Sex and Violence in Hollywood (29 page)

It had taken longer at the body shop than Adam had expected, so he’d arrived late at Doughboy’s Diner on Ninth around ten-thirty. It was a small diner with only four customers, none of them Diz. The waitress poured him a cup of coffee. A plump, rosy-cheeked woman in her late fifties. The grandmotherly type, unsuited for the pink and white polyester waitress uniform.

“Y’all wanna look at a menu?” she asked. Her nametag read JOLEEN.

“I’m supposed to meet someone here. Have you seen a guy with—”

“You Adam?”

He’d looked at the smiling woman suspiciously, nodded.

“Oh, well, why din’t y’all say so!” she said in a high, laughing voice.

Joleen had taken him to the back then, talking the whole time. She had known Diz and his family for many years, before Diz was born. Said she, her husband Bert, and Diz’s whole family used to vacation together every year, till Bert died.

He had found Diz and Billy sitting at a card table in a large but cluttered storage room with a filthy concrete floor and insulation showing in the walls. A bare bulb glared above the table.

Cautiously, Adam asked Diz, “Shouldn’t we...you know, be alone?”

“Y’mean Billy?” Diz asked. He stood, walked around the table and stopped behind Billy. Put his hands on Billy’s shoulders and squeezed. “Look, man, Billy’s my posse. Billy’s on the team, you dig? Weren’t for Billy, I wouldn’t be here. The Billman pulled me up when I was at my lowest, man. And he’s the only fuckin’ reason you’re here. Billy-boy’s why you’re gettin’ a discount, man. The fuckin’ friends of Billy discount, you hear what I’m sayin’?” He laughed, slapped Billy’s shoulders once, then returned to his chair. “Speakin’ of which, you bring it?”

Adam reached behind him and under his shirt and removed a folded-over manila envelope from the back pocket of his jeans, handed it to Diz. It was thick with ten thousand dollars in cash taken from Michael Julian’s office floor safe. It was the first time Adam had taken enough money to create a visible dent in the contents of the safe. As long as he did not check the safe before leaving for the weekend, Michael would never know.

“Tell me, Adam,” Diz said. “How do you see this whole fuckin’ thing happenin’?”

“What do you mean?” Adam asked.

“Well, I bet you already seen this happen in your head a million times, right? Tell me about it.”

Adam had not imagined the explosion in his mind. He suspected he was afraid to imagine it, afraid the images might change his mind.

“I don’t know,” he said with a sigh. “Guess I haven’t given it much thought.”

“Not much thought, huh?” He studied Adam’s face for several seconds. “You a strange dude, Adam. I can’t figure you the hell out. But I like you. You got no idea what you’re doin’, but you got determination, man, it’s fuckin’ inspiring. You prob’ly think I’m fulla shit ’cause where you come from, nobody means a fuckin’ thing they say, but I ain’t like that, I don’t give out no praise ’less I fuckin’ mean it. Ask Billy-boy, I ain’t shittin’ ya.”

Billy said, “He, um, ain’t shittin’ ya.”

“Now, lemme help with a little suggestion, Adam. We wire the ignition. Somebody starts the boat, ka-fuckin’-boom.”

Adam shook his head. “No. I don’t want to hurt anyone at the marina.”

“There, see?” Diz smiled, nodded again. “Y’have been givin’ it some thought. Good for you. ’Cause that’s just what’d happen. Also? There’s a chance the fuckin’ engine’ll be started before the subject or subjects arrive. See, you gotta use a timer. Set the timer to go off when the engine starts. Give ’em time to get out there. Just them and the seagulls. ’Bout the time they start breakin’ out the cold ones...ka-fuckin’-boom.” He cackled happily. “When ya need it done?”

It was Friday, the third. Money Shot would leave the marina the next morning. Then, somewhere out on the water, they would simply disappear forever.

“I know it’s short notice,” Adam said, “but it has to be done by tomorrow morning.”

“No problem. We gonna see the boat after breakfast?”

“Sure,” Adam said.

“Fuckin’ A.”

