Lady Boss (47 page)

She couldn't understand his attitude. ‘What have I done that's so terrible?' she demanded. ‘Tell me that.'

‘You did it without me,' he said flatly. ‘We should have discussed it. I do not appreciate being shut out.'

‘And I don't appreciate being told what to do. I'm not a child, Lennie.'

‘Sometimes you act like one.'

‘Fuck you!' she exploded. ‘If this situation was reversed you'd expect
me
to be jumping up and down with delight.'

‘And would you?'

‘Yes.'

He stared at her for a long moment before saying, ‘You know what I feel like?'

She dragged on her cigarette. ‘What?'

‘Like a kept man. It's as if you said to yourself, “Oh, poor Lennie's not happy at the studio. I'll buy it for him.” You've made me feel like nothing.'

‘That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard,' she said abruptly.

‘It's how I feel.'

‘You're not being fair.'

‘I'm not, huh? Can't you
see
what you've done?'

‘I can see very clearly what's going on around here. I'm not pregnant, so you're pissed off. That's what it really gets down to, isn't it?'

He didn't reply.

She stubbed out her cigarette and walked into the bathroom. From sheer exhilaration she was reduced to frustrated anger. Men! They pretended they liked women with balls, and when they found one they just couldn't handle it. She'd thought Lennie was different. It seemed she was wrong…

Quickly she threw on some clothes and emerged. ‘I'm getting out of here,' she said curtly. ‘There's no need for this to escalate into a bigger fight than it already is.'

Her words made him even more furious. ‘What are you saying? That you're going to walk?' he asked.

‘I don't want to be around you any more tonight.'

Now it was his turn to explode. ‘
You
don't want to be around
me?
Hey, Lucky – you walk out of here and you walk out of my life.'

Her black eyes were deadly as she turned to him. ‘Are you threatening me?'

‘Can't you listen to what I have to say?' he yelled. ‘Has it always got to be your way?'

She felt tears sting the back of her eyelids and quickly turned away. ‘Like you said, Lennie, I'm not the little woman at home. I never will be and I never pretended I was. I've got nothing against having a baby one of these days, but right now there's so much I want to do.'

‘Then maybe you'd better do it by yourself,' he said bitterly.

She couldn't believe how wrong this was all going. This was supposed to have been the most wonderful moment for both of them, but it was turning out to be the worst. Maybe he was right, maybe they weren't destined to be together. After all, what did they really have in common? A sense of humour, great sex, Chinese food, and walking on the beach – it wasn't enough.

She picked up the phone and called a cab. ‘I'm going to the apartment,' she said. ‘We both need time apart. Think about it, Lennie. And remember – I did this for you. I didn't do it for selfish reasons.'

He couldn't look at her. ‘You can't buy me, Lucky,' he said tightly. ‘There's no sales tag.'

‘That wasn't my intention. I'm flying back to L.A. tomorrow. If you decide to come I'll be delighted. Let me know.'

With a sick feeling she walked to the front door, waiting for him to call her back – longing for him to say he was only joking, that everything was OK and he was thrilled.

He didn't say any of those things.

Outside on the street she was accosted by a stoned teenage girl, eyes as big as saucers, long matted hair. ‘Spare a coupla bucks?' the girl whined.

Lucky handed her a fifty. ‘Get yourself a life. Throw away the drugs and straighten out.'

‘Hey, man – what else is there?' the girl said blankly as she wandered off down the street.

Lucky's cab zoomed up to the doorway. The Puerto Rican driver was busy muttering to himself.

She opened the door and climbed in. Leaning from the window she could see the lights in Lennie's apartment. He hadn't even bothered to follow her down.

‘Goodbye,' she whispered. ‘Don't write, don't call. I can make it without you.'

‘Huh?' the cab driver said.

‘Just drive,' she replied dully. ‘And while you're at it, try not to kill us both.'

Emilio Sierra delivered the goods much to Dennis Walla's satisfaction. The photograph of Venus Maria with Martin Swanson was worth every penny they'd had to pay. It was sexy and intimate. Two people entwined. A real front-pager.

