Lady Boss (1990) Page 6

  The solitude was enjoyable, giving her a great feeling of peace.

  Being alone had never bothered her. Apart from her brother, Dario, she'd spent most of her childhood by herself and gotten quite used to it.

  Thinking about Dario made her shiver. Once they'd been each other's lifelines, sharing every secret until she was sent away to boarding school. And then, after she was expel ed, Gino had forced her into an arranged marriage with Senator Peter Richmond's dumb son, Craven.

  Gino had thought he was doing her a big favor.

  Ha! Some big favor. She'd shown him.

  She remembered the first love of her life--Marco.

  Gorgeous Marco, with the dark, curly hair, Mediterranean features, muscular build, and brooding good looks.

  Ah, Marco . . . she'd loved him when she was fifteen, and bedded him when she was twenty-two. He'd first worked for Gino as a bodyguard, and risen to casino manager.

  When Marco was brutal y gunned down, she had held him in her arms and felt his life slip away. Taking revenge was satisfying. Above al , she was a Santangelo. She was Gino's daughter.

  Gino had always labeled her a wild child. Now she was al grown up and had everything she'd ever wanted.

  Including Lennie. He made her laugh. He was her rock, her steadying influence. He was funny and warm and loving.

  She felt safe and protected when they were together.

  Lennie gave her more strength than she'd ever believed possible, and she loved him for it. That was why she wanted to give him something back--and what better prize than a movie studio? The wind whipped the pins from her hair and it flew around her face.

  Time to head back.

  There was that split-second, almost automatic masculine reaction. Why not? Who's going to know? Then Lennie removed Cristi's enthusiastic hand, changed gears, and said, "Thanks, but no thanks. I'm not interested."

  Obviously this was the first time in her young and delectable life Cristi had been turned down. To her credit she took it bravely. "My car's at Joey's," she said without losing a beat.

  Lennie swung the Feri-ari left on Sunset and again at Laurel Canyon. They rode in silence.

  Joey owned a large house halfway up the hil --a ramshackle place with a breathtaking view and hidden snakes slithering around in the bushes.

  When they drew into the driveway Lennie leaned across and opened her door. "Don't take it personal y," he said, feeling that some acknowledgment was necessary. "I'm a very happily married man."

  Cristi was not at al put out. "Why should I? You'l change your mind," she replied, confident and pretty as she climbed out of his car and walked toward the front door, turning for a final wave, her pale hair catching the light on the porch.

  Hey, before Lucky, things might have been different.

  Now he couldn't wait to get home and cal his beautiful wife in New York.

  Lucky turned around and began the long jog back. The beach was stil deserted. The waves continued to hit the sand with monotonous regularity.

  With a shudder she wondered what was out there hiding in the vast, dark ocean. A recent news report had mentioned sharks venturing closer inland. Not that they were going to come sliding out of the sea onto the beach, but suddenly she felt an overwhelming desire to hurry back to the safety of the house.

  The Ferrari made a noise that expensive Italian sports cars are never supposed to make, and spluttered to a standstil in the middle of Sunset, opposite the Roxy, where groups of stoned, long-haired rock fans waited for the next Heavy Metal concert.

  "Shit!" Lennie muttered. He needed this like he needed the clap.

  A patrol car cruised by and pul ed up in front of him. The policeman who emerged was better-looking than Tom Sel eck and wore his uniform wel . He exhibited plenty of attitude as he sashayed toward Lennie. Big cock with a big gun. An unbeatable combination.

  "We got a little problem here?" the cop drawled, a Southern import.

  "Nothing that a new engine won't fix," Lennie replied.

  "Aren't you--?" The cop hesitated for a moment, determined to get it right. "Lennie Golden!" he announced triumphantly. "You're some funny guy." Happiness is finding a policeman who's a fan, Lennie thought. Sometimes it was just the opposite, and they broke your bal s because of your celebrity.

  "I guess we gotta get you outta here before the crowds discover you," the cop said, doing nothing except to stand by the stal ed car while a traffic jam built up in the lane behind them and impatient horns began to blast.

  "That would be nice," Lennie agreed.

