Read Online Vendetta: Lucky's Revenge by Jackie Collins - Free Book Online
Authors: Jackie Collins
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reached in the back, and pulled out a suitcase filled with his collection—a collection that included early nude photos where she sat around with her legs open, exhibiting a big, black bush of pubic hair; magazine layouts reflecting her rise to fame; CDs;posters; videos of her singles; taped TV appearances and interviews.
Reading her interviews was a major head trip. She was a maniac—talked about sex like she was one of the guys.
Santo devoured every word, memorizing her preferences. She liked men who went down on her—that was in Playboy; she’d made love with a woman —Vanity Fair; she wanted sex constantly and fantasized about black men —Rolling Stone .
Yeah! She was some hot ticket. And he was rich enough to buy a ride straight up her wet pussy.
One day he knew he’d get the opportunity to do it with her.
One day Venus Maria would see him coming in more ways than one.
He leered at the thought. It made every day worth living.
6
“ I CAN’T BELIEVE I HAVE AN HOUR FREE BEFORE my next meeting,” Lucky said, collapsing into the leather chair behind her desk.
“Not exactly,” Kyoko said apologetically. “Charlie Dollar’s on the lot. I told him it was okay to stop by at five, and if you’d finished your interview, you’d see him.”
“Oh, great ,” she groaned. “Why’d you do that?”
“He is one of Panther’s biggest stars,” Kyoko reminded her. “And I happen to know Mickey Stolli sent him a script he’s interested in. So…”
“I know, I know…you’re right, Ky. I should see him—keep him happy.”
“It would be prudent.”
She loved the way Kyoko spoke, he was always so proper.
“Okay, order two margaritas and a dish of guacamole from the Mexican place across the street. Then put on my Billie Holiday CD. I need a mind break and I suppose Charlie’s the perfect person to have it with.”
Kyoko nodded, pleased she agreed with him.
The fiftyish Charlie strolled into her office five minutes later with a shit-eating grin and a bouquet of purple roses—her favorite.
Charlie—like most actors—could be a total pain in the ass. Lucky didn’t care. She was fond of Charlie because he didn’t take himself too seriously and he had a sardonic sense of humor that made him stimulating company. In fact, if there hadn’t been Lennie, there might have been Charlie—he was certainly attractive enough in a Jack Nicholson off center kind of way.
Charlie settled down on her couch and proceeded to light up a joint. “Didja get my message?” he asked, dragging deeply.
“Couldn’t miss it,” she replied, taking in his uncombed hair, scuffed Reeboks, rumpled T-shirt, and ill-fitting pants. Somehow or other it all worked, the tramp look suited Charlie.
He patted his stomach. “We’re gonna dump the gut. Right?”
“Wouldn’t want your fans to think you’ve lost it,” she said caustically.
“Smart lady.”
“You’re so full of shit, Charlie,” she said, smiling affectionately.
He raised an indignant eyebrow. “Why? ’Cause I wanna present the movie star image everyone knows an’ loves?”
“Nope. You’re just full of shit, period. Maybe that’s why I love you.”
Charlie took another deep drag before offering the joint to her. She declined. Maybe with Lennie, but not now, not with another meeting coming up.
Charlie mock sighed. “Lucky, Lucky, Lucky—what’m I gonna do with you?”
She helped herself to some guacamole, savoring the tangy flavor. “Certainly not the same as you do with every other woman,” she said tartly.
“Hey,” Charlie objected, extravagant eyebrows shooting up again: “Can I help it if they all wanna jump mydecrepit old bones? Lady, I do not encourage it. Truth is, I’m gettin’ too old to choo choo all night.”
“Oh, yeah, sure,” she said sarcastically.
He ignored her sarcasm. “And I’ve definitely had it with baby chicks,” he continued. “Went out the other night with one who’d never heard of Bruce Springsteen.
Reading her interviews was a major head trip. She was a maniac—talked about sex like she was one of the guys.
Santo devoured every word, memorizing her preferences. She liked men who went down on her—that was in Playboy; she’d made love with a woman —Vanity Fair; she wanted sex constantly and fantasized about black men —Rolling Stone .
Yeah! She was some hot ticket. And he was rich enough to buy a ride straight up her wet pussy.
One day he knew he’d get the opportunity to do it with her.
One day Venus Maria would see him coming in more ways than one.
He leered at the thought. It made every day worth living.
6
“ I CAN’T BELIEVE I HAVE AN HOUR FREE BEFORE my next meeting,” Lucky said, collapsing into the leather chair behind her desk.
“Not exactly,” Kyoko said apologetically. “Charlie Dollar’s on the lot. I told him it was okay to stop by at five, and if you’d finished your interview, you’d see him.”
“Oh, great ,” she groaned. “Why’d you do that?”
“He is one of Panther’s biggest stars,” Kyoko reminded her. “And I happen to know Mickey Stolli sent him a script he’s interested in. So…”
“I know, I know…you’re right, Ky. I should see him—keep him happy.”
“It would be prudent.”
She loved the way Kyoko spoke, he was always so proper.
“Okay, order two margaritas and a dish of guacamole from the Mexican place across the street. Then put on my Billie Holiday CD. I need a mind break and I suppose Charlie’s the perfect person to have it with.”
Kyoko nodded, pleased she agreed with him.
The fiftyish Charlie strolled into her office five minutes later with a shit-eating grin and a bouquet of purple roses—her favorite.
Charlie—like most actors—could be a total pain in the ass. Lucky didn’t care. She was fond of Charlie because he didn’t take himself too seriously and he had a sardonic sense of humor that made him stimulating company. In fact, if there hadn’t been Lennie, there might have been Charlie—he was certainly attractive enough in a Jack Nicholson off center kind of way.
Charlie settled down on her couch and proceeded to light up a joint. “Didja get my message?” he asked, dragging deeply.
“Couldn’t miss it,” she replied, taking in his uncombed hair, scuffed Reeboks, rumpled T-shirt, and ill-fitting pants. Somehow or other it all worked, the tramp look suited Charlie.
He patted his stomach. “We’re gonna dump the gut. Right?”
“Wouldn’t want your fans to think you’ve lost it,” she said caustically.
“Smart lady.”
“You’re so full of shit, Charlie,” she said, smiling affectionately.
He raised an indignant eyebrow. “Why? ’Cause I wanna present the movie star image everyone knows an’ loves?”
“Nope. You’re just full of shit, period. Maybe that’s why I love you.”
Charlie took another deep drag before offering the joint to her. She declined. Maybe with Lennie, but not now, not with another meeting coming up.
Charlie mock sighed. “Lucky, Lucky, Lucky—what’m I gonna do with you?”
She helped herself to some guacamole, savoring the tangy flavor. “Certainly not the same as you do with every other woman,” she said tartly.
“Hey,” Charlie objected, extravagant eyebrows shooting up again: “Can I help it if they all wanna jump mydecrepit old bones? Lady, I do not encourage it. Truth is, I’m gettin’ too old to choo choo all night.”
“Oh, yeah, sure,” she said sarcastically.
He ignored her sarcasm. “And I’ve definitely had it with baby chicks,” he continued. “Went out the other night with one who’d never heard of Bruce Springsteen.
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