Lady Boss

Chapter One:

From the very beginning they were destined to be a lethal combination -- Lucky Santangelo and Lennie Golden. Two stubborn, crazy, smart people.

Lennie was tall and lanky, with dirty-blond hair and ocean-green eyes. He was good-looking in an edgy, offhand way. Women loved his looks. At thirty-seven, he'd finally made it as a movie star. He was the new breed -- a comedian of the Eddie Murphy/Chevy Chase school. Cynical and funny, his films made big bucks -- the bottom line in Hollywood.

Lucky Santangelo Richmond Stanislopoulos Golden was the thrice married daughter of the notorious Gino Santangelo. In her early thirties, she was darkly, exotically beautiful, with a tangle of wild jet curls, dangerous, black eyes, smooth, olive skin, a full sensual mouth, and a slim body. She was a fiercely independent, strong-willed woman who never compromised and always took chances.

Together they generated blazing heat. They'd been married for nearly a year, and both looked forward to their wedding anniversary in September with a mixture of delight and amazement. Delight, because they loved each other very much. Amazement, because who'd ever thought it would last?

Currently Lennie was in Los Angeles shooting Macho Man for Panther Studios. The film was a comedy takeoff on all the Hollywood superheroes -- Eastwood, Stallone, and Schwarzenegger.

They'd rented a beach house in Malibu, but while Lennie was filming, Lucky chose to stay in New York where she headed a billion-dollar shipping company -- left to her by her second husband, Dimitri Stanislopoulos. She also had wanted Bobby, her six-and-a-half-year-old son by Dimitri, to be educated in England, and being in New York meant she was closer to his English school.

On most weekends she either visited Bobby in London or Lennie in Los Angeles. "My life is one long plane ride," she joked ruefully to friends. But everyone knew Lucky thrived on activity, and to sit by Lennie's side playing movie star's wife would have bored her. As it was, they had a volatile and passionate marriage.

Macho Man was causing Lennie nothing but problems. Every night he called Lucky with a litany of complaints. She listened patiently while he told her the producer was a jerk; the director was a has-been lush; his leading lady was sharing her bed with the producer; and Panther Studios was run by money-mad grafters. He wanted out.

Lucky listened, smiling to herself. She was working on a deal that -- if all went according to plan-would free him from the restrictions of answering to a director he didn't respect, a producer he loathed, and a studio run by people he never planned to do business with again-even though he'd foolishly, against her advice, signed a three picture contract with Panther.

"I'm about ready to walk," he threatened for the hundredth time.

"Don't," she said, attempting to soothe him.

"I can't make it with these assholes," he groaned.

"Those assholes can sue you for a fortune. And stop you working elsewhere," she added, the perfect voice of reason.

"Fuck 'em!" he replied recklessly.

"Don't do anything until I get out there," she warned. "Promise me that."

"When, for crissakes? I'm beginning to feel like a virgin."

A throaty chuckle. "Hmm. . . I didn't know you had that good a memory!"

"Hurry it up, Lucky. I really miss you.

"Maybe I'll be there sooner than you think," she said mysteriously.

"I'm sure you'll recognize me," he said dryly. "I'm the guy with the permanent hard-on."

"Very funny." Still smiling, she replaced the receiver.

Lennie Golden would be shocked and delighted when he found out her surprise. And when he did, she planned to be right there next to him, ready to enjoy the expression on his face.

Once he put the phone down, Lennie felt restless. His wife was the most exciting woman in the world, but damn it -- she pissed him off. Why couldn't she say, "Lennie, if things are tough I'll be right there." Why couldn't she forget everything else and be with him?

Lucky Santangelo. Drop dead gorgeous. Strong. Determined. Enormously rich. And too independent.

Lucky Santangelo. His wife.

Sometimes it all seemed like a fantasy -- their marriage, his career, everything. Six years ago he'd been just another comedian looking to score a gig, a few bucks, anything going.

Lennie Golden. Son of crusty old Jack Golden, a stand-up Vegas hack, and the unstoppable Alice. Or "Alice the Swizzle" as his mother was known in her heyday as a now-you-see-'em, now-you-don't Las Vegas stripper. He'd split for New York when he was seventeen and made it all the way without any help from his folks.

