VITA MET HIM outside the motel rooms. "They walked off to the cocktail lounge discussing the treacherous act you pulled. Speedy says he's gonna beat you to death with his marching sticks."
"Did you hear it?"
"Yeah, and it's heavy shit. I love it."
"What'd Linda say?"
"To me, nothing. I sassed her about wanting a room to herself, so she isn't speaking to me. Speedy says his drums weren't even on the fuckin record, so he's quitting, refuses to play the gig tonight. I got Dale aside and asked what he thought. He said he likes it okay, but it isn't him. He said, 'I've never played a bagpipe.' There's a bagpipe on it?"
"Ask Curtis," Chili said. "Where is he?"
"Hiding out till they go for their sound check. I said to Linda, 'You're gonna talk to Chili, aren't you?' She said when she gets back. I still have a key to her room, you want to wait in there."
"What do you think she'll say?"
"We have a new Linda here," Vita said, "so I don't know. Did you hear her playing to the disc jockey? 'Yes sir,' . . . 'That's right, Ken'? Being this little sweetie from down home?"
"I got that."
"Linda can play the game if she wants, do whatever it takes."
"Just don't mess with her music. She walked out of one deal, gave 'em the money back."
Vita said, "Or did she give it back 'cause it wasn't enough?"
THE MAID HAD BEEN IN and the draperies were open now. Chili sat at the round table by the window in sunlight, sat there for nearly a half hour before Linda came in smoking a cigarette. One she had just lighted. She didn't look at him. She went to the dresser, dropped her key and glanced at herself in the mirror. Chili watched her. He had in mind to get right to it and did.
"What do you think?"
She turned to him, still wearing her sunglasses.
"I liked it."
"Really?"
"I loved it."
"You're not putting me on?"
"You hear what Calvert said, it's dramatic, it's different? It is. Dale wants to know if we bring a synthesizer on the stage with us. Speedy asked if we just play funerals from now on. There's serious unrest among the band members. But the way I see it, that's their problem. Speedy likes to whine. 'I couldn't even hear me.' I told him, then get some more drums. He'll play tonight and he'll play tomorrow, so he can see the bare-naked ladies. I imagine the Chili Peppers'll feel right at home. I told Dale and Speedy we'll play the gigs. After that it's up to them, get with it or quit, the world's full of musicians. I'm gonna sing the way I want and use whatever's hot behind me, put some meat on the bare bones. Lay rock over hip-hop if I have to. Why not? You gotta keep up, don't you? No—you have to make it better and keep moving ahead. Mother Maybelle's in her grave and now it's my turn to happen, and you know what? I'm excited. I could feel it when we played at the Forum, the way the crowd liked us and yelled for more? Oh, man, but then Aerosmith came on and the crowd went crazy and I decided, yeah, that's what I want. Okay, so what do you do? You make adjustments. I saw the light sitting there watching Ken Calvert bobbing his head, this guy who controls what people listen to. He dug it. He was moved. And I realized, shit, I like it too. What's the problem?"
Linda smoking her cigarette, blowing smoke, pacing, talking non-stop.
"I'm gonna send out a search party for Curtis. Tell him to quit NTL and come work as my producer. Start on 'Church of the Falling Rain' and work right through the CD, re-master the whole thing. Put in bagpipes, zithers, tubas, whatever he wants. Curtis becomes my secret weapon."
Chili said, "Wait," because it didn't make sense. "Why do you want him to quit NTL?"
"Because I am. Because you and I are through."
"You just said you like what's happening."
"I like the music. Not how you set it up for me to hear it. So you could watch, expecting me to have a shit fit in the studio, cause a scene and you'd have one for your movie. The artist blowing her top. We do that, you know, we're high strung."
"That's not you."
"How do you know? You could've played it for me, just the two of us. I listen . . . Why didn't you?"
"You're right, I should've."
"But that wouldn't be much of a scene, would it? No, do it at a radio station. I have a tantrum and throw something at you, through that big pane of glass. That oughta work."
"Linda, I had no idea what you'd do."
