Lady Boss (53 page)

Mickey had shrugged. ‘Sorry,' he'd said, not sorry at all.

Abigaile had continued to glare at him.

Ben had taken her arm. ‘I'm sure Mickey will catch up with us later,' he'd said soothingly.

Abigaile's voice had reached a high, feverish pitch. ‘Later is not good enough,' she'd cried. ‘Mickey, why are you doing this to me?'

Abigaile Stolli – queen of the ‘me' generation. Mickey didn't care. He'd spent eighteen years worrying what Abby would think. Now it was over.

Once he was rid of them he'd stopped by his office. No Olive. No Luce. Where was his stupid temporary secretary? He was in the mood to fire her before he did anything else.

His office was strangely quiet. He picked up the phone to call Warner so he could tell her exactly what he thought of her. Then he changed his mind and banged it down.

He'd had it with Warner. As far as he was concerned she'd never hear from him again.

He'd already placed a call to his lawyer, who'd assured him they would find some way to get around him having to appear in court.

Carlo Bonnatti had reached him at home and requested his presence. Mickey didn't usually jump, but he knew enough about the ways of the world to realize that if Carlo Bonnatti called, he'd better be there. Eddie Kane had really fucked up. Now it was up to Mickey to straighten things out. As usual.

Driving over to Century City he'd arrived at a smart conclusion. Maybe the million dollars was Panther's problem after all…

Maybe it was Lucky Santangelo's inheritance…

He tried to reach Eddie on the car phone.

A subdued Leslie told him he wasn't there.

For a moment Mickey was tempted to say, ‘Didn't I see you at Madame Loretta's?' But then he thought better of it and hung up.

Carlo Bonnatti greeted him with an oily smile and a limp handshake. He had a low, grating voice. A dangerous voice. ‘Mr. Stolli,' he said slowly, ‘nice of you to come. It's about time we talked. I don't seem to be getting anywhere with your associate Mr. Kane, and it's good that you and I are meeting like this.'

Mickey decided the setting was exactly right. Flashy apartment, a couple of goons hanging around in the front hall. Where was the obligatory blonde?

‘You're right, Mr. Bonnatti,' he said smoothly. ‘How can I help you?'

‘I got a little problem,' Carlo said, rubbing his fingers together. ‘You may have heard 'bout it. You run a big studio, maybe you don't hear everything.'

‘What's your problem?' asked Mickey, knowing perfectly well what it was.

Carlo's oily hair glistened. His permanent smile was snake-like. ‘Well, we entered into a business deal, no contracts, but a handshake is a handshake,' he said in his low, dangerous voice. ‘I mostly dealt with your colleague Eddie Kane. We put our product in with your product. It was sent over to Europe an' the money came through. This all went fluently for a time.' He paused.

Mickey stared at him. Carlo was wearing a dark blue suit, black silk shirt, and white tie. The hood look. You could spot New Yorkers a mile away. They always overdressed in California.

‘So…' Carlo continued, ‘the money flowed good for a while, and then the amounts comin' to us got smaller and smaller, and I knew somethin' wasn't right.' He threw his arms up in a gesture of surrender. ‘But what am I gonna do? Panther's a big outfit – so I trusted you.'

‘I'm getting the message,' Mickey said. ‘You didn't receive all the money you were expecting.'

‘Let's just say there's a shortfall of a million bucks,' Carlo said, nodding to himself. ‘Yeah, an' who owes the money? That's the question. The big question.'

‘You want to know whose pocket it ended up in,' Mickey said.

‘I refuse to point a finger.' Carlo smoothed the cuffs of his silk shirt. ‘But Eddie Kane is the name that comes to mind.'

‘And he's not paying. Right?'

‘No way a bum like Eddie's gonna give back a million bucks.' A short pause. ‘So… Mickey, you can understand my dilemma.'

Mickey understood it only too well. ‘You'd like Panther Studios to reimburse you.' He made it a statement, not a question.

‘That's correct. An' if you see a way to do that, then you'll save Mr. Kane a lot of grief. Maybe you'll take it out of his salary for the next twenty, thirty years.'

‘Sounds workable,' Mickey agreed amicably.