  "I came out to L. A. ten years ago," the cop continued conversational y. "Wanted to be an actor. I guess it didn't work out." He fingered his holstered gun. "Being a cop ain't al that bad. Sometimes I feel like an actor. Women real y get off on the uniform." He smiled, pleased with himself.

  "Y'know what I mean?"

  "I know," Lennie said amicably, wishing this schmuck would get his shit together.

  "I bet you got a lotta women chasin' you," the cop said with a lewd wink. "Famous ones, huh?"

  Lennie ignored the comment. "Do we phone the Automobile Club or what?" he asked, trying not to sound too irritable.

  The policeman ran a stubby finger along the shiny part of the Ferrari. "Any time you got a part for a real live cop y'can cal on Marian Wolff," he said casual y. Lennie frowned. "Who?"

  "Marian Wolff. That's me. That's my name. Y'see, my mom figured if they could give the name of Marian to John Wayne when he was born, then it was O. K. enough for me.

  An' y'know something? My old mom was right. I kinda like the name Marian. It's got character. What d'you think?"

  Lennie shook his head, already working this whole routine into some future comedy shtick. Not that he did stand-up anymore--he'd passed on that a long time ago.

  But this could be a funny set piece for Letterman or Carson.

  An older policeman emerged from the patrol car--a grizzled guy with a mean stomp to his walk. "Marian," he yel ed gruffly, "what the fuck is goin' on here? Ya want the whole of Sunset to grind to a fuckin' stop or fuckin' what?

  Get this Italian piece of shit tin outta here."

  "Wal y," the first cop announced proudly, "this here's Lennie Golden."

  The old cop spat on the ground in disgust, completely unimpressed. "Marian," he said wearily, "who gives a flying fuck?"

  It occurred to Lucky that Lennie might be out screwing around. The thought had never entered her mind before because she knew they had something very special, and it was not to be put at risk by either of them. Jealousy was an emotion she wasn't comfortable with. However, she couldn't ignore the fact that Lennie was a very attractive man, a very famous man, a very fuckable man, and she'd been neglecting him the last. few weeks because she'd been so involved in putting the Panther Studios deal in place.

  "What if" thoughts kept creeping into her mind. What if Lennie was with another woman . ? What if there was more than one woman... . What if . . . ?

  The telephone interrupted her reverie. "Yes," she answered sharply.

  "Who's this?"

  "Who's this?"

  "Lucky?"

  "Lennie?"

  And together they both yel ed, "WHERE ARE YOU?"

  It was almost an hour before his cab pul ed up in front of the house.

  Lucky raced out of the front door to greet him, throwing herself into his arms.

  He hugged her tight and kissed her, a long, lingering soul kiss that excited the entranced cabdriver no end.

  "Pay the man," Lucky said at last, extracting herself from his arms. "Then come in the house, lock the door, activate the answering machine, and do not speak to another human being for twenty-four hours." The cabdriver leered. "Sounds good t'me."

  "Goodbye," Lennie said, seeing the leering man on his way.

  And so they fel into bed immediately, each craving the touch and sound and smel of the other.

  No conversation. First, sex. Fast, pure, exciting lust took over as he remembered her smooth body
, her silky skin, the tangle of her black hair, and the wildness of her lips.

  She lost herself in his rhythm, luxuriating in the passion of his arms and legs and body language, holding him in every way, a captive to her strong desire.

  "I love you, lady," he said as they rode the crest.

  "And I love you, husband," . she managed, before losing herself in an orgasm that seemed to last an hour.

  Later, in bed, there was warmed-up Indonesian lamb roast with thick peanut-butter sauce and Chinese pea pods.

  They ate with their fingers from paper plates, tearing at the meat, dipping it into the creamy sauce, feeding each other and giggling like a couple of wired teenagers.

  "I never want to leave this bed," Lennie said happily.

  "This is it, lady. This is it."

  "We waited a long time to get here," Lucky murmured softly.

  "We sure did. A lot of time wasted, huh?"

  "Not wasted, Lennie. We're together now, and we'l be together forever. We both know that, don't we?"

  Taking her face in his hands, he kissed her slowly and passionately.

