Lady Boss

"On the beach and in the bedroom, perhaps no one plays with the heart -- and other body parts -- as successfully as scandal queen Jackie Collins". -- Philadelphia Daily News Born into a top crime family and married three times, Lucky Santangelo knows how to get what she wants. As gorgeous as she is ruthless, she answers only to her most volatile passions. Now, in the ultimate power trip, Lucky takes on Hollywood -- and there is no stopping her. As the head of Panther Studios, Lucky enters into the deal of a lifetime with claws extended -- and this sleek and stealthy predator will triumph at all costs. Jackie Collins has been called a “raunchy moralist” by the director Louis Malle and “Hollywood’s own Marcel Proust” by Vanity Fair . With over 500 million copies of her books sold in more than forty countries, and with thirty-two New York Times bestsellers to her credit, she is one of the world’s top-selling novelists. Six of her novels have been adapted for film or TV. Collins was awarded an OBE (Order of the British Empire) by the Queen of England in 2013 for her services to literature and charity. When accepting the honor she said to the Queen, “Not bad for a school drop-out”—a revelation capturing her belief that both passion and determination can lead to big dreams coming true. She lived in Beverly Hills where she had a front-row seat to the lives she so accurately captured in her compulsive plotlines. She was a creative force, a trailblazer for women in fiction, and in her own words “a kick-ass writer!” Her fascinating life as a writer and icon is explored in the CNN Films and Netflix documentary Lady Boss: The Jackie Collins Story. Discover more at JackieCollins.com. Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. 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 wasgood-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 theEddie 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 daughterof 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 fiercelyindependent, strong-willed woman who never compromised and always tookchances. Together they generated blazing heat. They'd been married for nearly a year,and both looked forward to their wedding anniversary in September with amixture of delight and amazement. Delight, because they loved each other verymuch. Amazement, because who'd ever thought it would last? Currently Lennie was in Los Angeles shooting Macho Man for PantherStudios. 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, Luckychose to stay in New York where she headed a billion-dollar shippingcompany -- left to her by her second husband, Dimitri Stanislopoulos. She also hadwanted Bobby, her six-and-a-half-year-old son by Dimitri, to be educated inEngland, 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 everyoneknew Lucky thrived on activity, and to sit by Lennie's side playing moviestar's wife would have bored her. As it was, they had a volatile and passionatemarriage. M acho Man was causing Lennie nothing but problems. Every night he calledLucky with a litany of complaints. She listened patiently while he told her theproducer was a jerk; the director was a has-been lush; his leading lady wassharing her bed with the producer; and Panther Studios was run by money-madgrafters. He wanted out. Lucky listened, smiling to herself. She was working on a deal that -- if allwent according to plan-would free him from the restrictions of answering to adirector he didn't respect, a producer he loathed, and a studio run by peoplehe never planned to do business with again-even though he'd foolishly, againsther 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 workingelsewhere," 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 permanenthard-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 theexpression on his face. Once he put the phone down, Lennie felt restless. His wife was the mostexciting woman in the world, but damn it -- she pissed him off. Why couldn't shesay, "Lennie, if things are tough I'll be right there." Why couldn't she forgeteverything else and be with him? Lucky Santangelo. Drop dead gorgeous. Strong. Determined. Enormously rich. Andtoo 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 agig, a few bucks, anything going. Lennie Golden. Son of crusty old Jack Golden, a stand-up Vegas hack, and theunstoppable Alice. Or "Alice the Swizzle" as his mother was known in her heydayas a now-you-see-'em, now-you-don't Las Vegas stripper. He'd split for New Yorkwhen he was seventeen and made it all the way without any help from hisfolks. His father was long dead, but Alice was still around. Sixty-five years old andfrisky 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 sheacknowledged 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 heroverpainted lips in a lascivious leer. "I gave birth to Lennie when I wastwelve!" Lennie had bought her a small house in Sherman Oaks. She wasn't thrilled atbeing shunted out to the Valley, but what could she do? Alice Golden lived withthe dream that one day she'd be a star herself, and then, as far as she wasconcerned, 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 andextra-long legs encased in patched dungarees. Lennie knew she was a naturalblonde because Joey Firello, his friend and cohort in Macho Man had beenthere, and when it came to women, Joey had a notoriously big mouth -- not tomention a notoriously big dick, which he'd affectionately christened JoeySenior. Lennie, however, wasn't even interested. Since Lucky had entered his life hecouldn't be bothered to look, and he really didn't appreciate Joey's giving hima rundown of the sexual habits of every female on the set. "You're justjealous, 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, forone. 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 viciousmobster who had used her in a series of porno movies. Not exactly the futureshe'd planned for herself. And then there was Olympia. He'd married the plump, spoiled shipping heiressbecause he'd felt sorry for her. Unfortunately, even he was unable to save herfrom her self-destructive excesses. Eventually she and spaced-out rock starFlash 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 onmy way." The girl nodded thankfully, earnest expression firmly in place. Marisa puckered up luscious swollen lips and blew him a kiss. She'd been afterhim from their first meeting. He'd managed to remain totally uninterested. Evenif 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 stillbore the Stanislopoulos name. She had no desire to change it. One dayeverything 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 ofOlympia, the girl's mother, at the same age. Olympia and Lucky had once beenclose friends. But that was long ago and far away, and a lot had happened sincetheir out-of-control teenage years when they'd attended boarding school inSwitzerland and ended up getting expelled. Olympia's young death had been a senseless tragedy. Its only positive aspecthad been the release of Lennie from a lifetime of burdensomeresponsibility. Occasionally she'd felt guilty that everything had worked out so well. But whatthe hell -- that was life. Hers hadn't exactly been a day at the beach. At the ageof five she'd discovered her mother's body floating in the family swimmingpool. Then, years later, Marco, her first love, was gunned down in the parkinglot of the Magiriano Hotel. Shortly after, Dario, her brother, was shot todeath. Three tragic murders. Lucky had taken her revenge. She was a Santangelo after all. Don't fuck witha Santangelo -- the family motto. As soon as she walked out of the building she spotted Boogie lounging againstthe side of a dark green Mercedes. When he saw his boss striding purposefullytoward him, he leaped to attention, quickly throwing open the passengerdoor. Boogie was her driver, bodyguard, and friend. They'd been together many yearsand his loyalty was unquestioning. He was long-haired, tall, and skinny, withan uncanny ability to be there always when she needed him. Boogie knew herbetter 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?"Copyright © 1990 Jackie Collins Read more