“I didn’t say anything about you. They’re expecting four keys of cocaine is what they’re expecting.”
“You told them cash?”
“They know cash. If they’re in the business, cash is all they know. I told them to bring two-hundred-and-forty thousand, five-hundred. That’s the two-sixty less Klement’s seven-and-a-half percent.”
“How?”
“How what?”
“What kind of bills?”
“I didn’t specify.”
“You should’ve told them hundred-dollar bills.”
“You should’ve been here instead of out sucking some guy’s cock,” Jenny said.
Vincent shrugged.
“They might bring thousand-dollar bills, something ridiculous like that,” he said.
“So what? They don’t change thousand-dollar bills in Paris?”
“Paris?”
“That’s where I’m going once we unload this shit.”
She had never told her dream to anyone before this moment. Well, she’d told Merilee that she’d be getting out of the country, but she hadn’t mentioned Paris, the little house on the outskirts of Paris. She was afraid she’d get laughed at if she ever told that to anybody. But she was so close now, so close. Vincent looked at her for what seemed a long time, as if trying to visualize her in Paris. She was beginning to think saying it out loud had been a mistake. Not because Vincent was laughing at her, which he wasn’t. But maybe God would take it away from her somehow. Steal the dream. Because she’d talked about it.
“Amaros can find you in Paris the same as anyplace else,” Vincent said.
“Thanks, that’s very reassuring. The son of a bitch gave me herpes, I hope he does find me. I’ll cut off his cock, the little prick.”
“That’s redundant,” Vincent said. “And also grossly inaccurate.”
“Don’t go fairy on me, okay?” Jenny said. “I hate when you sound like a fairy.”
“I am a fairy, darling.”
“Terrific. Go confess to your mother. Just don’t mince your fucking words that way.”
“I’m heading for Hong Kong,” Vincent said. “Let Amaros chase me there if he wants to. I’ll hire two Chinese thugs to behead him.”
“You keep thinking Amaros is after us...”
“Oh, please, dear, who else is sending around private investigators? And now a lawyer? Everything legal and aboveboard, oh, yes, until he zeroes in on us. Then we can expect a visit from a goon squad. He wants his nose candy back, Amaros does. He doesn’t like us having stolen his nose—”
“Me. I’m the one stole it. Never mind us, Kimo-Sabe.”
“The private eye came to this apartment. That makes it us. The lawyer came to this apartment. That makes it still us. And if the goons come it’ll still be us. Which is why I’m going to Hong Kong.”
“How do you know he was a private eye?”
“Who are you talking about, darling?”
“The guy who came here with my picture.”
“He said he was a private eye.”
“That’s not what you told me.”
“When?”
“That day. When I came here that day. The day he showed you my picture.”
“I’m sure that’s what I told you.”
“No, you said some guy had been here with my picture, and you were sure Amaros had sent him.”
“Is that what I said?”
“That’s what you said.”
“Well, who can remember so long ago? Anyway, just let him try to find me in Hong Kong.”
“I’m more worried about those two spics tomorrow than I am about Amaros,” Jenny said. “I don’t mind going to this shitty little motel they’re staying at, I figure that may be safer than anyplace else, you know? We ask them to come here or over to the Sheraton, they may come back later, you know? Try to steal the money back, you know? This way, we give them the stuff, we take the bread, and we disappear.”
“Exactly,” Vincent said.
“It’s just who the hell knows who they are? They may be rip-off artists, drift into town, ask some questions about who’s got dope, and then give you a bop on the head and take off.”
“Well, you never know who you’re dealing with,” Vincent said.
“Is just what I’m saying,” Jenny said. “In LA, I had guys you’d go up to their room, fancy hotels, am I right? The Beverly Hills? The Beverly Wilshire? Even the Bel-Air, you can’t get fancier than that. Or the Hermitage. You’d go up to their room, they’d get you in the room, big bastards some of them, like gorillas, you know, they’d lock the door, the bastards. I used to carry a single-edged razor blade in my bag, but some of these guys they’d beat the shit out of you before you could bat an eyelash, rape you, steal all your fuckin’ money, throw you out in the hall...”
“Oooo, that sounds marvelous,” Vincent said.
“Cut the fag shit, willya please? I’m trying to be serious here. That’s why a lot of girls work with pimps, for protection against these fucking weirdos, you know? What I’m saying is suppose I go in there tomorrow and these two guys haven’t even got carfare, never mind sixty-five a key? Suppose what they’re planning is a plain and simple Smash-and-Grab? Smash me, grab the coke, and it’s off to the races. That’s what’s worrying me.”
“Yes,” Vincent said.
“So here’s what I think we should do,” Jenny said.
“The thing is,” Jimmy Legs said to his brother, “I think she still has the watch, didn’t try to hock it or nothing, leastways according to Harry Stagg, who knows every fence in this city and also there’s only two pawn shops.”
“Yeah,” Larkin said.
He was making the spaghetti marinara sauce he planned to use tonight. He had come home at noon today. Rainy days, he didn’t know why it was, nobody came around shopping for boats. Also, what the hell, the owner of the place was entitled to half a day off every now and then, wasn’t he? He was chopping onions, which made his eyes tear. Jimmy was sitting on a stool at the kitchen counter, sipping on a gin and tonic. The sliding glass doors that led to the deck were crawling with rain-snakes. Beyond the deck, the sky was gray and ominous.
“Mama made the best marinara sauce in the whole world, may she rest in peace,” Jimmy said.
“Yeah,” Larkin said. “So you think she’s still got the watch, huh?”
“Oh, yeah, no question.”
“Then maybe you oughta run over this condo.”
“What condo?”
“On Hacienda Road there.”
“What about it?”
“This shyster lawyer?”
“Yeah?”
“Matthew Hope?”
“Yeah?”
“He comes here, he tells me the dead guy was—”
“Who, the P.I.?”
“Yeah, Samalson. He tells me he tracked her to this condo. Place named Camelot Towers on Hacienda Road there, I forget the address.”
“So whattya mean? She’s there? Is that what you’re saying?”
“Well, I don’t know if she’s there or not. That’s an address she gave when she went to see this doctor. Samalson planned to go back Monday morning, but then, you know, he got boxed.”
“Yeah.”
Jimmy sipped at his drink.
Larkin chopped onions and cried.
“It was the garlic made it so good,” Jimmy said. “She used to put in a lot of garlic.”
“Yeah, I’m gonna put in garlic,” Larkin said.