by Tim Dorsey
Coleman exhaled another cloud and stared down at the spot on the floor. Whoa!
Death is trippy when youre ripped. Howd it happen?
Heroin. Shot up enough scag to drop a charging rhino. Then went out to the lobby for cigarettes and came back in here and wham! The junkies belly flop. Facial bones shattered like a skeet-shooting disk. The maid found her the next morning in a blood slick. Im guessing there were flies by then. Serge looked around the room, smiling and nodding. Im in a happy place.
Serge?
What?
Im bored.
I thought the pot would make this really entertaining.
If it was a little entertaining, said Coleman. But instead, if its a little boring, then it makes it really boring.
Now Im bored, too.
Coleman pressed the TVs power button.
Serge opened a suitcase. Whats on the tube?
Not sure yet. Its in the middle of another commercial for boner pills.
I never understand those ads, said Serge, pulling a stack of celebrity magazines from his luggage. They always warn about erections lasting longer than four hours. I mean, when dont they?
Colemans head jerked back. Four hours!
What? Dont yours
?
I wish.
Really? said Serge, handing Coleman half the magazines.
Trust me. Ive tried. Coleman flipped open a recent issue of In Touch. You never struck me as the kind of guy with chicks on the brain so much.
Oh, its not just women. I could be in a new museum for the first time.
Is that why you wear those long, untucked shirts?
Avoids questions.
Coleman turned a page. What are we looking for?
Clues, said Serge, folding over a copy of Us. If were going to operate in this city, we have to find the pulse of the stars or well be eaten alive
Here we go: Laverne and Shirleys Squiggy is now a pro basketball scout. So thats what hes been up to
I found an article, said Coleman. Is the American Idol voting fair? Take our poll!
Angelina takes her toddler on a play date
Serge flipped the page. Diane Sawyer has an age-defying secret!
This story blames a stars incoherent Letterman appearance on professional exhaustion, said Coleman. Whats that mean?
Let me put it this way, said Serge. You suffer from amateur exhaustion.
Oh, I get it.
Serge threw his magazines aside. I have the pulse now. Its stupid.
Coleman closed his own magazine. Im bored again.
I know, I know. Im trying to think
.
A knock at the door.
Serge whipped out a gun. Whos that!
He crept across the room and peeked out the peephole. A tall man in a silver running suit glanced nervously up and down the hall from behind dark sunglasses. His dyed blond hair was slicked straight back.
Serge opened the door a crack. Yes?
Are you Coleman?
No.
Its okay, Coleman yelled from back in the room. You can let him in.
Serge opened the door the rest of the way, and the man quickly brushed past him. Serge shook the confusion out of his head and followed.
Coleman and the stranger gathered in a corner. Money changed hands. Baggies came out of the mans fanny pack.
Coleman, said Serge. Youve never been to California. Howd you find a connection so fast?
Guess its a gift.
A business card snapped crisply out of the fanny pack. The stranger placed it in Serges hand.
Serge looked up from the card. Not the Dallas Reel.
The man smiled.
Oh, my God! said Serge. I love your work. What? Sixty films now?
Im impressed, said Dallas. Most people only know four or five.
Not me, said Serge. I stay and memorize all the credits. Cant leave the theater until I at least get to Glenn Glenn Sound. So whats a third executive producer do?
Dallas zipped the fanny pack closed. Pretty much this. A beeper went off. He looked down. Thats mine. Gotta run.
Serge closed the door behind him and walked back into the room. Imagine that.
Coleman was spreading Baggies on a nightstand. Pills, grass, powder. But were bored again.
Serge pointed at the drugs. Wait, I got it! Well do a historical reenactment!
Whats that?
Serge moved a chair out of the way. Watch em all the time on the Discovery Channel. They investigate to see if a famous celebritys death might have actually been murder. Serge walked to the motel room door, turned around and began counting off steps. They did this one on Marilyn. Her death bungalow had since been demolished, so they used forensic photos to build a new one, replicating every last detail: lamps, ashtrays, color of the walls. Then they conducted tissue-absorption analysis for all the pills on her nightstand. You be Joplin.
What do I do?
Simulate an OD. Serge handed him the Baggies. I want you to do as many drugs as you can in the next thirty minutes. And be sure to wash it all down with lots of liquor.
But you always yell at me when I get that way.
Except this is research. If we can prove Joplin was murdered, we might be talking a grant.
Coleman filled a plastic cup with rum and grabbed a sack of striped capsules.
A half hour later Serge helped him off the bed. Heres the room key. I want you to go out to the lobby. The cigarette machines gone, so just tag the front desk and return. Serge began timing with his wristwatch. The first test is to see if you can make it back here by yourself
No, Coleman, the other way
Serge walked him out into the hall. Ill be waiting
He closed the door.
