Get Shorty Part 16

"You want to take it?"

"They your friends, not mine."

Four years of this s.h.i.t, being the buddy of an idiot. Earlier, when Catlett came in, he told Ronnie they were having trouble with Yayo and Ronnie said, "Which one's Yayo?" Four years retained on the books as Marketing Consultant, which meant sitting here with Ronnie deciding where to eat. Then having the martini lunches and watching him get s.h.i.tfaced on those see-throughs. It meant going to Ronnie's parties with all the glitter twits. Watching Ronnie have his nose bleeds about every day. Put up with all that s.h.i.t, it was still better than running a dope house or sitting in a boiler room selling fake bonds over the phone. Better than managing a string of b.i.t.c.hy ladies, better than thinking up the everyday kinds of hustles to get by ... But not better than being in the movie business. He hadn't mentioned to Ronnie he'd readMr. Lovejoy or said anything about it since their meeting with Harry. From now on it wouldn't be any of Ronnie's business. or said anything about it since their meeting with Harry. From now on it wouldn't be any of Ronnie's business.

"Hey, Cat? How about Le Dome? We haven't been there in a while."

They got a nice table on the aisle in that middle section and Catlett waited for Ronnie to relax with his extra-dry martini before telling him he should take a rest. "You going down to Palm Desert anyway, why don't you stay awhile, take a month off, man, and ease out, share your toot with some nice young lady. You been working too hard."

Get the motherf.u.c.ker out of his hair while he set up making his move.

Back in the office of Wingate Motor Cars Limited, past closing time and the help gone, Catlett sitting at Ronnie's desk starting to make plans, he got a call from the Bear.

"This guy's driving me nuts."

"Where you at?"

"Home. We were out at Universal-you know the studio tour? It's like Disneyland."

"You took Yayo?"

"I forgot I promised Farrah. Yeah, so I brought the yoyo along. All the guy does is b.i.t.c.h and say fock, in front of my little girl. I gotta dump him somewhere."

"Bring him by," Catlett said, "I'll talk to him."

Standing at the window Catlett watched the Bear's blue Dodge van come off Santa Monica, out of traffic and into the drive. By the time Catlett made his way through the offices and the reception room to the garage, the steel overhead door was coming down to seal off street sounds, Yayo was out of the van and the Bear, his Hawaiian shirt today full of blue and yellow flowers, was coming around the front end. There was one limo parked in the garage, the white stretch reserved for the rock group, and Catlett's car, a black Porsche 911.

He was in his shirtsleeves, a striped shirt with a tab collar, tie in place-had put it on thinking of Chili's shirt last night; it had looked pretty sharp.

Yayo could use a clean shirt and a shave, comb his hair, Yayo giving him the Tony Montana look with the lip curl. A man that didn't know how dumb he was.

"You have a nice time, Yayo?"

The little Colombian mule started out in Spanish before switching over to English, saying, "I tell this guy I want my focking money or you in trouble, man, believe me."

"There's no pleasing him," the Bear said, fooling with his beard. "I took his picture standing with this cutout ofMagnum P.I. ? Tom Selleck, looks real as can be. All he does is b.i.t.c.h." ? Tom Selleck, looks real as can be. All he does is b.i.t.c.h."

Yayo turned enough to tell the Bear, "You think you funny. Is that it?"

"I took him to theMiami Vice Action Spectacular ..." Action Spectacular ..."

"Man, it was s.h.i.t."

"It opens," the Bear said, "here come Crockett and Tubbs on jet skis. It's like a movie set. You know, some shacks at the edge of the water, we're in the grandstand watching. The voice-over says, 'They have ruffled some feathers in flamingo land and the band of smugglers have a dynamite surprise waiting for them.' It's all low-grade special effects, but the tourists eat it up."

"It was all s.h.i.t," Yayo told Catlett.

"He kept talking like that," the Bear said, "saying fock in front of my little girl."

Catlett frowned, a pained look. "He did?"

"Man wouldn't shut his mouth."

"Listen to me," Yayo said. "I wan' to leave this place, go home. Wha' you have to do, get the money and give it to me. Or give me some other money."

"I gave you the key," Catlett said. "That's all you need, and some patience."

Yayo had that lip curled saying, "I don't wan' no focking key. I wan' the money."

Catlett stood with his fingers shoved into his pockets. He shrugged saying, "Give it some time, pretty soon there won't be n.o.body watching you."

Yayo pointed a finger at him. He said, "Okay, man, I tell you something. I go the airport and open that focking locker. They bus' me, I tell them I come to get something foryou, tha's all I know." tha's all I know."

Catlett said, "Tha's all you know, huh? Wait here a minute, Yayo, I be back directly."

