Sex and Violence in Hollywood (64 page)

“You will feel better after you eat,” Horowitz said. “Wolfgang is sending food to the office. This would not be a good day to attempt a restaurant. I am famished.”

Lamont said, “I could eat my own feet.”

None of them had eaten at lunch because none of them had been hungry.

“We should have shared a vegetable plate in the cafeteria,” Horowitz said, “even though we had no appetites.”

Adam dropped his hands and the bag into his lap and slouched in the seat. “I can’t believe I might get the death penalty and all you’re thinking about is eating.”

“You will only feel worse if you do not eat,” Horowitz said.

Adam made a nauseated sound and said, “I feel...I feel like...”

Like Don Knotts in Caligula! he could hear Carter saying.

The food from Wolfgang Puck was waiting for them when they arrived at Horowitz’s office. Adam smelled seafood. It sickened him.

Horowitz lifted sterling silver lids, sniffed rising tendrils of steam. “Oh, this is marvelous. Sit down, Adam. Eat.”

“I can’t eat,” he said angrily, as if that fact should be obvious.

“You have had nothing since breakfast, if you ate that,” Horowitz said as if she had not noticed his anger. “I will not let you get sick, you have to eat something. Here, have some of this French bread. Still warm.”

“If I eat, I’ll throw up in the car.”

“If you do not eat, you will pass out at the verdict.”

Adam’s eyes grew round. “What? You...you think it’s gonna be bad?”

She popped a scallop into her mouth, closed her eyes. “Mmm, Delicious. Sit down, Adam.”

He went to the corner to get the chair he always sat in, but it was not there. Panic exploded in his chest. He closed his eyes, told himself to calm down, it was only a chair. “My chair’s gone,” he said quietly through tight lips.

“Oh, I needed it in the conference room,” Horowitz said as she spooned food onto a plate. “Lamont, go get Adam’s chair.”

“Sure,” Lamont said, muttering on his way out, “I’ll get his blanky while I’m up.”

Horowitz said, “Pay no attention to Lamont. He is just feeling cranky.”

“Boyfriend problems?”

“No. He cannot decide whether or not he wants to have electrolysis performed on his face.”

“Are you serious? He’s upset about his beard? That’s his personal problem?”

“You know Lamont. He obsesses about his facial hair. It grows like a Chia Pet on crystal meth. It is there even when it is not there. And yet, even when it is allowed to grow in, he has bald spots on each side the size of quarters. Rather odd, yes?”

“Why don’t you just let him wear the beard?”

“I am, until the end of his vacation. Then he has to make a decision.”

“What decision?”

“Whether to have the electrolysis or find employment elsewhere.”

“Are you serious? You’re gonna fire him over his beard?”

“Not exactly. I am going to fire him because the people who like beards do not dislike men who do not wear them. People who do not like beards, however, tend to dislike people who wear them. Often quite intensely. It is an unnecessary obstacle and against the policy of this firm.”

Adam frowned, cocked his head. “You work so well together. I thought you liked him.”

“Oh, Lamont is the best assistant I have ever had. But this firm operates the way it does because it works. I will not change that over a beard.” She walked over to Adam and offered him the plate. “Here.”

“I told you, I can’t eat.” He stepped around her, lips curling at the smell of the food.

Lamont walked in carrying the chair. “Okay, you can stop talking about my beard now,” he said, dropping the chair in front of Adam.

Adam looked at it as if he did not recognize it. Turned to Horowitz. “How long do you think this will take? Can I go see Alyssa?”

“The verdict probably will not come in today. It is almost four o’clock now, which does not leave much time for deliberation. That is as it should be, because typically, a quick verdict is a bad sign. But no, you may not go see Alyssa. If you like, she can come here or to your apartment. But between now and the verdict, I do not want you wandering around the city like some Dickensian urchin.”

Adam took his cellphone from inside his suit coat. Opened it, punched in Alyssa’s number. Sunny answered and immediately began to cry. “Oh, Adam, we’ve been watching,” she said. “I know how worried you must be, honey, but I’ve got really good vibes about this, I really do.”