  She stroked his chest, delicate fingers touching his nipples, drifting down toward her real objective.

  To her delight he responded immediately.

  "I'd hate to have met you when you were nineteen," she teased. "I bet you were the horniest guy in the neighborhood!"

  "Don't give me that story. You'd have loved to have met me when I was nineteen. Your life's greatest wish. Right?"

  She laughed. "Right!"

  "I love you, beautiful lady."

  "Yeah?"

  "Yeah."

  They held a long meaningful look.

  "Pass me the peanut-butter sauce," she said at last, with a wicked smile. "I've got plans."

  He feigned alarm. "What plans?"

  "Lie back, Lennie, and don't ask so many questions."

  In the morning they surfaced just before noon, automatical y reaching for each other as if it were the most natural move in the world.

  Outside, the sun attempted to break through the closed shades, and a dog barked incessantly.

  They made love again, slowly, languorously. And when they were final y finished, Lennie said,'"What would the love of my life like to do today?"

  Lucky stretched and smiled. "Take a shower with you.

  Take a walk along the beach with you. And then come straight back to bed without passing Go."

  "It sounds like the perfect day to me," he replied with a grin. "Only how about we cut out the shower and the walk?"

  "Don't you think we need the exercise?" she asked innocently. "I have exercises for you even Jane Fonda doesn't know!"

  "You do?"

  "I'l be. your personal instructor."

  "Sounds good to me."

  It wasn't until later they began to talk. Lennie had his usual list of complaints about the movie, and Lucky listened quietly, hugging to herself the knowledge that soon she was going to make everything O. K.

  "I write new dialogue, the asshole director says, `Great--

  fantastic stuff, Lennie.' And then he doesn't want to shoot it.

  I go to the dailies, I give my suggestions--they ignore 'em.

  Jesus H. Christ, they're getting my input for free--you'd think they'd run with it. Right?"

  She nodded her agreement, stroking his back, lightly massaging his neck.

  He lay facedown on the bed, completely relaxed for the first time in weeks. Lucky was the only woman in the world who was able to draw every bit of tension out of him and make him feel this good.

  "We've got to think of a way to get you out of this contract," she said.

  He admitted defeat. "As usual you were right. I'm gonna talk to my lawyer."

  "Hold off until Macho Man is finished. That's the time to make a move."

  "Yeah, 1 guess so. How come you're always right?"

  She laughed. " 'Cause I'm Gino's daughter and he taught me good."

  "Pretty damn good "

  "Very good. And don't you forget it, husband."

  He rol ed over and grabbed her in a hug. "So--the big question. When are you coming to Acapulco? I need you there like immediately."

  Now came the crunch. She took a deep breath. "Uh, Lennie, I've been meaning to talk to you about Acapulco."

  "What?" he asked suspiciously.

  "Don't get mad," she warned.

  "What?" he repeated, getting mad.

  She began the careful y rehearsed speech she'd planned. "There's a huge business deal in Japan I have to take care of. If al goes as it should, I'l be out of there in a couple of weeks, and then I'l stop off and see Bobby in London, maybe spend a few days at the office in New York.

  After that, I'm al yours."

  His tone was bleak. "You've got to be kidding." "I'm not."

  "Lucky," he said forceful y, "you promised me Acapulco."

  "I'l be there," she lied.

  "When?" he asked accusingly.

  "As soon as I can."

  Angrily he sat up. "I don't fucking believe this." "I'm not exactly thril ed myself. But the Japanese are very particular when it comes to deal-making." She reached for a cigarette. "Oh, sure, I could send one of the heads of the company--but it's me they want. Something to do with honor. The owner of their company wil only deal with the owner of our company, and until Bobby and Brigette reach a legal age, that's me. This is an enormous deal, something we've al been working on for over a year. I can't risk blowing it."

  Fortunately Lennie knew nothing about what went on at Stanislopoulos Shipping--he'd never shown any interest, and she'd never volunteered information. Her story sounded plausible.

  "Shit!" he grumbled. "Why did I have to marry a business tycoon? I never fucking see you." He leaped off the bed and stalked into the bathroom.

