Vendetta: Lucky's Revenge Read Free Page B

unsuitable men, virtually ignoring his existence. Once he’d caught her in bed with a man she’d made him call Uncle Willy. Uncle Willy was lying back with a giant hard-on while Mommy was on her knees next to the bed, completely naked. It was a scenario that stayed with him forever.
    By the time he’d left the academy and tasted freedom, his anger was insurmountable. While his contemporaries had rocked and rolled their way through high school, screwing cheerleaders, getting drunk and high, he’d been shut in a windowless room on detention for some petty misdemeanor, or getting paddled on his bare ass because they didn’t like his attitude. Sometimes detention lasted ten hours with nothing to do except sit on a hard wooden bench staring blankly into space. Torture for rich kids whose parents didn’t want them around.
    Alex often thought about the lost years of his youth and it filled him with rage. He hadn’t even gotten laid until college, and that had been no memorable experience—a fat, greasy whore in Tijuana who’d smelled of stale tacos and worse. In fact, he’d hated it so much he hadn’t tried sex again for a year.
    The second time was better—he was a film student at USC, and a serious blond who’d admired his budding talent had given him head twice daily for six months. Very nice, but not enough to keep him satisfied. Eventually, he’d gotten restless and one drunken night he’d enlisted in the army. They’d sent him to Vietnam, where he’d spent a shattering two years—experiencing things that would haunt him forever.
    When he’d returned to L.A. he was a different man, unsettled and edgy, ready to explode. He’d left town after two weeks—hitching his way to New York, leaving a short note for his mother that he’d be in touch.
    Ah…revenge…He didn’t call her for five years, and as far as he knew she’d never sent anyone looking for him. When he finally called, she acted as if she’d spoken to him the week before. No sentimental bullshit for Madame Woods.
    “I hope you’re working,” she’d said, her voice as cold as cracked ice. “Because you’ll get no handouts from me.”
    Big surprise.
    Yeah, Mom, I’ve been working. Hustled my ass for a couple of months so I could eat. Guarded the door at a low-class strip joint. Ran interference for a busy hooker. Cut up carcasses in a meat factory. Drove a cab. Chauffeured a car for a degenerate theater director. Bodyguarded a criminal. Lived with a rich older woman who reminded me of you. Procured drugs for her friends. Managed an after-hours gambling club. Worked as an assistant editor on a series of cheapo slash/horror stories. And finally, the big break—wrote and directed a porno movie for a lecherous old Mafia capo. Tight pussies. Big cocks. Erotic porno. The kind that really turns people on. And a story. Next thing, Hollywood beckons. They know good pornography when they see it .
    “I’m on my way to the Coast,” he’d said. “Universal has signed me to write and direct a movie for them.”
    She was unimpressed. Naturally. A long pause. “Call me when you’re here.” And that was it.
    Some broad, his mother. No wonder he didn’t trust women.
    That had been eighteen years ago. Things were different now. Madame Woods was older and wiser. So was he. They maintained a love/hate relationship. He loved her because she was his mother. Hated her because she was still a mean bitch. Occasionally he dined with her. Severe punishment.
    In those eighteen years his career had soared. From one low-budget no-brainer he’d risen to the top, gradually gaining a reputation as an innovative, risk-taking, original moviemaker. It hadn’t been easy, but he’d done it, and he was proud of his success.
    It would be nice if his mother was, too. She never praised him, although criticism still fell easily from her thin scarlet lips. Alex knew if his father had lived he would have been happy and supportive of everything he’d achieved.
    Now he had a