Drop Dead Beautiful Read Free Page B

a few years, she also knew there was absolutely no point in provoking a screaming match.
    “She knows!” Alex yelled, mimicking her. “She fucking knows , and yet she does nothing.”
    Maggie shrugged.
    “Shit!” Alex screamed. “Goddamn actors. They should all go fuckin’ Tom Cruise themselves out of the business.”
    “What does that mean?”
    “Wait a few years,” Alex said ominously, “you’ll find out.”
    “No panic,” Maggie said, relieved. “Here he comes now.”
    An Electra Glide fully restored Harley roared into sight, Billy Melina astride in all his glory, black-leathered up to the eyebrows.
    Alex strode toward the young actor as Billy jumped off his bike. “You’re fucking late!” he yelled.
    “Traffic,” Billy countered, his voice filled with the arrogance of an actor who knows there is no way he can get fired.
    “Unprofessional,” Alex growled.
    “Not my fault, man,” Billy said, casually removing his helmet.
    “Of course not,” Alex drawled sarcastically. “Why would it be your fault? Nothing’s your fucking fault, is it?”
    Maggie quickly attempted to defuse the situation. “Billy,” she said. “Come with me. They’re waiting for you in the makeup trailer.”
    “Hey, Mags,” Billy said, turning on the charm. “You’re lookin’ hot. How’s about you an’ me—”
    “Move your punk ass,” Alex interrupted.
    “Sure, old man,” Billy said, grinning.
    Infuriated, Alex stomped off toward his crew busy setting up across the street. Old man indeed. There was nothing worse than some two-bit actor with a handful of box-office hits who considered himself the second coming of Steve McQueen.
    Fuck all actors. And definitely fuck Billy Melina.
    Alex had seen them come, and he’d seen them go. At fifty-something he was a veteran producer/writer/director who’d been through the Hollywood wars countless times. He knew all the games, all the shenanigans. He’d seen studio heads ousted at a moment’s notice, and a staggering lack of honesty and loyalty. The only studio head Alex had enjoyed working with was Lucky Santangelo when she’d owned and run Panther Studios. They’d had a connection that was more than business, and although Alex had always gone for Asian women, there was something about Lucky that had immediately drawn him in.
    Unfortunately, she was married and in love with her husband, although there’d been a moment in time when they had gotten together. One crazy, insane night of love and lust when Lennie was gone, and Lucky had thought he was dead. Christ! The memory of that one night in a cheap motel in the middle of nowheresville was always there. It was a night he would never forget.
    Lucky had never mentioned their one night together again. He knew that in her mind it was something she preferred to think had not taken place. But it had, and he would always have strong feelings for her. There was nothing he could do about it.
    Since that time they’d remained friends, had even produced a very successful movie together, and now he was a major investor in her Vegas hotel project.
    Maggie returned from depositing Billy in the makeup trailer.
    “Five minutes,” Alex growled. “I want that punk kid on the set in five minutes. You got that, Maggie?”
    “Yes, Alex, five minutes.”
    “And no more turning up on his fucking Harley. I want his skinny ass in a car with a driver . It’s in his contract. Make sure he honors it or get on the phone to his agent.”
    “Yes, Alex.”
    “Okay. Now let’s go make a fuckin’ movie.”

Chapter 3
    Anthony Bonar—formerly Anthony Bonnatti—had it all. A well-appointed luxurious villa twenty-five minutes outside of Mexico City, a duplex penthouse in New York, a vacation home in Acapulco on the bay, and a rambling waterfront estate in Miami. He also had an American wife, Irma, to whom he’d been married for fifteen years; two children—a boy and a girl; two mistresses, his own plane, a helicopter, and a lucrative