by Mario Puzo
Dante said suddenly, “Is she getting worse?”
Giorgio shrugged. “She can’t forget the past. She holds on to old stories that she should forget. The Don always tells, ‘The world is what it is and we are what we are,’ his old line. But she cannot accept it.” He gave Dante an affectionate hug. “Now let’s just forget this little talk. I hate doing this stuff.” As if he had not been specifically instructed by the Don.
After Dante left on Monday morning, Giorgio reported the whole conversation to the Don. The Don sighed. “What a lovely little boy he was. What could have happened?”
Giorgio had one great virtue. He spoke his mind when he really wanted to, even to his father, the great Don himself. “He talked too much to his mother. And he has bad blood.” They were both silent for a time after this.
“And when Pippi comes back, what do we do with your grandson?” Giorgio asked.
“Despite everything, I think Pippi should retire,” the Don said. “Dante must have his chance to be foremost, after all he is a Clericuzio. Pippi will be an advisor to his son’s Bruglione in the West. If necessary he can always advise Dante. There is no one better versed in those matters. As he proved with the Santadio. But he should end his years in peace.”
Giorgio muttered sarcastically, “The Hammer Emeritus.” But the Don pretended not to understand the joke.
He frowned and said to Giorgio, “Soon you will have my responsibilities. Remember always that the task is that the Clericuzio must one day stand with society, that the Family must never die. No matter how hard the choice.”
And so they left. But it was to be two years before Pippi returned from Sicily, the killing of Ballazzo receding into the bureaucratic mist. A mist manufactured by the Clericuzio.
BOOK V
Las Vegas
Hollywood
Quogue
CHAPTER 7
CROSS DE LENA received his sister, Claudia, and Skippy Deere in the executive penthouse suite of the Xanadu Hotel. Deere was always impressed by the difference between the two siblings. Claudia, not quite pretty and yet so likable, and Cross, so conventionally handsome with a slim but athletic body. Claudia, so naturally amiable, and Cross, so rigidly affable and distant. There was a difference between amiable and affable, Deere thought. One was in the genes, the other, learned.
Claudia and Skippy Deere sat on the couch, Cross sat opposite them. Claudia explained about Boz Skannet and then leaned forward and said, “Cross, please listen to me. This isn’t only business. Athena is my dearest friend. And she is truly one of the best people I have ever known. She helped me when I needed help. And this is the most important favor I’ve ever asked you to do. Help Athena out of this fix and I’ll never ask you for anything again.” Then she turned to Skippy Deere. “You tell Cross the money part.”
Deere always took the offensive before he asked a favor. He said to Cross, “I’ve been coming to your hotel over ten years, how come you never give me one of the Villas?”
Cross laughed, “They’ve always been full.”
Deere said, “Throw somebody out.”
“Sure,” Cross said. “When I get a profit statement from one of your pictures and when I see you lay down a ten-grand bet at baccarat.”
Claudia said, “I’m his sister and I never got one of the Villas. Stop fucking around, Skippy, and lay out the money problem.”
When Deere finished, Cross, reading off a pad on which he had made notes, said, “Let me get this straight. You and the Studio lose fifty million in cash, plus the two hundred million in projected profit, if this Athena doesn’t go back to work. She won’t go back to work because she’s so afraid of an ex-husband called Boz Skannet. You can buy him off but she still won’t go back to work because she doesn’t believe he can be stopped. Is that the whole thing?”
“Yeah,” Deere said. “We promised her she’d be protected better than the president of the United States while she’s making this picture. We have surveillance on this guy Skannet even now. We have her guarded twenty-four hours. She still won’t come back to work.”
“I don’t really see the problem,” Cross said.
“This guy comes from a powerful political family in Texas,” Deere said. “And he’s a really tough guy, I tried to get our security people to lean on him . . .”
“Who’s your security agency?” Cross asked.
“Pacific Ocean Security,” Deere said.
“Why are you talking to me?” Cross asked.
“Because your sister said you could help,” Deere said. “It wasn’t my idea.”
Cross said to his sister, “Claudia, what made you think I could help?”
