“And they didn’t have baggage or nothing when they left?”
“No baggage. So I did good?”
“Real good. Keep an eye out and call me when they get back.” Lomax hung up his phone. He was glad he had the baseball bats in the trunk.
Tonight was warmer.
Last night Sam had to walk with his arms wrapped tightly around his body as he trekked through the wilds of Pasadena with Daredevil Don. Tonight, as Sam and Rachel lay in each other’s arms atop the queen-size bed, all the blankets, as well as all their clothes, were scattered on the floor. A cool breeze blew in through the open window beside them.
Rachel rested her head on Sam’s chest. Sam’s fingertips slowly traced a line along her side, giving her a mild case of the goose bumps.
“Sixty thousand dollars,” Rachel finally said.
“Sixty thousand dollars,” Sam echoed.
That was how much it cost Reed for complete control of the script, the still untitled one from their first con. After all their expenditures, including Stanley’s huge cut, this was a nice bonus. Shawnee had told Reed that she wanted no part of the project after Mol had threatened her, stalked her. It didn’t matter that Mol was dead. Mol had scary friends in Armenian Power that were alive and well.
Sam’s alter-ego Clay had to blame Mol as well. After being kidnapped, beaten, drugged up and left for dead on Skid Row two years ago, Clay was done with Hollywood. It had taken him forever to gather his wits again. Getting off drugs and off the street had been nearly impossible. Like Josh, Reed’s original guru, Clay wanted to spend the rest of his days helping the less fortunate. Reed was genuinely bummed to lose Clay for good this time.
“Josh said you can still talk with him,” Sam, as Clay, had offered.
“Shit,” Reed had said. “He told me if I want answers, get down on my knees and pray. He’s worse than my grandma, bless her.”
The hitch that Rachel had texted Sam about had the potential to bring down the whole grift. It had come from Leonides’ lawyer, Sharon Daniels.
Leonides had stepped out of the office, leaving Rachel and her phony lawyer alone with Sharon.
“Your lawyer bears a remarkable resemblance to Steve Masters,” Sharon said. “Which prompted me to do some digging.”
“Ms. Daniels,” Rachel began. She stopped. She realized she had nothing to say.
“Call me Sharon,” she said. She shifted her eyes to Steve, the actor playing Rachel’s lawyer. “It’s nice to meet you, Steve. I’m still a big fan.”
Steve bowed slightly. “I’m honored, Sharon. Starring in Loves Many Tears was the best eight years of my life.”
“It was the worst eight years of mine,” Sharon said.
Rachel had no idea where this was headed. She was exhausted. She was out of ideas. She also knew that keeping one’s trap shut was sometimes the best strategy. She decided to let this play out.
“I found out my husband was cheating on me. With a friend. He’d taken out a mortgage on our home without telling me and we were about to be foreclosed on. I didn’t know what to do. I was a wreck. The only solace I had was watching Loves. Every day. You were such a good man, your character I mean, that it dawned on me that maybe there was someone out there like that for me. Really, anything would’ve been better than what I was stuck in. You helped get me through.”
“Did you find that special someone?” Steve asked.
“No. But I did get a divorce. I persevered, and things really turned around. I haven’t looked back.”
Steve smiled. “I’m glad. You deserve it, Sharon. I can tell.”
Sharon gave a small laugh.
Rachel watched, impressed. This guy is charming her pants off.
“I’m inclined to continue with this deal,” Sharon said to Rachel. “Under one condition.” She turned back to Steve. “Would you have dinner with me?”
“Life is so strange. I was going ask you that same question. Once we wrapped this up.”
Leonides came back into the room, still walking on a cloud after meeting Reed Bennek. “I’m ready for my close-up!”
The lawyer and the actor continued looking over the paperwork as if nothing had changed, though everything had changed.
Now, laying on the bed in their motel room, Sam thought about everything Rachel had been through. “Thanks for reeling in Leonides all alone. Dealing with that creep couldn’t have been fun. If it’s any consolation, I stepped in my own pee-pee last night.”
