Lady Boss (45 page)

‘Well, you're not exactly a kid anymore,' Lennie pointed out.

‘Thanks!' She peered at the baby. ‘I'll be picking up my old-age pension next week! Steven, Mary-Lou – this child is
gorgeous!
'

‘I did my best,' Steven said modestly.

‘You did
your
best!' Mary-Lou objected.

‘It wasn't easy,' Steven joked.

Mary-Lou picked up a cushion and threw it at him. ‘Get outta here!'

Gino turned up shortly after. Once more he asked Lucky if she'd told Lennie about Panther.

‘I will,' she said. ‘Quit bugging me.'

‘When?'

‘What's the big deal. I'll tell him tonight. I want to savour the moment.'

‘Are you sure he likes surprises?'

‘Don't worry about it, Gino. He'll be delighted.'

They spent a couple of hours at the house and then wandered off on their own. She'd given Boogie the rest of the weekend free.

‘What do you want to do?' Lennie said as they strolled along the street hand in hand.

Lucky smiled. ‘You're always asking me that. More important, what do
you
want to do?'

‘Whatever makes you happy.'

‘Can we walk around like normal people or will you be recognized again?'

‘We can walk around like normal people. I'll avoid eye contact. I've discovered being recognized is a state of mind. If you want them to recognize you they do, and if you don't, they don't. It's that simple.'

‘OK, this is what I'd like to do,' she decided. ‘Go to a movie. Eat popcorn and spill it all over myself. Feel sick, have one of those horrible fizzy orange drinks. And then I want to go home and make love all night long. Can we do that?'

‘You know something? That's why I'm crazy about you. We have exactly the same tastes.' He took a beat. ‘Woody Allen?'

She answered instantly. ‘But of course.'

They lined up for a Woody Allen film. Saw it. Loved it. And talked about it all the way home.

It wasn't until they were back in his rented loft that Lucky looked at him, started to laugh, and said, ‘Hey, wait a minute, we own a luxury apartment in New York. What are we doing in this dump?'

‘It's romantic,' Lennie replied. ‘Nobody knows we're here. No phone calls. No nothing. We'll stay tonight and take off for L.A. tomorrow.'

‘Suits me.'

‘And now what do you want?'

She couldn't help thinking to herself how much she loved him. And how much she'd missed him. ‘I want Chinese food, Marvin Gaye music, and great sex. What do
you
want?'

‘Indian food, Billie Holliday, and great sex.'

‘I guess if we can't make up our mind about the food, it'll have to wait.'

‘I guess so.'

She shrugged. ‘And if we can't make up our mind about Marvin or Billie, same thing, huh?'

He shrugged too.

‘Well…' she said slowly, ‘it looks like there's nothing else left to do except…'

Together they shouted it out: ‘Great sex!'

And then, laughing, they fell into each other's arms.

Paul Webster's idea of the park was certainly not Tavern on the Green. Deena, clad from head to toe in Chanel, discovered this when he arrived to pick her up.

‘We're going on a picnic,' he informed her.

She raised an imperious eyebrow. ‘Really?'

‘Why not?' he asked. ‘It'll be a blast.'

She didn't want to reveal that grown women dressed in Chanel, with rich husbands, did not picnic in the park. ‘I'm hardly dressed for it,' she pointed out.

‘Go change.'

‘I don't think so,' she said.

He stared at her with his intense eyes. ‘Do I make you nervous?'

She gave an amused laugh. ‘How could
you
possibly make
me
nervous? I've known you since you were a baby.'

‘Go change, Deena,' he said.

He seemed determined, so she capitulated. She hurried upstairs, took off Chanel, and put on a Christian Dior tracksuit and jogging shoes.

Paul waited in the front hall. Deena wondered what her houseman thought. What
could
he think? After all, Paul was young enough to be her… younger brother.

Martin was safely at the office. He always left early on Saturday mornings, never returning until six or seven at night. He did the same on Sundays. Sometimes they spent the weekend at their Connecticut house. When they did, Martin usually spent his entire time on the phone or receiving faxes. Martin was a true workaholic. He found it difficult to relax.

Did The Bitch make him relax?