"Well, I'm sorry if I disappointed you. You can still play it the way you want, even though it won't be real. You keep talking about realism—you're gonna end up with just another movie. Something you cooked up with your pal Elaine, your old lady. And she is old, isn't she?"
"We're the same age."
"Yeah, well, if you go for that, fine."
Was she mad because he'd turned her down? And taking it out on Elaine? That went through Chili's mind. He felt he should tell her, in a nice way, a fact of life.
"Linda, you're gonna find that when you're past forty, or even fifty or older, making love is better than it was when you were young, more satisfying. You know why? You appreciate it more."
"You're saying you fuck a lot of old ladies?"
"Don't talk like that—you know what I mean."
"I know you had your chance with me and you blew it."
Chili nodded, resigned. He didn't want to yell at her. He said, "The moment was there. I wanted to, but I couldn't just . . . knock one off. Okay? I have too much respect for you."
She said, "Oh, my God, really," rolling her eyes at him.
"And I was thinking of Elaine, I was, I'll admit it. Take it or fuckin leave it, I don't care. But listen to me, you should stay at NTL. Do what you want, I'll go make the picture."
"And how will you play me, as a bitch?"
"Maybe now and then. I see you going through a transition, from the little girl with ideals to the tortured artist—all that why me, what'm I doing here shit—to the pro who knows exactly what she wants and is gonna make it happen." Chili got up from the table and met her by the dresser. He said, "You're a tough broad, Linda," gradually taking her in his arms to hold her, "and I mean that as a compliment. I only want the best for you, and I'll help you any way I can."
He felt her hands slide around to his back, heard her voice, quiet now, saying "That was a dirty rotten trick you pulled."
"I'm sorry, Linda, I really am."
He heard her sigh.
"Chil, if I stay at NTL . . ."
"Yeah . . ."
"How much will I get for the album?"
25
* * *
ELAINE CALLED JANE from Vancouver to find out if Chili had called. Jane said she hadn't heard from him. Elaine said, see if you can find him. Jane called the Four Seasons, no luck, and then NTL Records. Hy Gordon said he was in San Diego, he'd find him and tell him to call Jane. At home, Jane said, and gave him the number. Hy gave it to Tiffany. She called Vita at the Hilton, actually in Del Mar, not San Diego, and told her to give Chili this number so he could call Jane at home. Vita caught him coming out of 168, Linda close behind—scratching his back? Doing something. Vita gave Chili the message and the number. Linda asked him if Jane was one of his girlfriends. Chili told her who Jane was and Linda went in the room to get her cell phone for him. Vita asked Chili, didn't he have one of his own? Chili said no, he didn't like people he didn't want to talk to calling him.
RAJI CALLED Nick Car at home, got him off his tennis court to ask how Linda's record was doing.
Nick said, "I'm in the middle of a match with the promotion director at Maverick, for Christ sake. I'm beating his ass for the first time since we started playing. I'm up five games to four. I got him forty-thirty for the set. I'm about to put him the fuck away, and you want to know how a record's doing? I thought it was somebody important."
"If my future turns good," Raji said, "then I'll be somebody important and I won't be taking any more your shit."
"It's out two days here and there, L.A., the Bay Area, San Diego today, and the buzz is better
than expected. We go national it's gonna hit the charts, take my word, and you're gonna make some dough."
"Bless your heart," Raji said.
Raji called Hy Gordon to say Nick was looking for Chili Palmer and did Hy know where he was at. Hy said Vita told Tiffany he was there in Del Mar at the Hilton, but was leaving when the band went for their sound check. Tell Nick he should be back in L.A. by nine. Bless you, Raji said.
He called Elliot next. "You know where the man's been, Chili Palmer? Down at Del Mar playing the horses. What does he care about you and your career you got your heart set on. I bet you wouldn't mind seeing him soon as he gets back, huh?" Elliot said he'd like to see him, all right. And Raji said, "Be ready for when I pick you up at eight. And Elliot? Wear your suit."
"IT'S DONE," Elaine said. "I fired him."
"You had to go all the way up there? Why couldn't you do it on the phone? I didn't know where you were."
