And he was going to pay.
He walked over to thefloor-to-ceiling windows of his home. Helooked out over the sweeping view of the city. She’d been gone for only one month, and every night since her burial,he’d had a different woman in his bed. All in their early twenties, all with visions of greatness in theirairheads. All certain that if they sleptwith the great Billy Lancer they were going to shoot to the top when he didn’teven bother to ask their names. But thatwas Hollywood. Everybody wanted to touchhis magic. Everybody would sell theirmother for a chance to be in one of his pictures. He was as big as George Lucas. Jeffrey Katzenberg. Jerry Bruckheimer. All rolled into one. And when he married Natalie, that took hiscareer into the stratosphere. Althoughthe public thought Nat was some talentless gold-digger who made it to the topon her great looks alone, he knew better. She was the sweetest, kindest human being he’d ever known.
But all he wanted now wasn’t fame orfortune or power. He didn’t even wantlove. He wanted revenge. Revenge was his milk. Revenge was his cookies. Revenge was his air. And he was not going to rest until he notonly had it, but was strangling it.
He was about to perform atwofer. Get rid of the man who killedhis beloved wife. That was the absoluteessential part of the plan. But thesecond part was going to be the fun part: he was also going to take that man’swife, a woman Billy once admired himself for many moons, away from himtoo. So he would know what it felt liketo lose a good woman. If Billy could nolonger have his beautiful Natalie, he thought bitterly as he drank more gin,then Mick Sinatra most certainly wasn’t going to have Roz.
And the beautiful part: Roz wasn’tgoing to see it coming because all she was going to see was a dear, sweet,grieving, but also madly successful, old friend. And Mick the Tick was going to be sodistracted by his own problems, the kind of problems only a man with Billy’sreach could ever put in his way, to even notice what would have ordinarily beenas plain as day to both of them.
Billy smiled just thinking aboutit. For the next few months, if it eventook that long, bringing down the Sinatras were about to be his obsession.
And within seconds, as if to put afine point on it, his phone rang.
He walked back over to the bar andlooked at the Caller ID. When herealized it was the call he had been waiting for, he answered quickly. “Talk to me,” he said.
“We’ve got the ball rolling,” thevoice on the other end said.
“Meaning?”
“The raids have begun, and Sinatra’sbeen notified.”
“Are you certain?”
“I’m certain. I confirmed it myself. Step one is happening without a hitch.”
“Good. Good work.”
“It’s just the beginning, but atleast that much went according to plan.”
“Which isn’t always the case,” Billysaid.
“Right. That’s why I waited for confirmation before Inotified you.”
“Just as long as you’re certain, thenI’m satisfied.”
“What’s next?” the voice asked. “Have I fulfilled my obligations?”
“For now, yes. And what’s next? I make my move. That’s what’s next.”
“Sure you’re ready to go there? I know how broke-up you still are about yourold lady.”
“Don’t you dare call her that! And yes, I’m sure.”
“Could get dicey.”
“So what?”
“He’s not gonna like it.”
“But will she?” Billy asked. “That’s the only question I’m interested in.”
“And if she doesn’t like it?”
“Then she’ll just have to feel mywrath sooner rather than later. Which Ihope is later. I always liked Roz. But even she only gets one bite at thisapple. The first sign she’s not all inwith me, will be all I need to know. Sherejects me again, I’ll show her. Plainand simple. I’ll show her,” he saidagain, but with bite in his voice, and then ended the call.
And then just thinking about lifewithout his Natalie caused his anger to spike again, and he threw his glassacross the room, shattering it against the wall, just as the wannabe starwalked into the room.
When Billy saw her, he yelled. “Are you still here? Get the fuck out of my house!”
Horrified and bewildered, she grabbedher tiny purse from the side table, and ran.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The high electronic gate to theSinatra estate opened, and Roz waved at gate security as she drove her Bentleyonto the compound. It was the day afterher failed audition and it had been a long day at work, with even more of herclients leaving her Philly talent agency for greener pastures in New York. And she knew the bleeding wasn’t about tostop. Three new agencies opened in NewYork within days of each other and all three were accepting new clients andoffering them above-scale contracts. Which placed her already struggling agency on life support. And she didn’t want to even think about herown acting career. It had been in atailspin for months.
And nobody seemed to notice.
But as she drove around the massivewaterfall Mick had installed and saw his big Cadillac Escalade parked near thecurve of the horseshoe driveway, she smiled and felt some relief. Mick was the only person on earth who, justby his presence alone, knew how to ease her troubled mind. But then she looked at the clock on her car’sdashboard and saw that it was barely six in the evening. And her relief was gone. Mick never came home that early, sheknew. Unless he came home to pack.
Her valet ran out from the downstairsservants’ quarters still buttoning his uniform coat as she grabbed herbriefcase and empty coffee mug. Hearrived just in time to open her car door for her. She smiled as she began getting out. “Your timing is always impeccable, Marshall,”she said, and he beamed. As one of theworkers put it, Marshall, like everybody on staff in the Sinatra household, lovedthem some Roz. Of course they’dnever call her that in front of Mick Sinatra. Around the boss, and Roz, too, because the boss insisted on it, she wasalways Mrs. Sinatra. Or ma’am.
“Thank you, ma’am,” Marshall said ashe