Carlo was obviously surprised at Mickey's immediate cooperation. ‘How we gonna handle this? A handshake don't do it for me. I'd like a note drawn up sayin' Panther owes my company a million bucks. We can put it down for services.'

Mickey nodded. ‘Good idea. Call in your lawyers. I have the authority to sign on behalf of Panther. One stipulation – it has to be pre-dated. And I have to sign the papers today.'

‘Done,' said Carlo. ‘My lawyer'll take care of it. No questions asked.'

They shook hands – Carlo Bonnatti and Mickey Stolli.

‘Be back around two. I'll have everythin' ready,' Carlo said. He paused and gave Mickey a long, penetrating look. ‘You're a very obliging man, Mr. Stolli. A very smart man. Any time you need a favour…'

Mickey nodded modestly. ‘Thank you.'

When Mickey had left, Carlo walked around his apartment considering the action. He pressed his fingers to his temples. Sometimes he wished his father was around. Enzio Bonnatti had always had a way of knowing exactly what was going on. He could immediately assess any situation and explain the whys and wherefores. Santino, his brother, had been a schmuck. All Santino cared about was pussy. He'd been in the right business – porno movies and drugs.

Carlo knew he was smarter than Santino. Shit, anybody was smarter than Santino. But he wouldn't have minded having Enzio around to talk to.

Mickey Stolli had complied too willingly, without so much as a struggle.

Something was going on here and Carlo wasn't sure what. But as long as the papers were drawn up and he got his money, what did he care?

Sitting in a private office at Orpheus Studios, Martin Swanson read about himself like a voyeur. His eyes scanned the page of the cheap magazine. He couldn't believe some of the things he was reading:

BILLIONAIRE MARTIN SWANSON!

RAVISHING SUPERSTAR VENUS MARIA!

BEAUTIFUL SOCIETY WIFE DEENA!

And there were all these quotes from supposed best friends and close acquaintances.

Martin had controlled his press for so long that the sheer effrontery of this really shocked him. The ramifications were many. What was Deena going to say? She would be furious when she saw the photograph of himself with Venus. How was he going to explain it? It wasn't taken at a function, nor in a restaurant. It was obviously an intimate photo taken on somebody's couch.

At least they weren't naked. They hadn't been caught in bed. But you only had to look at the photograph to know they were sleeping with each other.

Thinking about the photographs reminded him of the one of Deena with Effie's kid. What the hell was Deena doing in Central Park with Paul Webster?

Not that Martin considered such a callow youth a threat, but it made Deena look foolish – like she was desperate or something.

He continued to read the story:

Sexy superstar Venus Maria could teach billionaire tycoon Martin Swanson a thing or two about getting to the top
.

Oh yeah? What did they know? Who owned this cheap magazine anyway? He placed a call to his secretary in New York to have her find out.

‘Have you heard from Mrs. Swanson?' he asked.

‘I do believe she's in her office,' Gertrude replied.

‘Has anybody shown this to her?'

Gertrude sounded embarrassed. ‘I really have no idea, Mr. Swanson.'

‘If she tries to reach me, tell her I'm in non-stop meetings and that you can't get to me.'

‘Certainly, sir.'

Now that his affair with Venus was out in the open he was going to have to be very careful. Was it worth it? Did he wish to continue seeing her?

She'd been more than aggravating this weekend, dragging Cooper along to San Francisco and then complaining about his sexual prowess when they got back. God damn it! One moment she was plying him with hookers, and the next she expected him to put on a record-breaking performance when he was tired and had a lot on his mind. At least when you were married, a wife understood these kind of things.

On the other hand, Venus Maria was special. She was universally desired. Cooper was after her – that was obvious. And
he
had her, Martin Swanson – Billionaire Lover. Billionaire Stud!

He couldn't help smiling. It was kind of funny in a way.

It wouldn't be so funny when he had to explain the photograph to Deena.

A buzzer sounded in the office. ‘Mr. Swanson,' one of the secretaries said, ‘Mr. White would like to know when you are returning to the meeting.'

‘I'll be right there,' he said, folding the magazine in half.

No more worrying about some low-down supermarket scandal-sheet. He'd put his lawyers onto them. He'd kill 'em. He'd break their balls as only Martin Swanson could.

