Heads You Lose - Lisa Lutz [69]
Paul entered his home to find Sook sitting at the kitchen table, cleaning his gun and drinking whiskey.
“Sook, what are you doing here?” Paul asked suspiciously.
Sook served Paul a drink and refilled his own glass.
“Sit down. Drink with me,” Sook said, snaking a cloth through the barrel.
Paul sat down and took a tentative sip. Sook checked the clip of the gun and stuck it in the revolver. He smiled in a way Paul had never seen before. It made the younger man uncomfortable.
“What’s new?” Paul asked.
“Why don’t you tell me?” Sook replied.
NOTES:
Dave,
This book isn’t big enough for two gimpy strippers, so forget about Candi. She’s dead to you and me. And if you don’t think she’s dead, she will be.
While I’m on the subject of death, I should point out that taking my creative advice now and again wouldn’t kill you. In fact, my advice in general often contains life-preserving properties. Case in point: Thanksgiving 1998. Your refusal to put the turkey back in the oven risked not only our lives but also those of your ninety-year-old grandparents. Notice how I’m not mentioning another near-death experience that could have been avoided if you’d listened to me.
Let’s not neglect the Babalatos. You came up with them, so let’s use them. Ideally, incriminate them in Hart’s murder. It’s always good to have a few spare suspects in a murder mystery. And who knows, maybe they did it.
I hope Sook’s not too cute for you in my chapter. Remember who’s holding the gun.
Lisa
Lisa,
As I’ve explained repeatedly, after I’ve had salmonella once, I’ll happily endure cardboard turkey every year. The real question is, what are we aiming to provide here? A surprisingly delicious bird bursting with flavor, or a safe, chalky-dry one?
We didn’t die, did we?
Dave
P.S. I’m curious about all these other writers who are so eager to work with you. Specifically, I wonder why you didn’t extend that opportunity to them in the first place. Or did you?
CHAPTER 22
“Heard you have a roomful of hermies,” Sook said, shaking his head.
“News travels fast,” said Paul from the easy chair across from him. The two had already settled in for some leisurely commiseration.
“Well, that just about tears it for me,” said Sook. “Maybe the Army will take me back. Or maybe We Care wouldn’t be so bad.”
“I don’t know, man, do you really want Big Marv breathing down your neck?”
“Just trying to see the bright side.”
Paul took a drink. “Speaking of the Babalatos, I saw them today. I was supposed to meet with Jay, but then Marv busted in.”
“Lacey didn’t mention that,” said Sook. “Please describe the conversation in detail. Really. Don’t leave anything out.”
“I had a lunch meeting with Jay, but before we really got talking Marv came tearing into Verducci’s. He sat down and said, ‘Jay, baby, let’s not lowball the kid.’”
Sook laughed at Paul’s Big Marv impression, a hybrid of Orson Welles and Hulk Hogan. “Lowball the kid on what?”
“Jay wants to buy Shady Acres from me. They both do.”
“How much?”
“We didn’t even get to that. Marv said, ‘Whatever my brother offers you, add twenty percent. My way of putting the other night’s incident behind us.’” Paul pointed to his forehead bruise, which had settled down into a pretty amaranthine color.
“You didn’t agree to anything, did you?” Sook asked.
“Hell no. For one, why is Shady Acres so valuable to start with? Two, why wouldn’t they go in on it together? They own other stuff jointly. And c, whoever sabotaged my plants put me in a spot where I’d be more likely to accept an offer. The timing is suspicious, to say the least.”
“Unless the timing’s too suspicious,” Sook offered, ignoring the botched outline. “They wouldn’t be so bold as to ruin your plants and make you an offer the next day, would they?”
“Unless they were counting on me to assume that,” Paul countered. “And five, while I’m sitting across from them, outside the other end of the restaurant I see some effete weirdo in Lou Reed sunglasses come stumbling through the shrubs and smash