She’d spent her late teens and most of her twenties running back and forth in sky-high-heels along the Thirsty Dog’s hard, beer-stained floor. She dealt with those clients, those fat men with bad breath and sticky fingers, who continually tried to stick them where they didn’t belong. Lulu never danced like the other girls, but she was contemplating making that move. At least those girls made enough to pay their rent. Then Sammy slugged into the bar.
She poured him his Schlitz malt as he watched Trina climb the greasy pole onstage for the nine hundred and ninety-thousandth time. Suddenly, Sammy reached over and grabbed Lulu’s hand. His lips brushed close against her ear.
“Babe, those girls dancin’ up there, they’re nothing but money grabbing hos. I got a knack for telling, and I can tell you’re not like that. Don’t try to deny it now.”
As if she heard, Trina, the club’s top grosser shimmied by, winking her big black falsies and shaking her waist-length, lustrous blonde mane back and forth. She pointed a long, blood red manicured finger towards Sammy, and motioned towards the private rooms.
“Meet you in the back in five, sugar, and bring lots of cash. You know we always have ourselves a real good time.”
Even Lulu had to admit, Trina’s ass, flanked in a flossie the size of a straw, looked pretty damn good. Fully expecting Sammy to follow the dancer, she was surprised when he stayed put.
“Hey, Trina,” Sammy called out. “You’re looking sharp and all, but our dancing days are over. I got what I want. And it’s right here.”
Draping an arm around Lulu’s shoulders, he’d pulled her close. He stood just a hint over five feet tall. She wasn’t too sure yet if Sammy meant what he’d said, but it sounded good to her. Good enough to overlook that funny limp on his right side and the fact that he was nearly a decade older.
Sammy had been good on his word. He’d show up and pay the house for her shift so Lulu wouldn’t have to run on her heels all night long. And when she was short on rent, he’d make that happen too. Lulu could have picked worse. Finally, a caring man had come into her life.
After they’d hooked up, Sammy taught her the ropes on some of his scams. He’d grown up stealing stuff at dime stores while he distracted clerks with magic tricks. He’d learned to do this by watching his dad, a fledgling magician, perform at local carnival shows. As time passed Sammy moved on to bigger takes, like electronics and jewelry. He convinced Lulu to help him pull one last job in L.A. “We’ll score enough to quit running,” he told her. “Then we’ll settle down somewhere nice. Just us two.”
And she’d believed him.
For this last job, Sammy wanted Lulu to play eye-candy to distract, while he got busy with the take. He needed her best assets dressed to kill, up front and center. Although the two of them worked as a pair, Sammy wanted additional help because the gem show offered too many goodies to pass up. He asked a local L.A. con named Trevor to join them.
Trevor was waiting for them at The Pantry, a famous L.A. diner, the second night after the Greyhound dumped them into town. Sporting an over-sized charcoal-black trench, scuffed up combat boots, and plenty of hardware to match, Trevor seemed out of place in the landmark eatery. A pockmarked twenty-something, his face spelled trouble.
“You Trevor?” Sammy cautioned as they approached the young man sitting alone in the cracked, orange leatherette booth near the rear of the restaurant. Seriously working on a plate of scrambled ’n’ hash, the punk barely glanced up. The whole runny mess looked to Lulu like the cooks had fried it up from eggs older than the joint itself.
“Yeah, man, that’s me,” he mumbled, mouthing through sausage. “You’re Sammy, right? Christ-almighty, Jack said you were short but damn! Anyway, look, I wasn’t expecting you for another hour, so sit down and order up. Might as well since you’ll be picking up the check.”
He grinned as he sawed through his eggs and checked out Lulu.
“Who’s the babe?” he said, leaning over to get a better view of Lulu’s cleavage.
Wrapped up tight in a tiny, low cut blouse because that’s how Sammy liked it, Lulu bristled for a hot second but shook it off. She’d dealt with guys like Trevor before.
“This is Lulu. Lulu, Trevor.” Sammy leaned in for eye contact. “You come highly recommended from my guys back home. They said you’ve got legendary lifting skills.” He motioned to a waitress, who whizzed by fast.