He left them: went back to Ronnie's office and got Ronnie's big AMT Hardballer .45 auto out of the center desk drawer and racked the slide, knowing Ronnie kept the piece loaded. Catlett walked through offices and the reception room to the garage, closed the door behind him and extended the Hardballer's long barrel at Yayo, walking up to within ten feet of the man. Yayo didn't move. The Bear didn't either.

Yayo c.o.c.ked his head then and put his hands on his hips, giving Catlett a Tony Montana pose.

"The fock you doing with that?"

Catlett said, "I'm taking you out, Yayo," and shot him in the chest, the gun going off loud- man, it was loud-but didn't buck as much as Catlett expected. No, looking down at Yayo on the cement floor now among oil stains, arms flung out, eyes stuck wide open, he'd put that hole right where he'd aimed.

"Dead focking center, man."

"I get the feeling," the Bear said, "you done this before."

"Not in a while," Catlett said.

16.

The way Chili found out Leo the drycleaner's room number at the Beverly Hills Hotel, he wroteLarry Paris on an envelope, handed it to the girl at the front desk and watched her stick the envelope in the mail slot for 207. It looked like 207, but he wasn't sure. So he used a house phone, around the corner by the entrance to the famous Polo Lounge, and asked for 207. The operator tried it, came back to say she was sorry, Mr. Paris wasn't answering. Chili, friendly because he was getting somewhere, told the operator Mr. Paris was probably still out at the track giving his money away. Ha ha. To double-check, Chili stepped into the Polo Lounge and ordered a Scotch at the bar. on an envelope, handed it to the girl at the front desk and watched her stick the envelope in the mail slot for 207. It looked like 207, but he wasn't sure. So he used a house phone, around the corner by the entrance to the famous Polo Lounge, and asked for 207. The operator tried it, came back to say she was sorry, Mr. Paris wasn't answering. Chili, friendly because he was getting somewhere, told the operator Mr. Paris was probably still out at the track giving his money away. Ha ha. To double-check, Chili stepped into the Polo Lounge and ordered a Scotch at the bar.

He didn't see Leo or Leo's friend Annette waiting or Doug McClure or any faces he recognized from the silver screen. The room was crowded, six p.m., people at booths and little round tables, most of them probably tourists looking for movie stars. Harry said if anybody here even halfway resembled a star the rest of the tourists would say, "There's one. Isn't that, you know, he was in ..." and some guy from out of town would have a few minutes of fame he'd never know about. Harry said there were guys in the picture business had their secretaries call them here; they get paged, everybody sees the phone brought to the table and then watch the schmuck talking to his secretary like he was making a deal and knew personally all the names he was dropping. Harry said the trouble with Hollywood, the schemeb.a.l.l.s worked just as hard as the legit filmmakers.

The limo guy, Catlett, struck Chili as that type wanted to be seen. Looked good in his threads, sounded like he knew what he was talking about-the type of guy if he wasn't dealing drugs would be into some other kind of hustle. There were guys like him Chili knew by name in Miami, all five boroughs of New York and parts of Jersey. They gave you that stuff about having something in common, being from the street but different sides of it. You had to watch your back with guys like Catlett. Keep him away from Harry.

Earlier today Harry had called from his apartment on Franklin to say he'd come home to change but would be going right back to Karen's. "You know what I did? Asked her to come on the project as a.s.sociate producer and she jumped at it." Chili was learning a little more about Harry every time the guy opened his mouth. "Karen dropped off the script at Tower and we're waiting to hear when Elaine can see us. Miss Bedroom Eyes. Listen to this. Elaine doesn't even take pitch meetings, but she'll do it for Karen. I'm telling you, bringing my old screamer aboard was a stroke of genius." Chili asked him, shouldn't the script be rewritten first, fixed up? Harry said, "What's wrong with it?" Chili told him point by point what he thought and Harry said, "Yeah, Karen mentioned that. It needs a polish, that's all. I'll cover that at the meeting. Don't worry about it."

Okay, for the time being he'd forget aboutLovejoy and concentrate on Leo the drycleaner, find him and get him out of town before Ray Bones showed up. Chili watched a waiter serving a tray of drinks, thinking he could sit here and get smashed and never even see Leo. Leo gets back, cleans up and goes out again without ever coming in here. It was watching the waiter with the drink order that gave Chili an idea, a way to get into Leo's suite. and concentrate on Leo the drycleaner, find him and get him out of town before Ray Bones showed up. Chili watched a waiter serving a tray of drinks, thinking he could sit here and get smashed and never even see Leo. Leo gets back, cleans up and goes out again without ever coming in here. It was watching the waiter with the drink order that gave Chili an idea, a way to get into Leo's suite.