“Yeah, the vibes are, um...vibrating over here, too,” he said. “Is Alyssa there?”

“She’s here, Adam, but she’s in the bathroom and can’t come to the phone at the moment. She’s having a pretty painful flow this month. Can I have her call you back?”

The Huffmans. Such open, honest people. “Yes, tell her to call my cellphone.”

Chewing on a bite of bread from Adam’s plate, Horowitz opened the cabinet that held her television and turned it on, clicked the remote. Adam sat in the chair after putting the cellphone back in his pocket and Horowitz stepped before him, offered him the plate. “I am very serious, Adam,” she said. “You need to eat. You will pass out at the verdict.”

“My God, you keep saying that!” Adam said, his voice higher than usual. He felt ready to pull out his own hair with clenched fists. “Why the hell do you think I’m gonna pass out? Are you expecting a guilty verdict?”

Horowitz leaned close and raised her voice slightly. “From malnourishment! If you passed out after receiving a guilty verdict, it would be appropriate. But after a not guilty verdict, it would only ruin a perfectly good exit. Now take this plate before I drop it in your lap and bill you for the carpet stains.”

Adam took the plate.

Lamont gnawed on an oversized bite of French bread as he filled his plate. Horowitz made a plate for herself and took it to her desk. Put on her headset, punched a couple buttons.

“It’s Horowitz,” she said. “Do you have any numbers for me?” As she listened, she wrapped a scallop in strands of pasta on her fork and put it in her mouth.

Adam’s cellphone warbled. He sat in the chair and answered. It was Alyssa, and she was terribly embarrassed.

“I can’t believe she said that to you,” she said. “And she actually told me she said that to you, as if it was nothing. ‘I just told him you were having a bad period,’ she says, like it’s no different than saying, ‘She can’t come to the phone right now.’ I mean, do you see what I have to live with here? Death is too fucking good for them. I’d torture them for a few weeks if I had a place to keep ’em so they wouldn’t be found.”

Adam laughed. “Don’t be embarrassed. Shucks, ma’am, I know all about that stuff.”

“Oh, no you don’t. Just because you read Carrie and watch reruns of Maude on TV Land doesn’t mean you know squat. Have some of these cramps, then we’ll talk.”

“You’re funny when you’re on the rag,” he said.

Alyssa laughed. “Well, it just started this afternoon, so that means I’ll be the life of the party for the next few days.” Her words fumbled as she made the reference to the future. They said nothing for a while. Then she whispered, “It’s gonna be fine. I feel it in my gut, Adam.”

There was another pause. Adam did not want to talk about what was coming, what might happen. Instead, he remembered something he had intended to bring up earlier, but had forgotten. He said with a chuckle, “Hey, I didn’t know you were a party girl.”

Horowitz’s phone trilled again and she put her call on hold.

“Oh my God, I can’t believe he said that!” Alyssa said. “A regular at the Jugular? I was there twice! Maybe three times. I never had a goth fetish, I just hung out with goths. I wanted so bad to tell him to kiss my ass!”

“Yeah, yeah. Your past comes back to haunt you.” He laughed.

“What do you mean? You...you believe me, don’t you?” Her voice dropped and she sounded genuinely hurt.

“Of course I believe you. How could I not believe you, Alyssa?” He whispered, “I love you. And if I get out of this, when I get out of this, whatever...I want to be with you.” Clenched his teeth. “I have to be with you. I...I have a surprise for you. If things...turn out.”

“A surprise?” Alyssa sniffled. “Can I see you? Now?”

“You wanna meet me at the apartment?”

“Adam,” Horowitz said.

He turned to her and saw what looked like surprise on her face. Four fingertips lightly touched the curved black tube of plastic that ended near her lips.

“The jury has reached a verdict,” she said.

“When do you want me there?” Alyssa said. “Right away? Please say right away.”