He walked back into the meeting. He was taking over Orpheus Studios. A far more important task.

* * *

Side by side on Cooper Turner's desk lay the front page of the
L.A. Times
with the story about Mickey Stolli circled, and alongside it a copy of
Truth and Fact
.

Cooper read about Mickey first. He was amused. It had to have been the funniest scene going – Mickey Stolli arrested with a hooker. Cooper was acquainted with Madame Loretta. Not in a professional sense, but an actress he'd been dating at one time had been playing the role of a prostitute on screen and had wanted to research the part. Ford Werne had arranged an introduction, and Cooper and his lady friend had spent many a pleasant afternoon having tea with the madam and listening to her outlandish stories.

Cooper wondered how Venus Maria was going to feel when she saw
Truth and Fact
. It would certainly bring her affair with Martin out into the open.

Maybe that's what she wanted. Martin would be forced into making a decision.

Cooper couldn't help but raise a cynical eyebrow when he read about Deena with a younger man. Martin wouldn't like that. A blow to his enormous ego.

But all this wasn't his problem. He called the florist and sent Venus Maria two dozen red roses. It was the least he could do.

* * *

It soon became obvious that everybody in the rehearsal room had seen the stupid magazine. Venus Maria could tell by the covert little glances coming her way, and a certain amount of nervous giggling here and there.

Ah, well, if you can't fight it, lie back and enjoy it.
Her new philosophy. Vigorously she launched herself into Ron's latest torture routine.

The Ken Doll wandered in around noon, washed and scrubbed, tall and bland-faced, wearing a muscle-boy T-shirt and tight blue jeans outlining his outstanding crotch – obviously the main attraction. She'd been thinking of saying to Ron, ‘
What
do you see in him?' But after observing the jeans she knew exactly what the crowd-puller was.

‘Why don't we all have lunch?' Ron suggested, deciding it was about time his best friend and his live-in lover got friendly. ‘You can at least try and be nice to Ken. After all,
I
put up with Martin.'

Ha! Ron hardly knew Martin. But just to please him, she agreed.

‘I booked us a table at the Ivy.' Ron was obviously delighted.

Venus Maria frowned. ‘Isn't that a little visible? Especially today?'

‘We'll get a table in the back room. In and out before anyone realizes you're there.'

At twelve-thirty they set off for the restaurant in the Ken Doll's gleaming Mercedes. Venus Maria hid beneath huge black shades and sat in the back.

‘I probably smell like a camel,' she remarked. ‘You too, Ron.'

‘Count
me
out,' said the very pristine Ken.

Anytime,
Venus Maria thought.

Lunch turned out to be a drag. Ron changed from his usual acerbic self into a love-sick jerk. Ken was pompous. Ken knew everything. Ken tried to tell her everything. When they got out of the restaurant she was regretting the whole deal.

By the time they arrived back at the rehearsal studios there was a rapidly escalating group of photographers waiting outside. They began snapping the moment the car drew up.

‘Where do they all come from?' Venus Maria sighed, making a wild dash from the car.

‘You're front-page news today, darling. They're after the real scoop,' Ron explained, chugging after her, quite happy to pose.

Ken adored every minute of the attention. ‘Don't worry, I'll protect you,' he said, smiling for the cameras.

Macho Ken Doll.

Stupid Ken Doll.

‘What's your comment on the story, Venus?'

‘Got anything to say about Martin Swanson?'

‘Is it true?'

‘Do you love him?'

‘Is Martin leaving his wife?'

She ignored all the reporters' questions and, hidden behind her dark glasses, made it into the rehearsal room.

Lennie brooded his way through the weekend. He spoke to Jess and she told him he was an asshole.

‘You always take Lucky's side,' he complained. ‘
I'm
your friend. What the hell is going on?'

‘Lighten up, Lennie. You married an unusual woman – stop fighting her.'

Stop fighting, indeed! What did Jess know? She hadn't had her balls cut off for all the world to see.

Oh, dear. Poor Lennie, he's unhappy. Let's buy him a studio
.

Well, fuck that crap.

And yet… he missed Lucky already. And throwing himself back into the script didn't seem to do it for him this time.