Serges new group of friends was meeting again for lunch at Pat & Lorraines. Without Serge and Coleman.
How do we know we can count on him?
I have complete trust. Hes Sergios grandson, after all.
I dont mean trust. I mean depend.
What are you talking about?
Serge leaned close to the television. His Midnight Cowboy DVD. Serge only watched the end, where Ratsos bus rolls down the Miracle Mile in Coral Gables. He looked at his watch. Whats taking him so long?
Serge opened the door and stuck his head out in the hall. Where could that idiot have
Moaning at his feet.
What are you doing down there? Stop fooling around! He grabbed Coleman under the armpits and dragged him backward into the room. Its starting to look like Joplin was murdered. This is getting exciting.
Serge left Coleman on the carpet and cued up Piece of My Heart. He crouched down and lightly slapped his pal on the cheeks. Coleman! Wake up! I think were about to crack the case!
Coleman slowly came around. Where am I?
In the middle of an investigation thatll blow the lid off! Serge pulled him to his feet. This is the crucial part. I need you to stand right here.
Serge stepped back and looked Coleman up and down, rough calculations of height and weight. He took a baby step forward and put out his arms. Im ready. I want you to close your eyes and put your arms by your side.
Coleman complied.
Good. Now, fall forward.
Colemans eyes opened. Im not doing that.
Ill catch you. I promise.
What if you dont?
Are you religious? Because this is about faith. Put your faith in your best friend and nothing will happen. You just have to let go. Release your doubts and fall i
nto it like a big, cozy pillow.
Coleman closed his eyes again. Okay, but you better catch me
Pat and Lorraines.
Im still not a hundred percent on those guys. Somethings not kosher.
Like what?
Are you nuts? The fat guys a fuck-up and the others
I have no idea what that is.
You liked Sergio, right?
Of course.
We owe him big time. This is his grandson. Its the least we can do.
But
But what? Sergio was odd too, and it all worked out in the end.
I hope youre right.
Serge knelt over Coleman on the motel carpet. Keep your head tilted back or youll bleed everywhere.
You said youd catch me!
You didnt wait for my signal.
You didnt say anything about a signal.
I dont have to. Theres always a signal.
Coleman lightly touched tender spots on his face. What do you think?
Its beginning to look like Joplin wasnt murdered after all.
I mean my nose. It feels broken.
Thats just the pain. You hit pretty hard. But your contribution to the historical record has been duly noted.
You said to have faith.
Yeah, but theres a lot of bad religions going around. You have to be more skeptical.
** Chapter 19
ALTO NIDO APARTMENTS
Friday evening. Third floor.
A room full of bachelors, splashed cologne and brushed teeth.
Except one. He was in bed.
Pedro popped his head through the neck-hole of a polo shirt. Ford, why dont you join us?
Ford just stared at the ceiling.
This isnt healthy, said Mark. We thought youd snapped out of it working on that new script
But now youre back to staying in bed sixteen hours a day, said Tino.
And youve stopped writing, said Ray.
We know youre going through a lot, said Pedro. But you need to get out. Have some fun.
I scored an extra invitation from Dallas, said Tino.
Ford rolled over on his side and faced the wall. Theyre not going to let me in the party. They fired me. And threw me off the property. Remember?
Mark looked at the others. Do it.
They grabbed Ford by the arms and dragged him out of the sheets.
Let go of me.
Its for your own good.
Five guys in a Malibu cruised down Sunset Strip and pulled up in front of Skybar.
The midpoint cast party for All That Glitters.
Mark and Ford took up positions outside the ladies room. A waiter walked by and Ford lifted two flutes of champagne off his tray.
Ford, youre drinking, said Mark.
Ford knocked one of the glasses back.
Mark reached for the second one. Thanks
Theyre both for me. Ford knocked the other one back.
The party was effective. More champagne. Pedro walked up. Can you believe this place? Its like the women arent real.
Fords drinking, said Mark.
You are? said Pedro.
Ford nodded with glazed eyes and grabbed two more passing flutes.
Must be the firing, said Pedro. Good for you!
Tino arrived. Isnt that Ally Street over there?
Where?
By the railing. With that older woman.
Think its her agent.
Im going to go talk to her, said Pedro.
Shes a big star, said Tino. You dont stand a chance.
Thats what everyone thinks, said Pedro. So nobody approaches. Then we see them in star magazines with total losers and wonder, How did that happen?
Youve convinced me. Im going to hit on her.
But shes mine, said Pedro.
Ray came over. Whats happening?
Were going to hit on Ally Street, said Tino.
Who is?
Were still arguing.