“I hope your lifting’s cleaner than your eating.” Lulu pointed to the blood-orange salsa dribbling slowly down the front of Trevor’s trench, leaving grease stains the same color as the booth beneath. He looked down, smirked and sopped up the mess with a greasy napkin.
“Don’t worry your sexy little legs about that none, babe. I get the job done.” He shifted back toward Sammy. “You know what I charge, right? A hundred up front, call it a goodwill gesture on your part. And half the take after.” He crunched toast and devoured Lulu with his eyes. “So. You want me, or not?”
“Job’s big,” Sammy told him. “Way bigger than we can handle. So yeah, I need your help. And Lulu here’s our lookout. Our decoy. She’ll make sure they look the other way when we come ’round, if you catch my drift.”
Trevor caught it but good. He licked his chops, stared at Lulu, and nodded.
“Meet us out front of the convention center at six o’clock sharp tomorrow night. We grab what we can and get out quick. After, we meet up at the Lucky Lickety-Split, room 209. If we get split up, plan’s the same. Lucky Lickety-Split.”
A plump server with a nametag that read Martha dumped more coffee in Trevor’s cup and asked Sammy and Lulu if they wanted anything.
“We’re done here,” Sammy told her. “But thanks anyway.”
Martha smiled the mandatory server smile. Lulu knew it well, having used it a million times back home. The waitress dropped the check in front of Trevor, who pushed it in front of Sammy. With a grunt, Sammy plopped down two Jacksons, face down. Lulu had seen him do that a lot because he had a thing about bills. Never liked the president’s eyes looking up at him. Gave him the creeps.
Standing up, Sammy grabbed Lulu’s hand. “My guy said you were good. Just hope he was right. But I don’t pay till the job’s done. Period. If you can’t slide down that coaster, we can’t roll.”
Trevor eyed Sammy. Waited a beat.
“Yeah, okay. I guess I can wait. But only because Jack hooked us up.” Crunching burnt toast hard, he swallowed even harder. Sammy yanked Lulu toward the door.
“Hey, babe!” Trevor shouted loud enough for heads to turn two booths over. “Do me a favor and wear that top tomorrow. It’s doing wonders for my imagination!”
He whistled low and long, a bulldog waiting on his bone. Lulu felt his eyes burrowing into her calves as Sammy pulled her outside.
At the Lucky Lickety-Split, Lulu watched the ant trail grow full tilt, just like that creep, Trevor. Both disgusting. But Trevor was the least of her worries. Right now, she was more worried about Sammy. It was going on nine hours and twenty-six minutes, and still no sign of either of them. They should have been here by now, she told the insects. But the ants paid no mind and kept on marching. Felix the Cat kept on ticking.
Lulu stretched out on the bed, musing over last night’s job. It started out well but quickly turned sour once they’d reached their prime target, the Thai American Gems booth, which specialized in precious Bangkok stones. Stones were easy for Sammy to pawn, given his connections back home. And that’s where he’d wanted to do the most damage.
At the show, Sammy and Trevor had warmed up good, with quite a few smalls from the less impressive booths. Things like mineral rocks, crystals, and chains. When Lulu reached the targeted booth, she kicked her act into high gear, leaning over the counter to make good use of her new low-cut tank. Showing off her wares to their finest points, she nearly spilled out completely, making it hard not to notice her “assets.”
She aimed her best sweet eyes straight at the goateed young kid standing be
hind the table display. Her candy-cane-colored thigh-high mini and stilettos drew him in with laser-like precision, even though the booth was packed.
“Wow, these necklaces are sooo pretty,” Lulu murmured, pretending to be all thumbs with the trinkets on display. “Any chance I can try one on, just for a second? Could you help me with the clasp?”
The booth was busy with Japanese businessmen and gawking tourists, all perusing the merchandise and swapping business cards. Everyone wanted something, but the goatee-guy only had eyes for Lulu.
“You bet, honey. Let me come around and give you a hands-on tutorial.”
He grunted delightedly as he moved his substantial frame out from behind the display. Sammy, who’d been watching from a distance, made his move. Using his most perfected sleight of hand trick, he swooshed an entire row of large sapphires and opals into his convention goody bag. Beside him, Trevor did the same with a row of rubies and estate rings, tucking them deep inside his trench pockets. Lulu was doing a good job keeping the kid busy when, out of the corner of her eye, she spied a tall girl with jet-black hair and glasses, videotaping the whole thing on one of those new, smart looking camcorders. The woman wore a pinstriped suit, which made Lulu think the woman taped the booth for business reasons. Whatever the reason, this was a big problem.