Rachel didn’t answer. Sam could feel her soft breaths on his skin, the gentle fall and rise of her body. I’m so lucky. So damn lucky.
Lomax stood in room five, listening at the locked connector door that opened to room six. His targets were quiet now. Sleeping. It was time.
He couldn’t pick room six’s front door, with its electronic lock, but the dead bolt on the connector door was a different story. Hope Carlos appreciates all this extra work and shit. Renting the motel room next to the guy he’s wants done wasn’t cheap. Where is Crackhead Carlos, anyway? Haven’t heard from that cranky tweaker all day. Speaking of crackheads…
Lomax took out his pipe and fired up. For a brief moment Los Angeles was his bitch and he swooped and soared around the cars and buildings like Superman.
Lomax kneeled over his lock picks, spread out on the floor. He picked up the first bobby pin and folded it into shape. Lomax heard the front door to his motel room open as he stuck the bobby pin in the lock.
“Put the bats on the bed, Wolfie. Get some towels ready. It’s gonna get real messy up in this bi-atch tonight.”
It was too quiet. Lomax looked up to see a bearded giant in his motel room. “You ain’t Lil Wolfie.”
The giant was holding some kind of oversized nutcracker-looking bullshit. The easy smile on the giant’s face gave Lomax a feeling that whatever was gonna happen was cool.
“Sam, we’ve been waiting here for fifteen minutes. We have to be at LAX in two hours.” Sam and Rachel sat in their rented Escalade by the giant elm tree in the heart of Skid Row.
“I told Don to meet me here,” Sam said, frustrated. “It was the last thing we talked about. I can’t believe this guy.” Sam got out of the SUV. “Don!” He called out. He looked up and down Sixth Street. It wasn’t even eight o’clock, but it was already hot. People roamed the streets. Tents baked in the sun. “Don!”
“We have to go, Sam.”
Sam looked all around. People were watching him. A man sprinted past the Escalade, pushing an empty shopping cart. “Don!” Sam slammed his fist on the hood of the Escalade. He got back inside. “Damn that guy.”
“You sure you want to make the next stop?” Rachel asked.
“I’m sure.”
Minutes later Sam was back in the tiny office. Rachel hung in the doorway.
“You didn’t have to come back. I saw that you made the transfer this morning.” Josh stood behind his desk. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like a seat, ma’am?”
“We’re in a rush,” Rachel said.
“Your contribution is going to change lives. I’d like you both to be at the groundbreaking ceremony, though that’s some ways away.”
Rachel didn’t answer.
“I’m here because I need another favor,” Sam said quickly.
“Okay.”
“I need you to give a friend of mine twenty thousand dollars.”
Josh sat down. He steepled his fingers. “Twenty thousand of my dollars or yours? ’Cause I personally don’t have it.”
“Mine.”
“Is this about Don Kaboski, the man you came with yesterday?”
“Yes. I owe him the money, and I can’t find him. He said he comes here.”
“I know Don well. He’s sat right there across from me a few times. You know he’s a drug addict, right? I mean, all the way. You give him that kind of money, he’ll be dead in a month.”
“I’ll take my chances.”
“I won’t. It’s
not moral. You might as well shoot him.”
“I can’t just walk away and not give him the money.” Sam looked at Rachel. “I can’t.”
Rachel looked away.
“Okay, what about this,” Josh said. “If you give me the money to hold, I won’t give it to him all at once. He’ll get five hundred a week. He’ll have to complete our Get Off the Street program to get the money. That means he lives on the premises and stays clean.”
“How much does that cost?” Rachel asked harshly.
“Fair question. It’s free.”
“What happens if he washes out of the program? Or if he never shows up here again?”
“Look, I’m not a bank. I can’t just hold onto that money forever. At some point it’s going into the Mission. I’m telling you that upfront. Do you know how many people that money would feed?”
“See?” Rachel said to Sam. “I told you.”
Sam took his lighter out of his pocket. “How long?”
“I’ll hold it for four months. After that, if I don’t see Don, it becomes the Mission’s money.”
