High Life (23 page)

“Jackie, how good of you to come. Let’s have a little chat out here in the sun, shall we, old man?”

I went out onto the deck, Ryan closed the door behind me.

“I expected to hear from you before now, Jackie boy. But better late than never. You do have something to tell me, don’t you?”

“Not exactly.”

“Oh dear, I hope this isn’t going to get nasty. What did she say to our little proposal?”

“Your proposal.”

“I’m not Mister Lenient today.”

“It’s not the right time to hassle her about it. It could spoil things for me.”

“Whoops, wrong thing to say.”

He hit me in the face, a straight hard punch to the mouth. In the freeze-frame seconds it took me to fall to the floor the only thing I thought about was how a split lip might fuck my upcoming TV appearances. I made a lot of noise impacting on the wooden planking. Rex must have heard it inside, but he didn’t come to investigate, or to save me. And free of such bothersome interruptions, Ryan proceeded to kick the shit out of my ribs with his dainty little feet. It hurt a lot. I curled up and closed my eyes and waited for it to stop. It took a while.

“You’ll have to excuse me, Jackie, my temper isn’t the best today.”

He moved away from me, breathing heavily, and coughed something into a handkerchief. I got up and leaned against the railing. The house was built out over a small canyon, one of those things on stilts that cling to the hills, counting the minutes until the big one hits. Below me there was a lot of foliage made soft by the late-afternoon sun. It seemed an oddly pretty place to take a beating.

“Do you see how important this is now? She’s only someone you’re fucking.”

“She’s more than that.”

“Oh, Jackie, I’m all aquiver.”

“If you wait a couple of months I’ll be able to pay you something myself.”

“But not as much as she could. No deal. Have we communicated?”

I ran through the possible progression of events—I tell Bella Ryan’s got a tape, she starts wondering how come he just happened to be there at the right time then realizes I’m carrying some extra baggage, a cop getting so close to whatever illegal medical activities she’s engaged in makes her nervous, and it’s adios life at Malibu—the car, the money, and, worst of all, the chance at TV entry.

But what was the alternative? From the look of Ryan, something life-threatening.

I nodded painfully. My mouth was already beginning to swell.

“That’s my boy. Let’s sit a while with your friend, I need to unwind.”

“How did you connect us?”

“Once you shacked up with your cunt I knew you wouldn’t be in any hurry to get in touch, so I pulled the phone records on your Hollywood place. There were only two addresses to trace—here, and some fuck service in the Wilshire district. Soon as I saw Rexy I got a feeling this was the one to go with.”

Back in the lounge Rex was sitting on the good part of the couch. His eyes were closed, but he was awake and as we came in he dragged them open and looked at my mouth.

“Sounded noisy.”

“But you didn’t feel like checking.”

“Thought I was dreaming.”

We sat in the chairs that went with the couch. All I could think of was getting in my car and heading home, but Ryan, pumped from his recent violence, wanted diversion.

“How about some gear, Rexy old boy?”

“Haven’t got any clean works.”

“Foil will do. I’m sure you’ve got some of that. Go find it.” Rex took a long time getting to his feet, then disappeared to some other part of the house. I heard things crashing around—pans, plates, glasses.

Ryan stretched in his chair and scanned the room.

“Looks like your friend’s got a self-image problem.”

Rex came back with a crumpled patch of tin foil and Ryan and I chased brown smack. No rush, just a low-burn stone that doesn’t really punch home until you stand up or try and remember something. Mostly a waste of an expensive drug, but Ryan probably drew the line at syringes and I had to get back to Malibu. I wouldn’t have bothered with it at all except my mouth was hurting and I felt a little humiliated by my beating.

“This is fun, us guys together. Could do with some pussy, though. Whaddya say? Three on one. A hole for everyone.”

Neither Rex nor I made any response.

“Did some checking on your bim, Jackie. Strange coincidence. You know she’s a doctor? Got a clinic in Brentwood.”

“Of course I know.”

“Interesting, huh? Karen was cut up by someone with medical knowledge—you’re going out with a doctor. A doctor who likes injecting people in motel rooms.”

“That doesn’t make her the killer.”

“It doesn’t make her not the killer, either. She tell you about Daddy?”

“He’s a doctor too.”

“Not quite, fuckhole. I did some checking. He used to be a surgeon, but he fucked up.”

“Oh yeah?”

“She didn’t tell you, did she? Shit, Jackie, it don’t sound like you rate too high.”

He giggled and shook his head.

“Seems, a long time back, he developed a habit of visiting the restricted medicines cabinet between operations. He got caught. The hospital didn’t press criminal charges but the AMA disbarred him, or whatever they do to doctors, and he couldn’t work anymore. What he does now I don’t know, but it ain’t doctoring.”

Ryan rubbed his balls and nodded at Rex.

“Been buddies long?”

“A while.”

“You came running plenty fast when he called.”

“So what?”

“Just wondering how close you really are.”

“Jesus Christ …”

“Hey, Rex, you like men or women?”