He ordered a bottle of champagne, paid his tab and told the bartender he wanted the champagne put in room 207 right away, before his buddy got back, so it would be a surprise. The bartender-acted like this was done all the time. Chili finished his drink and took the stairway to the second floor. Room 207 was right there, at an open center point where halls went off in three different directions, the wallpaper in the halls big green plants, or they might be palm-tree branches. About ten minutes later a room service waiter arrived with the champagne in a bucket and two gla.s.ses on a tray. Chili hung back by the stairway till the waiter had the door open, then moved fast to walk in right behind him saying, "Hey, I'm just in time," and handed the guy a ten-dollar bill.

Three cigarettes and a couple gla.s.ses of champagne later, he heard the key in the lock and watched the door open.

Leo came in wearing a sporty little plaid hat c.o.c.ked on the side of his head. Leo still playing the high roller, not even dragging after all day at the track, not looking over this way either, going straight for the Chivas on the desk and having one out of the bottle, ahhh, before pulling a fat wad of cash out of his jacket, tossing it on the desk like it was change from the cab fare and then taking the jacket off, the shirt too, it was coming off, Leo getting down to his undershirt hanging on bony shoulders, but not touching the hat, the sporty hat stayed, Leo thinking he must look good in it or the hat brought him luck, Leo in his four-bills-a-day hotel suite having another swig from the bottle.

"You got no cla.s.s."

The poor guy didn't move.

Not till Chili said, "Look at me, Leo."

Watching him now reminded Chili of the time in Vegas, Leo pinned to the roulette table, no escape, and finally coming around to say, "How much you want?" Leo the loser, no matter how much he won. Leo came around this time with the same hopeless look, but didn't say anything. He was taking in the scene. Chili in his pinstripe, on the sofa. The champagne on the coffee table. But what caught Leo's eye and held his attention was sitting next to the champagne. His briefcase. The same one the bodyguard had carried for him in Vegas.

"I wouldn't think you're that dumb," Chili said, "leave over three hunnerd grand in the closet, underneath the extra blanket, but I guess you are."

For a second there Leo looked surprised. "I didn't know where else to keep it. Where would you?"

The guy was serious.

"You're here a while, what's wrong with a bank?"

"They report it to the IRS."

"You don't open an account, Leo, you put it in a deposit box. Dip in whenever you want."

He watched Leo nodding in his sporty hat and undershirt, thinking it over, what to do the next time he scammed an airline. Jesus, he was dumb.

"You been losing, huh?"

"I'm up twelve grand today."

"From when? You left Vegas with four-fifty."

"Who told you that?"

"Now you're down to three-ten in the briefcase. You must've cooled off quite a bit in Reno."

"Who says I was in Reno?"

The poor guy kept trying.

"Your friend Annette," Chili said.

Leo narrowed his eyes and stared, trying hard to fake who he was: He raised his preshaped plaid hat and rec.o.c.ked it, see if that would help. No, there was nothing dumber than a dumb guy who thought he was a hotshot. You did have to feel a little sorry for him ...

Till he said, "It was Fay, wasn't it, told you about Annette. She tell you my whole life history, for Christ sake?"

"I wouldn't let her if she tried," Chili said. "Why I'm here, Leo, basically, is to save your a.s.s."

"How? By taking my money?"

"You can keep what you won today. That's yours."

"It'sall mine," Leo said. "You don't have any right to it." Starting to whine. "You're some friend." mine," Leo said. "You don't have any right to it." Starting to whine. "You're some friend."

"No, I'm not your friend, Leo."

"I'll say you aren't. Come in and ruin my life. Why are you doing this to me? I paid you what I owed."

"Sit down, Leo."

Leo had to think about it, but he did. Went to the deep chair facing the coffee table, sat down and stared at his briefcase.

Chili said, "I don't know how you stayed in business, Leo, you're so f.u.c.kin dumb. Or how you ever got this far. But now you're through. I'm gonna explain to you why and I hope you're not too dumb you don't understand what I'm saying. Okay?"

So Chili laid it out, told how Ray Bones was now in the picture and the kind of guy Bones was, the reason Leo and Annette would have to disappear or else risk serious injury. That seemed simple enough, a no-option kind of situation.

Leo thought about it a minute and said, "Well, I'm not going home."

Look how his mind worked.

"I don't care where you go, Leo."

"I mean back to Fay."

"That's up to you."

"After what she did to me?"

"You aren't only dumb, Leo, you're crazy."

Leo thought about it another minute and said, "I don't see any difference who takes the money, you or this other guy. Either way I'm cleaned out."

"Yeah, but there different ways of getting cleaned out," Chili said. "Ray Bones'll take everything you have-"

"What-you ,won't?"

"Leo, listen to me. When I say everything, I mean even that sporty hat if he wants it. Your watch, that pinkie you have on ... and then he'll hit you with some kind of heavy object if he doesn't shoot you, so you won't tell on him. I won't do that," Chili said, "take your jewelry or hurt you. You have three-ten in the case, right? I'm gonna take the three hundred you scammed off the airline, but the rest of it, the ten grand? I'm gonna borrow that and pay you back sometime."