“A year,” Sam said.
“Dang,” Josh said. He stood up and looked out his window. Below a man repeatedly pushed an empty shopping cart into a light post. “Fine. One year. Starting now.” Josh extended his hand to Sam. “I’m not paying interest.”
Sam looked at Rachel. She gave an almost imperceptible nod.
“Deal,” Sam said, shaking Josh’s hand.
Ford Carabucco’s bruised and aching body lay on a king-sized bed in a beach house less than thirty steps from the Pacific Ocean. Ford had been casually blackmailing the owner since before movies premiered on computers. If Ford wanted to borrow the beach house, he got the beach house. If he wanted oxycodone and trazadone and J&B Scotch, he got those, too.
Dean Martin taught Ford to drink J&B. The last time Ford saw him, Dino was sitting alone at the Hamburger Hamlet off Sunset. He looked shrunken, drinking scotch and watching baseball. It had almost made Ford cry to see another hero get old, lose not just a step but, well, everything.
Dino was far away now, as were the waves, the booze, the endless Rolodex of secrets.
Tonight, Ford was back in the Hollywood Hills on Halloween night. He was walking down the stone steps to the basement. He knew what evil lay there waiting for him. He wanted to scream, but he couldn’t stop. He kept taking step after step. He didn’t have his gun, his gadgets, his secrets. He could hear it now, whispering to him. Saying things from long ago. Ford placed his hand against the stone wall and the cold was like nothing he’d ever felt before. There was movement now, below in the darkness, just around the corner. Ford was almost there.
Sam and Rachel had a brief layover in Heathrow. From there they’d land in Rome, then drive north to Florence. They’d never been there before. Rachel liked the idea of going to an ancient city where traveling on foot was still the best way to get around. Sam didn’t find that part appealing. At all. The first-class-for-couples seating on the plane was more his style. The hotel along the Arno had a reputation as a hot spot for lovers and that was enough to convince him.
Rachel had gone to wash up in the first-class loo. Sam was alone with a bowl of fruit with a bread and cheese chaser. A bottle of Chianti stood at the ready. Sam looked drowsily out the window, imagining dropping the wine bottle onto Iowa when they flew over. There were still some people there Sam hoped it would land on.
Sam noticed a man standing in front of the curtain that separated first-class from coach. He was tall and lean, with long, silver hair and a salt and pepper mustache. Sam was certain that he knew him from somewhere. Something about the man was unsettling. Spooky.
The man looked around the cabin until his eyes met Sam’s. He walked over. Sam quickly looked for something he could use as a weapon. Rachel had a ballpoint pen on the tray at her seat. Sam had a fork. He settled on the wine bottle. Iowa would have to wait.
When the man was almost at Sam’s seat, Sam immediately knew who he was. Sam had to laugh. He didn’t have to be afraid. He was happy. Sam would offer the man a place to sit. He’d give him the fruit. He’d order him a steak. A big piece of chocolate cake, too. And coffee. He always loved coffee. But first he’d stand and grab his uncle’s hand and shake it.
Rachel ran her fingers through Sam’s hair as he slept leaning against the window. He sighed sharply, then was still again. The overhead lights were out in the first-class cabin. Rachel was the only one still awake.
She felt so much love for Sam that it hurt. Must be what people call a “pang.” She didn’t know why it felt this way. Maybe because she knew this moment wouldn’t last, with Sam dreaming beside her, her hand in his hair.
Rachel almost lost Sam this time. She nearly bought it herself. Death was a horrible fate, but the worst would be if pressure and doubt got to be too much for them. If they just stopped loving each other.
As they hurtled through space, Rachel promised that no matter what else befell them, that would never happen. That resolution gave her an easy feeling. And then she fell asleep, too.
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LAWRENCE MADDOX’s crime fiction has appeared in the anthologies Orange County Noir, 44 Caliber Funk: Tales of Crime, Soul, and Payback, and the upcoming Occupied Earth 2. Fast Bang Booze, his debut crime novella, is set on the mean streets of early ‘90s L.A. A native Angeleno, Lawrence goes deeper into L.A.’s dark side in The Down and Out, an installment of the crime series The Grifter’s Song, coming early 2021.