Dennis congratulated Emilio. ‘You really came through, mate,' he said, clapping him on the shoulder.

Emilio was pleased. He'd decided to spend a week in Hawaii, and take his newfound love, Rita the firecracker. She was a wildcat between the sheets, and pretty too. It was best to get out of town before the shit hit. And that was exactly what would happen when
Truth and Fact
arrived on the stands. Venus Maria was going to freak out.

Too bad. He didn't need little sis anymore. With his newfound notoriety he would soon become a famous actor. Now he'd be able to call important agents and producers and say, ‘Hey – this is Emilio Sierra.' And they'd reply, ‘Emilio, good of you to call, my friend – come in and see us.'

Yes, it was all going to happen for him. It was about time he was discovered.

Shortly after Dennis received the photograph from Emilio, Bert Slocombe telephoned from New York.

‘Hold the front page,' Bert crowed triumphantly. ‘We're about t'make a bloody great splash.'

‘What's up?' Dennis asked.

‘Sit still an' listen.'

When Dennis heard the story Bert had to relate, he was only too happy to hold the front page.

This issue of
Truth and Fact
was going to be a total sellout.

And Dennis Walla was planning on taking full credit.

* * *

Warner had been in his life too long for Mickey to allow her to walk when she felt like it. The fact that he was visiting Madame Loretta's on a regular basis had nothing to do with their relationship. Warner couldn't break up with him.
He
had to be the one to say it was over.

On Saturday morning he played a vicious game of tennis with an ambitious director, and instead of staying for lunch at the club he drove directly to Warner's apartment. She was not home. Deflated, he continued on to his house. Abigaile was also out.

‘Where's Mrs. Stolli?' he asked Consuela.

‘She shopping, Mister,' Consuela replied, rolling her eyes as if she too disapproved of Abigaile's shopping mania.

Shopping, Mickey thought. Not at the market, that was for sure. To Abigaile shopping meant Saks and Neiman Marcus, with a side trip down Rodeo Drive.

Tabitha, his daughter, appeared. ‘Daddy, can I have a Porsche when I'm sixteen?'

Why was it that every time he came into contact with Tabitha she wanted something? ‘We'll talk about it when you reach that age,' he replied as calmly as he could manage.

‘Why can't we talk now?' she nagged. ‘Why can't you promise me?'

The girl was just like her mother. Relentless.

‘Because now is not the time,' he said patiently.

‘Mommy said I could.'

Trust Abigaile. ‘She did?'

‘Yes,' Tabitha said triumphantly. ‘She promised me if I got good grades – and if she never caught me doing dope or sleeping with boys – then I could have a Porsche. So I've decided not to smoke anymore.'

He stared at his thirteen-year-old daughter. ‘You smoke?'

‘Everybody at school does,' she answered defensively.

He wondered what else she did. She was turning into a well-developed girl. Too well developed for her age.

‘We'll see,' he said vaguely, bored with all this father-daughter crap. He had other things on his mind.

‘Some man phoned you,' Tabitha announced. ‘He asked for our address.'

Mickey was immediately alarmed. ‘What do you mean – he asked for our address?'

‘What is it, a state secret or something?'

‘I don't like people having our home address, Tabitha. You know that,' he said sternly.

‘Like I
don't
know that, Daddy,' she replied smartly, ‘Like you
never
told me.'

‘Yes, I did.'

‘I can't do anything right in this house,' Tabitha said. ‘Maybe I'll run away,' she added, flouncing from the room.

Ha!
Mickey thought.
Chance would be a fine thing
.

Saturday was supposed to be a day of rest, and all he was getting was stress. Stress at his age was no good.

Not that he was old. He was in perfect physical shape, and his bedroom prowess only improved with age.

But still, stress was the enemy. And if he had to contend with Abe Panther on Monday morning
and
his brother-in-law, there was plenty of added stress headed in his direction. Plenty.

* * *

Across town in Johnny Romano's Hancock Park mansion, Warner thought she'd died and gone to movie star heaven. Warner Franklin, Vice cop, cavorting with Johnny Romano – too much!

He'd called her that morning right after she'd put the phone down on Mickey.