  "Because I excite the hel out of you," she yel ed after him. "And with anyone else you'd be bored. C'mon, Lennie, admit it."

  The sound of the shower drowned her out. Goddamn it, he wasn't taking this wel .

  Stubbing out her cigarette, she fol owed him into the bathroom and into the shower, wrapping her arms around his waist from behind.

  "Quit," he said sternly, attempting to shake her off.

  "Don't be a pain in the ass," she replied, hanging on. "This is only a delay. I'l be there. After al , it's not like you're going to be a free person. You'l be working every day, and you know I hate to sit around playing the wife role."

  "I had other plans," he said, reaching for the soap.

  "What other plans?" she demanded, sneaking her hands around to the front of his body, cupping his bal s and going for the main event.

  "Listen, lady, sex ain't gonna get you out of this one," he warned, turning to face her as the lukewarm water cascaded over both of them.

  "What other plans?" Lucky demanded a second time, sinking to her knees.

  "No you don't." Weakly he attempted to push her away.

  "You can torture me al you want, but I'm not tel ing."

  She flicked his growing hard-on with her tongue. "Tel !"

  she insisted. "Give me the information or you're in big trouble!"

  "No . . . way," he managed to groan.

  Her tongue teased him lightly, causing him to change his mind. He began to thrust against her.

  Now it was her turn to back away. "Tel ," she repeated sternly. "Or suffer."

  They were both beginning to break up; the crisis was over.

  Urgently he grabbed the back of her wet hair, pressing her head toward him.

  She wriggled free and slipped out of the shower. With a quick lunge he caught her, and they both fel to the floor, naked, slippery, and laughing.

  "Gotcha!" he muttered triumphantly, spread-eagling her arms and pinning her legs with his body as he maneuvered into position.

  And then he was pounding into her, and the words came out, surprising both of them.

  "I . . . want . . . you . . . to . . . have . . . our .. . baby. And . .

  .
I I. . . don't . . . want . . . any . . . excuses. O. K., Lucky? O.

  K.?"

  Chapter 11

  Under the guiding hand of Mickey Stol i, Panther Studios was a changed place from the days when Abe Panther was in charge. Once one of the great old studios making tasteful, stylish films, Panther had moved with the times. Mickey had made sure of that. As he was so fond of saying at meetings, "It's the frigging eighties, for crissakes.

  Let's give the dumb unwashed what they real y wanna see."

  What Mickey wanted the public to see was multiple violence with an avalanche of tits and ass. Not harmless tits and ass, but the pornographic kind. Girls being stripped, terrified, mutilated, raped, and murdered. On film, of course. In fact, whatever he and his wil ing team of writers, directors, and producers could get away with.

  These were not big movies, starwise. But they were huge money-makers al over the world--every one. Cheap to shoot, cost nothing to put out, and easy to produce.

  America the great. They could kick the hel out of women up there on the screen any way they wanted, and as long as the sex wasn't too graphic, they could get away with murder. Literal y.

  Panther Studios had begun to specialize in these low-bucks, soft-et:ire exploitation flicks. Thanks to Mickey Stol i, who liked the big bucks they generated. But as powerful as he was, even Mickey had to cover his ass, bolster his ego, and shut up his brother-in-law, Ben Harrison, who was always bitching and complaining about the cheapos. So, aside from the exploitation cheapos, Panther Studios made deals with major stars, paying them more money than anyone else, and also giving them sweet development deals that included their own production companies and a suite of offices on the studio lot.

  Every year Panther made three or four legitimate big-time movies, like Macho Man, the film currently shooting with Lennie Golden, Joey Firel o, and Marisa Birch. And Strut, a dramatic movie about a charming con man and a street-smart young woman, starring Venus Maria--the hot property of the year--with Cooper Turner co-starring and directing. Quite a coup.

  And in post-production they had the new Johnny Romano action comedy Motherfaker.

  Abigaile Stol i insisted that Mickey make movies with big stars. It was good for her social life.

  Quite frankly, Mickey didn't give a rat's ass. Movie stars were trouble, always causing problems, holding things up, and expecting more money and attention than they were worth. Their egos were beyond enormous.