His father was long dead, but Alice was still around. Sixty-five years old and frisky as an overbleached starlet, Alice Golden was caught in a time warp. She'd never come to terms with getting older, and the only reason she acknowledged Lennie as her son was because of his fame. "I was a child bride," she'd simper to anyone who'd listen, batting her fake lashes and curling her overpainted lips in a lascivious leer. "I gave birth to Lennie when I was twelve!"

Lennie had bought her a small house in Sherman Oaks. She wasn't thrilled at being shunted out to the Valley, but what could she do? Alice Golden lived with the dream that one day she'd be a star herself, and then, as far as she was concerned, they could all watch out.

"You're wanted on the set, Mr. Golden," said Cristi, the second assistant, appearing at the door of his trailer.

Cristi was a California natural blonde with an earnest expression and extra-long legs encased in patched dungarees. Lennie knew she was a natural blonde because Joey Firello, his friend and cohort in Macho Man had been there, and when it came to women, Joey had a notoriously big mouth -- not to mention a notoriously big dick, which he'd affectionately christened Joey Senior.

Lennie, however, wasn't even interested. Since Lucky had entered his life he couldn't be bothered to look, and he really didn't appreciate Joey's giving him a rundown of the sexual habits of every female on the set. "You're just jealous, man," Joey had laughed when he'd complained. "Out of action an' gettin' no action, huh?"

Lennie had merely shaken his head and given Joey a "Why don't you grow up?" expression. Once he'd been a serious cocksman. "If it's blond and it moves, nail it" had been his motto. For years he'd explored every possibility, managing to avoid any lasting commitments.

Along the way there'd been a few women who'd left their mark. Eden Antonio, for one.

Ah, Eden, he thought ruefully. She was something else, a real operator.

Poor Eden. In spite of all her dreams she'd ended up living with a vicious mobster who had used her in a series of porno movies. Not exactly the future she'd planned for herself.

And then there was Olympia. He'd married the plump, spoiled shipping heiress because he'd felt sorry for her. Unfortunately, even he was unable to save her from her self-destructive excesses. Eventually she and spaced-out rock star Flash overdosed in a sleazy New York hotel, and Lennie was a free man.

Now he had Lucky, and life didn't get any better.

Grabbing a pack of cigarettes from the dresser, he said, "O.K., Cristi, I'm on my way."

The girl nodded thankfully, earnest expression firmly in place.

Marisa puckered up luscious swollen lips and blew him a kiss. She'd been after him from their first meeting. He'd managed to remain totally uninterested. Even if he didn't have Lucky, he'd never been turned on by silicone.

"Hi, Lennie, cookie," she crooned, erect nipples straining in his direction.

Shit! he thought. Another fun day at the studio.

Lucky hurried from the tall chrome-and-glass Park Avenue building that still bore the Stanislopoulos name. She had no desire to change it. One day everything would belong to her son, Bobby, and Dimitri's granddaughter, Brigette, so the name stayed.

Lucky was extremely fond of Brigette. The sixteen-year-old reminded her of Olympia, the girl's mother, at the same age. Olympia and Lucky had once been close friends. But that was long ago and far away, and a lot had happened since their out-of-control teenage years when they'd attended boarding school in Switzerland and ended up getting expelled.

Olympia's young death had been a senseless tragedy. Its only positive aspect had been the release of Lennie from a lifetime of burdensome responsibility.

Occasionally she'd felt guilty that everything had worked out so well. But what the hell -- that was life. Hers hadn't exactly been a day at the beach. At the age of five she'd discovered her mother's body floating in the family swimming pool. Then, years later, Marco, her first love, was gunned down in the parking lot of the Magiriano Hotel. Shortly after, Dario, her brother, was shot to death. Three tragic murders.

Lucky had taken her revenge. She was a Santangelo after all. Don't fuck with a Santangelo -- the family motto.

As soon as she walked out of the building she spotted Boogie lounging against the side of a dark green Mercedes. When he saw his boss striding purposefully toward him, he leaped to attention, quickly throwing open the passenger door.

Boogie was her driver, bodyguard, and friend. They'd been together many years and his loyalty was unquestioning. He was long-haired, tall, and skinny, with an uncanny ability to be there always when she needed him. Boogie knew her better than almost anyone.

"The airport," she said, sliding onto the front seat.

"Are we in a hurry?" he asked.

Lucky's black eyes flickered with amusement. "We're always in a hurry," she replied. "Isn't that what life's all about?"