Sex and Violence in Hollywood Read online

“You don’t want anybody else involved, do ya?”

  “No.”

  “And you don’t want me to know what you’re gonna do with them explosives, do ya?”

  Adam shook his head.

  “And you two are gonna do this mysterious thing, whatever the fuck it is, you guys are gonna do it yourselves?”

  “Something like that,” Adam said.

  “What kind you want?”

  “What kind of what?” Carter said.

  “Explosives. What kind of explosives?”

  Adam turned to Carter, who gave him a withering look, and said, “Like I’d know?”

  “Of the two of you,” Diz said, “which one has the most experience with explosives?”

  Once again, Adam looked at Carter, who shrugged and said, “You’re looking at me again, I don’t understand this. Closest I’ve ever come to explosives is firecrackers.”

  “I haven’t had much, um...experience,” Adam said, realizing how ludicrous he sounded. “I always hated firecrackers. Just too damned loud.”

  Diz chuckled. “Like I axed before, do I look like the kinda guy’d hand a loaded gun to a monkey with rabies? How fuckin’ dumb do I look?” He remained relaxed and jovial, but his face looked ready to kill and enjoy it. “Know what happens I do that, Adam? Send you on your merry fuckin’ way with some goodies? You fuck up and vaporize yourselves, maybe a buncha other people.” He laughed his seal-like laugh between sentences, shaking his head. As if someone had told a great joke. “But then, see, the fuckin’ cops get involved. They don’t care about you guys, you’re floatin’ around in the air with the pollen, if there’s that much of ya left.” He stopped walking and turned to them. “But they wanna know where the fuck you got the goodies. And maybe, somehow, they work their way back here. Next thing you know, we got federal stormtroopers, fuckin’ psychopaths employed by Uncle Sam, we got ’em up our asses, and the bullets and grenades are flyin’.”

  Adam and Carter exchanged a glance as Diz absently kicked a few rocks.

  “Now when all that shit happens?” Diz said. “That’s bad, Adam. People die when the feds get involved. People get maimed and crippled. And otherwise fucked up? Tell ya th’truth, I can’t afford any a that shit, man. That’s why I don’t do it. Now, I got nothin’ against you guys, but if you think I’m gonna sell you shit that blows up—” He laughed again, getting a big kick out of the idea,”—then you gotta gimme the recipe for your brownies, man.” Kept laughing as he continued slowly up the hill.

  “Okay, I get it,” Adam said as he and Carter followed. “You’re not gonna sell us anything.”

  “Yo, Adam, don’t take that personally, ’kay? I’m laughin’ ’cause thass just fuckin’ funny, man, the idea doin’ somethin’ like that in my line a work, shit, man, thass like askin’ a lawyer to work for truth and justice ’steada for fuckin’ money, you dig?”

  Adam sighed. “Then we should go, Carter. We shouldn’t waste anymore of Diz’s—”

  “Hey, slow down, Adam.” Diz put a twisted palm on Adam’s shoulder. “Whattaya doin’, anyway?” More laughter. That Seaworldesque Yorp! Yorp! Yorp! “Where ya gonna go to get what I won’t sell ya? Walmart? Huh? Look, Adam m’man, you got somethin’ needs blowin’ up, and I blow up things for a livin’. Hell, we’re so made for each other, man, we oughtta haul ass to Vegas and tie the fuckin’ knot!” Yorp! Yorp!

  Adam shook his head. “I’m sorry, Diz, but...I just don’t feel comfortable with this. I don’t know you, I’ve never—”

  Diz stopped again, put an arm across Adam’s shoulders. A mostly-smoked Camel dangled from his lips. The hole spouted smoke when he talked. “You think I’m gonna run to the cops and tell ’em about your shit? Whaddaya think this is, a fuckin’ sting operation to catch you in the act of tryin’ to blow up your parents? Don’t fuckin’ flatter yourself, m’man.”

  Adam stopped breathing. Turned to Diz, face open with shock.

  Diz smirked, shrugged. “An educated guess, is all.” He removed his arm from Adam’s shoulder, fished another cigarette from his pocket, and lit it with the butt of the other. Licked thumb and forefinger, pinched the butt out, and dropped it to the ground, buried it with the toe of his shoe. “Adam, you gotta understand me, this is a business. You understand that much, right?”

  Adam nodded.

  “But it’s a sensitive business. That’s why we protect our clients. Whether they want somethin’ blown up, or some kid to blow ’em off. Why we don’t ask no serious questions. Most of our regular clients appreciate that and have enough good fuckin’ sense to do the same in return. That’s how a sensitive business like this works. Even though we may not trust each other, we fuckin’ have to, otherwise there’s nothin’ to do but stand around starin’ at each other, and no business gets done. Nobody wants to hand you over to the cops, Adam, ’kay? Think you can get that shit outta your head? This is what I do for a fuckin’ livin’, ’kay, man? Been doin’ this shit since I was eight.”

  “Where do you learn about explosives when you’re eight?” Adam asked.

  “From Pop. Taught me everything he knows and I took it from there. That’s what he used to do. Till he retired and went into the porn biz. The fuckin’ perv.”

  They started walking again. The hot ground warmed Adam’s feet through his sneakers. Small creatures scattered ahead of them into the shrubs and rocks.

  Adam said, “You took over your dad’s business? So you worked with him, right?”