Claudia’s face twisted up in discomfort. “I’ve seen you solve problems in the past, Cross. You’re very persuasive, and you always seem to come up with a solution.” She smiled her innocent grin. “Besides you’re my older brother, I have faith in you.”
Cross sighed and said, “Same old bullshit,” but Deere noticed the easy affection between the two.
The three of them sat silently for a while, then Deere said, “Cross, we came here as a long shot. But if you’re looking for another investment, I have a project coming up that’s very, very good.”
Cross looked at Claudia, then at Deere, and said thoughtfully, “Skippy, I want to meet this Athena and after that maybe I can solve all your problems.”
“Great,” Claudia said, relieved. “We can all fly out tomorrow.” She hugged him.
“OK,” Deere said. He was already trying to figure out how he could get Cross to take some of his loss on the Messalina film.
The next day they flew into Los Angeles. Claudia had talked Athena into seeing them, then Deere had taken the phone. That conversation had convinced him that Athena would never return to the picture. He was infuriated by this, but he diverted himself on the plane by scheming how he would get Cross to give him one of his fucking Villas when he visited Vegas again.
The Malibu Colony, where Athena Aquitane lived, was a section of beach that was located about forty minutes north of Beverly Hills and Hollywood. The Colony held a little over a hundred dwellings, each one of which was worth from three to six million dollars but looked very ordinary and ramshackle from the outside. Each house was enclosed by fencing and sometimes ornate entry gates.
The Colony itself could only be entered through a private road guarded by security men in a large hut who controlled the swinging barriers. The security personnel screened all visitors by phone or checklist. Residents had special car stickers that were changed every week. Cross recognized this as a “nuisance” security barrier, not a serious one.
But the Pacific Ocean Security men around Athena’s house were another matter. They were uniformed, armed, and looked to be in very tough physical condition.
They entered Athena’s house from the sidewalk parallel to the beach. It had its own additional security controlled by Athena’s secretary, who buzzed them in from a small guest house nearby.
There were two more men with Pacific Ocean uniforms, and another at the door of the house. Passing the guest house, they walked through a long garden filled with flowers and lemon trees, which scented the salty air. They finally arrived at the main house which looked out over the Pacific Ocean itself.
A tiny South American maid let them in and led them through a huge kitchen into a living room that seemed to be filled with the ocean filtered through the huge windows. A room with bamboo furniture, glass tables, and deep-sea-green sofas. The maid led them through this room to a glass door that opened onto a terrace overlooking the ocean, a wide, long terrace that had chairs and tables and an exercise bike that glittered like silver. Beyond all of this was the ocean itself, blue-green, slanting to the sky.
Cross De Lena, when he saw Athena on that terrace, felt a shock of fear. She was far more exquisite than on film, which was very rare. Film could not capture her coloring, the depth of her eyes or their shade of green. Her body moved as a great athlete’s moved, with a physical gra
ce that seemed effortless. Her hair, cut into a rough, golden crop that would have been ugly on any other woman, crowned her beauty. She was wearing a powder-blue sweat suit that should have concealed the shape of her body but did not. Her legs were long in proportion to her torso, her feet were bare, there was no polish on her toenails.
But it was the look of intelligence on her face, the focusing of attention, that impressed him most.
She greeted Skippy Deere with the customary kiss on the cheek, embraced Claudia with a warm hug, and shook hands with Cross. Her eyes reflected the ocean waters behind her. “Claudia always talks about you,” she said to Cross. “Her handsome, mysterious brother who can make the earth stop when he wants to.” She laughed, a completely natural laugh, not the laugh of a woman frightened.
Cross felt a wonderful delight, there was no other word. Her voice was throaty, pitched low, a bewitching musical instrument. The ocean framed her, the fine-planed cheekbones, the lips unadorned, generous and the color of red wine, the radiating intelligence. Flashing through Cross’s mind was one of Gronevelt’s short lectures. Money can make you safe in this world, from everything except a beautiful woman.