"I'll tell you about it tomorrow. I have to get back in the meeting."
"Elaine, the disc jockey played the record."
"And? . . ."
"She loves it."
"You're kidding."
"I mean it, she loves the arrangement. But I don't know if it's a scene. It may need a little work."
"You said, you didn't know where I was? I left two messages for you at the hotel, yesterday."
"I haven't been there since Thursday."
"So you didn't call Elliot."
"I didn't know I was supposed to."
"I was in a rush, forgot to call. Will you do it? Tell him I promise we'll set the test for next week, whatever day he wants."
"I'll talk to him," Chili said, "soon as I get back."
RAJI KNEW you saw all kinds going in the Four Seasons. You saw actors and performing artists you recognized, some you didn't. You saw dudes in wornout leather jackets, bag hanging from their shoulder, who wanted you to know they were directors or some way or another artistic. You saw dudes come out of convertibles with long-legged chicks in little skirts. You saw a whole tribe of Arabs getting out of a stretch. You saw suits; some with the long-legged chicks, a few with their wives. So who was going to think anything of a Samoan giant walking in? Even if they said, man, look at that Samoan giant, they would hardly notice the man going in with him—even stylish as Raji was in his black silks, his Kangol straight on, his cream-colored, wing-tipped Lucheses.
A bellboy got in the elevator with them. He said, "Floor?" Raji told him ten and took out the key Chili Palmer had left on the desk, didn't shove it in the bellboy's face but made sure he saw it and would think they were guests. Raji thought of saying, We'll go to your room first and then mine. So the bellboy wouldn't think they were shacking up. But he got off on six and Raji didn't have time to set him straight.
They were quiet entering the suite, went in and found it ready for the man's return: a fresh bowl of fruit, flowers, the king-size bed turned down with a candy wrapped in gold on the pillow, the radio playing some kind of elevator music low. Raji watched Elliot looking around, no doubt impressed, watched him push the drapes back on little sticks attached to them, open the door to the balcony and walk out there to stand looking toward West Hollywood and beyond, lights going up into the hills. Raji had the lamps off in both rooms when Elliot came back in, Elliot saying, "Why don't we watch some TV?"
Raji could see him in light coming from the bathroom. "You think I answer stupid questions?"
Elliot said, "He'll come in whether the TV's on or not, won't he?"
Raji turned the light off in the bathroom, came back and sat down facing the entry hall. Elliot over there took up the love seat facing the TV.
He said, "You know how you gonna do it?"
"A way should please you," Raji said.
"Like you done Joe Loop?"
"Wait and see."
CHILI HAD TO STOP at the desk for a key.
In the suite he turned on the first lamp he came to, on the TV console, and paused to lay the key there, his wallet, his cigars, sunglasses. He started to take off his jacket, heard:
"Chili Palmer."
And turned to see Raji first, holding a pistol in his lap, then Elliot, on the love seat. He laid the jacket over a chair saying, "Mutt and Jeff, what can I do for you?"
"I want you to remember something," Raji said. "What you told me different times? Like, you say Linda don't work for me no more? Come at me like that? I ask you in a nice way, who the fuck're you? And you tell me her new manager. Coming at me heavy and I don't even know you. Next time you asking Nick where Joe Loop's at. You like to know what happened to him?"
"I think you popped him," Chili said, and looked at Elliot. "Or he did. What I hear about Joe, I'm surprised nobody popped him before this."
Raji said, "You ever eat with the motherfucker? Was me. Was beat him to death or pop him and I popped him. See, but you don't ask me, you ask Nick and Nick don't know shit about that business. That same time in his office you say, not to me, you say to him, 'You don't represent Linda no more.' He never did. I was always and still am, her manager."
"What do you want me to do," Chili said, "apologize?"
"I want you to walk out on the balcony," Raji said, raising the pistol, one that looked to Chili like a Beretta nine.
"That the piece Joe Loop used on the Russian?"
"It's the one I'm gonna use on you you don't walk out there."
"What's the difference, you do it here or outside? You don't have to worry about the carpet."