Adam’s jaw hung open as he stared at Horowitz.

“Adam?” Alyssa said. “Are you there?”

“I just sat down to eat!” Lamont said.

Horowitz stood and removed the headset. Talked as she walked around the desk. Moved here and there. Adam wondered if he really was having a stroke, because he could not speak, and Horowitz sounded like the teacher’s honking voice in the Peanuts cartoons.

Alyssa sounded worried as she said, “Is something wrong? What’s the matter? Adam?”

“I-I have to—“ He had trouble with the “g.” “Go. The verd-verdict—”

“Oh, God, is it in?” Her voice was a breath.

“Yes.”

Two sobs blurted up from her chest. “It’s gonna be fine, I know it, I can feel it. I love you, Adam.”

“I’ll, uh...talk to you later.” Adam’s voice was drying up, becoming coarse. “One way or the other, I guess.” He turned off the phone, dropped it in his pocket.

Adam walked between Horowitz and Lamont to the elevator but did not feel his legs. Horowitz’s words blatted from a muted trumpet and made no sense. A few numbers got through. Percentages, statistics. And a few words now and then, just barely. Something about “overwhelming support in the polls.” Horowitz and Lamont looked blurry in his peripheral vision.

In the elevator, Horowitz stepped in front of him, squeezed his elbows and jarred him. “Adam? Adam!”

Annoyed, Adam asked, “What?”

“Do you remember everything about the delivery of the verdict?” she asked. “Stand straight? Do not let the—”

“Yeah, I remember.”

“All right, then. Are you ready?”

He shook his head slowly. “No. I’m not.”

“Good,” she said with satisfaction. “I would not want you to get overconfident.”

It took great effort to understand a word she said. The malady continued all the way to the courtroom. Once inside, the babble in the room sounded like a pond full of ducks. Jack was there, patted Adam on the shoulder and said something to him as they passed. Nicholson’s words were senseless quacks. Adam wondered if he should tell Horowitz to call an ambulance.

They stood when Judge Lester entered, sat when she sat. Then a lot of talking, blapping and honking back and forth. They stood again. Something tugged on Adam’s arm and he looked down to see that Horowitz had taken his hand. He watched her squeeze it, but could not feel it.

Adam turned to stone again. Stone, all the way through. To the center.

The foreman of the jury handed the bailiff a rectangular sheet of white paper. The bailiff handed it to Judge Lester. She looked it over, honked a few words. Gave it to the bailiff, who handed it to the court clerk. The blurry, gelatinous courtroom fell silent and everyone listened as the clerk erupted into a series of honks and blats. Something cut through it all like the glowing blade of a light sabre. Two words.

“Not guilty.”

Adam passed out.

FIFTY-FIVE

On the day
the verdict was read, the entire country experienced a remarkable drop in productivity. People called in sick, left work early, or went to work and did nothing but watch or listen to the trial coverage all day. Every television network covered it, and there were countless webcasts on the internet, which bulged with congestion. Even Comedy Central provided live coverage of the verdict, with legal commentary by Harry Hamlin, who played an attorney on L.A. Law back in the eighties. Ally McBeal attorney Peter MacNicol, and Dr. Ruth Westheimer.

For weeks. Entertainment Tonight and Liz Smith had been making a lot of noise about the bags of mail Adam received. They claimed a good percentage of the mail was made up of marriage proposals from total strangers. Talk shows and chatrooms echoed the question: How long would Nick and Nora last if he was found not guilty, with all those women falling at his feet? Just three days before the verdict was read, Horowitz had let Adam answer the question himself outside her office building. With her words, of course.

“I have not read a single proposal of marriage,” Adam said into the microphones.

“Do you read your mail?” a reporter asked.

“Some of it. I can’t read all of it. But I’ve read quite a bit, and if there are as many marriage proposals in my mail as some people have been saying, I think I would’ve seen one by now. Besides, it wouldn’t matter if there were any, because I’m not interested. Alyssa and I are too happy.” He had smiled.