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BOOKS BY LAWRENCE MADDOX
Fast Bang Booze
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Here is a preview from the fifteenth episode of A Grifter’s Song, Travel Money by Jonathan Brown.
Click here for a complete catalog of titles available from Down & Out Books and its divisions and imprints.
Lawndale California, Central Neighborhood
“Good morning, Sunshine,” Rachel said with her chin resting on Sam’s chest. Sam’s eyes were closed but Rachel knew he was awake. Sam grunted.
“Ready to get that quick paper?”
Sam grunted again but more feebly this time. Rachel grabbed a pinch-full of skin on his chest and twisted. “What’s this, the ‘I’m still asleep con’? Don’t bullshit me, babe. I know you’re awake.”
Sam lay on his back with hands behind his head. He smiled, opened his eyes and tilted his head down to kiss Rachel gently on the lips. “Yes dear, I’m ready. I’ll let you shower first since you’ve got to put on the superhero uniform.”
Rachel gave him a deep kiss and tossed her side of the comforter off and hopped out of bed. She knew Sam was admiring her ass as she walked to the bathroom. He’d certainly be fully awake now.
“Hey, don’t get too dolled up. Remember, he’s supposed to want the girls not you,” Sam called.
Rachel turned and put on a sexy pose in the narrow-framed bathroom doorway.
“Too dolled up? Who me?”
“Maybe you should come back to bed …”
“Focus on the money, babe, not the money shot,” she said, blowing her man a kiss and prancing into the bathroom. Rachel turned on the water and waited for it to warm up. She also counted off seconds in her head. She knew the way Sam looked at her he’d be joining her momentarily. Satisfied with the temperature, she grabbed the soap and washed her face. By this time she rinsed the soap, she felt Sam’s strong embrace from behind.
“Oh, what a pleasant surprise,” she said. She turned around as if they were dance partners and gave him a deep kiss.
“Surprise, my ass,” Sam said as he pulled away. “You knew what you were doing.”
“I’m glad I’ve still got it.”
“Still got it? Ha, you’re getting better by the day babe.” Sam said.
After fulfilling shower sex, Rachel kicked Sam out so she could finish washing her hair. When she came out in a towel, Sam was dressed and loading up his pockets: car keys, money
clip, cell phone and his good luck zippo. With items tucked away she watched him look around the room with a look like he’d just eaten a bitter lemon.
“This motel blows,” he said.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Rachel said. “I think the shower’s more than adequate.”
He grinned. “Can’t argue that.”
Hawthorne California, East Side
Sam waited in the rental, a cherry red 2019 Porsche Macan. He sat in the parking lot in clear view of the Naughty Girls tiny office—the phony business he and Rachel set up. The space was previously an H&R Block. The day before Sam spoke with the two-person Latina cleaning crew as they cleaned the office. It was obvious to Sam the older one, Minerva, ran the show. With carefully worded questions in his best Spanglish and just the right amount of flattery Sam learned Minerva’s Cleaners was given the weekend to clean the space. Monday the landlord would swing by and slap a for lease sign on the building.
When Sam pulled the wad of hundreds from his pocket Benjamin Franklin’s face folded over three times before Minerva’s grin reached capacity and her plump, weathered hand closed around the bills.
“I suppose I can bring over mis ninos on Domingo to help finish clean.” She smiled, folded the bills in half and slid them beneath her bra strap. Once that was locked, Sam’s job was to head to the local copy place and get signage for Naughty Girls: bachelor parties, private events, fantasies guaranteed!
Rachel was already inside sitting at one of the old tax prep desks, which she and Sam rearranged the night before. She wore tight white pants that flowed into a slight bellbottom and Jimmy Choo knockoffs. Her deep fuchsia top was nearly as snug as the pants. With the neckline plunging low and push-up bra doing its job she was bordering on being ‘too dolled up’—according to Sam. She welcomed the compliment.
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