, unshaven chin, and single gold earring. Now he wore a respectable blue blazer, gray pants, white shirt, and a conservative tie. As if this weren’t enough, his hair was cut extremely short. He was a preppy nightmare!
Vendetta: Lucky's Revenge Page 7