Waving her arms, she motioned for Sammy to run. Trevor picked up on the cue and took off like a racehorse down the center aisle, knocking over a trashcan as he went. As far as Lulu could tell, he made it out clean. But Sammy’s mug had been caught on video for sure. Lulu panicked and whipped around, planting her cleavage smack into the middle of the goatee-guy’s face.
“Show me again how you clasp this. I just can’t get the hang of it.”
She saw Sammy take off, but not before knocking over the camera girl and sending her sprawling into the display case. The girl in the suit slid to the floor and dropped the camcorder, which skittered toward Sammy. He spotted it, grabbed it, and ran. When the girl adjusted her glasses and tried to rise again, Lulu pretended to trip on her heels and fell into the girl, sending her sprawling back down again.
“Oh my gosh, I’m such a klutz! Are you all right?”
The girl searched the ground frantically for her camera.
“Hey, did you see those guys? They took a bunch of jewelry and stuff. I got it all on video, but I think one of ’em grabbed my camcorder!”
As Lulu watched the girl search hunt for her camcorder, she felt a split-second of deja vu. Before she could form a thought, goatee-guy jumped between the two women.
“You’re not hurt, are you? What the hell!” He took in the scene, craning his head back and forth between the girls and his ruined display. “What a freakin’ mess! Security!”
He stood in the middle of the aisle and pumped his arms up and down. “Someone call security. I just got robbed!” He turned to Lulu and the black-haired girl. “Can either of you identify the guys? You both got a good look, right?”
“Uh—no, I can’t,” Lulu said. “It all happened so fast.” Her eyes surveyed the area, looking for signs of Sammy or Trevor. There were none.
“I can,” shouted the black-haired girl. “The guy who took my camcorder wore a bright red jacket and looked really young; just a kid, I think.”
That’s odd, thought Lulu. Her description didn’t fit either Trevor or Sammy. But then she realized it was better this way. Lulu turned back to the goatee-guy, whose nametag she now saw read Chuck.
“Yeah, I think she’s right, Chuck.” To the girl, she said, “Sorry I made you fall.”
“No problem.” The girl smoothed her black hair.
Again, déjà vu.
Several security guys in navy blue sports coats and badges hustled towards them. It set her wheels spinning. Lulu needed to get out quick. The men arrived, walkie-talkies in hand, and cleared the path both in front and behind the booth. Before they could question her, Lulu edged into the crowd and sprinted off.
Outside the convention hall, she looked for Sammy but didn’t see him. She hailed a cab with a shaky hand and directed the driver to go to the Lucky Lickety-Split. What should have been a five-minute drive turned into twenty, which didn’t help her nerves any. As the driver weaved his way snail-like through L.A. evening traffic, Lulu closed her eyes and thought about The Thirsty Dog, the bar where she’d first met Sammy. A low-life place filled to the rafters with scoundrels and skull-crackers. She hung onto Sammy’s pronouncement of love.
“Just this one big score in L.A., and I’ll set you up fine, Lulu. You’ll see.”
Brrrrrriiinng…Brrrrriiiinng…Brrrrrriiiinng…
The ringing jolted Lulu out of her haze. She reached over and grabbed the phone quick.
“Yes?” she whispered into the mouthpiece. “Sammy, that you?”
“Hell, no,” Trevor screeched. “Better brace yourself, babe. I don’t know where that scumbag is, but I’m pretty sure he double-crossed us both. Saw him run out of the convention center not ten minutes after I did. I yelled, but he ignored me and waved down a car parked on the other side of the street. Some smoking hot blonde was driving it.”
Lulu swallowed hard, a lump forming in her throat. He went on.
“The blonde stuck her head out the window and yelled for Sammy to dump everything in the trunk. When I caught up, he yelled for me to do the same, so I did. Threw in my stash, and then the car peeled out without me.”
Lulu stayed quiet. Stared hard at the ants. Tried to breathe.