Cross had known many beautiful women in Vegas, as many as in Los Angeles and Hollywood. But in Vegas the beauty was beauty as of itself with only a slight degree of talent; many of those beauties had failed in Hollywood. In Hollywood, beauty was married to talent and, less often, artistic greatness. Both cities attracted beauty from all over the world. Then there were the actresses who became Bankable Stars.
These were the women who in addition to their charm and beauty had a certain childlike innocence and courage. A curiosity in their craft that could be raised to an art form, which gave them a certain dignity. Though beauty was commonplace in both cities, in Hollywood Goddesses arose and received the adoration of the world. Athena Aquitane was one of those rare Goddesses.
Cross said coolly to Athena, “Claudia told me you are the most beautiful woman in the world.”
Athena said, “What did she say about my brain?”
She leaned over the balcony of the deck and stuck one leg in back of her in some sort of exercise. What would be an affectation in another woman seemed perfectly natural with her. And indeed throughout the meeting she continued doing exercises, bending her body forward and backward, stretching a leg over the railing, her arms pantomiming some of her words.
Claudia said, “Thena, you’d never think we were related, right?”
Skippy Deere said, “Never.”
But Athena looked at them and said, “You both look very much alike,” and Cross could see she was serious.
Claudia said, “Now you know why I love her.”
Athena stopped her motions for a moment and said to Cross, “They tell me you can help. I don’t see how.”
Cross tried not to stare at her, tried not to look at the flaming-sun gold of her hair set against the green behind her. He said, “I’m good at persuading people. If it’s true that the only thing keeping you from going back to work is your husband, maybe I can talk him into a deal.”
“I don’t believe in Boz keeping his deals,” Athena said. “The Studio has already talked a deal.”
Deere said in what was for him a subdued voice, “Athena you really have nothing to worry about. I promise you.” But for some reason he was unconvincing even to himself. He watched them all carefully. He knew how Athena overwhelmed men, actresses were the most charming people in the world when they wanted to be. But Deere detected no change in Cross.
“Skippy just won’t accept that I can leave movies,” Athena said. “It’s so important to him.”
“And not to you?” Deere said angrily.
Athena gave a long, cool look. “It was once. But I know Boz. I have to disappear, I have to start a new life.” She gave them a mischievous smile. “I can get along anywhere.”
“I can make an agreement with your husband,” Cross said. “And I can guarantee that he’ll abide by it.”
Deere said confidently, “Athena, in the movie business, there are hundreds of cases like this, harassment of stars by crazies. We have foolproof procedures. There really is no danger.”
Athena continued her exercises. One leg flew improbably above her head. “You don’t know Boz,” she said. “I do.”
“Is Boz the only reason you won’t go back to work?” Cross asked.
“Yes,” Athena said. “He’ll track me forever. You can protect me until I finish the picture but then what?”
Cross said. “I’ve never failed to make a deal. I’ll give him whatever he wants.”
Athena stopped her exercises. For the first time, she looked Cross directly in the eye. “I’ll never believe in any deal Boz makes,” she said. She turned away in dismissal.
Cross said, “I’m sorry I wasted your time.”
“I didn’t waste my time,” Athena said cheerfully. “I did my exercises.” Then she looked directly into his eyes. “I do appreciate your trying. It’s just that I’m trying to look fearless like in one of my movies. Really, I’m scared to death.” Then she quickly regained her composure and said, “Claudia and Skippy are always talking about your famous Villas. If I come to Vegas, would you give me one to hide out in?”
Her face was grave, but her eyes were dancing. She was showing off her power to Claudia and Skippy. She obviously expected Cross to say yes, if merely out of gallantry.
Cross smiled at her. “The Villas are usually taken,” he said. He paused for a moment then said, with an utmost seriousness that startled the others, “But if you come to Vegas, I can guarantee no one will harm you.”
Athena spoke to him directly. “Nobody can stop Boz. He doesn’t care if he gets caught. Whatever he does he’ll do in public so everybody can see.”
Claudia spoke out impatiently, “But why?”
Athena said laughingly, “Because he loved me once. And because my life turned out better than his.” She looked at them all a moment. “Isn’t it a shame,” she said, “that two people in love can grow to hate each other?”