  “If you like sayin’ it that way, fine,” Diz said. “I was fuckin’ employed, all I knew.”

  “What was that like?” Adam asked, almost whispering. “I mean, did it make you two any closer, working together? Did you get to know your dad better?”

  That got a few loud, full yorps from Diz. “Fuck no, man. My dad’s a prick of the lowest order. The kinda prick who disgusts all the other fuckin’ pricks.”

  “Yeah, I know the feeling,” Adam said.

  “Your dad a prick?” Diz asked.

  “Yep. And he’s close friends with all the other fuckin’ pricks.”

  Diz laughed again. Turned to Adam and raised his right hand, palm out.

  Adam stared, confused, at the chunk of meat at the end of Diz’s arm. Then he realized Diz was waiting for Adam to give him a high-five. Adam swallowed his disgust and slapped the small, misshapen palm.

  “Okay, Adam, tell me. What kinda boat?”

  Adam did not hesitate this time. “A yacht docked in Marina del Rey.”

  Diz nodded slowly and smiled. “Okay, now we gettin’ somefuckinwhere.”

  TWENTY-SIX

  "I wonder who they’re looking for?” Alyssa said, watching a helicopter in the sky.

  Adam thought, I wonder if they’ll ever look for me that way. He stamped the thought out like a dropped cigarette.

  Parked off Mulholland, they sat in the backseat of Adam’s convertible. It was a few minutes after two o’clock in the morning and they had made love there twice. And once in the kitchen at Alyssa’s house when Adam picked her up.

  He had been unable to sleep, but could not stop thinking about Alyssa. He’d called her, but talking was not enough, so he’d picked her up.

  Alyssa was naked in the backseat, skin glowing like sea foam in moonlight, long Daffy Duck nightshirt tossed over the back of the front seat. She leaned on him, and he leaned on her, pants down around his ankles, shirtless. Their faces were close as they stroked each other’s skin. Eyelids heavy, lips puffy and red from kissing.

  The helicopter flew over the blanket of lights below and wielded its sword of light against the city. Searching for someone, something.

  “Will they look for us like that?” Alyssa whispered.

  “Will who look for us?”

  “The police.”

  Alyssa had brought along a few Heinekens from the refrigerator and Adam was drinking one when she said it. Some of it came back out through his nose.

  “You okay?” she asked, patting his back as he coughed.
/>   “Fine.” He kept forgetting about her fantasy killing spree. At first, he had thought she was talking about his plans to kill his dad. But she couldn’t possibly know about that, not yet. “Yeah, they’ll probably look for us like that.”

  She put a leg over both of his, her fingers combed his pubic hair.

  “But by then,” he went on, “we’ll be gone. On our way to the next state. And the next. And the next one after that.”

  Alyssa moved closer, played with his nipple as she sucked on his neck.

  “We’ll always be at least one step ahead of them,” he whispered. “Right from the beginning.”

  “Will we get married in Vegas?” Her words burned on Adam’s neck, then she lifted her head, looked directly into his eyes.

  Adam’s heartbeat sped up. He was afraid he had misunderstood her. Perhaps she was just joking. “Are you serious?”

  She nodded her head, grinned. Sighed as she took his penis in hand and squeezed. He was hard instantly. “It’s two-something in the morning.” Her voice was husky and hoarse as she straddled him on her knees, skipped the slow stuff and started riding him hard. “And we’re fucking in your convertible,” she said, teeth clenched. “You think I do this shit with everybody?”

  They came fast and loud. Alyssa stayed on his lap afterward, Adam still inside her. They fondled and kissed and whispered.

  Alyssa whispered, “I think I’m in love with you.”

  Adam pulled back a few inches and looked at her. He was surprised and moved. “You think? When will you know?”

  She laughed. “If I think I’m in love with you then I must be, right?”

  He kissed her. “I was trying to sleep tonight, but I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I wondered if I was misreading anything, you know? But I guess I wasn’t. I feel the same way. I mean, I’m in love with you.”

  She touched her forehead to his, placed a hand to his cheek and kissed him a few times. He could hear the smile in her voice when she whispered into his ear, “My Adam. You belong to me now.”

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  "You haven’t eaten, have you?” Diz asked.

  “No, I’m not hungry,’ Adam said.

  “You gotta have Doughboy’s specialty. The Five Alarm Omelette. Killer shit.”

  “No, thank you, I don’t need a five-alarm anything right now.”

  “But I already ordered for ya, man.” Diz lit a cigarette.

  Adam sighed, closed his weary eyes. “Okay, okay.”

  “Yo, Adam, you all right?” Diz’s eyebrows probably would have frowned if they were not frozen in place. “You look fucked up, bro.”

  “Just a little tense,” Adam said. “I thought we were meeting someplace anonymous. Someplace with a lot of people so no one would notice us.”

  “This is better,” Diz said. “Everybody here? Fuckin’ family I’d die for any motherfuckin’ one of ’em, and they’d do the same for me. That’s why we’re here, ’stead-uh someplace where everybody’s a fuckin’ stranger and you gotta watch yer back alla time.”

  “Hi, Adam,” Billy said. He had been sitting at the table all along, virtually invisible with his nose buried in a Lady Death comic book.

  “Hi, Billy”

  “Where’s Carter?

  Adam said, “I guess I forgot to pick him up.”

  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 som
ewhere 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.”