“You still there, babe? I know it sucks. I ran after them but couldn’t keep up. Lost ’em once they passed the Hotel Figueroa.” He laughed. “A high rollers joint, that place. Worked there parking fancy cars in high school until they fired me for trying to steal one.” He chuckled again at his bravado. “Too bad, too. Tips were always great. Guess good gigs die hard.”
Lulu wanted to scream.
“Uh, another thing, I think the bitch driving was the one filming us. You know, the girl he knocked over. Sammy called her Tina or Trina. Something like that.”
Trina? Lulu’s eyes went wide. She remembered that twinge of familiarity when she knocked the girl over at the booth. Half dazed, she listened as Trevor continued.
“I thought I’d hunt the two of them down, but since she got each of us on video, I think it’s best to steer clear. You should, too. Sammy’s a weasel all right, and I wouldn’t put it past him to use that tape against us if we push him. Sorry, babe.”
Lulu’s body sank lower on the bed.
“I guess Sammy screwed us both, but I’ve lived in this town long enough to see worse. His scam’s kind of regular in L.A.” He paused, and then said, “But, hey, I managed to keep a little something in my jacket. Why don’t you let me take you out on the town? You know, as a consolation prize…What do you say, babe?”
Lulu had nothing to say.
“Forget about that lowlife…he’s too old for you anyway. And he’s definitely got alternate plans, which don’t seem to include you. Come on. Let me cheer you up. Meet me over at El Compadre, my favorite bar in town. The place has wicked Mexican food, and the bartender’s a buddy of mine who makes a mean banana daiquiri. What do you say?”
Lulu dragged herself into a seated position. Wicked. Mean. She’d always had bad luck with men. Why should Sammy be any different?
“See you in an hour,” she said. Lulu hung up the phone and hung her head.
At the Biltmore Hotel, Trevor set the phone down. It was one of those expensive looking models, white, with black porcelain keys and a fancy round dial pad. The Biltmore could afford to treat their guests well, and he was already eyeing one of those deluxe plush bathrobes hanging in the closet to take as a token.
“So, how’d I do?” He turned to look at Sammy, who eyed him carefully as he laid out the gems on the bed. “Was I convincing enough for you?”
Sammy shrugged his shoulders and labeled the stones. Some were worth a bloody fortune, and Trevor had never seen
so much sparkle up close before.
“You were perfect,” Sammy said. “Lulu will never know what really went down. Best part is, we get to split her share.”
“You need to pay me my cut now so I can get lost, you know?” Trevor exhaled. “Man, I know it’s none of my business, but that was cold.”
Sammy shrugged again and cast his eyes over at Trina, spread out on the couch like she owned the place and sucking down an Old Fashioned. Her ultra-thick, long blonde mane cascaded over her shoulders to her waist, the ends just grazing a black wig and glasses sitting on top of a cashmere pillow. She raised her glass in a toast to Sammy. He shot her a quick thumbs-up.
“Lulu’s not so bad, you know,” Trevor said. “If you’re done with her, I’m more than happy to step in.”
“I’m done. Trina is gonna keep me happy from now on.”
She waved, scrunched up her nose and blew Sammy a kiss.
“I wanted to dump Lulu a while ago,” he told Trevor. “When she first started getting too attached. I like ’em a little faster and a little meaner, if you catch my drift.”
“Yeah, I catch it.” Trevor looked Trina over good. Mean wasn’t the first word that came to his mind. “I think I’ll keep that date then. Li’l Lulu could probably use some consoling about now.”
Sammy snickered, and Trevor took the wad of cash from Sammy’s hand. Both lefties, they shook a hard goodbye.
“Next time you need a second, give me a ring. You’re good on your word, and I could use the dough.”
“Maybe. Something is coming up in Puerto Rico, around Christmas time. A horse race needs boosting. My connections back east say it’ll involve swapping out horses. Big purse involved. It’s too early for details, but I’ll keep your number.”
“Do that.”
Trevor stuffed the cash inside his trench and made his way outside. Humming Zeppelin’s “Stairway to Heaven,” he thought of Lulu and ambled toward El Compadre. It was typical L.A. weather, seventy-something, and he walked to keep himself primed for later. He figured on getting lucky at the Lucky Lickety-Split tonight.
Fatally Haunted Page 8
