Free Lady Boss by Jackie Collins

driveway Lennie leaned across and opened the door. ‘Don’t take it personally,’ he said, feeling some acknowledgement of her move was necessary. ‘I’m a very happily married man.’
    Cristi was not at all put out. ‘Why should I? You’ll change your mind,’ she replied, confident and pretty as she climbed out of his car and walked towards the front door, turning for a final wave, her pale hair catching the light on the porch.
    Hey, before Lucky things might have been different… Now he couldn’t wait to get home and call his beautiful wife in New York.
    * * *
    Lucky turned around and began the long jog back. The beach was still deserted. The waves continued to hit the sand with monotonous regularity.
    With a shudder she wondered what was out there hiding in the vast dark ocean. A recent news report had mentioned sharks venturing closer inland. Not that they were going to come sliding out of the sea onto the beach, but suddenly she felt an overwhelming desire to hurry back to the safety of the house.
    * * *
    The Ferrari made a noise that expensive Italian sports cars are never supposed to make and spluttered to a standstill in the middle of Sunset – opposite the Roxy, where groups of stoned, long-haired rock fans waited for the next heavy-metal concert.
    â€˜Shit!’ Lennie muttered. He needed this like he needed the clap.
    A patrol car cruised by and pulled up in front of him. The policeman who emerged was better-looking than Tom Selleck and wore his uniform well. He exhibited plenty of attitude as he sashayed towards Lennie. Big cock with a big gun. An unbeatable combination.
    â€˜We got a little problem here?’ the cop drawled, a Southern import.
    â€˜Nothing that a new engine won’t fix,’ Lennie replied.
    â€˜Aren’t you—’ The cop hesitated for a moment, determined to get it right. ‘Lennie Golden!’ he announced triumphantly. ‘You’re some funny guy.’
    Happiness is finding a policeman who’s a fan, Lennie thought. Sometimes it was just the opposite, and they broke your balls because of your celebrity.
    â€˜I guess we gotta get you outta here before the crowds discover you,’ the cop said, doing nothing except standing by the stalled car while a traffic jam built up in the lane behind them and impatient horns began to blast.
    â€˜That would be nice,’ Lennie agreed.
    â€˜I came out to L.A. ten years ago,’ the cop continued conversationally. ‘Wanted to be an actor. I guess it didn’t work out.’ He fingered his holstered gun. ‘Being a cop ain’t all that bad. Sometimes I
feel
like an actor. Women really get off on the uniform.’ He smiled, pleased with himself. ‘Y’know what I mean?’
    â€˜I know,’ Lennie said amicably, wishing this schmuck would get his shit together.
    â€˜I bet you got a lotta women chasin’ you,’ the cop said with a lewd wink. ‘Famous ones, huh?’
    Lennie ignored the comment. ‘Do we phone the Automobile Club or what?’ he asked, trying not to sound too irritable.
    The policeman ran a stubby finger along the shiny paint of the Ferrari. ‘Anytime you got a part for a real live cop y’can call on Marion Wolff,’ he said casually.
    Lennie frowned. ‘Who?’
    â€˜Marion Wolff. That’s me. That’s my name. Y’see, my mom figured if they could give the name of Marion to John Wayne when he was born, then it was OK enough for me. An’ y’know something? My old mom was right. I kinda like the name Marion. It’s got character. What d’you think?’
    Lennie shook his head, already working this whole routine into some future comedy schtick. Not that he did stand-up anymore – he’d passed on that a long time ago. But this could be a funny set piece for Letterman or Carson.
    An older policeman emerged from the patrol car, a grizzled guy with a mean stomp