TWENTY-EIGHT

Marina del Rey
looked like a travel brochure. Clean and windy, with boats all over the place. Masts reached skyward, sails slapped the wind. Luxury yachts gleamed out in the water, coming and going. A lot of white clothes and deep tans, caps perched on sun-bleached hair. Seagulls screamed overhead.

Diz drove a sturdy old dark blue Chevy van, something from the eighties. He had told Adam to lead the way in his car. Once in Marina del Rey, he wanted Adam to park somewhere a few blocks away from the marina. Anyplace would do, the more inconspicuous the better.

Adam led them into a strip-mall parking lot, eased into a slot in front of a Nails Deluxe Salon and a comic book shop. He got out of the Lexus and went around to Diz’s window.

“We gonna have our fuckin’ nails done?” Diz asked with a raspy laugh. He held up both mangled hands, all five fingers, and said, “Might be fun just to see the fuckin’ look on her face, huh?”

Adam thought it was funny, but was incapable of laughter at the moment.

Diz handed him a pack of cigarettes and a book of matches through the window. “Have a smoke with Billy. I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

Billy had gotten out of the van the second it stopped moving. Stood at the window of the comic book shop, gazing at the display.

“Are you going to be long?” Adam asked. “Because I’d really like to—”

“Chill, man. A few minutes.” He disappeared into the back of the van.

Adam lit a cigarette and joined Billy at the window of the comic book shop. Handed him the cigarettes and matches. Billy lit up. The store did not open till two, but there was plenty to look at in the window.

“You like comic books?” Adam asked, staring at several Batman comic books around a shiny model of the Batmobile.

“Yeah,” Billy said. “You?”

“I practically learned to read on comic books. Batman, Superman, Fantastic Four, a bunch. Nothing in a while, though.” In the window, a Wolverine action figure was suspended in air by two strings, as if pouncing on something below. Superman comic books surrounded a model of the Daily Planet building.

“See that chick?” Billy pointed to three issues of Lady Death in one corner of the display. The series’ demonic heroine was on the covers, her colossal breasts the focus of each.

“Yeah. But I haven’t read any of those.”

“Cool series. Cher optioned the movie rights. She, um, wants to play Lady Death.”

“You’re joking.”

Billy shrugged. “They can, um, do some pretty amazing things with, y’know, special effects these days.”

Adam laughed. “They won’t be able to do it without you, Billy.”

The reflection of a third figure appeared on the window pane. Someone tall, in a cap and sunglasses, with long hair.

“You guys comin’?” Diz asked.

Adam was utterly caught off guard by Diz’s smile, his face. The eyepatch was gone and the bill of the black cap was pulled low to hide his eyebrows. A silver CBS Eye stared from the front of the cap. Adam saw his reflection in Diz’s large, black-framed sunglasses. The hole was gone. Like magic, it had disappeared. Straight blonde hair fell from beneath the cap to his shoulders. In his End of Days T-shirt and a pair of shorts, a blue and green nylon backpack strapped to his shoulders, he looked years younger, like a beach bum. As long as he kept his hands out of sight.

“Diz, that’s...astounding!” Adam said, looking closer.

Diz put an arm around Billy’s shoulders and said, “M’man Billy here taught me. Don’t know what I woulda done without him. Some impressive shit, huh? Damned if the motherfucker didn’t give me a face again.”

Billy’s cheeks turned a brief crimson and he smiled at his feet.

Adam had to lean close to see the latex patch. “You’re a genius, Billy.”

“Oh, well, um, it’s...nothin’ special, y’know,” he said.

Diz started walking. “Gotta make one more stop. Little grocery store back up the block? Gotta get a couple bags of groceries. Adam, y’know what kinda food your dad usually stocks the boat with?”

“Yeah.”

“Thass what we gotta buy.”

“Why? It’s not my job to stock the shelves.”

“Don’t fuckin’ matter,” Diz said.

“You mean, we’re going to buy groceries and just leave them on the boat?”

Diz nodded.

“But they’ll notice that.”

“It don’t. Fuckin’. Matter.”

Adam stopped at a crosswalk to wait for a red light. Diz and Billy passed him and headed across the street against it. There were no cars, so Adam followed them, caught up. “Why the groceries, Diz?”

“People know you here?”