You dont stand a chance, said Ray.
Pedro was just explaining his theory, said Tino.
A burst of paparazzi flashes lit up the other side of the patio. Crap. Pedros shoulders slumped. Jason Geddys hitting on her.
Told you we didnt stand a chance.
It was fun while it lasted.
Wait, hes leaving with his manager, said Tino. Were back in the hunt.
They gaped across the patio at Ally, alone again, gazing off into the night. The wind lifted that stunning blond mane streaming out behind her.
Watch this, said Pedro. He took a step and stopped.
So what are you waiting for?
Pedro took a step back. Im nervous.
Then Im going to try, said Mark. Here goes.
Why arent you moving?
Im scared.
Im going, said Ray. Its all about projecting confidence. He took two steps and came back.
Whats the matter, Mr. Confidence?
I went farther than you!
You guys are chickenshit, said Tino. Watch this
They watched.
Whats the matter?
Shut up.
Another waiter came by. Ford grabbed two more glasses of champagne and headed across the patio.
Wheres he going? said Pedro.
The guys couldnt believe their eyes. First, that Ford actually had the guts to go over there. And again, when Ally accepted his champagne. Paparazzi cameras flashed.
Now Ive seen everything, said Tino.
No, he hadnt. Ally was soon laughing at something Ford had said.
Did you see that? said Mark. She touched his arm. That meant something.
Ford trotted back to his buddies, holding up an open cell phone. She wants to meet later.
The night wore on, party after party. They headed east on Wilshire, Ford the big topic of conversation in the car. They wanted all the juicy details.
Shes really down to earth. Not stuck-up like they say in the magazines.
Whats the deal with this mysterious romantic rendezvous youre supposed to go to later? asked Tino.
Has a few places she needs to hit first for public relations. Her agent set them up. But after that, she wants to get together.
Arent you glad you came out with us now? said Ray.
Looks like your luck has finally changed, said Tino.
Pedro pulled into a fast-food drive-through.
May I take your order?
Hey, Ford, said Pedro. What time were you supposed to call Ally?
Oh, shit! Ford flipped open his phone.
Give it up!
The guys turned around.
The morning after.
Roommates scrambled inside a third-floor unit of the Alto Nido apartments. Pedro ransacked the top drawer of Fords dresser. Wheres that number for his attorney?
It has to be here somewhere! said Ray.
I cant believe they arrested him, said Tino, rifling papers next to a typewriter.
I think they just took him into custody for questioning, said Pedro.
Same thing.
Here it is, said Mark. Rodney Demopolis.
Police headquarters. Interrogation Room C.
And thats the whole story, said Ford. You have to believe me.
I do, said Detective Babcock. Want another soda?
Ford shook his head.
Sounds like you just had a rough night. But you have to understand how this looks from our side.
I need to fill in some blanks.
Like what?
You said you were recently fired. Our officers talked to some people at the studio this morning. They said you made threats and security had to throw you off the property.
I was just excited. They didnt need those guards. I would have left anyway.
Babcock wrote something. Tell me again about when you phoned the guys who robbed you. Sorry for saying this, but it sounds really, well, stupid. Why would anyone do that?
I was drunk. I wanted to get laid.
The divisions lieutenant watched from behind the two-way mirror. A speaker on the wall piped in the conversation. A corporal with a handful of documents opened the door. Lieutenant, some of the suspects co-workers voluntarily showed up and signed affidavits that they witnessed the robbery of his cell phone.
Let me see those.
Another corporal opened the door. Lieutenant. Just heard from the mobile company. Story checks out about the stolen phone. Several calls have been made on that number since we took him into custody.
Thank you.
Sir
What?
His attorneys here.
He hasnt asked for one.
The corporal shrugged. Hes outside. Demands to talk to his client. Says file charges or release him.
Ford folded his hands on top of the table to keep them from shaking. Can I go now?
Not just yet, said the detective. Were almost done. How would you feel about a polygraph?
But you said you believed me.
I do. Thats why I want a polygraph, to eliminate you as a suspect.
Im pretty nervous. Wont that throw it off?
We ask some baseline questions that take it into account. Dont worry; its not admissible.
Okay, said Ford. Ill do it.
Detective Reamsnyder came in the room. That asshole confess yet?
Will you take it easy? Hes a good kid.
Reamsnyder sat on the corner of the desk. Got some news. Cellular company said his phones been used since weve had him here.
There you go, said Babcock. It was stolen, just like he said.
Only means he has an accomplice.
Hes going to take a polygraph.
No, hes not, said Reamsnyder.
What do you mean?
His lawyers here. Lieutenant says release him.
Babcock pursed his lips in frustration and pushed his chair back from the table. Looks like youre free to go.