"No, what we gonna do," Raji said, "is watch you commit suicide. End your life 'cause you can't put no better shit on the screen than you do. The only way you die of gunshot is you don't step off the edge. I pull the trigger, you dead. You jump, you got a chance to live . . . till you hit the ground."
"If I have a choice," Chili said, "can I think about it?"
Raji said, "Hey, fuck this. Elliot, pick the man up and take him out."
Chili said to Elliot, getting up, coming over to him, "There goes the screen test."
Elliot took hold of his arm. "Yeah, she promise she's gonna call. She never did."
Chili said, "Elliot, she had to go out of town," getting some urgency in his tone. "That's why she didn't call. She left a message for me to call you, but I wasn't here. Go over to the phone and press the message button. You'll hear Elaine telling me to call you."
Raji, on his feet now, said, "Elliot, shut the man up," moved to the desk and shook his head. "There's no message light on."
"If Elaine told me she left a message," Chili said, "she left a message. Pick up the phone and press the message button."
Raji did, pressed it and listened, then held the phone out to Elliot. "No messages. The nice white lady's voice says so. No messages at this time. Will you take the man out, please, Elliot, and pitch him the fuck off the balcony? One of your favorite things to do?"
Elliot put a headlock on Chili and that was that, dragged him out to the balcony, shoved him against the rail and let him go. Chili straightened, moving his head from one shoulder to the other. "You just about broke my fuckin neck."
"He can do it," Raji said, coming out to the balcony. "Break it and drop you over the side. Or you can be a man and do it yourself. Get up on the rail and jump."
Chili looked up at Elliot. "I talked to Elaine a few hours ago. She said she called here and left a message. I was to call you because she had to rush off to Vancouver to fire this asshole Alexander Monet. She was upset, honest to God. She said, 'Call Elliot for me. Tell him he can have the test next week, any day he wants.' "
"She said that?"
Raji got on him. "Elliot, the man is lying, telling you a story to save his fuckin life. Same as you would, I would, anybody would."
"If there's no message," Chili said, "then somebody erased it. Or it was saved. Either way, somebody was in this room to do it who shouldn't have been."
Elliot looked at Raji. "You come up here. That's how you got the key."
"I told you I did. But ther
e wasn't no message."
"How you know, you check?"
"The light wasn't on, the message light. Go look at the phone. You see a light blinking on and off?"
Elliot turned to look and walked to the desk.
Chili watched him. "Pick it up and press for messages. See if any are saved."
"Nothing's saved," Raji said, close enough to Chili to put the muzzle of the Beretta against him. "Nothing's saving your ass, either. Go over the rail, man, or take it standing there, I don't care." He turned his head as Chili turned his, to see Elliot in there with the phone to his ear. They watched him put it down and start back toward them, Raji saying, "I told you, didn't I? The lady say no messages."
Elliot shook his head. "She say to press a number."
"Yeah, they give you that number shit," Raji said, " 'stead of telling you what you want to know. Then you find out there no messages."
"I pressed the number," Elliot said, "and I hear Elaine's voice come on."
Chili saw Raji shaking his head back and forth, Raji saying, "No!" Meaning it, saying to Elliot, "You couldn't, man. There is no motherfuckin message on there to hear. None, not a fuckin word." He swung around to Chili to get eye to eye through his shades. "You know there ain't a message on there."
"Yeah, but he heard it," Chili said, and looked at Elliot, right there with them now. "What'd she say?"
Raji was shaking his head again saying, "Uh-unh, there ain't no fuckin way, man, that's possible." Saying now, "I gotta hear this message." Turned from Chili to go inside and found Elliot in front of him. He said, "Lemme in there, you fuckin toe dancer, get outta the way," and was lifted off his feet, Elliot's big hands under his arms, Raji squirming, shoulders hunched up on him, Raji yelling at him, "Cut the shit, man! Put me down!"
What Elliot did, Chili right there watching, he raised Raji to his height, kissed him full on the mouth, said, "Bye-bye, Raj," and threw him out into the night.
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