The Cold Six Thousand - James Ellroy [207]
“You’re mine. Nobody’s got the right to care for you, and nobody’s seen things in you that I didn’t see first.”
Barb looked at Pete. Barb scoped the wall stains behind him. Barb closed her eyes. Barb ran. Barb ran straight past Pete.
Otash said, “Dom’s in the trunk. I’ll lay you six to one.”
Car surveillance—Fred O.’s car—the seats pushed way back. Fred O.’s farts and Fred O.’s cologne.
They lounged. They scoped Dom’s T-Bird. They scoped Sal’s apartment house.
Pete said, “You’re on. I say he dumped him in the desert.”
Otash lit a cigarette. Smoke billowed. Pete caught the backdraft.
Barb ran. He let her. She’d run straight back. Wayne hit her. Wayne loved her. Wayne’s fucking cork snapped. Wayne loved weird. Wayne was fucked up. Wayne was woman-fucked. Wayne gets muscled soon. Wayne gets lectured soon. Wayne’s cork gets desnapped.
Pete yawned. Pete stretched. Pete craved Fred O.’s cigarettes.
He scrubbed the suite. He wiped the walls. He burned the rugs. He called Dom’s bun boy. He played dumb. He said where’s Dom at? The geek said, “Huh?” The geek didn’t know. The geek knew shit from Shinola.
He talked to his bellboys. They never saw Sal. Dom signed all the room-service chits. Dom booked the suite. That was good. That played their way.
Otash said, “Sal’s on the skids. What kind of movie star lives in a fucking apartment?”
Pete scoped the street. We’re in West Hollywood—the fucking Swish Alps.
“You mean what kind of coin can he have?”
Otash picked his nose. “Yeah, after he spends it all on fruit hustlers and dope.”
Pete cracked his knuckles. “He’s got a gold Rolex.”
“That’ll do for a start.”
The sky went dark. Rain hit. Otash rolled his window up.
“You want to hear my one concern? That he’s out spilling his guts to some faggot priest or the queens at the Gold Cup.”
Pete cracked his thumbs. “He’s out drinking. I’ll give you that.”
“Dom’s in the trunk. I can smell his rancid ass from here.”
“The desert. A hundred says so.”
“You’re on.”
Pete peeled off a C-note. A car pulled up. Pete made the paint job—Sal’s ’64 Ford.
Sal parked. Sal got out. Sal walked inside. Pete cued Otash—we roll on ten.
They ticked down. They ticked slow. They hit ten. They got out. They hauled. They ran up. They made the front door. They made the main hallway.
There’s Sal. He’s at his door. He’s got his mail. He’s got his key.
He saw them. He dropped his mail. He fumbled his key. They ran up. Pete frisked him. Otash grabbed his key.
He popped the door. He shoved Sal in. Pete grabbed a chair. Pete shoved Sal down. Otash pried his watch off.
“This and half your pay for your next picture. Cheap for what it gets you.”
Brash Sal: “This is a gag, right? The Friars Club sent you.”
Pete said, “You know what it is.”
Bold Sal: “Yeah. It’s a fraternity stunt. You and Freddy joined Chi Alpha Omega.”
Otash buffed the Rolex. “Think back, paisan. You’ll put it together.”
Wise Sal: “I get it. I split the Cavern and didn’t pay the bill. You’re the collection agency.”
Otash said, “The Cavern. That’s a start.”
Cool Sal: “I get it now. I made a bit of a mess. You want a damage deposit.”
Pete said, “He’s getting warm.”
Otash said, “He’ll be hot in two seconds.”
Calm Sal: “You guys make a good team. The beefcake Abbott and Costello.”
Pete sighed. “The time is upon us.”
Otash sighed. “Yeah, just when I started digging on the repartee.”
Smart Sal: “That’s a big word, Freddy. You must have learned it in goon school.”
Pete said, “The trunk or the desert?”
Otash said, “We’ve got a bet. I say he’s outside right now.”
Pete said, “The desert, right? You pulled off outside Vegas.”
Otash said, “There’s always Griffith Park. You’ve got all those hills and caves.”
Pete said, “I saw one of Dom’s movies. That thing had to be a yard long.”
Brave Sal: “Hills, yards, shit. You’re talking Sanskrit.”
Pete hummed “The Man I Love.” Otash flopped a limp wrist.
Sharp Sal: “I didn’t think you guys were that way. Jesus, that’s a revelation.”
Pete sighed. Otash sighed. Pete picked Sal up. Pete slapped him. Pete dropped him.
Sal spit a tooth out.