‘Come on over, baby,' Johnny had crooned. ‘We'll read my reviews together.'

And that's exactly what they'd done.

It would have helped if the reviews had been good. As it was they were terrible.

It didn't seem to bother Johnny. He'd shrugged nonchalantly. ‘So what, baby,' he'd said. ‘My public loves me. I belong to 'em. They don't give no friggin' power to nothin' these uptight critics gotta say. You think they got knowledge what's goin' on in the world today? No way, baby.
Johnny
knows what's goin' on in the world.
Johnny's
givin' the people exactly what they wanna see.'

It was slightly disconcerting when Johnny referred to himself in the third person, but Warner went along with it. She wasn't too sure about his confidence in the movie. After all, she'd seen
Motherfaker
the previous evening, and while Johnny was tall and sexy and certainly handsome, he was not a great actor. He was everything she'd ever dreamed of in a man, but he was also a sexist pig, and his movie celebrated that fact. The Romano entourage milled around the house. There were bodyguards, managers, agents, friends, wellwishers. And yet he'd chosen to be with her. She was immensely flattered.

‘Come on, baby, let's go get us some private time,' he'd finally said. And they'd retired to his bedroom where at last they were alone.

Sexually he was a raging bull. He made Mickey Stolli seem like a non-starter.

Being with a younger man was a revelation. Warner had forgotten how energetic and fun sex could be. With Mickey, sex was not fun. He never really relaxed. He approached the sexual act as if it was a game of strenuous tennis and he had to perform well or there would be a punishment.

Sex with Johnny Romano was exactly the opposite. He laughed a lot and crooned ‘baby, baby, baby' non-stop in her ear.

As far as she was concerned he could call her anything he wanted. He was her favourite movie star, and this was her fantasy come true. Skinny Warner Franklin from Watts was just about to get it on for the second time with Johnny Romano. She loved Hollywood!

Johnny lay spread-eagled on the bed, erect and ready.

‘You really a cop, baby?' he asked, absent-mindedly stroking his own erection.

‘I really am,' she replied, admiring every inch of him.

‘Well, baby, baby, cop this,' he drawled, pushing his hard-on towards her.

She mounted him because he obviously liked it that way. And then she squeezed him all the way to heaven.

When they were through she began to dress, ready to go to work.

‘Come back soon, baby, baby,' Johnny mumbled before falling into a deep sleep.

Oh, he could count on that.

* * *

Cooper was alone when he arrived to pick up Venus Maria for dinner.

‘Where's your seventeen-year-old ex-porn star?' she asked, looking around.

He shrugged. ‘Why share you?'

‘If we dine by ourselves again, people will talk.'

He watched her carefully. ‘Does it bother you?'

She shook her head. ‘Nope. I'm used to it. Does it bother
you?
'

‘Not at all.' He didn't want to mention that he'd had to put up with the press longer than she could remember.

‘Let's go,' she sang out. ‘I'm starving!'

On the way to the restaurant she told him about Martin flying in and their plans to spend the day in San Francisco. ‘I've got a great idea. Why don't you come with us?' she suggested brightly.

Cooper burst out laughing. ‘Oh, yeah. That would really go down well with Martin. He'd be thrilled.'

‘
I'm
inviting you,' she insisted. ‘You're one of Martin's best friends. Why shouldn't you come? It'll be great. And if we're spotted or anything, people will think
we're
the big romance. You don't mind people thinking that, do you?'

‘Ah, if only it was true,' he said wistfully.

There was a challenge in her big brown eyes. ‘Come on, Cooper. Live dangerously.'

‘What'll Martin say?'

‘He'll say what I tell him to.'

‘Oh, Miss Ballsy.'

‘You bet. It'll be great, and it'll give you a chance to talk to Martin. You know I really want you to do that for me.'

He nodded. ‘If it pleases you, I'll come.'

She smiled and took his hand. ‘You're the best.'

* * *

By late Saturday afternoon, bored and almost addicted, Mickey decided he wasn't in the mood to hang around the house waiting for Abigaile to get home or Warner to contact him. So he called up his addiction, Madame Loretta, and informed her he was on his way over and that she should have the Chinese girl ready for him.