“Sure, but I doubt I’ll see any of them.”

“You might. So. You see somebody, they say hi, you say hi, they wanna know what you’re up to, just bein’ friendly, and what’re you gonna say?”

“Ah.” Adam nodded. “Just bringing some groceries for the voyage.”

“Correcto-mundo. Sounds good, makes sense, no more fuckin’ questions.”

“What about you and Billy?” Adam asked. “How do I introduce you if I need to?”

“I’m B.J. Billy’s the Bear.”

“You’re joking.”

“Nope.”

“Look, I’m not gonna introduce you as B.J. and—”

“Then don’t introduce us.”

Adam walked into the grocery store ahead of the other two. Turned to his right just in time to see a Korean man pop up from behind the counter with a shotgun. Spinning around to flee, Adam fell into a smiling Billy.

“’Scuse me,” Billy said.

“S’up, Adam?” Diz asked.

“Uh...” He turned to the counter again. A Korean man, yes. But the shotgun in his hands was a broomstick. Sweeping up behind the register. “Fine. I’m fine.”

Diz watched him for a moment. “You look like you just hadda Depends moment.”

“Really,” Adam assured him, “I’m fine.”

Diz grabbed a cart and said, “Okay, girls, less go shoppin’.”

Later, as they walked to Money Shot, each carrying a bag of groceries, Diz asked, “Your family eat that much fuckin’ macaroni and cheese? Thassa shitload of Kraft Macaroni and Cheese, man.”

“My dad loves it,” Adam said. It had been difficult not to laugh while throwing the boxes into the cart on a whim.

Inside, they put down the grocery bags, and Adam gave Diz a quick tour of the yacht.

Plush cream carpeting, dark shiny wood furniture and cabinets, glass-topped coffee tables. A formal dining room and a galley, six staterooms and a game room with video and pinball machines bolted to the floor and walls. A big-screen TV, hot tub, and a small but fully equipped gym.

“Shit, man,” Diz said with a chuckle. “Yo daddy like his comfort, don’t he?”

“Oh, yeah,” Adam said.

In the kitchen, they put away the groceries. Helping Adam fill a cupboard’s shelves with boxes of Kraft Macaroni and Cheese, Billy said, “This is a real nice boat, Adam. You, um, go out on ’er much?”

“Not since I was a kid. And it was a different yacht then. Dad gets a new one every couple years, sells the old one. Each one’s a little bigger than the last.”

“This a two hunnert footer?” Diz asked.

“Two-fifty. The last one was two twenty-five. He’ll eventually end up with a cruise ship. The Hate Boat.”

When they were done in the kitchen, Adam took them to the helm station. It looked like a compact version of the bridge of the starship Enterprise. The black and silver high-tech instrument panel gleamed among all the dark wood and cream.

Diz sat in the pilot’s seat and looked the panel over carefully. “Okay, lemme see, what the fuck we got here? Take a little longer’n I thought, but not by much.”

“You’re not going to do it now?” Adam asked.

He shook his head. “Tonight. Any chance somebody’s gonna be here tonight? Can’t have nobody droppin’ in on my ass.” He got out of the chair, turned to Adam.

“No one should show up here until tomorrow morning.”

“Two things.” Diz held up his lonely thumb and forefinger. “I need a place to put my backpack. Someplace it won’t be noticed somebody does come. Second, you gotta show me the engine room, Scotty.”

The backpack fit perfectly into the cupboard beneath the kitchen sink. Diz spent a couple minutes looking the engine room over, then they were out of the luxurious yacht and back in the real world. Smelling the filthy water and air.

Back at the strip mall, Diz got into the van and slammed the door. While Billy got in on the other side, Adam rested his arms on the edge of Diz’s window.

“What do we do now?” he asked.

“We...don’t do shit. Billy and I got things to do. You go home. Relax. Go out tonight, have fun.” He leaned closer. “And make sure plenty of people see you doin’ it. Understand? Just a little piece of friendly fuckin’ advice.” He smiled, started up the van.

“See ya, Adam,” Billy called as the van backed out of the parking slot. “Tell Carter I said yo!” He waved as Diz drove out of the parking lot.