Did The Bitch make him forget business for more than five minutes at a time?

Deena tried to put the thought from her mind. It wasn't healthy to ponder about Martin and Venus Maria. If she shut it out, maybe their relationship would fade away and Martin would be all hers again.

And if that failed to happen… if The Bitch tried to take it further…

Deena sighed. She had her solution.

Paul greeted her when she reappeared. ‘You're a real sport,' he said, looking her up and down. ‘Now we can relax and enjoy ourselves.'

‘How are we going to get there?' she asked when they hit the street, already regretting her decision to go with him.

He took her hand. ‘We're walking.'

She pulled her hand away. ‘I don't walk.'

He stared at her quizzically. ‘You don't walk? That's funny – seems to me your legs
look
like they're moving one in front of the other.'

‘Don't be facetious, Paul. We'll take a cab.'

He was intent on asserting his manhood. ‘We'll walk.'

Deena hid behind a pair of large black sunglasses and hoped she wouldn't bump into any of her friends. Not that there was anything wrong with strolling through the city with Effie's young son – but still…

She entered Central Park as if she was taking a trip on the wild side. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been in such close proximity to so many people. Deena led her life in a rarefied atmosphere, and she wasn't comfortable getting down amongst the people. But she had to admit it made a change. And the attentive Paul Webster was certainly an intriguing young man. Besides, she needed someone to tell her she was beautiful, intelligent, and attractive. All the things Martin usually forgot to mention.

* * *

‘Guess where Paul's gone today,' Nona said, struggling into a pair of too-tight jeans.

‘Where?' replied Brigette, biting into an apple.

‘He's taking old lady Deena Swanson to lunch. Are you ready for that?'

Brigette almost choked. No, she was not ready for that. Swallowing her hurt feelings she said, ‘Why?' Then added, ‘How do you know?'

‘
I
know everything,' Nona replied confidently, finally closing the zipper on her jeans. ‘I listened in on the phone when he called her.'

‘Does he like her?' Brigette asked casually.

‘Do
you
like him?' Nona asked, not so casually.

‘Don't be crazy,' Brigette replied, trying to look cool.

‘I think you do,' Nona said, very sure of herself.

Before Brigette could reply, Effie swept into the room. ‘There's a phone call for you, Brigette, dear. It's your stepfather, Lennie Golden. We'd love to meet him sometime. Ask him over for drinks.'

Brigette was pleased. She'd thought Lennie had forgotten her. ‘What shall I tell him?' she asked Nona.

‘Tell him he's got us whenever he wants,' Nona said. ‘You
have
mentioned
I'm
coming, haven't you?'

Brigette looked vague. ‘Sure.'

Nona pulled a face. ‘Bet you haven't – do so now.'

‘I will,' replied Brigette, rushing to the phone.

Lennie sounded like his old self. He said the Malibu trip was on, and yes, she could bring a friend. They agreed that she and Nona would fly out in a week.

Nona was delighted. ‘Can't wait to meet your stepfather,' she said excitedly. ‘Is he as hot as he looks on the screen?'

‘Lennie? Hot?' Brigette almost laughed aloud. She'd never thought of him in that way, although, of course, he did have quite a following.

On reflection she considered he probably was hot. ‘You don't fancy him, do you?' she teased Nona.

‘Not as much as I fancy Tom Cruise,' Nona replied, grabbing her jacket. ‘Come on, let's go shopping. I can't wait to buy the smallest bikini anybody's ever seen in their entire life!'

* * *

Bert Slocombe figured he was the smartest reporter in town. Well, reporter-photographer really, because he never went anywhere without his little camera cleverly concealed on his person. Bert was known to be the best at getting the goods on the rich and famous, which was exactly why they'd put him on Swanson watch.

That morning he'd considered following Martin Swanson, but a hunch had made him decide to concentrate on Deena instead. And sure enough his hunch paid off. The stylish Mrs. Swanson emerged from her house just after noon, all togged out in a fancy jogging outfit. She was accompanied by some young geezer who kept on giving her lustful looks. Bert recognized a lustful look from five hundred yards.

Happily he settled in behind them as they made their way to the park. He'd known something good was up the moment she left her house and didn't immediately climb into a chauffeured limousine.