Rex had been nodding again, but mention of his name jerked his head up.

“I’m ambivalent.”

“Ooo, sounds promising. You feeling sexy, Rexy?”

“You can do me if you want to pay.”

“You call that enthusiasm?”

“I call it business.”

“How about a free introductory offer?”

“Get fucked.”

Ryan took out his gun and waved it loosely around.

“You could always go to work on this.”

Rex sighed, pushed himself off the couch, and dropped to his knees between Ryan’s legs. When he started unzipping I got up to leave.

“Sit down, Jackie. You ought to know by now I like to share these special moments with you.”

Ryan’s dick came out of his pants soft, like a large white slug, and Rex had to suck for a while to get it hard. Ryan tilted his head so he could watch it going in. He started to sweat.

“Hey, Jackie, get me one of my pills. In my pocket.”

“Get it yourself.”

“Jackie …”

There was a dangerous edge to his voice. I got up and felt through his pockets until I found the pill bottle. When I held one out to him he wouldn’t take it.

“You do it.”

The sight of his open mouth, tongue sticking out all wet and red, was more disgusting than his hard-on. I dropped the pill in and moved quickly back to my chair.

Sex on smack is a drawn-out affair and Ryan didn’t seem to be making much effort to hurry it along. Rex sucked until his spit ran down the side of Ryan’s cock.

“Okay, Rexy, time to change ends.”

They moved into the middle of the floor. Rex stripped down and got on all fours. Ryan heaved into position behind him.

“Whoa, looks a bit dry to me. Come over and spit on his ass, Jackie.”

“What?”

“You’re on that tape as well as your girlfriend. Don’t piss me off.”

I stood over Rex’s ass, getting ready to dribble a gob down, hoping it would find its mark. But that wasn’t good enough for Ryan.

“Bend down, get close. How many times do you want to have to do it?”

I stooped over until I could smell asshole funk and let fly with a mouthful.

“Oh, no, no, no. Not that thin white shit. We need something better than that, don’t we, Rexy? Get some green back-of-the-throat stuff. I’m talking high-viscosity, boy. Go on, lay it right there, right on the old bull’s-eye.”

I hawked and snorted a wad together then pumped it out. It hit pretty much dead center.

“That’s the ticket.”

Ryan smeared it around with the end of his dick, then pushed himself inside.

They fucked for a long time. Ryan dripped. Rex looked like he was dozing. I counted syringes until I realized Ryan was talking to me again.

“—round here and get into his mouth.”

“Huh?”

“Both of us together. Come on. You in his head, me in his ass. It’ll be like we’re fucking each other.”

Ryan’s gun was on the cushion of the couch. He reached out and cocked it, kept his hand on it, looking at me.

This kind of scene was nothing new to Rex. He’d sucked a million cocks. But I wasn’t business. We knew each other, we’d been friends. The act would carry a shitload of weight and I didn’t want to be part of it. But it was clear Ryan was going to make it an issue if I refused. So I cursed, got up, and put my dick into Rex’s mouth.

I was beyond boredom, beyond protest. Smacked and drained by the whole scene. Rex was so stoned he didn’t even open his eyes when he felt the end of my dick against his lips. He just opened up and started to rock his head. Ryan watched me with a half smile—my face, the movement of my hips. We synchronized—him holding onto ass flesh, me to shoulders, both of us jamming into Rex so that I imagined he must be compressing somewhere in the middle.

We finished and pulled out. Rex climbed onto the couch and started cooking up a shot like nobody was there, like nothing had happened. His depression seemed to have rendered him completely neutral, a being at the whim of any force that chose to move him.

When Ryan and I left he glanced at me like he was going to say something, but halfway into it he ran out of energy and couldn’t carry through.

Out on the street I dawdled, hoping Ryan would fuck off and not notice the Mustang, but that was pretty much impossible considering where I’d parked it. He ran his fingers over the glossy paintwork.

“A little love gift? You know, Jackie, I’ve got a good feeling about what we’re getting into. If this is what she drops to say thank you for a fuck, the cash she’ll lay out for our tape could be considerable. Don’t make me come looking for you.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Bella was swimming naked when I got back to Malibu. I sat in a chair at the edge of the pool and waited for her to notice my swollen lip.

“Jack, what happened? Have you been mugged?”

Her body came out of the water shining and white. She stood in front of me, dark hair plastered to her shoulders, water running between her breasts, from the matted peak of her cunt hair.

“Are you all right? Let me see.”

She bent down to do the professional doctor thing, but I stopped her.

“We have to talk about something. It isn’t good.”

Bella frowned, then pulled a chair around and sat facing me. She didn’t bother with a towel.

“There’s a video of what we did to that guy in the motel.”

“No there isn’t.”

“There is. I’ve seen it. You aren’t the only one with a camera.”

For a fraction of a second Bella’s face betrayed panic, but she killed the reaction before it had time to take hold. I could see her locking herself together against it, containing it in favor of a more productive alternative.

“Tell me about it.”

