"I need to talk to him."
"You're not police, are you?" Wayne pulled a carefully folded sheaf of papers out of his back pockets. "I got all the paperwork-"
"I told you, Jimmy's with me," said Rollo. "You heard anything about Nikki Sexxx? Somebody said she moved to Maui with an investment banker."
"He wasn't a real banker," said Wayne. "She's back on the circuit."
Rollo brightened.
"All she got out of Maui was a tan," said Wayne.
"Don't give me that look, Jimmy," said Rollo. "I miss her."
"Of course you do. She stole your passport and traveler's checks, left you in the middle of Costa Rica, and ran off with a guy in white Guccis. If she had shot your dog too, you'd probably want to marry her."
"I feel your pain, Rollo," said Wayne. "My ex was competing at the Natural Bodybuilding Championships last weekend. I watched him start his posing routine, and I just started bawling. I had to turn the TV off."
"Love's a bitch," said Rollo. "I still got one of Nikki's Anabolic box covers, even though they spelled her name wrong."
"Too many consonants," said Jimmy.
"No," said Wayne, "Nikki don't mess with that stuff anymore. Strictly girl-girl scenes."
Jimmy stared at him.
"Girl-girl?" Rollo pushed back his glasses. "I could live with that."
Wayne opened the door. "They're out by the pool. I really admire your camerawork, Rollo. The shooters Felix uses are pathetic. Half the time they miss the money shot, then the talent has to do it again, and it's never as good the second time around."
"Do you know what Felix looks like?" Jimmy asked Rollo as the door closed.
"He'll be the asshole with the big mouth, just like every other porn director I ever met."
They made their way through the house, following the noise, stopping in the kitchen. Through the sliding-glass doors they could see a three-man crew-two video cameras, and a single lighting/sound tech-hovering around a fourway on the steps of a small kidney-shaped swimming pool. A pudgy man with a ponytail and a safari jacket stood on the pool apron, fingering the gold chain around his neck as he gave orders.
Rollo looked at Jimmy. "I rest my case."
The fourway on the steps consisted of three skinny women with fake breasts and a compact man with an enormous penis. The cameraman shooting close-ups kept bumping the actors with the camera lens as he circled in, a lit cigarette jutting from the corner of his mouth. The actors straddled each other, looking at the director for instructions, their feet slipping on the wet sides of the pool. It looked like a drunken game of Twister.
"You bring the Snapple?"
Jimmy turned and saw a nude woman next to the open refrigerator, chewing gum like a pile driver, a bottle blonde with huge breasts and no pubic hair. A large black widow spider tattoo walked down her flat belly, its legs reaching her hipbones, its jaws just above her vagina.
"We're supposed to get Snapple on the set, but all they have is diet." The blonde cracked her gum. "I don't drink diet." The gum popped, louder this time. "Hey! Quit looking at my cunt. You got the Snapple or not?"
"Ah… no," said Jimmy.
"Tell Felix I'm not doing my scene without my Snapple," said the blonde, stalking out.
"That was scary," said Rollo.
"Definitely." Jimmy heard a splash on the other side of the glass, and cursing. He saw one of the women and a cameraman floundering in the pool, while the male star was climbing the steps, howling, holding his penis with both hands. The director shrieked at them. Jimmy slid open the glass door. "Hey, Felix?"
"Who wants to know?" said Watson.
"Bitch broke my dick!" shouted the male star, bent over, still clutching himself.
"Put some ice on it." Watson pointed at the cameraman wading up the steps. "Careful with the equipment, douchebag. You cost me my damage deposit, it's coming off your salary." He turned back to Jimmy and Rollo. "Who the fuck are you?"
Jimmy smiled. "Relax, Willard."
Watson jerked, his second chin jiggling. The three-carat chunk of cubic zirconium in his right earlobe sparkled in the sunshine. "Ten-minute break," he said, staring at Jimmy.
Jimmy watched the male star holding a handful of ice cubes under his swollen purple penis, while the three women hovered nearby, stifling giggles.
"Dude's johnson looks like a Japanese eggplant," said Rollo, half in awe, half in sympathy.
Watson's face was smooth and pink as a pig's ass. "You must have me confused with someone else."
"If you say so," said Jimmy.
Watson shoved his hands into his safari jacket. "I'd like the opportunity to clear up any misunderstanding."
"Smile." Rollo took Watson's photo with a small digital camera, then took another one for insurance, catching Watson's shock and fear.
"Give me that," Watson said as Rollo slipped the camera back into his pocket. He actually snapped his fingers.
Jimmy laughed. "That's okay, Willard. We'll send you some prints when they come back from Fotomat."
"Take five," Watson called to the crew, following Jimmy and Rollo inside. "Wait! Don't go. What do you want?"
"World peace," said Jimmy.
"I'd like to be six inches taller," said Rollo.
Watson faked a smile. "Either of you ever had a porn queen?" He nodded toward the swimming pool, his eyes the color of dirty ice. "It'll change your life. They do things no normal woman would even think of."
"What do you know about normal, Willard?" said Jimmy.
"I-I would appreciate it if you wouldn't call me that," Watson said softly. He beckoned Jimmy and Rollo into the living room. "Let's get comfortable. No sense talking where the whole world can listen in." He sat on a plastic-covered sofa, the plastic squeaking. "Willard Burton is ancient history, dead and buried. My name is Felix now. Felix the Cat."
"I know who you are." Jimmy sat next to Watson, close enough to smell his sweat and bad cologne. "I know what you did too. I know that you turned Heather Grimm over to a talent agent-"
"Heather who?"
Jimmy grabbed the gold chain around Watson's neck and pulled him forward so he hit his face on the granite coffee table.
Watson sat back up, stunned. "What-what did I do?"
"Tell me the name of the talent agent," said Jimmy.
Watson gingerly touched the gash over his eyebrow, stared at the blood on his fingers. "Look at this."
Jimmy yanked the chain again, not hard enough to bang Watson into the table again, just hard enough to let him know he was considering it.
Watson waited until Jimmy let him go. "Please don't hurt me. I have a heart condition."
"No shit," said Jimmy.
Wayne opened the front door and peeked inside. He waved to Rollo, then closed it again.
"Maybe you didn't know what was going to happen to Heather." Jimmy let it sink in. "That's as sympathetic as I'm going to get, Willard. I know this big old cop-he sweet-talks people into telling him what he wants to know. Never raises his voice, never raises a hand-that's what he tells me, anyway. But me, I haven't got his patience. So the next time I ask you a question and you don't answer, I'm going tear off that earring of yours."
"Really cheap zirc, dude," said Rollo. "You should invest in a better fake."
Watson looked from one to the other. "I-I don't even know who you are."
"That's Rollo, he's the sensitive, artistic one. I'm Jimmy, the troubled loner with a bad temper. Does that help?"
"Jimmy killed a man once," said Rollo. "It was self-defense, but a thing like that changes a person. It did, Jimmy, it changed you."
"Yeah, Felix, it's too bad you didn't meet me a couple years ago. I was a sweetheart then. I would have brought cake and cookies, asked you pretty please."
"I see." Watson squirmed. "Well, you were right before-I didn't have any idea what was going to happen to that girl. It was just an innocent business transaction. I mean, who knew Walsh was going to smash her brains out? A man with that kind of money, and fame- why not just beat her up?" He looked at Jimmy and decided he wasn't going to get an answer to that last question. "The agent's name was April McCoy."