Deena Swanson walking to the park was picture enough, but add some young stud and it really made a front-page scandal shot. Nothing like a well-known married woman playing around to sell magazines. Especially with a younger man.

Bert wondered who the kid was. He was good-looking enough, with his long hair and one small gold earring in his earlobe. Maybe he was a rock star. Those rock-and-rollers managed to get in everywhere.

No, Bert decided. He didn't recognize him, and he was familiar with most of the long-haired brigade.

When they arrived at the park, the young guy pulled out a blanket from the bag he carried and laid it out on the grass.

Bert thought he'd died and gone to heaven.

He could see Deena arguing – she obviously wasn't used to this kind of outing – but she sat on the grass anyway, making it an easy job for Bert to scoot around behind a tree and shoot some great pictures.

The two of them stayed in the park for over an hour. Bert was hoping the guy would make a move on her, but no such luck. A lot of talk and that was it.

He wished he could hear what they were saying. Impossible, couldn't make himself too obvious. As it was he was flitting around behind trees like a secret wanker.

He managed to get one picture he knew was going to be special. Deena had a wasp or something trapped in her hair and the kid leaned forward to brush it out. Of course, the gullible public wouldn't know what he was doing. It looked like he was about to give her a hot wet one full on the lips.

Bert followed them back to Deena's house and lingered for a moment. Sure enough the young guy emerged almost immediately and Bert fell into step a discreet distance behind him. Might as well put a name to the kid.

He chuckled to himself. This story, combined with the Venus Maria stuff, was going to be bigger than ever. He couldn't wait to give Dennis the good news in L.A.

Once she was rid of Emilio, Venus Maria spoke to Ron on the phone.

‘And where were
you
last night?' he asked crisply. Ron always liked to know everyone's business.

‘At Spago.'

‘Hitting the town, are we? Who was your fortunate escort?'

‘Cooper.'

‘Hmm…' Ron was intrigued. ‘And did we finally do the deed?'

She sighed. ‘No, Ron. We did
not
do the deed. Cooper and I are just friends. Why even ask a question like that?'

‘Because I know you. You're not exactly a patient wench, and if you can't have Martin all the way you're hardly going to wait forever.'

She twirled the cord of the phone. ‘What makes you so certain I can't have Martin all the way?'

‘He's not gettable,' Ron said firmly. ‘He's taken.'

‘I can get any man I want,' Venus Maria replied, full of bravado.

‘Show me,' Ron taunted.

It infuriated her that Ron always thought he had to challenge her. ‘I'll show you all right,' she snapped, hoping to shut him up. ‘Talk to you later.' She hung up without giving him a chance to say another word.

In a couple of weeks they were supposed to begin serious rehearsals for her upcoming ‘Soft Seduction' tour. She planned to hit twenty-two cities – a gruelling prospect, but one she looked forward to. The
Soft Seduction
album would be released at the same time, along with her video of the title track. She was filming the video next week. It was to be directed by the famous Italian photographer Antonio, a good friend of hers.

Ron was pissed off because he'd wanted to direct it. She'd tried to explain that she felt like a change, but Ron was in a sulk about it, even though he'd done all the choreography.

In the video she was to play three roles: a beautiful, seductive woman; a handsome gigolo-type man; and a half-woman, half-man creature. As usual it would arouse controversy and criticism. That was the whole point. Her fans would love it, they'd go
Soft Seduction
crazy. She was going to give them the Venus Maria they
really
craved.

As far as her fans were concerned Venus Maria could do no wrong. She was their video queen. Their princess. She was everything they aspired to be. Dangerous. Stylish. A woman unafraid in a world run by men. A ‘fuck you' woman.

The thought of the upcoming tour excited her. She'd only been out on the road once before, and that was right before her career took off, just after her first hit record. At the time she'd been too inexperienced to understand the intricate interaction between audience and artist. Now she knew it was going to be a sensational blast, some kind of heady exchange of energy and power between star and fans. And after the tour, if the script was changed to her liking, she was to star in Mickey Stolli's big movie,
Bombshell
– a role coveted by every young actress in Hollywood.