“A guy was hanging around outside. He saw the three of us go into one room and figured it was going to be a sex thing. He found a gap in the curtains and now he’s got a tape to sell.”

“Who is he?”

“I don’t know. A guy who gets off peeping into bedrooms. He said his name was Ryan.”

“He wants money?”

“What else?”

Bella ran the problem for a while, then something occurred to her.

“How did he contact you?”

“He phoned while you were at Brentwood. He wanted me to meet him at some motel. That’s where I’ve been.”

“How did he get the number?”

“I don’t know. Maybe he followed us back and got it from the address.”

“It’s unlisted.”

“Well, however he did, he got it. And he’s got a tape and it’s us on it, the whole injection bit, everything.”

“Does he know I’m a doctor?”

“He didn’t mention it.”

Bella did some more thinking, then pushed the wet hair back from her face.

“I want to meet him.”

It surprised me she was so eager, but it saved me the hassle of persuading her to agree to it.

“That’s what he wants. Are you going to pay him?”

“At the moment it would seem to be the easiest thing to do.”

“But what if he comes back for more?”

“I have a lot of money. And if it gets beyond a joke we’ll find another way of handling it.”

Two days later Ryan met Bella and me in my new house on Willow Glen in Laurel Canyon. I hadn’t had time to furnish it yet and the place was empty except for a TV and VCR that Bella had had delivered.

When I’d made the arrangements with Ryan the day before I’d asked him not to blow the Peeping Tom story I’d given Bella. He hadn’t made any promises but I couldn’t see what he’d get out of telling her about our previous connection. He might even figure having a man on the inside would be beneficial to possible future transactions. But that didn’t stop me shitting myself that he’d do it just out of spite, and I’d had to watch TV almost constantly after speaking to him to keep my anxiety in check.

The walls of the lounge were white and the floor was bare polished wood. Bella and Ryan stood close to each other in front of the TV, watching the tape. I walked around the room, looking out of windows but listening hard for anything either of them might say.

Bella didn’t seem angry or disgusted by Ryan, in fact it looked like she was too entranced with the image of her own double-penetration to bother defining an attitude toward him. When the show was over she stared at static, absently fingering herself under her skirt. Ryan glanced over at me wide-eyed then spoke to her.

“The sex doesn’t mean much, but that injection … Was he dead there for a minute?”

“You don’t need to emphasize anything. I’m aware of what it shows. How much do you want?”

“Fifty thousand.”

“That sounds possible. I have something I’d like you to watch first, though.”

Bella smiled at him, her eyes had the heavy dark look they got when she wanted to be fucked. Whether it was real or faked I couldn’t tell. She took a cassette out of her bag and had him load it. I didn’t have any idea what she was doing.

The tape ran. I recognized the sitting room in Bella’s suite at Malibu. She was on her back, legs spread to camera, fucking herself with a vibrator. Ten seconds in, I realized the action had been paced for maximum cinematic effect, her movements were too extravagant for a simple wank. I wondered if Ryan noticed, but he was so locked into the scene he probably didn’t care one way or the other. Bella leaned against him, whispering into his ear, stroking the front of his pants. Mister Frightening, the man who watched women get jackhammered, seemed robbed of self-will by her voice and the pressure of her hand.

I heard his fly open, saw one of his legs tremble momentarily. I moved further round the room so I could watch. His cock looked thick in her hand. The skin under its head bunched and stretched as she stroked. She timed it to the video and he spurted seed across the floor as she came, or fake came, on screen. She flicked jism off her fingers and wiped her hand with a tissue while Ryan stuffed his cock back inside his trousers. “That supposed to make me drop my price?”

“Not at all. I just thought that where a sum like fifty thousand dollars is concerned we should connect on a more personal level.”

“Right …” Ryan sounded a trifle uncertain, like he had no idea what the wank had been about. “How do you want to do it?”

“Jack will call you to make the arrangements.”

“You don’t get the tape till then.”

“It hardly matters. You can’t exactly give me the negatives, can you? It’s time for you to go, Jack and I are expecting some furniture.”

“Will you come along with the money?”

“Perhaps.”

We watched Ryan’s gray Plymouth pull out of the drive. Halfway down the hill it passed two large delivery trucks coming the other way—possessions for my new life.

We detoured for dinner on the way back to Malibu, down to the shitty end of Melrose and a Mexican joint with good food and a lot of photos of famous diners on the walls. A little down-market for Bella, but I wanted a burrito and the dimness of the place made me feel less exposed to the uncertainties her interaction with Ryan had raised.

“What were you whispering to him?”

“Nothing important.”

“But what?”

“I was just describing how the vibrator felt.”

“Do I ask why?”

“Same as I told him, I wanted to create a link other than the money. It may be for nothing, but if he becomes a problem it could give us an edge.”

I drank margaritas until they burned my stomach in celebration of the fact that Ryan hadn’t yet fucked up my progress toward the high life. Bella had to drive us home in the 850ci.

Next morning Larry Burns’s secretary phoned and told me to turn up at the Warner lot by midday to start work.