At this moment the meeting was interrupted by the South American maid, who was leading a man onto the terrace.
The man was tall, handsome, and formally dressed with a touch-all-bases style: an Armani suit, Turnbull & Asser shirt, Gucci tie, and Bally shoes. He immediately murmured his apologies. “She didn’t tell me you were busy, Miss Aquitane,” he said. “I guess she got scared by my shield.” He showed her the badge. “I just came to get some information on that incident the other night. I can wait. Or come back.”
His words were polite but his look was bold. He glanced at the other two men and said, “Hello, Skippy.”
Skippy Deere looked angry. “You can’t talk to her without a PR and legal person around,” he said. “You know better than that, Jim.”
The detective offered his hand to Claudia and Cross and said, “Jim Losey.”
They knew who he was. The most famous detective in Los Angeles, whose exploits had even been the basis of a mini-series. He also had appeared in very minor roles in films, and he was on Deere’s Christmas gift and card lists. So Deere was emboldened to say, “Jim, give me a call later and I’ll arrange a meeting with Miss Aquitane properly.”
Losey smiled at him amiably and said, “Sure, Skippy.”
But Athena said, “I may not be here much longer. Why not ask me now? I don’t mind.”
Losey would have been suave except for that constant wariness in his eyes, an alertness of his body that many years of crime work had planted in him.
He said, “In front of them?”
Athena’s body was no longer in motion, and she had erased all her charm when she said quietly, “I trust them far more than I do the police.”
Losey took that in stride. It was familiar. “I just wanted to ask you why you dropped the charges against your husband. Did he threaten you in any way?”
“Oh, no,” Athena said scornfully. “He just threw water in my face in front of a bil
lion people and yelled ‘acid.’ The next day he was out on bail.”
“OK, OK,” Losey said, and held up his arms in a placating gesture. “I just thought I could help.”
Deere said, “Jim, give me a call later.”
This raised an alarm bell in Cross. He looked thoughtfully at Deere, avoided looking at Losey. And Losey avoided looking at him.
Losey said, “I will.” He saw Athena’s handbag on one of the chairs and picked it up. “I saw this on Rodeo Drive,” he said. “Two thousand dollars.” He looked directly at Athena and said with a contemptuous politeness, “Maybe you can explain it to me, why anyone would pay that kind of money for something like this?”
Athena’s face was like stone, she moved out of the frame of the ocean. She said, “That’s an insulting question. Get out of here.”
Losey bowed to her and left. He was grinning. He had made the impression he wanted.
“So you’re human after all,” Claudia said. She put her arm around Athena’s shoulders. “Why did you get so mad?”
“I wasn’t mad,” Athena said. “I was sending him a message.”
After the three visitors left, they drove from Malibu to Nate and Al’s in Beverly Hills. Deere insisted to Cross that it was the only place west of the Rockies where you could get edible pastrami, corned beef, and Coney Island–style hot dogs.
As they ate Deere said reflectively, “Athena won’t get back to work.”
“I always knew that,” Claudia said. “What I don’t get is why she got so mad at that detective.”
Deere laughed and said to Cross, “Did you get it?”
“No,” Cross said.
Deere said, “One of the great legends of Hollywood is how anybody can get to fuck the stars. Now, male stars it’s true, that’s why you see the girls hanging around locations and the Beverly Wilshire Hotel. Female stars, not so much . . . a guy works on their house, a carpenter, a gardener, can get lucky, maybe she gets horny, it happened to me. Stunt men score good and other guys on the crew can get lucky. But that’s fucking below the line and hurts female stars in their careers. Unless, of course, they are Superstars. Us old guys who run the show don’t like that. Hell, doesn’t money and power mean anything?” He grinned at them. “Now, you take Jim Losey. He’s a big, handsome guy. He really kills tough guys, he’s glamorous to people who live in a make-believe world. He knows that. He uses it. So he doesn’t beg a star, he intimidates her. That’s why he made that crack. In fact that’s why he came out. It was his excuse to meet Athena and he figured he could take a shot. That insulting question was a declaration he wanted to fuck her. And Athena froze him out.”
